Henson comes back!

And John Henson awoke. His eyelids clicked lightly as he took his first glance in what felt like years. A dull grey ceiling stared back, probing him with a soft bulb light that hung still on a slipped cord. A muffled wail flicked his pale blue eyes left, enriching them with the sight of a beautifully coarse face - a woman’s face. It was Rachel, Rachel Dahan. A feint memory stirred in his still foggy mind. One of warning. His first words to the woman could mean everything. For he had loved her in one life, sought to destroy her in another, if only he knew which John Henson he had awoken in. Her grieving face told nothing of her intentions only a world of pain was evident in her eyes. Pain she had bought with her from their old world to the new. John instinctively twitched his muscles, realising she had complete power over him now.
“Are you going to say something to me?” Her voice, hard but not without clemency infused the rest of his senses. He tried to rise but her strong hand on his chest forced his back on the hard bunk beneath him.
“Are you going to kill me?” He said helplessly. He remembered which John Henson he was now and he new the woman standing over him deserved her vengeance.
“Yes.” She replied, a pair of tears ran down from her sharp emerald eyes cutting a path down her dusty and dry looking cheeks.
John swallowed hard. He was sorry. For her, not for himself. He knew the real John Henson to be wretched. A man to be blasted from existence. The fact that he’d awoken in this semi-innocent mindset, that he himself had perversely created, only meant that he would not think his murder to be unfair and that he could find the decency to let his killing be easier on her.
But why had she awoken him for it?
“Rachel, how did you bring me back? Why did you bring me back?” Her tears ran more freely now. Her slim lips quivered and struggled against her will to respond. John could only look away as the proud soldier fought to compose herself.
“I wanted to see you, the real you.” She moaned. “I wanted to say goodbye and -” She brought her gun hand to her mouth, biting down on her wrist, trying to suppress her anguish. “I wanted to say, I’m sorry!”
John shuddered as she exploded in near violent sobs. He was not restrained. With his skill as a spy he could have easily disarmed her, turned her pistol upon her and saved his life. But he declined. His emergence might only be temporary. His hateful alter ego was spurning him on to attack, he could feel it. The real John Henson bubbled at the surface of his psyche. He would never meet that man but if he could his intentions would be what Rachel’s must. Commander John Henson, spy, agent, traitor had to die. He willed Rachel on.
“Do it Rachel and know that I would do the same.”
Her face, contorted in despair rose from its slumped position, as did her pistol in her unsteady hand. She added her left to help her shaking aim and the battered weapon steadied a little.
“Please don’t say you love me.” She gasped.
“Kill him Rachel. Kill Commander Henson!” John yelled his formal title at her, trying to disassociate the adoration in her eyes from the façade he exuded. She jumped at his tone and ground her teeth. The gun stabilized and the trigger began to squeeze. This John Henson, the one with fewer sins to his name, drew comfort from the doubt in her face even as her steeled momentum sealed his fate.
The sound of the shot rippled through him, but not the bullet. Rachel’s eyes offered a different kind of apology as she fell. She would be sorry, as he was, that she had failed. Commander Henson had been saved again. The chaos that was hidden within him would return one day - to plague this new world he had helped to create. John didn’t even look upon his saviour. He just slumped back on the bunk again, praying that Rachel would die quickly.