I made my way to her apartment a few days later. I wore jeans and a hoodie. Walking the streets of England reminded me of France. Where I lived, you walked everywhere. A car was not needed. I liked walking anyway. I loved looking at my country, my home. That was one of the memories that I was able to keep. The rest was gone. All I had were tiny glimpses of that walk. I reached the building and made my way up to her apartment. I knocked on the door. She answered. I hid my face. "Please, don't attack, chéri. I just want to talk," I said. She nodded and let me in, much to my surprise. "Have a seat, love," she said. I sat on the couch. "Want anything? Water, soda, coffee?" she asked. "I'm fine, merci," I said. I'm an assassin not a barbarian, so I still have my manners. She sat next to me. I'm in awe at how nonchalant she's being. Her enemy is sitting next to her in her own apartment and she's just sitting there casually. I could kill her right now. How can she trust me like that? "So, you want to talk?" she asked. I snapped back to reality. "Oui, I want to talk about the past. I only have memories of short glimpses. I remember my name. The only other memory I really have is walking in Paris. I get memories of my husband but they are quickly suppressed. And I vaguely remember my fear as a child. When I was a girl, I was afraid of spiders. I was told they felt no emotion, that their hearts never beat. My first clear memory is killing this man. His last word was my name...my real name. Sometimes it tears me apart," I said. "I can tell you everything," she said. "Merci, chéri," I said. She started telling me everything. How I met my husband, Gerard, my wedding, overwatch and the members whom I was friends with, and when Talon kidnapped me. She then told me of my husband's murder. She told me that I did it. The memory of that man came back. He said my name. "Do you have a picture of him?" I asked. She nodded. "Yeah, I have the group picture we took at the wedding," she said. She brought over a picture. I saw myself. No. I saw Amélie. I looked at the man who stood next to her. The husband. It was him, the man in my memory. I felt a wave of emotions. Most of them were sadness. "I...I…," I stuttered. "It's okay," she said. "I killed him," I said. I couldn't take it; couldn't hold it in anymore. I broke. After years, I finally felt emotion and broke down. "I killed my husband. I killed Gerard," I cried. "You and I both know it was not your choice. Talon brainwashed you. They conditioned you to be who you are today," she said. "I want to remember. I know I can't remember everything but I want to remember what I can," I said. "I'll help you. I promise," she said. "Tell me your name, chéri," I said. She smiled. "Lena," she said. "Lena," I repeated. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl," I said. She blushed. "Oh stop," she said. I smiled at her. "Thank you, Lena, for this despite our obviously different standings," I said. "I happy to help, love. I've missed you. I've missed talking to you," Lena said, taking hold of my hand. Her smile quickly disappeared. "You're cold to the touch," she said. "I know. My heartbeat was slowed down to enhance my ability to aim," I said. She grimaced. "I'm sorry for what they did. I'm so sorry," she said. Tears rolled down her face. I wiped them away. What's going on with me? What is it about this girl that makes me like this? I feel vulnerable. I open myself up to her. That day, when what little I have now came back, I felt these feelings I haven't felt in forever. "Ne pleure pas, chéri. What happened was not your fault," I said. "I know there was something I could've done," Lena said. The tears came faster. "Please, don't cry," I said as I wiped her tears away. "Lena, don't blame yourself. There was nothing you could do. Rein, chéri. This burden is not yours to carry," I said. I kissed her on the cheek. Our face were inches apart. I stared at her lips and then back at her eyes. Ses beaux yeux noisette. I was lost in them. I cupped her cheek. She was so warm. It's been too long since I've felt something warm. All I know is cold. She did not shiver upon my touch. I felt her fingers caress my jawline. I leaned in, closing the gap between us.
This eventually turned into a full blown make out session on her couch. It was not with lust though. It was filled with love. Jésus -Christ, écoutez -moi. Love? I was not supposed to feel love. I'm supposed to be a cold hearted assassin. This girl is making me soft. "Lena, I…". I can't. I can't say it. Don't you dare say it. If you say it you're done. If you say it, you'll only break her heart. She knows you have to go back. You know you have to go back. This cannot be something. No matter how much you want it. "I have to leave," I said. "Je suis désolée," I said. "Don't worry, love," she said. We stood up and walked to the door. "Merci encore, Lena. For everything," I said. "Don't mention it, love. I'm here for you," she said. I smiled. I kissed her soft and long. I know that this must be the first and last time this happens.