This was unusual for him.
He had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, they had finally got him. As his goggles were ripped off his head, he squinted, trying to focus on the barrel of the gun pointed at his forehead.
"You spy! Tell me who you are and who do you work for?"
Sam deciphered the Japanese in his head and stayed silent. They would get nothing from him, but they would certainly take his life in return. The phrase was repeated again, louder, angrier and much more urgent than before. Sam looked up at his capturer and stared a blank stare. His mouth curved into a small but unmissable smirk.
"Go on. Do It."
The blow to his head came quickly, and Sam couldn't help but grunt in pain. The two men standing behind his capturer started to speak to their comrade, their speech too fast for him to figure exactly what they were saying.
Accepting his defeat, Sam started to think about what he would leave behind, who would perhaps miss him, if anyone.
While she may have his blood, he was no father to her. No matter how much he loved her, he was never there. She would always say that she'd understood, but behind her eyes was a sadness that no one would be able to replace.
But beyond that sadness was also strength, wiseness beyond her years that only someone who had gone through the same agony would understand.
He had thought he had lost her several times, but this time he would be the one lost. However would the loss of him affect Sarah in the same way?
Would she miss a non-existence?
"Fisher! Can you hear me? Fisher!?"
Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and as much as he wanted to reassure her, he could not. If the Japanese knew he had any contact with Third Echelon, all their covers would be blown. He could be replaced with another splinter, but she could not.
With her brain, with her experience, with her instincts, was gold to the cause. She, who kept all knowledge flowing through and with the swift touch of her adept fingers, could find out the secrets of the world.
She who had kept him sane, kept him focussed throughout so many missions. So many years had gone by, they were old friends. He should have retired, should have said no when he had the chance. She was always going on about his age, and yet was the one who would be on his doorstep every time the nation was out of its depth.
He thinks perhaps she would be the most affected. In a way, Grim was more like family than his own daughter.
It is then, that his thought trail is broken.
The sound of bullets through the air, he heard a voice that was familiar, but one he hadn't heard for a while.
Sam, took his chance, and moved towards the darkest corner in the already unlit room. He ducked as the spark of a bullet hit and scraped the wall above his head. He would not move, to move would mean certain death.
He watched with his night vision as she and one other engaged in combat against the Japanese men. He wanted to help her but he could not risk this second chance to finish his mission.
He knew that she would understand. She was a lot like him in a way, business before pleasure. He had missed her dryness, her use of blatant fact, and the fact that as much as he hated to admit it, her way of saving his ass.
He hadn't wanted another field runner, and his trust was something that had to be worked on for a long time. But she had more than earned it. Coen was adept, talented, and deadly serious about the cause. She was as good a field agent as anyone, in fact better, and one of the very few that he would do anything for.
It was like old times.
Coen turned her torch towards him, and behind her he could see the bodies being dragged away by her offsider.
"My, you're off your game tonight." Her cocky smile widening as he started to get up.
"It's ok Grim, I'm ok and the mission is stable." He finally spoke, acknowledging the frantic woman on the other side of his earpiece. "A slight miscalculation, nothing I couldn't handle. But, thankyou Frances."
"For you Sam, anything."