The farmhouse was perfect, a neat 2-story salt box style with a deep porch across the front that contained a porch swing on one end and rocking chairs on the other. The house was surrounded by large oak trees and a neatly trimmed yard. To the south ran the river, and the other three sides were corn fields. After they unloaded their gear into the house they took a quick trip to the local grocery to get some food and snacks.

The late afternoon was unseasonably warm and when they had finished putting all the groceries away, Meg asked Norman if he'd want to put some shorts on and take one of the fishing poles they found in the detached garage and go down to the river to try and catch some trout. Twenty minutes later, Norman was standing on the shore about 20 yards upriver from where Meg had waded into the gently flowing water. She was in just past her knees and the water rippled around her throwing bright reflections from the golden sunlight, and the wind was tossing her long hair around her shoulders. He wondered if he'd ever get tired of how often she took his breath away. Taking out his phone, he took a quick photo thinking of how even in her cut-off jeans and plain white tank top, she was the picture of grace. Then his next thought was what an idiot he was, because he felt her withdrawing with every minute and knew his heart was in for a massive beating.

He was brought out of his dark thoughts by the sounds of splashing and a very girly squeal.

"Oh Norm! Look at the size of this sucker! Quick, bring the net!" Meg was fighting to keep a fish on her line while also trying not to fall over into the river. She was already in up to her waist at this point.

"Hold on, I'm coming! Don't pull too hard, you don't want your line to break." He got to her and after a few minutes of chasing the fish with the net, he finally got it in. It was a beautiful large brown trout, easily weighing 5lbs.

When they got to shore both of them were shivering from the water, having gotten soaked up to the waist. Meg grabbed the poles and Norman carried the net and fish for the short walk up to the house. Laying the trout out on a large flat rock, Meg asked him to go into the garage and see if there was a filet knife with the fishing gear. He quickly came back with one and she set to work while he went into the kitchen to get a bowl for the meat.

"Where'd you learn to filet like that?" Norman asked her. He had been fishing and deep sea fishing several times in his life, but he'd never learned this particular talent. And he'd never seen anyone do it quite as efficiently as she was.

"When I was a kid I spent most of my summers with my Grandparents on their farm," she said and looked up at the house, "in a place much like this one, except we had more livestock than crops. There were lakes and rivers everywhere and it's what we did for fun. Trout fishing in the river and catfishing in the lakes... we ate what we caught, same as we ate the livestock we raised and the produce that we grew. So, I learned to filet, skin, field dress, harvest, you name it." She looked up at him and gave a rueful smile. "Helped me not be so squeamish when it came to my later line of work."

Norman just looked at her, but inside his head he was calling 'Bullshit'. He had gotten to know her well enough by now that he saw the slight shadow pass behind her eyes when she said that. It was her only tell... the way he knew she was bluffing.

When she finished, Norm took the bowl into the kitchen and started going through the cabinets searching for seasonings and spices. He heard Meg walk up behind him and instead of turning around he told her to go take a shower while he fixed dinner. He could feel her stand there for several seconds before he heard her turn and walk off down the hallway. He dropped his head down between his shoulders and muttered to himself, "Damn Reedus, you are the dumbest asshole on earth. Hey, here's a great idea, let's fall in love with a woman who clearly wants no part of your future!" He poured milk and cornmeal and paprika and other spices over the smaller pieces of trout that he's cut up and started pan frying them while he simmered some green beans with bacon and pearl onions and cut up some lettuce for a tossed salad. He poured them both a generous whiskey alongside some tall glasses of ice cold water.

He was still mad at himself and her, but he managed to talk himself down while he went and changed into a pair of flannel pajama pants and clean t-shirt. When he came out of the bedroom, he met Meg in the hallway and they made their way into the kitchen to eat the delicious meal.

"This is fantastic, Norm. Where'd you learn to cook?"

"My Dad died when I was pretty young, so my Mom had to work and I just learned to do things to help her out." He looked a little sad when he said it, but finally looked up and met her eyes before continuing, "You know, things like cleaning and cooking and laundry."

Before she knew what she was doing, Meg reached her hand out and placed it over his and squeezed. "Your mom must have been a really strong lady to keep going after losing the love of her life like that."

Norman felt a little confused and asked, "How did you know he was the love of her life?"

"Well, you have his name tattooed over your heart and she never remarried. That tells me a couple of things; you remember him as a wonderful guy and she must have supplemented those memories by telling you how awesome he was consistently, meaning it was incredibly important to her that you love him as much as she did. And then, there's the fact that she never remarried meaning that he had such a hold on her heart that she was just never able to look at another man and feel her heart sing."

"Is that what happened to you?" He blurted it out before he even thought it, but as soon as he did he knew it's what had been bothering him ever since he'd seen that damn list.

Meg froze, her eyes locked on his and her hand wrapped around his fingers. He could see an internal battle starting behind her eyes as they grew darker. It was the only sign though, as every other muscle in her body remained absolutely still. Seconds ticked by, turning into minutes and finally her eyes slowly closed and a very long breath expelled from her chest and she released his hand.

"I have so..." she started and then swallowed hard has she felt the burning start in her throat and behind her eyes. There was so much swirling around in her head and she just wanted to run away or lock herself away behind one of her facades. But this man... this man was worth more to her than the neat little box she had stored her emotions and life away into. She had to get her shit in order. As the first tear spilled over her lower lashes she continued, "I have so many things I want to tell you and... I want you to know that I trust you, I really do."

"But..." He led her forward.

"But, even if you feel as strongly about me as I do you, it's going to test your patience and your beliefs. I've done horrific things, Norm, and the only way to survive was to shut my feelings down even more than they were as a good little soldier. Early on I felt, I just learned not to react. Then I actually stopped feeling because it was the only way I could sleep and was definitely the only way I could survive. It's why I was the best damn operative the CIA had seen in years. I could morph into any personality I needed to be and react in any situation how you would expect." She walked over to the sink and deposited her empty plate and poured another whiskey which she downed quickly. Looking back at him, she got an apologetic look on her face before warning him, "Now that I've messed up and let my guard down enough that something real and too strong for me to shut out has made its way in... I'm afraid there's going to be a shitstorm of repressed feelings come flying out."

"Like PTSD?" Norman asked. He really, really wanted to explore what she said about something real and strong, but he knew that now was not the time.

She nodded. "Every operation I went on I received intensive counseling before and after. I was constantly warned that if I didn't learn to face what I was burying inside, I would end up a walking time bomb. I just kept thinking I would deal with it another day, and then another day never came... Until it did and I wasn't ready for it." Walking over towards the front door, she reached inside a backpack and came out with a shoulder holster with two semi-automatic pistols that she slipped on and buckled over her chest. She took one pistol out and laid it on the kitchen counter and then slipped a lethal looking knife out of the backpack and put it in a sheath hanging off the back of the holster, over her shoulder blade.

"What are you planning to do, Meg?" He asked, more nervous than he'd been since he first met her.

"Don't worry; I'm not going on a murderous rampage. I just need to be in the dark, by myself, for a little while. I don't know who or what might be roaming around out here, so I'm taking some insurance. I'm assuming you know how to use that?" She nodded towards the pistol.

"Of course."

"Okay. I promise I'm not leaving to avoid what needs to be discussed. I just got to get my head straight and work through a couple of things." She turned to walk out the front door. Turning around one last time she looked through the screened door. "Hey, Norm?"

He walked closer to the door. "Yeah?"

"No matter what happens, you were worth it." Then she was gone.

_____________________________________________________________

The night sky was inky black, interrupted by pinpricks of starlight and the half moon. It was enough so that she could see the end of the row of corn in time to turn and run back the other direction. The fertile, soft dirt was gentle on her bare feet as she ran full speed down the rows of barely 2 foot tall stalks. She knew that trying to outrun the demons that were chasing her now was futile, but it didn't stop her from trying. In her mind she saw flashes of images; places and faces that elicited strong feelings – her grandpa showing her how to plant seed, how to repair a fence, and how to properly saddle a horse. Quick flash to her laying her head in her grandma's lap while she ran her fingers through Meg's hair to help her fall asleep, then flashes of both as they looked lying in a coffin after they had passed.

A bubble of despair rose through her chest and a sob broke free, but she kept running without slowing. The next memory was of one of her first SEAL missions and things had gone badly. One of her team members had been badly wounded and she'd had to make the choice of staying and helping him or going after the target. She'd been a good soldier and finished the mission, which had resulted in her first close kill when she'd slit the throat of the Al-Queda leader. When she'd made it back to her partner, she'd held him in her arms as the life left his eyes. He'd cried and asked for comfort through the confirmation of heaven, and she'd not been able to give it to him. That thought now made her stumble and land on her knees in the dirt as a keening noise rose from her chest.

She forced herself up and kept going. The fire in her lungs nowhere near the punishment she deserved. The next face that popped into her mind's eye was Doug's and the way it looked the night she told him that marriage to him was not enough, that her career was who she was and by rejecting it he was rejecting her. She'd never explored that rejection, but buried deep down and surfacing now was the realization that the danger was only part of it; the fact that she embraced the darkness and the danger was a truth that he just couldn't accept.

After Doug, the images started flickering like an 8mm home movie, the men and women that had touched her and then died at her hands, those that she had befriended in operations and then just disappeared from their lives, the friends that she had never had in real life, the family that she didn't even know anymore, the unbelievable fear she felt the first time she was shot and felt her life slipping away from her and all the regrets she felt, to the last time she was shot and then blown up and the last few seconds of consciousness, looking down and seeing her own organs and feeling absolutely nothing...

Her path changed suddenly and she began running full speed towards the river, a strange bleating sound coming from her throat. Reaching the river, she ran in until she was waist deep and then plunged her face in and with her face in the freezing water she screamed and screamed and screamed until she felt a pop in her throat and tasted the unmistakable metallic tang of blood.

Crawling out of the river onto the bank, Meg looked up into the stars and let the tears flow, causing the pinpoints of light to blur. Her face and chest and eyes all hurt and she wished that she could make it all go away and go back to the way her life was before...

But was that true? Did she really want to go back to the way things were before Norman? She'd told him that it was all worth it, and it felt like the truth at the time. He was too good to be true, and she knew that there would be an end to the fairy tale they were living the last few weeks if they were to stay together. But man, oh man, it was so damn good right now. His care for her, the way he thought of her feelings and her needs... well, it brought her to a place that her heart just couldn't be ignored anymore. It brought her to a place where the part of her she had buried decades ago wanted to be present and accounted for.

Sighing, she looked around and in the distance she could make out the porch light of the farmhouse. In that moment she knew she was going to go back and hoped that Norman would be patient with her. She was going to be honest with him and let him in and would pray that it wouldn't scare him off. She slowly got up and started walking the several miles back to the house.

!F}