So I was inspired to write this after watching Edge of Tomorrow. I call it a drabble because the ending kind of hangs there and might seem unfinished. I'm done for now but I might add on more later. I loved Edge of Tomorrow! Anyone who hasn't seen it should go and watch it!
Thank you to Speakfire for putting in a request for the new category! I've switched the story to it's proper place! :)
Obligatory disclaimer. I don't own it, or All You Need is Kill, which the movie takes its inspiration from.
Sergeant Rita Vrataski had never met the man before in her life. She didn't know him, had never seen his face except on television. And then, he hadn't really left a good impression either. He seemed more a politician than a soldier, more an ass-kisser than a fighter. She'd never seen his face and thought he was a man she wanted to meet. But now, as he watched her with an unnervingly intense expression, he seemed almost familiar. She felt such a warm rush of genuine affection that it left her bewildered. Even as she scowled at him, she had the greatest urge to throw her arms around him, to kiss the senseless smile off his face.
"Do I have something on my face, sir?"
He seemed to recover from whatever spell he'd been under, his smile fading, his good mood seeming to turn. She preferred the smile over his somber expression.
"No, I just..." He seemed to search for words then extended his hand after some hesitation. She had the oddest urge to slap it away, to embrace the man that was the face of the war. The man whose charisma had inspired thousands to enlist in a war that was sure to be their death sentence. "Major William Cage. It's good to finally meet The Angel of Verdun."
But we've met. The words were on the tip of her tongue. Haven't we? She shook his hand but felt no callouses that indicated he had ever used a weapon. "Please, just Sergeant Vrataski is fine sir." They stood in a silent vigil, both watching the other. What did he want from her? She knew why she was watching him so intently. He inspired feelings that confused the hell out of her. But why was he watching her with such an intent expression? Major Cage, William supplied her brain, watched her with an almost hopeful expression. "Was there a specific reason for this visit, sir?"
"Please, Cage is fine." His smile was forced. She could see it in the almost wince he'd given at her question.
"Cage." A sense of deja vu swept over her. Unlike a 'reset' and yet similar enough to be eerie. "Yes, well, if you don't mind I was in the middle of something."
The man simply nodded. William, supplied her brain again. William saluted and turned abruptly. A voice inside screamed at her to stop him. But the feeling was too similar to another time, a time when she'd tried so desperately to save a man she'd cared so much for, only to lose him. Nothing she'd ever did could save him, no matter her desperate need, and stopping Cage would help nothing.
He was walking away, but something was wrong. She could see it in his stiff posture, in the fine tension that made his hands clench at his sides. He wanted to leave as much as she wanted to relive even one of her deaths.
It happened so quickly. Someone wasn't paying attention. Perhaps they thought the interruption to her regular routine was an accident. The machines came to life in a whir of noise and spinning blades. She might have cried out a warning, but a warning wasn't needed. Not when Major Cage moved so easily, anticipating the movements of the machines surrounding them. She dropped flat to her stomach, something in her chest tearing at the knowledge of the carnage that was sure to come. Anguish tightened her throat. Maybe he'd fought one before, maybe he'd survived. But she doubted it and no one survived for long, not him, not even her. So many battles she'd fought and lost, died just to gain a weak thread of ability, some semblance of skill. Over a hundred deaths and she was still certain she would die the next day. Rita was no longer able to reset but she could feel her impending death on the horizon. And deep inside she was glad.
She looked up expecting to see his body, flung far away perhaps, bleeding, broken. Eyes glassy and lifeless. What she saw instead stunned her.
Major William Cage was either a born natural or simply truly experienced. He wasn't engaging the machines. It would be suicide without a jacket or even any form of weapon. He was simply moving across the floor, back towards the soldiers gaping at this approach. He dodged the false mimics with an ease that sent shivers down her spine. He knew where they were going to be before they were there. He knew. And the knowledge lifted her to her feet. He must be like her, and somehow they'd met before. His expression of hopeful resignation made sense. How many times had she hoped she would be remembered, only to have to introduce herself yet again? How many times had she watched someone she was trying to save die? She didn't remember a day she'd never lived but he did. And it was clear he remembered every moment. Who knew how many days he'd lived by her side. How many times he'd had to watch her die. She knew her death was coming. How many times had he tried to avoid it? But why had he stopped himself? Why walk away?
"William!"
He stopped, a machine whipping past him close enough to stir his hair. For a moment her heart was in her throat, but the machines stopped finally. He turned around and faced her with an expressionless face.
"Yes, Sergeant Vrataski?" How could he stare at her, knowing what he knew, remembering a thousand moments they'd shared that she could not? How could he remain so calm when already her nerves were taut and fraying simply knowing that he was like her?
"How many times did you watch me die?" It was an absurd question. She could see the other soldiers watching their interaction with perplexed expressions. But she knew he would understand, he was the only person who could possibly understand.
It was as if a dam inside Cage broke, his resolute facade crumbling. For a moment his eyes filled with an aching weariness, an anguish that mirrored her own, soul deep and inextinguishable. For a moment he looked as haunted as she felt.
"Too many Rita. Too damn many."
She was in his arms in the next moment, his forehead pressed to the side of her face. He shuddered as she held him close. With only a glare the immediate vicinity was deserted, and they were alone. Rita could feel the warmth of his tears against her neck. She could feel the fine tremors of his body as he clung to her so desperately.
"You're alive." And the only comfort she could provide was an affirmation as she stroked his hair.
"Why did you walk away? Why come to see me and then walk away?"
"Because you were alive and I just needed to see you once to make sure."
"You weren't going to tell me." She felt suddenly bereft. She didn't know him, but she could feel a connection. Maybe it was because she too, used to reset. Maybe some part of her remembered. He was like her and he'd never planned on telling her, not in this reset, maybe never again. "Why?"
"Because it's over. Because I lost it, the ability to reset. Because this time I don't have to watch you die. I could walk away, knowing that you would live your life free from me, and free from the hundreds of deaths I led you to, like cattle to the slaughter. Just like the last death, the one neither of us was supposed to walk away from. But here you are and you're safe. And we did that. We ended it."
She took in what he said, feeling a wave of relief. It was over. They had won. It was the only way that both of them could be standing here. Then there was pain, as she realized that whatever they shared together would have been nothing after today. Simply a memory in his mind, never to be shared with anyone. And she would have merely wondered at the end of the war that she'd invested so much of herself in, suspected the outcome but never really known.
What could she say? Maybe it was better that she didn't know? But it wasn't, not for him. She understood connections made and lost in the hours of a single day. She understood loss better than anyone. It was made so much worse when you realized that no one else would remember it.
"Thank you for telling me." But where would they go from here?
He still had his arms wrapped securely around her, his face pressed to the hollow between her neck and shoulder. He smelled faintly of cologne and the scent stung her sensitive nose but it was welcome. He smelled good. She shivered as his breath tickled her skin and she realized that this was quite a unique moment. Never had she been the one who didn't remember. Never had she been the one that needed an explanation. But now that she was, it was a surreal experience. She could sense his desperation, his joy as he held her. And she suddenly felt very awkward.
What were they to each other? What did he expect from her now that she had accepted his explanation. Despite their instant connection he was still a stranger to her. A face she'd felt a faint resentment towards. He seemed to realize whatever moment they'd shared was over. He pulled away, his face just a little red.
"I'm sorry Rita. I know you don't know me. But I know you. I know you probably better than anyone. And it's good to see you alive."
"I understand." She really did. She offered her hand and he took it. She tugged him forward, towards the exit. He followed but she could read the question in his eyes. "I may not know you, but I'd like to."
William smiled, his hand squeezing hers. "I'd like that. There was never enough time." He gestured around them. "Between the training, the planning, the fighting and..." He hesitated, smiling ruefully. "the times you had to shoot me to start a reset." It might sound horrible, but she smiled. Sometimes there was never a way to avoid it. She could remember the times she had no one to shoot her and she had to end it herself. No matter how many times you died, it never got any easier. And he didn't seem too offended by it.
"So William Cage, let's start with an easy question. Where are you from?"
She watched the smile spread across his face and felt a moment of deja vu once again. She had a feeling that whatever he told her, good or bad, she was going to end up loving the man. And that was fine with her.