Cage woke up, and his mind quickly sorted through a multitude of stimuli almost simultaneously. He was seated. It was noisy - the sound of a helicopter. He could hear the bell from a clock going off. He was no longer in pain, although his butt hurt like he had been sitting too long in what obviously was a helicopter.

That answered one question. He was back. It was London. The war would just be about over now.

He landed and deboarded the copter to walk towards a uniformed woman. "Welcome to London, Major. I'm Corporal Montgomery, your liaison to General Brigham's press office. Very good to have you. Have you heard the news? Isn't it brilliant?" Montgomery went on, but Cage didn't pay much mind. It was just like last time, nearly fifty years ago.

Fifty years ago, he had landed to find that his killing of the Omega Mimic had destroyed their ability to win, and what remained of the war was more of a mopping up effort by the UDF. He had gotten himself to the Heathrow Forward Operating Base and found Rita, who of course had no idea who he was. But he knew her, and it took little time to convince her how and why, and they had embarked on their relationship that lasted until her death.

Now, he paused. He knew where to find her. Sergeant Rita Vrataski would be at Heathrow, training. J Squad would be marching around under Master Sergeant Farell from Kentucky. The war would effectively be over in three days. It would be so good to see her face again.

He could see her face now. On a hospital bed. Breathing her last breaths.

He shook his head. That was thirty-nine years from now in the future – or at least a future. That disease was even in her now, lying dormant until springing into virulent mode. No cure and no treatment beyond making her comfortable. But most of those years were good times, and they could have them again.

And then he'd be alone again.

He surprised himself then with a decision - if he was going to end up alone, then he'd stay that way and never lose her again. The first 537 times were bad enough, but the 538th time wounded his soul more than all the others combined. He wouldn't seek out love, because love meant loss. Resolved in his decision, he reported instead to the General's press office and got about reported the end of the war. As far as he knew, J Squad was all alive. Rita was alive. Nearly everyone was alive, and the Mimics were gone.

"Cage, we've got an assignment for you," the General said about a week after the last skirmishes ended. "This war is pretty well wrapped up. I want you to do a human-interest piece for us. The good Lord knows we need to feel more human now than ever before. As you know, most of the active soldiers have stood down and are being deactivated as we speak; the logistics alone are tremendous. I want you to do an in-depth interview with one before they transition to civilian life again."

"Sounds good. It's going to take years for things to even get back to a semblance of normal after the war," Cage agreed. I know from experience, but it was a safe thing to say after any prolonged war, much less one that ravaged many areas.

"Exactly. Corporal Montgomery has set you up for the interview tomorrow. Her name is Sergeant Rita Vrataski."

"Vrataski?"

"You're familiar with the name, good. She'll be here at 0900 and you can requisition whatever equipment and personnel you need. This is a high priority assignment."

"Sir. Could you assign someone else to the job? Or maybe let me interview someone from J Squad out of Heathrow. I've met a few of them," Cage floundered.

"Negative. Listen son, I know she's famous as the 'Full Metal Bitch', but she won't bite your head off."

"But..."

"That's an order. Dismissed. Tell Iris what you need on the way out."

"Yes, sir." Cage did as he was ordered and left with a curt salute.

The next day, Cage managed to endure the interview. He even prepared a list of questions - not that he didn't know what to ask, but more importantly there were things he definitely DIDN'T want to ask. He knew this person better than anyone on the planet, but he couldn't let her know that or let himself get emotionally involved again. His questions were flat, to the point, and very specific. This went on to the very end of the scheduled time.

"Is this interview over?" she asked.

"I think I got everything I need," he responded.

"Turn off your recording equipment please."

He did so and waited. "Major, do you have a problem with me?" Rita asked.

"No Corporal, I do not." Not entirely true, he thought, but for the purposes of the official interview he didn't.

"Do you feel threatened or emasculated somehow by me being a woman?"

Cage smiled broadly and then just as quickly hid it. "No, soldier. I don't care if you're a woman or not. You're a hero, and that's why you're here." Lies, lies, LIES!. Just to the first part. She WAS a hero in the eyes of the military and public and that's how he had to look at her now, not how he used to see her.

"You've got about as much personality as a mech suit."

"Oh, come on, those things have a personality of their own..." he started to say and stopped. Officially, he had never used one. "...from what I'm told," he finished after a slight pause. Remember who you're supposed to be. "If you want a personality, Corporal, talk to Clifton Granger." That hack will talk and fawn over anybody famous as long as it's in front of a camera.

"Am I dismissed?" She asked it as a question, but he recognized her tone as more to the effect of 'I am done with this unless you have a compelling reason to keep talking' that he was quite familiar with. Rita always was a woman of strong convictions.

"Dismissed. Thank you for your time." There's so much more I'd rather talk about.

Rita got up and left the room without a salute - but Cage didn't expect one either. He took his recordings and came up with an interview that played up her strengths and minimized his presence before submitting it to the general's office along with his resignation.

...

Although he was an American from New Jersey, Cage found he rather liked England and took a job in Southampton as a freelance journalist with the televised news. While working on a story about a worker shortage at the docks, he found himself behind the controls of a loading crane that worked remarkably like a mech suit. With a grin on his face, he almost immediately began operating it at a rate faster than the astonished workers. He was offered a job on the spot and found himself now part of the crew working the vast shipping traffic that passed through the port. He fell into the habit of relaxing with some of his fellow work mates at a pub located almost halfway to Portsmouth, where they would celebrate the end of the workweek and arrival of paychecks. On several occasions he politely rebuffed the advance of an attractive woman, much to the confusion of his mates. He even got fairly good at darts.

Several months later, the guys arrived at the pub only to find it cordoned off by police tape and lit with the emergency lights of several vehicles. Switching into his journalist mode, Cage found the senior officer in charge and asked what was going on. He still held his press credentials and wasn't above using them when necessary.

"Excuse me Inspector, what's going on here?" Cage asked the man after he got off his com unit. He flashed his credentials while asking.

The officer barely glanced at them. "We've marked off the pub and several nearby buildings. We detected an old Mimic and have called in the specialists to dispatch it. Please have your group vacate the area until such time as we announce it's safe."

Cage's blood ran cold at the word. He knew that the occasional Mimic was still found buried around the world, much like unexploded bombs were after World War II, but he hadn't seen one in over a half a century and it far fewer years since they no longer appeared in his dreams. Intellectually he knew it wasn't as dangerous as during the war - but that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous at all. He thanked the officer and went back to his buddies to explain the situation. They drove off, mostly annoyed at having to find another pub that wasn't their usual, but Cage stayed to watch what he could see of the operation.

A military quad copter showed up about fifteen minutes later, and as soon as it touched down several armored and armed personnel deployed onto the ground and reported to the inspector. The officer retreated, his job now just keeping civilians away. Cage hid behind a vehicle and when the coast was clear moved in closer to a nearby tree. The military surrounded a central, grassy area and drew weapons. A single figure came up next in a mech suit, carrying a large wide battle sword. Cage knew that sword and watched as the others rhythmically stomped the ground. The grass bulged in the center, and several tentacles emerged before the body of a Mimic erupted out of the ground. With several well-executed swings, the figure severed a few of the tentacles before going for several blows to the center mass of the alien, killing it.

Cage stood rooted to the spot, a victorious glee running through him at the destruction of a Mimic. He was so caught up in the moment, he forgot to duck behind the tree before Rita could see him. While the others stood down and radioed in the report, Rita clunked over to Cage and stood before him. "Major Cage, if I'm not mistaken," she said as she looked him over.

"Bill, now. I resigned. The war's over. Looks like you still have a job."

"So now you go around trying to find Mimics in your spare time?"

He shook his head. "No. I came over for a drink with some work mates. I work a loader at the docks over in Southampton. Looks like the bar's closed tonight."

She continued to look at him. There was something about the way he looked at her that was - well, she wasn't sure but it was something she hadn't come across with anyone else. She had gotten a weird feeling even when he interviewed her a year ago. "Looks like my shift is over. Want to go find another place for a drink, former Major Bill?" she asked.

Cage hesitated. Just one harmless drink. You don't have to tell her anything. "Well..." he hedged. Don't! You'll lose her again. "It's getting late now. Thanks for the offer, but I better start heading back home. Good job on that Mimic." He forced himself to walk away, not looking back. It looks like England isn't going to be big enough.

...

A year later, Cage found himself back in America. He was able to get a job transfer and was working the docks in New York now. He didn't like the city as well as Southampton, but there was no lack of work to keep him busy. It was a typical busy day, and he was halfway through unloading a transport when he looked down from his control cabin and saw a group arguing on the dock. No punches were being thrown, but it looked pretty heated. He went back to concentrating on his work when his com unit buzzed. He activated the screen and saw the face of his boss, Al Toona.

"What is it Al?" he asked.

"Hey Bill, I'm getting some heat down here to move a couple containers from sector B. Any chance you can get..." he started to explain before he was shoved aside and an angry red-faced man appeared. "Forget asking nicely. You get those blue containers out of sector B and loaded onto a truck or your job is mine."

"Let me talk to Al."

"Your buddy Al is taking a coffee break. Now get those containers pronto!" Cage could hear a female voice complaining off-camera about delicate machinery, but the angry man turned and shouted "Back off or I'll pop you one too! Bill, get those containers off in ten minutes or I'm coming up there and doing it myself," he snarled.

Bill counted to ten before he spoke. A man who has died hundreds of times to achieve an objective learns patience out of necessity. "Mister Whoever you are, you have already delayed me ten minutes with your tirade. I'll go ahead and hurry up with your containers, but I'm sure you know that these controls are very finicky and rushing things could cause an accidental premature release. Your container could find itself suddenly falling from a height of fifty feet - if you're lucky, it will just smash itself on the dock. If you're unlucky, it will smash itself into the water and then sink. If you're VERY unlucky, it might just land on top of you. What do you say we just do our normal speedy job, and you'll have your precious containers safe and sound on the back of a waiting truck in less than an hour. Your call - the clock is ticking while I wait for your answer."

The face on the other end just grew redder for a few moments before it stormed off. Al's face reappeared, somewhat disheveled. "Do what you can, Bill. No heroics. Nice and safe, the way risk management wants us to." The screen blinked off and Cage got back to his job. He hurried only slightly, and managed to beat the one hour time limit he had imposed on himself. The last of the rush delivery trucks drove off and he settled in to finishing off the transport when there was a knock on the cab.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the door open while he concentrated on positioning the next container. "I just wanted to say thank ..." the voice started to say before pausing. "... Cage."

He recognized the voice but finished moving the container. Play it cool. "Do we have a Mimic in the port now?" he asked after he neutralized the controls and turned to talk to her.

"What? Not that I know."

"Then why is the UDF hanging around?"

"I don't think they're anywhere around. I'm a civilian now," she explained.

"Oh. Congratulations." I could at least give her that.

"I'm a consultant on the design of the next generation of mech suits. We're moving prototype components to testing facilities in some place called New Mexico. Listen, I just wanted to say thanks for having my back there. Tony has been pushing like a mad man to try and earn a time bonus on the delivery schedule and he doesn't care who he runs over."

"Like a bad superior officer." We've both had them, even if you don't know my background.

She smiled. "Something like that. A LOT like that, actually. Would you like..."

He interrupted her. "I'd like to talk, but I'm getting behind again. Glad I could help. Good luck." He started to play with the controls to show he wanted to get back to work.

"Right. Sorry. It's just that ... well, thanks." She looked at him for a moment and then was gone. She's still alive. He went back to his duties and didn't quite manage to fully concentrate on them for the rest of the day.

...

"Mr. Cage? Mr. Cage?" someone was saying, calling his name. He fought to regain consciousness, like someone whose sleep was too short or too long. He opened his eyes and forced them to focus on a ceiling. He moved his head down slightly and found the source of the voice. A doctor stood beside his bed. This didn't bode well.

"Present," he managed to get out "and I guess accounted for." It pained him to speak. I've hurt worse, though.

"I'm Dr. Debois. Do you know where you are?"

I don't feel like playing guessing games, but wherever it was I didn't die. Yet. "My guess - a hospital."

"Correct. Do you know why you're here?"

"Uh ... accident or medical event." It was getting a little less painful to speak. "It's not for a vacation."

The doctor stared for a moment and then smiled. "Sense of humor - that's good. What's the last thing you remember?"

Cage had to think about that; nothing immediately came to mind. "Excuse me while I work that out. I've been working the docks in New York for over five years now, and for a bonus they gave me an extra week of vacation and tickets to ... to a ball game. Chicago. I was driving to Chicago. Rental car, taking my time, I was driving and ... I don't know." What happened after that? "I crossed the state line into Indiana, but ... I don't remember getting to Chicago."

"You didn't. There was an accident, Mr. Cage. A cargo plane crashed onto the Interstate. It landed on you, among others."

Cage digested this. Whatever it was, it was sudden. "Fatalities?"

"Plane crew. Three people on the ground. Lots of injuries. You were lucky."

Cage barely managed to lift his head and looked down at his body. His left leg was in a cast, his arms were heavily bandaged, and he felt compression on his chest. "How bad?"

"Compound fracture of the femur and fibula on the left leg. Your arms had second-degree burns. You had a collapsed lung. We put you in a short medical coma to reduce the stress on your body. The worst was an aortic dissection, which is a tear in your aorta. We were able to repair it, and I expect you should recover fully from all your injuries. You're going to be in the hospital for a bit while you heal some and we can monitor your condition. When you are stablized and able, you'll be released as an outpatient and continue therapy to regain any lost function." The doctor grabbed the chart and looked it over. "Prior to the accident you were in excellent health. I don't see why we can't get you back there again. Now I have to leave to continue my rounds. I'll stop in later to check on you, and in the meantime we have excellent nurses on staff to care for you. Goodbye." Before Cage could even muster a reply, the doctor was gone.

True to his word, it wasn't even five minutes before the first nurse arrived to check on him, record vitals, and ask him if he had any needs. He asked for the monitor to be switched to the news and watched for a few minutes. Thankfully, he had only been out for a little over two days before he woke up.

Over the next two days he was visited by a bevy of doctors and nurses, questioning, prodding, and sometimes going over the same ground the previous shift had. His appetite grew, hardly sated by the certainly balanced but barely tasteful meals. During the late shift, there was a soft knock on the door. "If you're sneaking in a T-bone steak or a cheesecake, I'll marry you," he called out.

The door opened and in walked the most beautiful nurse he had ever seen. He had seen taller ones, curvier ones, all manner of hair colors and attitudes, but none of them had been like this one.

It was Rita Vrataski.

"No," he said as she closed the door behind her.

"I saw the name on the patient roster and I just had to see. How many times does someone meet a Bill Cage?"

Bill snorted, and then checked himself. If she only knew how many times she had met me, she'd laugh too. "You're really a nurse?"

"I wanted to get as far away from my old life as possible. I don't want anything to do with fighting now, unless it's helping someone fight to get well. I've seen too much," she said with a note of melancholy that couldn't be hidden. She pulled up a chair and sat down.

"A lot of soldiers were changed by the war. But the alternative is that we'd all be dead now." She looked at him. REALLY looked at him. "What?" he asked.

"We keep running into each other. But I get this ... feeling ... that I'm supposed to. But everything about you seems to want to push me away. Sorry, that's not very professional of me."

"I don't have anything against you. You're a great person. I ... I just try to keep my distance. I lost someone I loved and it tore out my heart. I can't go through that again." Don't make me explain. Please don't.

She nodded her head. "I know how that feels. I lost someone too. I haven't dated anyone since then."

"I know. You just push yourself to get the job at hand done and keep pushing on to the next one. Busy hands ..."

"... makes for busy minds," she finished before cocking her head. "How did I know that?"

We used to say it all the time. "It's a common saying," he offered as an explanation.

"No it isn't. I've never heard it before - it just now flashed into my head." She looked more closely at him. He tried to shrink away but couldn't while in the hospital bed. "Who are you?" She held the sides of her head with her hands. "Why do I care?"

"I could explain it in two minutes, but it would take a lifetime to believe me."

"I can spare two minutes."

You asked for it. "Your name is Rita Vrataski. Your middle name is Rose. You were exposed to the blood of an Alpha Mimic and relived the same day each time you died. You watched Hendrick die 300 times. Then a blood transfusion caused you to lose your ability. I died in battle bathed in an Alpha's blood when we stormed France and had the same thing happen to me. I sought you out and we trained to defeat the Mimics. I saw you die 537 times in battle. We defeated the Mimics by killing the Omega, both dying in the process. Time was reset again to the day I arrived in London and the Mimics were wiped out quickly afterward. Time number 538 I saw you die was a little over thirty years from now and it made me a widower. Time was reset when I died and I will NOT repeat the cycle and watch you die again."

Rita sat and said nothing. Bill lay on the bed, not able to go anywhere. I tried not to say it. I ran away to avoid saying it.

And I still said it.

Without a word, she got up and walked out of the room. Bill quietly cursed himself for not shutting up while he had the chance. But maybe it was best - if he drove her away, it would amount to the same thing as avoiding her.

After a few minutes the door opened and she came back into the room. "I believe you," she said softly.

"Now you know."

"Would you be willing to do it all one more time?" she asked.

"No. I had to fight every time I saw you not to confess everything and live our lives together again. If I did that, I'd be just as tempted the next time. And the next."

"That's not what I asked."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just a guess on my part. When you came in here, you were badly injured. They had to perform emergency surgery. You had a blood transfusion - it says so in your medical records. Won't that make this your last cycle?"

Bill thought about it. The transfusion stopped Rita's time loop. It might have stopped his. No, it HAD to have stopped his! "I ... never thought about that before. Until my car accident - the one that killed me after we were married I mean - I never had any medical procedures. No transfusions. This is the first one I've had since the reset. THE FIRST ONE!" He rocked back and forth in his hospital bed, celebrating. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

He finally calmed down and saw that Rita was still staring at him. "You haven't answered my question yet."

Bill smiled. This time was already different from their last lives. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? He looked at Rita the way he had longed to for years. "You already know the answer."

The End

A/N: I had intended on making the first chapter the entire story, but it has been bugging me for years. I wanted them together again, but my ending was intentionally vague and I wanted more clarity. So I watched it again and came up with this.