[Written for a prompt by antiheroesgalore. Word count - 999 words]

"What is peace without chaos?
What is life without death?
We are free to collect from others
Just as we owe them a debt."

Shira placed her pen down beside the leather-bound diary as the thoughts lay dormant in her mind for a spell. The vintage Parker still uncapped, Dr Kaganov slowly stood up from her desk, walking over to the balcony across the room. She paused to take in the white expanse that had enveloped the garden over the past week as the city braced for light snowstorms.

The cold sheet of snow made every minute footprint or twig stand out; a blanket of ice that was easy to mold and yet maintained a distinct identity of its own.

Tabula rasa. Shira smiled at the landscape, drawing her coat tighter over herself

A clean slate, offering a new beginning with no preconceived goals or ideas.

Perhaps the very new beginning she needed herself.

The doorbell rang in a moment. Shira closed the window and calmly strode across the room to answer the door.

She was left standing in front of a person she had not heard from in three years, and had not seen in many more.

The two embraced for a long moment, silence engulfing the room as each took in the other's presence. Shira broke away and smiled at the man in mild amusement.

"You've grown old, brother."

Yair Kaganov chuckled, shutting the door behind them.

"As have you, Dr Kaganov."

*****

Slow swirls of steam rose from the two mugs on the coffee table. The vanilla tea that Shira trusted only herself to make seemed to have had its desired effect of relaxation on her brother;
It had done the exact opposite for her.

She picked up her mug and took a slow sip before setting it down again. She glanced across at Yair, who seemed to be waiting for his words to sink in, rather like the steam from her mug that had begun dissipating into the air as the tea cooled down.

"So, this is what you came all the way from Israel to tell me?" Shira began slowly, leaning back in the sofa.

"That the Israel Defence Forces are onto me again?"

Yair sighed as he leaned forward to pick up his mug.

"This isn't like 2018, Shira," he replied softly.

"It's not the Malat that's making feeble attempts at tracking you down like five years ago. This is the entire IDF I'm talking about. They don't want to make you disappear. They want you to return to Israel."

Shira rolled her eyes as she shifted her gaze to the window.

"They want me back," she muttered. "The very institution that had no problem removing me from service, and exiling me... now wants me back?"

"A good many people still respected you after you left," her brother replied, following her gaze towards the window.

"They understood what you stood for, even with all the rumours floating around."

"Why do they want me back, Yair?" Shira interjected. The man hesitated as he finished what remained of the vanilla tea in his mug.

"The IDF anticipates a major war with the united bloc of our neighbours. They want their top military psychologist back," he stated.

Shira raised an eyebrow at the explanation. Yair paused for a moment before adding,

"And of course, if you don't go willingly... They'll resort to other methods. They've sent snipers of all people to reason with you, Shira."

The woman smirked, nodding slowly at the implication.

If they can't have me, nobody else can. How childish.

"What if I voluntarily return?" Shira ventured curiously. Yair gazed at her emotionlessly.

"Well, you'll have your full title and powers reinstated. Of course, returning would be out of the picture, leaving you locked in a gilded cage in your own home."

"Israel is no longer my home," Shira cut in. Yair shrugged.

"That just makes things worse, doesn't it?"

In all her years in Russia, Kaganov's Israeli past had occassionally resurfaced as a thorn in her side.
A thorn she had repeatedly pulled out by burying herself in her work or doing away with any article that linked her to her former shadow.

She had, in a way, been running from the past that was bound to catch up with her some fateful day. Now, her brother's words were laced with the same suggestion that she had repeated to herself despite her own contempt-

Run away from it all.

The television screen in the living room blinked to life, calling the attention of the siblings, who momentarily exited their respective reveries.

Perimeter breach. Unidentified visitor, main gate.

Shira got to her feet at the broadcasted security footage on the screen, as did Yair, his hand instantly securing the Jericho 941 at his side.

"They're here," he muttered. Shira wordlessly walked over to the cabinet beside the television screen and opened it briskly. Her brother knew better than to question her as she retrieved a sleek Stechkin automatic pistol from the cabinet.

Watching Shira load the Russian pistol dispelled all doubts Yair had harboured about her switching national loyalties. Her former Israeli standard-issue weapon had been done away with.

She slowly paced across the room and stood against the window overlooking the front gate. The open window offerred a decent view of the stranger who had sauntered into the property, and a more decent view of the sniper rifle slung over his shoulder.

Shira casually leaned against the window frame as a gust of wind cut through the room's warmth. Yair shifted his gaze to the diary on his sister's desk, which now lay disturbed by the howling gale that was fluttering through its pages.

He bent over to scrutinise Shira's scrawl on the last page, which had just been flipped over and lay still; the wind seemed to have taken a liking to the contents of the page.

"I fear no evil.
The shadow is mine,
So is the valley."