Chapter One - Unexpected
Lily returned home from work, tired and sore, the hours spent on her feet getting the best of her. It was a long day at the studio creating clothing master pieces. She had spent all day doing embroidery on a dress that was fit for royalty. It was a dress commissioned by a high-profile socialite. Lily spent the last three weeks working on the dress, finally adding the finishing touches. She loved that she spent her days being creative and doing what she loves. Lily took off her shoes by the front door, dropping her keys and handbag on the table, closing and locking the door. She headed to the kitchen, loving the sun that shone brightly through the big windows that lined the kitchen wall. It was one of her favorite places in the house. She loved sitting by the kitchen island soaking in the late afternoon rays. Her daily routine is to come home, make herself a cup of tea and relax in the sun rays, before heading to her bathroom to shower and get comfortable to make dinner. But as Lily approached her kitchen, she was immediately aware that something wasn't right, it was out of sorts with her usual tranquil view. The earth outside was uprooted, debris and dirt scattered around her backyard, her big oak tree uprooted by an incredible force. Lily rushed to the sliding door that led to the backyard, wanting to inspect the damage.
Amongst all the debris and chaos was an unconscious man. A man dressed in all black with weapons and what looked like a metal arm. Lily wasn't going to pretend to know who or what he was, after the recent attacks in New York and New Mexico, she accepted that there were things in the universe she couldn't begin to understand. The man in her backyard obviously needed help, as he was bleeding and unconscious. Lily approached him with caution, the weapons he carried a red flag. He might not be one of the good guys, and she didn't fancy fighting off a mad man. Lily slowly and carefully approached the body, watching him closely for any sudden movement. She got close enough and detached his gun from its holster. Lily spent her childhood learning about guns and gun safety, her father a retired Police Officer. She made sure the gun posed no threat, before inspecting the injured man. He was not entirely human, that was clear from his get up and the metal glaring in the sun.
She gave her white pants a once over, wondering if she'd be able to rescue it once covered in dirt and grass stains. Probably not, she conceded. She was about to ruin her expensive outfit, but she'd do it to help someone. Lily carried her heart on her sleeve, always eager to help in any way she could. She was often found volunteering at the community kitchen down the road, and she also donated large amounts to the local charities fighting to help the homeless and children living in poverty. Lily got down and did her best to get a good grip of the man, her arms lodged firmly beneath his armpits. She used all her strength to lift him enough so she could drag him, those CrossFit classes coming in handy, her strength and stamina going a long way. She pulled him as carefully as she could inside her home, and towards the guest bedroom on the second floor of her two-story home. She cringed at the amount of dirt and debris she was dragging in to her clean and tidy home, shaking her head. That was a worry for later. Sweaty and out of breath, Lily finally had him on the queen bed. It took longer than she anticipated, the stairs tricky. Lily studied him for a moment taking in his muscular appearance. His long dark hair and mask hid his face, blood caked in his hairline. Gently and guardedly, Lily reached out and touched his mask, again watching him closely.
He was breathing, but made no movement as she pulled lightly on the mask. The mask fell from his face, and Lily was taken aback by how handsome he was. He was very attractive, his bone structure amazing. He had a strong square jaw and beautiful high cheek bones. He was what every male clothing designer desired. She knew of a couple of designers that would fall over themselves to clothed him and have him model their designs. Lily studied his face, running her fingers ever so tenderly down his jaw, admiring his attractiveness, the stubble on his jaw rough against her soft skin. Lily took a step away from him, wondering how she was going to get him out of his clothing to assess the damage. He'd be hurt, judging by the amount of carnage in her backyard. She decided to start with his shoes. She worked fast, but made sure she was aware of his body in case he suddenly moved. This was not what she had in mind when she drove home today. She was supposed to be in the kitchen barefoot and cooking, dancing to the music of her favorite band. Once she had his shoes off, the rest followed quickly. There were times she had to maneuver around clasps and clips that were unexpected. But she made quick work of them, and at last managed to get his shirt off. In the process of undressing him she found a couple of knives and another gun. She secured those and placed them on the bedside table. She was on her knees beside the bed, exhausted, sweat running down her spine. She rested her sweaty brow against the comforter, taking a few deep breaths. Lily took her time to collect herself and calm her racing heart. She sat back on her heels, taking another couple of deep breaths.
She saw the already spouting bruises on his torso, her gaze captured by the metal arm in front of her. She reached out and ran the tips of her fingers across the smooth surface. "This is crazy," she breathed to herself, getting to her feet and straightening her pants and blouse. If the stranger didn't wake from her undressing him, he wasn't going to wake if she took a quick shower. Lily gave him a once over, leaving the room and hurrying to her own bedroom also on the second floor. She rushed as she showered and dressed, not wanting to be caught off guard if the stranger in her guest bedroom wakes up. She got dressed in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, pulling the t-shirt over her head as she walked down the stairs. She got her first aid kit and a couple of wet cloths, returning to the guest bedroom. The stranger was still passed out. She checked his breathing, making sure he was indeed still alive. Lily took one of the wet cloths and started wiping away the blood from his face. She was careful, not wanting to hurt him more. She used both cloths to wipe his whole body, getting rid of sweat, dirt and blood. Once he was as clean as she was going to get him, she got disinfectant and started cleaning the cuts he had on his face, shoulders, torso and legs. She bandaged the cut on his head, and sat back on her heels, giving a sigh of relief. She's done all she could for him. Now he just had to rest and hopefully not kill her when he woke up. Lily knew it was going to be a long evening. There was no way she could go to sleep with a stranger in her house. Especially not an armed and obviously dangerous stranger. She headed to the kitchen and started cooking, not sure what else to do. She wasn't going to sit and watch him the entire time. If he was going to kill her, he could do it in the kitchen. It'll be easier to get the blood stains off the marble flooring in the kitchen than the carpet in the guest bedroom.
He woke up, disorientated and unaware of where he was or what day it was. It was bright and warm, sweat on his brow and chest. He looked around; the space white and bright, feeling tranquil. He wasn't used to warmth, and that is what this room reminded him of. It was decorated to be warm and inviting, homey. He sat up and looked around taking in the room he found himself in, it was spacious and decorated by a woman. That was obvious. No man would choose such delicate trinkets, in neutral colors of white and tan. It was such a contrast of the black and grey he was used to. He knew he needed to get up and leave; he failed his mission and needed to rectify it. That was his only purpose in life, nothing else mattered. And yet he wanted to stay in this room for a while longer. Here he had a glimpse of the humanity he lost, the humanity he might never get back. He scanned the room again, his eyes resting on an elegant white plush armchair in the corner by the window, and on it his clothes were neatly folded. Next to the chair was a set of white drawers, fresh yellow flowers positioned on the top, and his weapons perfectly laid out next to the glass vase. He swung his legs off the bed, placing his hands on the bed by his side, leaning forward. He needed to get dressed and get out of here, and back to his mission. That was all that mattered, all that he knew to do. He looked down, his body healed and ready. He got to his feet and walked to where his clothes were placed. Again, he had reason to believe that he was in the house of a woman. A woman that undressed him, and cared for him. He stopped in front of the mirror that was on the wall above the drawers, the flowers reflecting in it.
He studied his reflection, noticing the bandage around his head, that he assumed was to stop the bleeding. He removed the bandage, the cut healed. He noticed he had no blood or dirt on him, which makes sense. The mystery person must've undressed him to clean his wounds, not knowing that it wasn't particularly needed. It wasn't lost on he that a woman undressed him, and that a woman touched him. How long have it been since he's felt a woman's touch? He stared at his reflection, not recognizing the person staring back at him. Glimpses of his life came to life, the memories that cropped up were enough to make him want to suppress his humanity and never look back. But it was there, bubbling beneath the surface. What about this room made him think of his past, the allure so strong it broke through the years of brainwashing? The years of torture. He got dressed, suppressing his humanity once more, focused on the task at hand. As he placed his last gun in its holster, the smell of butter and garlic wafted through the door that stood ajar. The smell reminded him of the life he lost, a life he'd never live. He grabbed his mask and headed for the bedroom door, needing to get out of this house and back to the missions he was created for. He needed to finish what he started, and hanging out here where he felt warm and fuzzy was not going to help him achieve his task. He walked downstairs, the house décor of whites, tans and pops of color looked sophisticated and homely. There were photos of a happy family on the stairs wall, the portraits showing family gatherings and candid snaps. He wanted to stop and analyze each photo, wanting to know who this house belonged to.
But he didn't want to linger too long, worried that if he stayed, he wouldn't want to leave. He needed to be the deadly fighter they designed to do the job he was sent to complete. He couldn't afford to be human. He reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around for the front door. As he spotted it, he heard it. A voice so tender and melodic. It grounded him, reaching the depths of his soul that has been dark for so long. He closed his eyes and just listened, finding peace in the sound that travelled from somewhere in the house. "Talk soon," the voice said, getting closer. He opened his eyes and headed to the door needing to get out of the house before being spotted. "I've made dinner," she said behind him, as he touched the door handle. He knew better than to turn around, but he felt compelled to look at the woman that showed him such kindness. Kindness he sure as hell didn't deserve. She was as beautiful as her voice. Petite and fit, with long black hair neatly pulled back in a high ponytail, showing off her high cheekbones. Her big round eyes were the color of mud, making her look innocent. She was breathtakingly beautiful. He lost himself in her eyes, the kindness he imagined before, clear in those big brown eyes of hers. "It's been two days. You need to eat something," she said matter-of-factly, turning around and heading towards what he pictured would be a kitchen. He stared after her, torn between leaving and staying. He knew he should leave, but he wanted to get to know the woman that showed him such compassion. He needed to get out of here, he couldn't stay no matter how tempting. He turned the door knob, his mind made up. The smell of cooked meat came from the direction of the kitchen, forcing his hand. No man, no matter who or what he was, could turn his back on meat. Even a super soldier condemned to kill can be swayed by a home cooked meal. He walked in the direction of what he assumed was the kitchen, following the incredible smell of butter, garlic and meat.
He found the kitchen, the natural light from the ceiling to floor windows showcasing a spacious kitchen, decorated in whites and tans. The sun was setting, the view stunning. The woman looked at home, in jeans, white t-shirt and bare feet. She turned and gave him a joyful smile, "take a seat." Mesmerized, he sat down just watching her. She moved with such grace, he wondered how someone so good could stomach being around someone like him? She didn't know him; didn't know the terror he was responsible for, and the lives he had taken with his bare hands. How could she? She placed a piece of steak, roast veggies and potatoes on a plate, and placed it down in front of him. She put together a plate for herself, taking one of the white stools and sitting down opposite him. She crossed her legs, picking up her knife and fork. He followed suit in silence not trusting himself to speak. He watched her carefully, taking in every delicate feature from her eyelashes, to her lips, to her neck. Someone as beautiful as her didn't belong in a world that offered such violence. She looked up and gave him a smile. "How rude of me," she said, placing down her knife and fork. "Lily Blake," she introduced, leaning over the kitchen island, her hand extended. He stared at her hand, her fingers long and slender. He took her hand in his, her hand dwarfed by his. He gave it a quick shake, but stayed silent. Lily smiled and shook her head, as she picked up her utensils again. "The silent type, huh?" she looked at him amused. He merely nodded, continuing to eat. He didn't realize just how hungry he was until the moment he tasted the perfectly cooked steak. He couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. The food he's been eating was barely food. It was gunk on a silver tray. A memory he'd long ago suppressed popped into his mind, Lily's kindness and home cooked food triggering it.