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"If this is the end of me
At least I have a friend with me."

GENEVIEVE RESURFACED, GASPING for air

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GENEVIEVE RESURFACED, GASPING for air. The water was freezing and her left shoulder was in blinding pain. She tread the water, catching her breath as she floated downstream. Her pistol was long gone.

She felt her breast pocket. Everything was in there. The inside was lined with a thin plastic, a tip she picked up from work, so nothing would be wet. She suddenly realized how quiet it was.

"Schofield!" She called, looking around wildly.

The water was going faster now, pulling her along. She could barely keep her head above the water. All she could do was let the water carry her, She was too weak and injured to try and fight it.

"Schofield!" She called louder.

Was he dead? She didn't want to think about that. The water pulled her even faster. Stray branches hit her as she passed. She could see a bit of red in the water from her bleeding shoulder.

"William!" She screamed.

"Genevieve!"

The voice was weak, far away. It almost sounded like he was falling.

A rock was coming up ahead of her. Genevieve braced herself and let her body crash into it. With her good arm, she held onto the rock, pulling herself up. She looked around. The sun was rising. A few yards ahead of her was a waterfall. Her heart sank.

Genevieve weighed her options. The rapids were too strong for her to swim to land. Her shoulder certainly would not let her either. It's not like she could stay on his rock forever. She had to go over. She had to finish her mission.

She had to find Schofield.

Genevieve slid off the rock and began to swim, the water's current pulling her faster and faster towards the edge. She held her breath and braced herself as she was thrown over the edge. She felt herself falling yet again and landing with a splash.

She swam forward under the water for a moment. It was quiet underwater. peaceful. When she needed the breathe, she resurfaced. There were tree branches floating alongside her. She grabbed one and let it pull her with the current which was steadily slowing down.

Genevieve's whole body ached. Her head was pounding. Her shoulder still seared with pain. Her eyes were filled with tears.

This was the worst fucking mission she had ever been on.

"I better get a raise after this." She thought to herself as her eyes fluttered shut. She floated for a bit, saving her strength.

After a while, she opened her eyes to see something white floating in the water around her. She stared at it, her vision a little blurry.

They were petals.

Cherry Blossoms.

Genevieve was suddenly very awake.

She remembered what was left of the flower was still in her pocket. It reminded her of Schofield, wherever he was. She needed to see him again.

It reminded her of Blake. By god she would take that flower to a Yankee game if it was the last thing she would ever do.

With a sudden burst of strength, Genevieve paddled her way forward through the now still water. Her feet suddenly touched the bottom. Genevieve walked out of the water at a shallow bank and looked around. Trees. She had no idea where she was. And she was utterly alone.

"Fuck," She reaches up to touch her shoulder. The bleeding had stopped but the pain was still there. "FUCK!"

Her voice echoes. Then there is nothing but silence. Well, almost.

She hears crying.

Genevieve stumbles her way towards the sound. Someone needed help. She needed help. Maybe they could help each other.

The sound got louder as she got closer.

"Hello?" Genevieve called. "Hello?!"

"Genevieve?"

The voice is weak and tragic. But she knows exactly who it belongs to. Genevieve began to run, as best as she could right now.

Next to a dam is Schofield.

"Oh thank fucking god."

Genevieve practically throws herself at him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. He returns it instantly and they're both crying. Both sobbing and holding onto each other like it was life or death.

"I thought you were dead." He cried into her neck. "Please don't leave me again. Please."

"Never."

They stay there holding each other for a moment. Schofield's hand grazed her left shoulder. Genevieve hissed in pain and he immediently jumped.

"What?" He said. "What happened?"

"I got shot." Genevieve began to unfasten her coat.

"You got- what?!" He sat up and watched her in confusion.

"Bullet grazed my shoulder." She put her coat to the side and began to unbutton her shirt. He turned his head away in embarassment.

Genevieve was just in her undershirt now. She ripped the sleeve off her shirt and tapped Schofield. He looked back at her, face red.

"Tie this around my shoulder." She handed him the ripped sleeve and moved closer to him.

"You're very calm for someone with a gunshot wound." He said softly as he wrapped her shoulder up.

"I've had worse." She replied.

"...oh." He looked down at her exposed back. "Oh." There were scars covering one side that wasn't covered by the undershirt. Some old, some new.

"I've been shot four times." She said. "This makes five but this one didn't leave a bullet in me. Not to mention I've been stabbed... twice I think. Whipped once, that was a time."

"Jesus Genevieve." He mumbled, his fingers gently tracing the scars on her back. She turned and faced him.

"That's why I say don't worry about me." She said. "I've been through a lot. Nothing's managed to kill me. Yet."

"Jesus." He whispered, still looking at her back. "There's so many..."

"What?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Scars?"

She turned to face him and pulled her undershirt down a little farther. He looked away.

"No it's alright, look, I'm not flashing you stupid," She said. He looked, his face more red than ever. "I was shot in the chest four years ago."

There was a big scar on her chest. Deep and red.

"I almost died." She said. "I should have. But I didn't. My mother always said people die when they're ready, they're always destined for something greater that they have to do before death. I wasn't ready to die then and I'm sure as hell not ready now. I'm destined for greatness. You are too. If not, we'd both be dead."

She threw her now ruined shirt to the side and put the coat back on over the undershirt. Schofield stared at her, a newfound respect for her forming as well as something else.

She fastened her coat and looked back at him. Blue eyes once again staring into brown. For the second time in a few hours, he was leaning towards her again. Without thinking, Genevieve was suddenly leaning towards him as well.

Music.

They both froze.

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