It was years later, a time when Sires and Matt had been stationed in England, that Sires decided to leave X's leadership. Sires had been in England for two months when he first saw Heather.

It was a summer day like any other. In the rare instances of down time, Sires enjoyed walking around aimlessly, taking in the sights. He first caught a glimpse of her at a street fair. She was standing in a sundress, smelling a bouquet of flowers. Her curly brown hair was partially tied back in a ribbon. When she smiled, Sires felt weak in the knees.

He was immediately enamored, completely head over heels. It was in that very instant, as he crouched behind a produce stand and peeking out at this woman, that he made two snap, life changing decisions. One was that he was going to get this woman, whoever she was, to marry him. Secondly was that he was going to give up being an assassin.

That night, after a day of trailing the woman in the lovely light blue sundress, Sires had burst through the door of their safe house. Matt, who had been sitting at the round table, eating a late-night snack, lept to his feet immediately. With reflexes as fast as a sprinting cheetah, he removed a hidden throwing dagger. It was lucky for Sires that Matt recognized him at the last second.

"Fuck, Sires!" Matt shouted. "You can't just do that! I almost killed you!"

"How do women?" Sires blurted out, and it was at that moment Matt took into account how disheveled Sires looked. Matt blinked, and then cracked up.

"What?"

Sires growled in frustration, closing the door behind himself. "Sorry, I've never asked this before so I'm not sure how."

Matt continued to laugh.

"There's a woman I saw today," Sires said desperately, and they both sat at the table. "I want to marry her."

Matt stopped laughing immediately. "Er, what?"

"Yes!" Sires said, smiling (a look that had become rare on his face).

Matt paused, drumming his fingers against the table. "How do you know this woman?"

"I don't."

"You can't just—you can't just marry—" Matt shook his head in disbelief. "Okay, slow down, buddy. You can't just marry someone you don't even know."

"Right," Sires said, rolling his eyes as though his intentions were clear as day. "So I need to know how I get to that point."

"Er, do you even know her name?"

"No."

Matt sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. "Well, that would be a start, Sires."

"How do I get her name?"

"Talk to her."

Sires felt his heart slip, looking visibly despondent. "Oh."

After a pause, Matt said, "I could help you."

Sires looked hopeful. "Really?"

"If you want me to."

Sires, grinning again, nodded his head.

Matt snorted and shook his head. "I have my work cut out for me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Matt smiled. "Nothing, forget it. We just—I have to—well—"

Sires narrowed his eyes. "What, Matt?"

"It's just—"

"Yes?"

"We have to get you to a point where you're socially equipped to talk to, erm, well, anyone."

Sires' shoulders slumped, and he looked disappointed again. "Oh."

Matt grinned. "Hey, don't worry about it! Getting you to be less awkward is better than just sitting here waiting for our next assignment."

Matt was pleased when Sires looked hopeful yet again, a small smile on his lips.

"So," Matt spoke excitedly, leaning his elbow on the table and his chin on his palm, "who is this woman that's pulled on your heartstrings?"

Sires' eyes glazed over, and a very soft smile bloomed onto his face. "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life."

~

It took a couple months, but Sires finally got to a point where Matt felt like he wouldn't make a fool out of himself in front of this mystery woman upon opening his mouth. He taught Sires how to make small talk (these pointers usually consisted of what not to say: "No, a woman doesn't want to know about how you killed someone as a child." "No, she wouldn't want to hear your harrowing details of being kidnapped in the middle of the night." "No, you can't tell her why you're in England." "Don't mention me at all, she might get the wrong idea, especially if it ever comes up you've never had a girlfriend before.--What do you mean, what do I mean? Fuck, Sires, not everyone is heterosexual.--What's heterosexual?")

Even after Matt assured Sires he wouldn't immediately shoot himself if he were to try and speak to the woman he was infatuated with, there was one slight hang-up that constantly plagued Sires.

"But how do I talk to her?"

"Just say hi."

"Just–go up to her–and say hi?"

Matt had told him the same thing repeatedly. The prospect of saying hi to someone, even with Matt's blessing and assurance he was capable of holding a conversation, freaked Sires out. In fact, the prospect of making the first move in a social interaction was so foreign to him he was practically disgusted at the thought.

So, Sires began to stalk the woman. He didn't mean to. In his mind it was a sort of recognizance mission; it was a genuinely innocent (albeit misguided) behavior. He just wanted to get to know her, but didn't want to approach her until he was sure they had enough in common to hold a conversation.

He finally worked up the courage to talk to her two weeks into "getting to know her". Sires followed her to a movie, making sure to purchase his ticket right behind her. After the movie, he awkwardly struck up a conversation with her; he felt foolish, but she had found it charming.

He continued to live a lie, feeding into her likes and interests. Soon he found himself lost within the constructed life he had made for himself. After a while, Sires didn't know what originated as her interests and what he genuinely liked. Most things became a weird amalgamation of the two.

The more time went on, the happier he became. Without outright abandoning his tasks, Sires found himself spending more time with Heather and less time at the safe house with Matt. Sires couldn't remember the last time he was truly happy. The first twinge had sent him into a full blown, real panic attack where he felt like he was dying. It subsided, slowly, when he realized this foreign emotion was happiness.

The happier he became the less he found himself arguing with himself. The nagging, deranged voice in his head began to take a back seat. He wasn't sure when, but it finally dawned on him he hadn't heard the voice entirely for quite awhile.

Sires and Heather had a whirlwind romance, and within a year they were married and living together. They moved to Ireland, buying a small, one bedroom flat. The pair made it their own, however small as it was. Sires kept his past shrouded from her completely, not telling Heather the real reason he was so eager to leave England was from fear.

He found a job as a carpenter, easily settling into regular mundane life. He liked his neighbors and they liked him. Sires imagined spending the rest of his days living like that, growing old with Heather.

He taught her Icelandic; she taught him how to sew. They shared nights curled around each other, whispering stories of their childhoods to each other in the dark. When she questioned his many scars, he made up a lie intertwined with the truth about his house burning down when he was a child. Heather had wept for him and they had made love; for the first time Sires was genuinely sorry for all the lies he had spun to his wife.

Thus the pair lived for a handful of years. Sires didn't want children, and Heather had never been too keen on the idea either. They settled for yellow song birds, which sang to them sweet songs every morning. Their life was simple. Their life was plain.

Their life was perfect.