He told her everything. And with every sentence he could feel the weight growing lighter. It felt good. And he really didn’t care whether she understood or not. He told her everything and it felt good. That was all. It felt like killing. Just a moment. That was all. He told her about that mission. Rainbow had been hired to kill a terrorist. Some crazy guy in Afghanistan. They were not sure whether he was a terrorist or not, but they did know that a lot of his money went to a lot of places that certain people did not want.
“What people?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter. They were Americans and people high up in the Israeli government. They were people with enough money to buy the world they wanted to see. People who were willing to kill for it.”
It had been decided to take him out, the Afghan guy. Kill the money path. Rainbow did that. They killed.
They had gone in in quietly. Walked through the dust and rocky hills. Up to the pass through the pine trees. It was a joke. Nobody did that. What Rainbow did. Nobody would expect that. Six men staked out the building where the terrorist was expected to be until he had, indeed, arrived. Such a joke. There was no sign of money here. It could not even be called a house. It was more a hut. Surrounded by goats bleating in the sun. They had shot and killed everything and everyone that moved. Women, children. Everyone. It was a massacre, a success, or so they had believed until their target had turned up alive and well three weeks later at a dinner in Saudi Arabia.
It was then that Anne, the head of MI6 had called for the meeting where he had found out the truth that would lead to his retirement. The target was still alive. He was in Yemen. Go and kill him dead this time. Ax had gone. A special team, again ,they said. Again they had killed everything that moved and now she told him about how he had killed a child. The man behind that water-well in Yemen, the rifle? It was a crutch. Belonged to a child, a girl, Aisha, she had said. The terrorist's daughter. Ax remembered that day like it was yesterday. It made him sick every time he thought about it. Brains splattered on the wall .
Lucy listened without saying a word. Ax had stopped talking. He was back there, in his mind. She waited, and waited as the silence dragged on. She waited until she was sure that he was finished.
“Oh, Ax,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
There was nothing to say. He said nothing. Could say nothing.
She had killed a child, too. She could only imagine what he felt.
They could never share that pain. Never.
A few moments passed in silence, then, she spoke.
“Remember how we met? We are meant to be together,” she said, softly. “Our lives have a purpose, don’t forget that. Ax? ”
In that moment Lucy was falling. Falling into the memory of Lucia, her own flesh and blood, her own child drowning, dying alone. Ax would never know her pain. She could never share that. She knew she could never be forgiven even as she tried to forgive him.
Ax looked at her. She had tears in her eyes but he felt nothing. He thought back to how they had met. But he felt nothing. He remembered Khost Gardez, in Afghanistan. Remembered going to find the target. Finding the target. Killing the target. He remembered the green plants. Everyone thought Afghanistan dry, dead. It was not. It was green. Alive. Only high in the cold mountains was it dead. Ax had survived. Killed many. Americans called it Ghost Valley. Khost Gardez. Many had died there. Ax had been flown in. Searched and killed. Left. Flown out. Then to Yemen. This time to make sure. He was beginning to see. America.
“Remember how we talked, that night, when we first met?!” He did not wait for Lucy to reply. “That is why I needed to talk tonight. I have to go. To London. Then to Rainbow, in Switzerland. But I’m going to do it my way. Not with them. Despite them. You can never tell anyone. I will let them know, as I said, that I am not going to work for them again. We will maybe have a big party here, invite some old friends. Make things look “normal.” Pembleton, MI6, they will all be watching me, to see what I do. They will see me having a party. They will not see me go. I can’t be followed. I need you to understand.”
Lucy stroked his head. “You cannot go, “ she said. “You must stay here with me. Yes, have the party if you must, but I can’t let you leave me. I, too, have something to tell you. I know about the death of a child. And, I need you to stay with me, to choose me.”
He looked at her, then. Right at her. The way he had looked at her that night. The way he was looking at her now. Back then she had felt his aggression rise and watched as he tried to fight it. He had tried to smile. Scratched his head. But this night she felt no aggression from him, only pity. Then, she knew. He was going to hurt her. She took a swig of her drink, finishing it, just as she had done that night.
That night, so many years ago.
“Another?” he had asked.
“You’ve been there.” She said.
“What?”
“You heard me. You’ve been there.”
His face had smiled again but his eyes had not.
“Another drink?” he asked again.
She had her hands resting on the table , in front of her, behind the glass. She flicked out her fingers and the glass slid across the table to him.
In her mind she watched again as he sniffed, picked up the glass, and went to the bar. When he came back he put the glass down with a loud click in front of her. His hands were totally steady, his eyes locked on hers. Mongoose and snake. Which was which? “I’ve been there too, “ she said in a quiet voice. She did not whisper and he heard her very clearly. The voice was quiet, but it was not weak. Her head was bowed but her eyes were staring up at him. “You have stuff in your head,” she said, and you can’t talk about it, can’t share it. Not yet. But you will. You will share it with me.”
She lifted her drink. “Cheers,” she said without smiling. She held the glass straight.
Her hand did not tremble.
His head rolled back so he was looking at her over his nose. He straightened his head, held out his glass. Inside he became totally cold as his whole body relaxed. He looked at her. His look a death threat. “Cheers.” He did not blink as he swallowed the drink. He kept his eyes on her. She looked back. Unflinching. Then she, too, downed her drink. Eyes on eyes. Something passed between them. Lucy did not know what it was. She had seen his hell, he was hell. But she had not been scared and she knew he had seen that. She had gone to bed with him that evening. They had fallen asleep, holding each other. That night, she smiled as she remembered. That was the night she had melted him.
And that is how it had started. By protecting him he became her protector.