Hey ! So I've seen 'Polar' with the excellent Mads Mikkelsen. Didn't like the movie much, too graphic for me. But... it was an excellent occasion to write about my favourite couple, aka Frances and Tristan. I hope you enjoy. This will be a short story.

'Blam'

The file landed on the table like the mighty sword of Damoclès. Frozen, Shadow swallowed her mouthful of coffee – yuck, she hated coffee ! – to repress the shudder than ran up her spine. The Black Kaiser. They wanted her to kill the Black Kaiser. Duncan Vizla. Heaven be damned… But her persona, the indifferent cold-hearted killer, must hold. The organization she worked with could turn against her in the blink of an eye if they saw her falter. But how could she not ?

— "There was an incident, we face a diplomatic crisis."

Shadow squinted behind her huge sunglasses, her eyes travelling across the blonde woman that faced her. Long honey waves styled like a 50's movie stards, bright blue eyes, heart shaped face and a body to kill for tightly wrapped in a dress… and fear in her eyes. Picking up the file, Shadow gave her target one last look before she closed it in a swift gesture. Unafraid, and act for the fidgety gorgeous blond woman who faced her.

But inside, her mind was screaming. For those eyes, those cheekbones were her only memory of… before. Or the recurring dreams of a past life, perhaps, or ancestors she didn't know. Tristan, the knight she had loved until his demise… How had she recognized him in a simple glance ? Easy, the picture didn't hide his eyes nor the proeminent cheekbones. Two features that danced in her mind more often than not. Aside from the nightmares, that is.

And he was her next target. Who would the man be, today ? A ruthless, hateful killer like herself ? Did he deserve to die ? Probably so… By her hand ? That would be the ultimate irony. If she didn't manage in the span of a month, they would send another. And another until the man lay splattered on the walls of his own house. A pity, for he rather cut a handsome figure. Steeling herself, Shadow gazed at the pin-up through her dark sunglasses.

— "I'll find him", she said, her voice unwavering as she stood.

The blond woman seemed to swallow. Personal connection to the man then… had she slept with him ? A surge of jealousy sprang through her chest, repressed at once. The blonde was afraid, as she should be.

— "Be careful. His skill is unmatched", she said.

— "So is mine", she purred.

All muscles coiled, dressed in tight fitting black leather from head to toe, Shadow nodded to the blond pin-up. Who, in this nasty business, had never heard about the Black Kaiser ? Government and officials trembled before him… even his bosses kept him happy to prevent from watching over their shoulders. It made sense, really, for Tristan had been the fiercest of warriors. No pity, no mercy for the enemy. People kept out of his way.

She merged in the shadows of the coffee house, the folder tightly clutched in her hand.

Today was the first day of the rest of her life.

Shadow rather enjoyed the view. All around her, leaves danced in the mid-autumn wind, detaching one by hand to land upon the floor in a messy pile of gold and red. Their movement created a rustling that hid her presence easily, her whole body woven around the trunk like a salamander. Her warm chocolate eyes could barely discern the man she was observing in between branches; it was enough to keep him in sight.

For three weeks she had searched, roaming the country from house to house only to find tenants and squatters… twenty-three days of misery where her mind rolled and rolled, day and night, about the situation. Paid to kill, yet unable to decide whether she would be able to do it.

For twenty-three days, she had barely left two messages to the blonde lady – Vivian, the Damocles employee. She was a shadow, unaffiliated to any organization until now. The one they called when they needed a swift death that wouldn't create ripples. Her name suited her well; she was but a shadow in people's lives, just a trail of darkness in companies' history as she never appeared, by name, anywhere. Untracked, untrailed, unattached, invisible to the world. In the world of hitmen, she was barely a notion.

And to see, today, Damocles ordering his own employee's death only comforted her in her choice. No one could be trusted. Being a solo had its perks, but also its setbacks. Creating a network, for example, with weapon providers, accountants and administration people had taken a while. On the other hand, no one knew who she was, or where her feet took her. Shadow didn't really exist.

'Twack'

Another log landed on the pile, neatly cloven in two. Winter was coming, and she didn't doubt its harshness in such a place. The wooden cabin sat at the roots of the mountains, and already the wind sent shivers through her frame. But Duncan Vizla seemed unaware as sweat dripped across his bare shoulders. Muscles glistened as he worked, log after log piling up beside the cabin. Precise and neat, he never missed a blow. The axe fell upon the log with incredible regularity, and she couldn't tear her eyes from his form.

He was a little more massive than the man in her dreams, still, she could clearly recognize his form. Tall, lithe and efficient, every fiber on display when the axe pulled at his arms and shoulder. A man used to make his body work, his moves filled with purpose. His dark brown hair, mid-lenght, danced about his face at each stroke. A strand often came to stick across his cheek, emphasizing the sharp bone so characteristic of his origins. Tristan had sported two sets of tattoes, claws, a tribal mark from his distant homeland. East. Just like Vizla. The thick moustache, nearly lost in the unkempt stubble that covered his well-defined chin, gave him a peculiar air.

He was different, but not overly so. And his essence… The aura of control and danger that exuded from his frame. Definitely the same one as the knight of old that sometimes danced in her dreams.

His gun rested on a table mere yards away, in full view. Even at home, the Black Kaiser never tempted fate. It probably was the furthest his weapon could ever be from him. And even then, it wasn't enough. For Shadow could have taken him down many a time. In the city, for example, or here, at his home. She wasn't one for sniping much, preferring to come a little closer and see the people she was killing rather than hide away like a coward. Still, in those woods, there were plenty of placed where one could hide and land a bullet in his head.

Right now. Gun in hand, Shadow still hesitated. She felt stupid as well, stalking him high perched in a tree when she could end his life right now and honour her contract. If she didn't… Damoclès would have her hide, and all her former employers would refuse to hire her again. At best. At worst, she'd be the next one on the list. Everything she had built over the year, careful steps and scheming, persona building and training, could crumble the moment she refused to put that bullet in his head. Adjusting her position upon her branch, the young woman exhaled slowly and aimed. Her hands were trembling, her stomach clenching, her chest constricting in despair. Just a tiny pressure to pull the trigger, and she would be free to resume her life again…

Her empty, loveless life filled with casual sex, blood and ugliness.

The rustle of leaves made her head snap aside, weapon automatically following her line of sight. Holding her breath, Shadow squinted to distinguish the enemy that sent alarm bells in her system. Adrenalin ran freely into her veins, her heart hammering, muscles coiled in anticipation. Until the leaves rustled again, giving way to a tiny rusty squirrel. Shadow would have laughed if a strange pressure had not spread through her lungs. Something had changed. It wasn't the tiny breeze, not the faint noises of the forest… it was…

Shadow realized, too late, that the steady rhythm of the axe was missing.

A woosh was her only warning as said axe came rushing at her, spinning on its axis with deadly precision.

Her reflexes saved her from a painful scalping, her body jerking backwards before her brain could process it. The sudden movement also deported her from the branch she was crouching upon, and down she went without any hope to regain her balance.

Shirtless, Duncan cursed himself for his naiveté. Even at home, even after leaving four fake addresses and living in a cabin in the middle of the woods, he would never be safe. But who could possibly be crazy enough to dare attacking the black Kaiser ? His long strides took him the table when his gun rested when a painful cry echoed in the woods. Feminine, definitely, he noted as he reached for the weapon. One more yard, and the Black Kaiser would be rightfully armed. He extended his hand to the table, intend on swirling around the moment his fingers found the cold metal of his favourite gun. One more yard that he never got the chance to cover as gunshots sounded in the forest.

Duncan jolted backwards, incredulous. One more shot and his gun was flung from the table, damaged beyond repair by the precise bullets that hit it squarely. Incredible ! As he retreated swiftly to his original position, the Kaiser's quick mind couldn't help but register that the woman had taken his weapon out of reach with a skillfull shot but not buried a bullet into his skull. She probably wanted him to talk… but why not cripple him then ? Whatever. A dire mistake; she'd pay for it.

His hands worked on their own accord as they grabbed two piece of a log he'd just cleaved and lifted his eyes to the prawling form that advanced to meet him. He knew who she was at once, or so he thought. Shadow.

They had never worked together – Black Kaiser and Shadow mutually excluded themselves - but any hitman knew of her. Long mane of fiery hair, Kevlar vest, tight leather pants, the crawl of a panther and a reputation to die for. Literally.

In any other circumstance, he might have admired the fluidity of her moves and the gentle curves of her toned silhouette. Duncan was partial to beautiful women… but this one might very well prove to be her downfall. If his attacker really was Shadow, he wouldn't make the mistake to underestimate her.

He launched the first piece of log with all his might, the other following suit. The woman blinked, as if she couldn't believe he'd really done that. Then she twisted aside like a feline, ondulating out of the way. The first log passed her face by mere inches.

'Twack'

Her cry was laced with anger; her weapon lost with the force of the blow upon her slender wrist. Somehow, her anguished voice tightened his chest with an unknown feeling. As is something was bleeding inside of him. Strange. Duncan didn't dwell on this strange un unwelcome sensation, pressing his advantage. There was no future, no past and no distractions in a fight. Nothing but th present. She was weaponless; he unsheathed the hunting knife from his belt and charged at full speed before she could recover.

Warm chocolate eyes widened at his boldness. In the seconds it took Duncan to reach her, Duncan noted how the leather and Kevlar would protect her body from bullets and blades. His whole frame dwarfed her; with his height, he probably weighed forty pounds more than she did. If he could crash into her full force, she'd be unconscious upon impact. But instead of twisting away, the young woman barely flinched and launched herself forward to meet him head on.

Mad woman !

At the last moment, she lurched to the left, avoiding his knife to the throat and deviating his arm in an aikido esquive he knew all too well. Duncan humoured her, allowing his right hand to be swatted away to slam his left fist into her ribs instead. That would teach her to give a man so massive some momentum. The woman barely grunted although he could feel the crack beneath his fingers. Duncan almost winced in sympathy. Almost. Yet something within rebelled against his own actions and he buried the need to protect mercilessly in the depths of his soul.

That woman was a danger to his life. Already, she was meeting him head on. So fast, so flexible, slippery like a fish in a stream as she twisted and turned to avoid his blunt blows. Her fiery hair, a mix or brown and deeper red, danced around him. Her dance allowed her to land a few of her own, nothing crippling or lethal, just enough for him to grunt and slow down. Until she crouched down, avoiding another hit, and took advantage of her position to land an uppercut that rattled his teeth. Damn, she had mean punch ! The next second, Duncan staggered back as her foot percuted his plexus. The hitman heaved, his chest refusing to take the much-needed breaths.

But she didn't press her advantage, staring with heated eyes, taking in the full expense of him as if… as if he was the most precious man in the world. Reddish strands framed her face, escaped from the tight braid, some sticking to her skin where bead of sweats rolled down her temples. Despite the mighty bruise he'd probably sport later, Duncan couldn't help the surge of admiration. Shadow definitely was a woman who called to him respect, be it from her skills or her singular beauty. For her features were lovely, just as much as the intensity of a warm chocolate eyes. Very different from the usual classic beauties he sometimes worked with, especially Vivian. No, she held a different type… something warm, hidden behind the mask. Something he could nearly touch with his fingers. And few survived a fight with him. Yet… she wasn't the first beautiful and deadly woman he met. Her chest heaved; she, too, was trying to regroup.

Duncan pushed the pressure away, taking a forced breath to regain his internal balance. Too bad for her; she didn't cripple him when she had the chance. Tightening his grip on the hunting knife, he planted his feet on the ground, ready to lash out. The young woman smirked then, rolling her shoulders to remove her leather jacket with catlike grace. The sleeves slid down her arms in such a sensual dance that he couldn't help but blink; a tigress in bed ? Then she adapted her stance, leather jacket stretched between her hands as she invited him. Just a tiny lift of her eyebrows, a cynical expression that should have vexed him profoundly. But the Back Kaiser wasn't one to give in to those emotions. Analytical and quick thinking were the reason he was still alive today.

Slowly, he took the time to circle her, hunting knife at the ready, muscles glistening with sweat. She barely shifted her feet, following his every move, feet attuned to the disparities of the ground; she expected a snakelike strike. There was no way around this unless he accepted to back off. Duncan eventually attacked. A feint to the right with the knife, then his fist lunging at her. She dodged his blow with a swift rotation – his mistake for pulling the same move again – sending him slightly off balance. This time though, she pressed her advantage, lunging at him to gather his right hand and twist the leather jacket around. One mighty pull on the fabric sent the hunting knife clattering upon the rocks.

— "Olé!", she said, hopping away from him to kick the weapon away before he could reach it.

Her exclamation rooted him to the spot, and Duncan couldn't help but remark the twinkle in her eye. Almost as if she was enjoying herself. At last, she had found someone that measured up to her. The reverse was also true… a long-lost memory, a dream perhaps slammed into his mind. The memory of warm chocolate eyes taunting him at swordpoint. Sparring.

The truth was, he was starting to enjoy himself as well. Be it from this strange vision, or the challenge he didn't know.

The fight increased in intensity, all weapons discarded as if decided by an unspoken agreement. Few blows landed as Shadow danced around him, avoiding his powerful hits while she fled. She was so fast that it gave him a headache; the damn woman was taking advantage of his bulk. What she lacked in blunt force she gained in speed and agility. A spirit of the forest, with her red hair contrasting with its greenery. After a while, Duncan was quite sure that she avoided hitting him in crippling places. For her blows held power, they were dry and harsh upon his muscles. And even if his guard was up and his body well protected, there were two times, at least, when he knew she could have knocked him out.

Would she kill him when she was done playing ? Torture him ? Locking eyes with her, Duncan felt her attention falter a moment too long. His fists shot out for a direct hit; she twisted at the latest moment, his blow landing upon her back instead of her plexus. Shadow rolled away with a painful expression, stopping two feet from the tree she had fallen from. He should have pounced, should have finished her while she wobbled back on her feet. But he didn't, unsettled by her pain. As if the world itself should crumble down that he had dared lay a hand upon her ! How could he ?

At loss, Duncan dove upon her like a beast, intending to use his more massive frame to pin her to the tree behind her. He could always head butt… the rest, he would figure out later. Her eyes widened in shock as he lunged. She moved at the very last moment, using a skillful swerve to grasp his neck and shove him head first into the trunk. Stars exploded before his very eyes, a groan gracing his collision with the bark. Sneaky woman !

Panting, he took a moment to gather himself while his meaty arms hugged the trunk. Then something caught his eye. Her glock lay on the ground not a yard away !

— "Are you allright ?"

Her voice was unsure, regretful and he couldn't make heads or tails of it. She attacked him and now seemed almost worried. Perhaps the rumors of Shadow being batshit crazy were true after all. Without turning around, Duncan maintained the fainting act as he left his body sink to the ground lazily. There. His fingers grasped the gun; he whirled around, aiming at her head.

Shadow's face fell, her warm eyes widening in sadness rather than horror. As if she accepted her death already, but regretted it altogether. The agony of her emotions sent pangs of angst through his chest, as if he could feel her despair seeping into his own mind. How could this cold hearted killer be so expressive ? It just made no sense at all…

His finger tightened on the trigger. One tiny movement, and she would be but a memory. The Black Kaiser's triumph once more. The only issue; he would never know who sent her.

'Pull the trigger', sung his mind.

'Please don't', her eyes pleaded. Her fiery mane of hair, her hands, her silhouette, her moves. The tiny chin and rosy lips. High cheekbones over a small upturned nose … everything about her suddenly seemed familiar.

His soul was screaming so loud that he felt like covering his ears and crumbling to the floor.

His hand twitched.

— "Tristan !"

Her heartfelt plea leaved him more winded that the mighty blow she'd send to his plexus. How did she know his real name ? No one save him knew of the name his mother bestowed upon him… before the Black Kaiser. His finger tensed, his arm trembling. One milimeter further, and she would be dead. Lifeless, her blood oozing into the ground, her face pale. The image sent dread pooling in his stomach. Why was her prospective demise so terrifying ? What was it that stalled his hand when he had never hesitated to end a life ? Why did it feel so wrong to hold her at gun point, to be the one to threaten rather than protect ? And her eyes, the endless pool of warmth searching his face… how could he ever forget what it felt to delve into their most prized secrets ?

Eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, Duncan hesitated just a second.

A second was all it took for her to move.

"Bang !"