Two-part prompt from Kevin. First part: What would it be like if Rita killed the Omega, not Cage? How would she contact him? Second part revealed as a second chapter.

All mistakes are my own.

The ceiling around them was threatening to fall down on their heads while they took a moment to decide what to do. Her leg was badly injured, and they were both exhausted. It was the final moments before their deaths, and they would have to separate. The Alpha Mimic was closing in and only one of them would make it to the Omega. Not that she hadn't expected something like this several times over already. She'd never thought both of them would ever make it even this far. She could see the desperation on his face and felt a moment of sorrow for both of them.

"I'm going to draw that thing away. You go and kill the Omega." Cage's voice was slightly out of breath, but she could see the determination pushing past the desperation.

Rita nodded tersely. The only other option was for her to lead away the Alpha. With her leg injury, it would be impossible.

"You and I both know that with my leg I wouldn't get ten feet." She smiled painfully. "So it looks like we'll go with your plan. I'll take the grenades."

She held her hand out for them but he held them close, realization dawning on him. The grenades would blow, killing her and the Omega. She could see his hesitation.

"Listen to me, neither one of us is making it out of here." The grief threatened to overwhelm her as he nodded once, anguish shining in his eyes. She held out her hand, cradling his face in her palm for just a moment. "Thank you, for getting me this far." She felt a sharp stab of remorse at the bitter twist of his mouth. The irony that she was thanking him for bringing her to her death. "You're a good man, Cage. I wish I had the chance to know you better."

It would be the last moment she touched anyone, as her hand slid to the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. She could read the anguish on his face and wished for just a moment that they'd met at another time, in another life. He tasted of sweat, his lips chapped against hers. But she clung to him for a precious second, her tongue sliding against his too briefly. And then he was tearing himself away, leaving the grenades in her hands as he ran from her side.

The Alpha was behind him in an instant, in it's haste, never realizing it had left someone behind. She saw her chance and took it, refusing to look in Cage's direction, to see his death confirmed. Her body was on fire, pain forcing her to stumble her way across the ground littered with concrete and debris. She focused on the pool of water with the light shining from it. She needed to reach the water. Blood pounded in her ears, but above it all she heard him.

Rita heard Cage's brief yell, a strangled sound meant perhaps to be his final warning to her. She couldn't stop herself from pausing before she jumped, a glance to her right confirming her worst fears. Cage was gone, the Alpha now aware of her presence and bearing down on her with immense speed. She dove without thought, the cold water a shock as she briefly collided with fallen debris. Then she was swimming, down towards the twisting, writhing mass within the light. Whatever the Omega was, wherever the Mimics were from, they would die here. And she would die with them. She pulled the pins on the grenades just as the Alpha caught up, piercing her back with a death blow. But she was conscious enough to drop the grenades, the pins floating down after them.

She was floating, her body turning her back to the Omega and watching the Alpha's final reaction of outrage. She could hear his angry roar with waterlogged senses, but everything was becoming dim. The pain in her chest and leg disappearing with the rest of her senses. The burn in her lungs encompassing her final moments as she lost consciousness to a bright flash behind her eyes and an enormous pressure against her back. Rita Vrataski knew no more.

She woke up on what should have been the day of her final fight. But she remembered everything. William Cage, the first death he'd described by an Alpha, the search for the Omega, and more importantly their final moments. The grief, regret, the wish for another chance. A chance that had been granted somehow. She was paralyzed in her bed with a sudden indecision. Did Cage remember her? Did she want him to? The answer was a selfish but resounding yes.

It took some time, longer than she would have believed. She expected him to seek her out. So for the first few days she waited, tensed for his voice as she went through the motions. She had to fake her puzzlement at the sudden death of the Mimics. She was shoved in the spotlight immediately after it was verified that the Mimics had, for whatever reason, shut down or disappeared. There was speculation that they'd abandoned the planet, after realizing that humans would not give up their planet without a fight. They crowed over their own strength, humankind's narcissism saddening her. Their planet was saved, but the real reason was lost. No one would have believed her even if she'd told the story. But she'd become the poster child, the "Angel of Verdun" scaring the aliens into self-destruction. It was simply another form of propaganda and she wanted no part of it.

After days passed, she began to worry that Cage had forgotten, for whatever reason. Perhaps it was because she'd killed the Omega that only her memories remained. The thought almost devastated her, realizing that she was alone in the world. She'd made inquiries about him, with generals and politicians, anyone that might know anything about him. In the spotlight, anyone that mattered treated her with respect, praised her and showed their gratitude. Behind the scenes she was simply another pawn, unworthy of notice. And her inquiries remained unanswered or stonewalled, almost as if they didn't want her to ever meet William Cage.

Rita considered going to the United States to continue her search. The small knowledge she'd gleaned from their final days spent together was pitiful. She'd had to hack into his file to get even a permanent address. Perhaps she'd once known everything there was to know about him, and if the memories they'd lived through had been shared she might know where to find him. But whatever knowledge she might have been told, whatever small intimacies they'd shared were all lost to her. She knew his name was William Cage, a Major in the United States military. She knew that he was like her, resetting the day with every death. She knew his eyes were brown, that his smile was crooked, that his determination was fierce and borderline obsessive. She knew that his ability against the Mimics rivaled hers. What she'd learned had only made her eager for more. And now that she was given the chance she wasn't willing to quickly abandon the opportunity.

She'd booked her flight, at the protestation of her new 'personal adviser', hired for her by the UDF. She'd ignored his angry blustering as she packed her bags. She was staying at a five star hotel paid for by the UDF while she looked for a permanent residence. She'd almost refused the generous severance they'd given her for her exemplary service to her nation. She felt it was a payoff, a reminder that once her fifteen minutes of fame had died down she was to fade inconspicuously into the background. But she needed to survive and with a face as prominent as her, she wondered what work she would be able to get without being harassed.

It was when he mentioned William's name that she froze, her reaction making him suddenly eager to spill.

"Yes, William Cage! I understand the two of you have never met? But the campaign for more recruits featured your victory at Verdun rather heavily. And Major Cage was one of the biggest reasons that men and women signed up in droves. Charismatic, witty, persuasive. It's no wonder he made a killing as an ad executive before the war. He'll be the other special guest on the show that you seem determined to skip."

Rita canceled her flight, booked an extended stay at the hotel and dismissed her 'adviser' so she could prepare herself. Her stomach was in knots, the anticipation causing equal reactions of elation and the need to vomit. She would be face to face with Cage again. And she would have no time to track the man down before the show, already running late. If he recognized her, it would be in front of millions of viewers, under the harsh light of publicity. What would she do if he recognized her? What would she do if he didn't?

She barely made it to the studio on time. There were grumbles of complaints from the make-up artist as she hastily worked on Rita's face. Rita knew she probably looked horrible. Night after night of restless sleeping and a general disregard for her personal appearance did that to you. Not that she looked sloppy, simply tired and completely free of any cosmetics. She was lent a dress, a red one that clung to her curves and showcased her cleavage. She wanted to wear something over it but before she even realized she was shoved towards the stage, almost stumbling in her heels as she walked onto the stage. The lights were bright in her eyes, and she closed them for just a second, brought back to the moment of her death. She focused on the sounds of cheering that surrounded her, trying to convince herself the loud noise was nowhere similar to the sound of the Alpha or following explosion. She had to swallow hard as she reopened her eyes, wishing that Cage would offer support.

Because there he was. William Cage, dressed in a suit sans the tie, his collar open at his throat. Her heart was in her throat as she made eye contact, waiting for his reaction. He smiled politely at her, rose from his seat and kissed her gently on the cheek when she approached him. There was the initial introduction, as he told her how pleased he was to finally meet the hero. But all she felt was numbness, as she responded with a quiet hello. He didn't seem to recognize her. His eyes were watching her with a faint concern, but he was smiling amiably. For the duration of the interview she tried to remain focused on the man who was interviewing her. But it was hard. Her heart was breaking, piece by piece, as she watched Cage being a man she'd never met. Just as her adviser had said. He was charismatic, charming the crowd with a few anecdotes. He was witty, ushering a surprised laugh from the host as he subtly poked fun at the General. He was so persuasive that he'd convinced her that the Cage she knew, who'd become the best man she'd ever known, no longer existed. He seemed to fit perfectly in this world, of timed responses, and the thinly veiled script she'd been coached on briefly in the back. What not to talk about, what she was allowed to talk about, how long she could speak. It made her sick, and yet he seemed to soak the attention up, covering for her lack of communication with ease.

Finally, even the host seemed concerned by her one word responses. "Rita, are you okay? You seem to be a little tired."

And there was her cue to laugh it off, to smile winningly and claim that she just wasn't used to the spotlight. She might have said it, but something else popped from her mouth, to her own horror.

"I'm sorry but when I first came in, the light and noise, caused a flashback to my de- to one of the times I almost died." It was truth, but not all of it. How had she let that slip from her mouth?

And there was silence. From the audience, from the host, from Cage who was staring at her with abject horror. She laughed awkwardly and apologized again, and the host seemed to snap out of his confusion.

"Oh my. We seem to forget that despite our victory, there are still wounds to heal." The man was genuinely sympathetic, perhaps the first true emotion she'd seen him display. He talked briefly of the sacrifice of soldiers and it was only Cage that could lighten the mood again.

After her lapse she made certain to smile, to laugh, and to answer the few questions directed at her with some thought. And all seemed to be forgiven, except Cage now watched her. She could feel his eyes on her the rest of the interview. Even when he was talking to the host, he was watching her. People would brush it off as concern on his part, or perhaps an attempt to keep her in the conversation. But she could see that he was trying to read past the wall she'd erected after her blunder.

She was happy when the commercial break came around, and it was time for the next guest to come on stage. She was ready to leave, to go back to her hotel room and stuff herself with chocolate. She barely glanced at Cage as he helped her to her feet and led her to the back. She pulled away without responding to his softly-spoken 'it was nice to meet you' and dashed off to the dressing room, closing the door sharply behind her.

Rita sat down in front of the mirror, taking time to wipe off the make-up they'd slathered onto her. She looked like a stranger, someone beautiful and self-assured, when she simply felt lost. When her face was clear she felt a little better, and when she'd changed back to a shirt and jeans she felt like herself. She pulled the pins out of her perfectly coiffed hair and rearranged it. Just as she picked up her bags to leave there was a knock at the door. She figured it was someone coming to tell her they needed the room so she opened the door with an apology on her lips. The apology died as she came face to face with William Cage.

"Can I come in?"

She nodded mutely, stepping back so he could move past her. She closed the door behind him, something urging her to lock it. He raised an eyebrow at the gesture and she shrugged. She had no idea what he wanted from her, but she needed time alone with him without interruption.

She leaned back against the door, looking for support at her weakened knees. He looked good, the suit replaced by a dark shirt and faded jeans. His hair was messy, as if he'd run his fingers through it and the dark circles under his eyes mirrored her own.

He stared at her, his expression unreadable as his gaze swept from her scuffed shoes to the messy bun she'd put her hair into. It was unnerving to be the focus of his attention, not knowing if he remembered even a moment of their shared time together. After the heavy silence lasted for a couple minutes she spoke.

"Do I have something on my face, Cage?"

He flinched visibly at her words, for a moment anguish clear to read in his eyes. It gave her hope. She'd said that to him in the past, she was certain of it. Or something similar if his reaction was anything to go by.

"Cage?" Her eyes pleaded with him to answer truthfully. "Have you ever met me before today?"

He stepped back from her, his head ducking down. "No. Why would you ask something like that?"

But she could see his confusion, and realized that maybe his memories were not as complete as her own. "Cage, do I seem familiar to you?"

"Familiar?" He looked at her and nodded once. "Like I've met you before a hundred different times. In my dreams I watch you die a hundred deaths, and I know you even if it makes no sense. I know you grew up on a farm. I know your family was killed by Mimics. I know your middle name is Rose! How the hell would I know that?" He thrust his fingers in his hair with one hand and hit the vanity table with his fist. "Rita Vrataski, the 'Angel of Verdun' was only a name to me a few weeks ago. But now...when I watched you walk onto the set, I could see that it disoriented you. I wanted to help you, to protect you. And to see you in that dress, it felt wrong. You fit the image I have in my head of you right now, and maybe that makes sense. You can't fight Mimics with a dress, but it feels more like a memory than something I should simply know. To see the dark circles under your eyes seems right, and what kind of person does that make me?" He looked her straight in the eye. "I want to kiss you right now, and I don't think it would be the first time, would it?"

Rita shook her head. "No, it wouldn't." And it couldn't be the last one. Not when he was starting to remember. How long had he been confused? "Why didn't you look for me?"

"Because it's crazy." he stated simply. "Because the things I dream about don't make sense. I'm an ad exec, not a soldier. I've never fought a war or killed a Mimic. I've never led a team or used a jacket and I've never loved you." The last was said uncertainly, as if he wasn't sure if he spoke the truth. Rita wanted to cry, his feelings confirmed even as he tried to deny them. She'd wondered these past few weeks how deep his feelings for her went. Now she knew, and it hurt far more than she expected it to.

"You're not crazy, Cage. And neither am I. We lived this, together. I don't remember everything you do, but I remember the last time. You led me to the Omega, sacrificed yourself so I could kill it. You're a good man Cage, and we've been given a second chance." she hesitated. "I'd like the chance to get to know you better. It was my final wish."

Rita waited for his response anxiously. Would he reject her claims? Would he walk away believing that both of them were simply crazy?

She watched him walk towards her, sighed as his hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her close. He didn't kiss her as she'd thought he might. He simply enveloped her in a tight hug, pressing his face against the side of head.

"Thank you, Rita."

"For what?" she wondered aloud.

"For being braver than I am. For giving me my sanity."

She smiled. "I never said you were sane, simply not crazy. What sane man takes on the Omega with only a few soldiers behind him?"

Cage laughed, the first genuine laugh she'd heard from him of the night. "But I had you beside me, so we were guaranteed to win. If you could kill me without blinking, the Omega was easy in comparison."

"Did I really kill you?" Rita cringed as Cage pulled away and nodded.

"Someone had to. You knew it, I knew it. It still sucked." He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. "But I'm glad it was you."

Rita nodded, shoving the guilt she felt down deep. Cage didn't seem to be bothered by it. And she figured the simple deaths she'd inflicted were probably better than the hundreds of deaths she remembered that were painful, bloody, and not always quick.

"So what now?" Cage asked her.

"Now, we go to my hotel room, and you can tell me exactly how you know so much about me. There wasn't time, that last day for you to fill me in. And I'm curious."

And on to part two!