28

Sometimes when I'm working out or even sitting at the computer, I find myself unconsciously reaching for my legs, hoping that they will respond to my touch. Of course, they never do. They are dead. Ironically, though, they feel like any other person's legs. The skin is warm to the touch and, when I move them, they are heavy in my arms, dense with bone and tissue. My blood still flows through them, bringing them life, sustaining the tissues. It makes me hope that maybe they are not dead. Maybe they are just dormant. Waiting. Waiting for the miracle that I pray will come some day, the miracle that I so desperately need to believe in. But I know this is a foolish hope that can't be fulfilled. I know you can't bring the dead back to life.

I am no stranger to death. I have already seen so many die, first Hunter Dillon, then Peter, now Nathan. Along the way, countless others have given their lives for our cause, journalists, informants and staff. Many I have never even met, but Nathan I knew and loved. Now he is dead and it is my fault. My mistake. I killed him. It was all over the news today. An hour after he met with his daughter, he was dead. I led his murderers right to him. Knowing that, in the end, he died for his cause doesn't make Nathan's death hurt any less. I never wanted it this way. I never wanted a martyr. I wanted my friend alive. In my work, a mistake exacts such a heavy price. Others have paid with their lives for my failures. A few months ago, I decided that I would continue to fight no matter what happened, even if my friends continued to get killed. The worst has happened again. It was my fault again. Some leader I am, some protector of the people. I can't even protect my closest friends. The knife is back in my heart.

Bling came by for our regular workout this evening. I let him know about Nathan right away. I don't keep important things from him anymore. He quietly accepted my news and asked if I wanted to forego our session. I asked him to stay hoping that, once we hit the weights, I would be able to get my mind off Nathan for a few minutes. But it didn't work. Nathan was with me the whole time. I found myself stopping and restarting repeatedly as I struggled to keep my mind on the workout. After another misfire, I stopped again and apologized to Bling for my lack of focus.

"Sorry." I couldn't even look at him. It was difficult to get even this one word out. Sorry Bling. Sorry Nathan.

"It's okay, Man. Why don't you take a couple of minutes? I'll check out the contact room." Bling responded with his typical understanding, giving me some space to collect myself.

I picked up the dumbbells once again and started another set. Then another wave of grief washed over me forcing me to put the weights down. The tears that I held back all day returned to the surface, threatening to spill over. Once again, my hand drifted to my legs, searching for a response. Dead legs. Dead friend. When will this ever end?

Bling returned from the contact room at that moment. Despite the complete trust I have in him, I found myself shielding my grief from him. I quickly pulled my hand away from my thigh and tried to turn away from him, hoping he wouldn't see my eyes before I slipped on my glasses. It is very difficult for me to share my guilt and my grief, even with Bling. But I do appreciate his presence.

"Thank you, Bling." I said simply, but the expression was completely inadequate. It wasn't really for the envelope that he brought me that I thanked him. It was for much more than that. Thank you for being here. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for not leaving me alone. I wanted to say much more, but I couldn't speak the words.

I'm watching Nathan's tape now, listening to my friend's final words. I can barely see his face through the tears in my eyes. There is no holding them back now. He is thanking me for reuniting him with his daughter. He is saying that he owes me one for giving her back to him. I can't ask his forgiveness. I can't swallow. I can barely breathe. What have I done? How will I ever make things right?

In the end, Nathan hadn't forgotten his responsibilities. He was not ready to fully join the fight again, but he was willing to take a big risk by allowing me to broadcast his Allan Lans footage. He held the tape back so long to protect Alina, the daughter he loved. That is so ironic, given what has happened. Exposing Lans won't bring Nathan back, but maybe now he will be held accountable for the deaths he has been responsible for. Maybe if we somehow manage to stop Allan Lans, Nathan's death won't have been completely in vain.

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. Nathan taught me this truth when we first met, and he left it with me as his final farewell. He was one of the good men. He fought the evil in this world of ours and he taught me that I could too. I will continue to do my small something, however feeble it is. I hope that I can continue his legacy. I hope that I will make a difference. I will continue to fight. I know I will never let go. I will do it because I know this one thing to be true...

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.