The next morning, I had finally realized something. It wasn't going to work out. I love him, I really do, but we just aren't meant to be. I only hope that Flippy does find who he is meant to be with. I woke up laying beside him, and knew I never would again. For a few moments, I simply reveled in his presence, and then got up quietly, so as not to wake him, and hurried back to my apartment.

I changed into my business, agent-clothes from my undercover-casual, and grabbed a little black machine, so small it looks like a flashdrive. I figure I should get my hat, and put up my hair, but somehow, I don't want to be that formal, so I let my hair down, and hurry back to Flippy's quonset hut, and when I enter, I see him, as I have so many times before, sitting over the side of his couch, a cigarette in his hand. He glanced up at me, and almost didn't even seem surprised, just sad.

He stod up, and walked over to me. The two of us stared for a long time, saying nothing, not really needing to. Finally, Flippy said, " I don't know what you're planning to do, but I can see from your expression that I'm not going to like it. That's fine, I'm sick of it all, do what you will. But... Can I ask for one last kiss?"

My eyes welled up - I hadn't expected that. A tear escaped my eye as I leaned in, and we joined lips, the exchange of souls that most people only ever dreamed of. My body shook with the force of suppressed tears, and I could barely see him as I pulled the little black device out of my pocket. I saw him wince slightly, and close his eyes.

Hesitantly, he asked, " Will I ever see you again?"

I gasped as another sob shook me, and I replied bluntly, " I.... I don't know. If you do, you won't know who I am."

He nodded, his voice shaking huskily, and murmured, " I didn't think so. Before you do it, though, I have to know - What's your real name?"

I could hardly stand the waiting, and I kept wanting to scream, No, nevermind! I can't do it! But I knew I couldn't do that. "Tris." I told him.

He thought about it for a moment, and smiled shakily, saying, " Alright then, Tris, do it. I love you, so much, so do it!"

Pain rose out of my chest, forcing a loud, pained sound to come out while tears streamed down my cheeks, and I almost was knocked to my knees. I finally shut my eyes hard, and shouted as I pressed the button, seeing a white light through my closed lids.

My eyes open, and so do his. Regret hits me like a ton of bricks in the face. My knees feel weak, and I can't stand to, but I make myself look into his eyes. They're calm, albeit a bit red and still watery, but he raises an eyebrow, and says calmly, " Uhhhm.... May I ask what you're doing in my house?"

I wince, and say, " I was just leaving."

He shrugs, and I start to walk away, when he says, his voice full of that sweet, unselfish concern, " Hey, why are you crying? What's wrong? Did I do something?"

I stop, still facing away from him, and suddenly, unable to restrain myself, I run back to him, and grab his hands.

I cry at him, " I know you don't remember me, and I can't take back what happened, but I'll always love you!" I close my lips over his and then turn again and run away, before he can react, and I hear him murmur to himself, confused, " ...Who...?"

Four Years Later.

I returned to Washington about a year after project V.E.I's failure, as I was forced to take a leave and recieve psychiatric treatment. I have taken a personal vow to never do another undercover project. I'm not cut out to be a sleeper agent, apparently. It's christmas time now, and I have been promoted a couple of times. Now, I'm a director of the United States Secret Service, and right now, I'm choreographing the president's bodygaurds for tonight's award ceremony. He's giving somebody some medal, or some kind of honour, anyway. I didn't really listen too well, so I can't remember.

" Director! Director! The guy who's getting an award is in the back room, can you take care of him for me? I have to be somewhere right now, and he still needs instruction."

I suck back a groan, smile, and say a tad distractadly, " Oh, sure, no problem." I hurry to the back room, and before I get to the door, I see misteltoe hanging from it. I stare at it for a second uneasily, and then shake my head. I keep staring at it, though, as I walk, and suddenly run smack into someone.

Instantly, I start to say, " Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't p-" I look up, and stop short. My mouth is still open with shock, and I stare at the person. It's him. It's him, and we're under misteltoe and he doesn't even know who I am. He simply looks somewhat surprised, but I can see something more in his eyes. His subconcious recognizes me and yearns for me, but his conciousness sees me as a stranger. Memories can never fully be lost, and that makes it worse, the knowledge that he is so close to knowing me, yet so far away. Tears well in my eyes, and I turn and run away, leaving him crying after me, " W-wait!"

I run into the bathroom, and sob, lean over the sink, gripping it for dear life, and sob and sob. I cry so hard I start to cough, gasping for breath. I finally catch my breath, and put my face in my hands, focusing on trying to breath slow and even. I whisper into my hands, " Why does it have to be so hard?" I finally start to really get myself under control, and look up into the mirror. For a split second, I imagine him there, looking into my eyes, and realized it's my own eyes, puffy and red, and start crying anew. I simply can't stand the memory of all that happened, it just kills me inside. I want to erase my own memory sometimes, but agents aren't allowed, no matter how traumatizing, because if they aren't strong enough to handle whatever has happened, they don't need to be agents in the first place. I would have to erase my memory all the way back to my original empolyment and quit my job.

I hear a footstep from behind, cautious, and spin around to face the intruder off, until I realize - it's him again. He's reaching toward me, confused, hesitant. He wants to help me and he also doesn't want to freak me out again. The two of us stare at each other for a moment like that, and suddenly I start laughing and can't stop. The absurdity of it all just hits me like a brick, and after a moment he gets a little silly smile himself.

Suddenly, we're both just laughing in the women's bathroom together, for no apparent reason. This moment... I wish it would last forever. For this fleeting moment, I don't have to think about all the things that are wrong with this. I can just laugh.

Flippy:

And then I saw it.

With this, I started the first day of my life. My real life. People are concious until a certain age, going through the motions of life, and then one experience truly wakes you up. Or, more specifically, I saw her. Puffy-eyed and red-faced from crying, looking like I was a ghost from the past, and we laughed together for no reason in the women's bathroom, and it was okay.

But at the same time, something felt strange, something was holding me back. It was almost like seeing a beautiful delicate flower, and reaching out to touch it's petal's, only to find that it was a picture. You merely lost yourself in the moment. Afterward you smile a little, feel silly, and brush it off, but you can't help that ever-nagging desire to go back and feel the silken petals, and to smell it's sweet aroma. The more it eludes you, the more hopelessly you are a slave to it.

Suddenly, my laughter trails off, and I look at Flippy sadly. He senses my stare, and his own laughter stops and he looks back at me. Although I know he doesn't quite understand, I see that he senses the impossibility of ever being with me. I see that still-remaining affection, even though it is dulled by confusion and uncertainty. I suddenly turn business like, thinking of the only way to make this end before it begins. I calculatingly tell him that I'm sorry for the confusion, that he must leave, and instruct him on where and when to do and say what at the ceremony. He looks disappointed for a moment, then nods his head and turns to leave.

I never saw him again.

...

This is Private Federal Investigator Zen, out.