Time

Unhappiness. Dejection, Grief. She hid all of them well. She had hidden behind a mask of happiness, joy and ecstasy all her life. She had cared for others without giving any thought to her own desires, her own happiness, her own joys. She had served strangers and family alike, friends and foes alike with passion, compassion and sympathy. The patients came in everyday, smeared with blood and gore, screaming and wailing, crying and suffering. And she greeted them all with a smile and a cheerful hello and then she got down to work, carving, extracting, sewing, stitching them back together like before. In healing their wounds, she became their angel, their savior, their hero. She saw how their loved ones crowded around them, she saw the love and the angst and hope and tears. But in healing them, she scarred herself. She craved for her own loved ones to crowd around her and love her, comfort her, take care of her. It was time to move on, time to be a little selfish, time to focus on her self-it was time to start a family, one she would love and that would love her back. She wanted to know what having her own family was like. She decided to talk to Tom about it, after all they had known each other for two years now and had been happy and in love. He would surely understand and even welcome the idea. It was time.

Worry. Anger. Pain. He had hidden them well but nothing he did could get her to leave him. He had tried to push Mila away but she always managed to come back in his life. He had tried hurting her but could not bear to cause her too much pain, he had tried staying away but instead found himself distracted worrying about her, he had even taken on a lot of work to keep his mind off her but in vain. The memories were too strong and they always held him back. He had never had someone who cared so unconditionally for him, who loved him without any expectations of a return, who understood him, who cared for him. But the work he did, did not permit him to have access to such luxuries. He had to leave her, he had to regain his focus - he needed a change of place, a change of heart. He would take the assignment in Thailand and never come back. But before that, he had to make certain arrangements; he had to arrange his untimely disappearance. In his profession, that was easily arranged.  All it required was a certain car, a corpse charred beyond all recognition wearing his clothes and gasoline. All that required was a certain phone calls and a painful goodbye which he was not ready to bid. But he had no choice. Sighing, he got down to work and assured that the corpse he had been provided with was in the right position. He shut the car door gently and poured the gasoline over his own car. And lit her up. And walked away. It was time.

Logic

He knew he would have to let go. Circumstances were proving to be too dangerous for her to stay by his side. Not to mention hat her mere presence was distracting him from his work. And nothing distracted him from his work. Nobody. She had to go.

He began by methodically searching for a method to remove her from him and him from her. The process had to be non-invasisve and had to create minimum damage for both individuals involved. He would tell her that he needed to leave for a mission of great importance and then would never return. He would perhaps fake his own death and she would be better off for it. She would move on and find happiness again. With another. But even the thought of her being someone else caused his stomach to tighten. However, he knew his work was far more important than any one woman. He needed to look at the greater good; he remembered why he had joined the force in the first place-to serve humanity,to save humanity, to protect humanity. From its own stupidity.

Humans tended to be overly optimistic and often ignored logic while making important decisions. Logic to him was everything. It had been logic which had prevailed in preventing mass terrorist attacks, protecting the lives of heads of state and in averting major missile crisis.
But in his refuge to logic, he had lost in touch with the human inside of him, the part in him which could love, which could give, which could feel without reasoning or questioning. He had become a machine, following orders, executing missions, killing the undesirables so that they could save the millions of others, because it made logical sense-one man's life over a thousand others. He knew it was logical to stay calm in a tense situation because the brain functioned better, he knew it was logical not to get too attached to people because it trained one to be independent, he knew it was logical to be prepared for all eventualities because the laws of probability dictated so.

However so, he could never have trained himself enough for her. Initially he told himself that she was a mere asset, she helped him when he needed it but why had he risked his own life to save hers? That had made no logical sense to him initially but he eventually explained it as his duty to repay the favour she had done him once. Then over the next few months, he justified her presence as a friend whom he could talk to and who could take care of him, giving him more time to focus on his work as his mundane tasks were taken care of.

But when those two men had attacked them, he had felt an innate desire to protect her, which he could no longer explain. He had wanted to kill the bastards who laid even a finger on her, for the first time he had valued someone's safety above his own without being duty-bound to do so. And that had to stop. Now. 

Blood

Blood. She could see blood everywhere. The blood of those two men as they lay on the cold street. The blood from the wounded man she saved in Paris and who had now become her lover. The blood of her own guilt. Blood was the reason she now saved lives; blood was why she had become a surgeon.

It was a cold and dismal day in far away England and a little girl lay on her bed watching the rain patter on her windowsill. She loved the sound of raindrops on her window pane-it was like the rain was whispering its secrets to her.
'My little dove, my child, come out-we are going to your favourite pizza place, ' her mother called.

Little Mila threw back the covers and started to get dressed-she put on her favourite red frock and her red rain boots with her matching red umbrella and ran pell mell down the stairs.

Thunder and a sudden downpour greeted the family as they bundled up in their red Chevy quickly and headed out. Like all little girls, she did not like the thunder so to provide a distraction, her father began to sing to the thundering beat of the raindrops. Her mother coaxed her to join in as well and soon the three of them were singing at the top of their voices. The little girl got so excited that she had a sudden urge to dance and all of a sudden, her seat belt came loose and she slipped in the space between the driver's seat and the rear one. Her father immediately turned back to see if she was all right and her mother beckoned him to stop the car. But in the split second, as her father turned to ensure that his little dove was all right, a truck came up out of nowhere and hit their car at full speed. There was a deafening sound as metal hit metal and glass was shattered. The car spun out of control and skidded off the slippery road to collide with the trees on the side. As the car finally came to a halt, a scared yet unhurt little girl peeked out from her spot to see if her mother and father were all right. She just saw two bodies slumped in their seats. She climbed out of the seat and touched her mother's shoulder. 'Mommy, are you ok?' getting no response, she turned to her father, 'daddy, wake up, daddy'. But neither of them ever woke up. Again.

It was nearly an hour before people found the car by the road. A red chevy with two adults and a child inside, hugging her parents and wiping their blood with her tears.They rushed the trio to a hospital nearby but it was already too late for the parents. They managed to save the child though, soaked with the blood of her parents, mingling with her favourite red frock and her red rain boots.

Questions

Questions-racing through her brain even as her heart told her otherwise. Questions about the man standing in front of her, the person she was beginning to discover, man she was beginning to fall in love with. Why did he obstinately refuse to tell her what he did as a living, why did he disappear at odd times of the day, why did he have so much money? And why had he chosen her.

When they were together, he was funny and a patient listener as she told him all about her life. Growing up in England, moving to Paris and staying there for her profession. He listened as she raved and ranted about the hospitals, the doctors, the patients, the sickness and disease. He sometimes even spoke about his own childhood in England, in a quiet countryside where he lived with his grandparents or of chaotic London where he lived as a student. He talked about travelling-about visiting Spain, Italy and Greece. They discussed ideas, life, philosophy and religion. But despite the familiarity, she was always haunted by her unanswered questions. Who was this man?

One thing she knew for sure that despite his qualities, he was no saint. She had seen him kill. They were in a street in Paris one beautiful moonlit night when they were stopped by a man asking for money. She quietly opened her purse to rummage for some change so she never saw the other men converge. But he did and he knew this was no ordinary begger. Within seconds, there was another man with a knife right behind them who asked them to give in all their money and their valuables.She was ready to comply and she begged him to also. Reluctantly he agreed and lay down all their valuables in a pile in front of them as they instructed. The men were almost about to take the loot and take off when one of them had an idea. "Why not take the woman as well? This man will be no match for our knives. " They came back and started making a move towards her and although he understood no french, he knew that they had a different valuable in mind. One that he was not ready to part with. He moved in protectively in front of her as the two men drew their knives and begun to fight. She had never seen him move so fast or fight so ruthlessly. At the end of two minutes, one was already on the floor trying to fight Tom while the other tried to attack him from behind. But she would not be a silent spectator. She grabbed the closest heaviest object she could find and attacked the assailant on his head from behind. The man dropped like a sack of potatoes. Tom, on the other hand, had managed to wrestle the knife away from his attacker. And within minutes, his attacker lay quiet on the cold hard street. The other man was still alive but Tom was not one to leave unfinished business."Don't kill him, Tom. Please," she begged.
"Look away, Mila if you don't have the stomach for it but I cannot let this man live, " and he plunged the knife in his heart in a brief silent strike.
"We need to leave. Now," he commanded. And she turned away to leave so she never saw him methodically wiping the knife of all fingerprints and throwing it in the gutters. The waters carried away the blood. And the guilt.

Fate

He knew she was trouble when she first walked into his life. In that one night in Paris where he was wounded while carrying out his duties. He still vividly remembered how she helped him selflessly, even when he was nothing but a rude, ungrateful and sullen young man. After taking her leave, he hoped it would be the last time they would be seeing each other. For his sake and hers.

But it was not to be. Business found him again in Paris and a rain drenched one at that, too. He was patiently waiting for the lights to turn green, when he saw her again. Right in front of him. Loose brown hair soaking in the deluge, arms spread out as if to catch every bit of the water that she could and  that wonderful smile that could turn hearts and heads. But why could she not hear or see the car coming straight at her? He knew he had to act and  with a reflex sharpened by time, he grabbed her roughly and pulled her towards him to throw her out of harm's way. Unfortunately in doing so, she lost her balance and she fell, head first, to the pavement. It was a hard fall and he noticed, with horror, the blood seeping out from under her head, becoming one with the rain and the mud. Immediately, he lifted her and bundled her into a taxi, hoping they would get to a hospital in time. His clothes were soaked with her blood as he tried to stop her head from bleeding. He would not let her die.

Once at the hospital, he entrusted her to the care of doctor. As he sat in the waiting room, he found himself remembering the few days that he had spent in her home. He remembered her soft and gentle touch as she undressed and dressed his bandages. He remembered the probing eyes which seemed to look straight through him. He remembered how she sang effortlessly while cooking his meals, how she coaxed him to eat, how she pulled the blanket over him at night. He pretended to sleep whenever she got up at night to check on him. He pretended to not notice how beautiful she was as she bent over him to inspect his injuries. He pretended to be unmoved by her kindness, patience and tolerance.

She regained consciousness after two whole days-two days of agony and torture being ridden with guilt as he was. Guilt which stemmed from him being unable to thank her for saving his life and being helpless and unable to save hers. He wanted to go see her but knew that she would be too fragile to see him right after she woke up and he had put himself at enough risk as it is by staying at the hospital. But he knew that this time, he wanted to say everything he had not said the last time. So instead of meeting her the minute she regained consciousness, he checked himself and went back to his hotel. He waited two more days until she was discharged and was fit enough to go back home. The night she returned, he lounged in the street as her friends came and left. He then went straight up to her apartment and knocked. After getting no response, he let himself in quietly. And found her sleeping on the couch-just like he once lay with her by his side. He pulled up a chair beside her and waited for her to wake up.

As he saw her sleeping peaceful form, he sighed and muttered, "Fate has a cruel way of bringing us together again."

Rain

Rain. The inevitable, inescapable rain. She laughed hysterically as rivulets of water ran down her-her hair, her neck,her shoulders, her entire dress till the tips of her toes were soaking wet. Who knew that Paris could be so rainy all of a sudden? Definitely not the weather 'experts' by whose predictions she had long ago stopped living, Well they were right for a change-they predicted a storm and here it was. And she was in the middle of it.
She watched the others scurrying for cover, watched how they opened their umbrellas to battle against the wind, watched them lose the war with the weather and watched them retire to their fate. She was not one to succumb to hers-she was going to enjoy this rain. She spread her arms and turned her mouth towards the heavens and smiled as the rain washed her. In her delight and bliss, she never realized that she had stepped off the pavement and onto the road. It was only when someone screamed that she saw the car coming towards her. But before she could react, she was flung away on the pavement and she saw the world go dark. The last thing she remembered was the taste of rain in her mouth-oh the sweet rain.

She awoke to the sounds of machines around her and as she slowly opened her eyes, the room swam into focus. White, sterile and clean. She tried moving her hands and realized there were needles attached to them, feeding her IV no doubt. A nurse came in with a big smile. She could only smile weakly in return. The friendly nurse soon checked her vital signs and went to call the doctor. He came in minutes later with an even bigger smile and asked her how she was feeling.

"Weak and dizzy, doctor." she replied in a raspy voice.
"Well you are lucky to be alive, madame."
"What happened doctor? I think I remember a car."
"Why don't you rest now and I shall tell you the details later. We are glad that you have gained consciousness.Try get some sleep now. "
She was too weak to protest so she took his advice and slept.
When she awoke next, she saw the nurse by her side who coaxed her to get up and eat some food. After the meal, she asked for the doctor who came in a few minutes later.
"Good evening Madame. Good to see a little colour coming back to your face.How do you feel now?"
"Hello Doctor. I feel much better now. I think I am now strong enough to hear what happened to me."
"Well, Madame, you were on the road and a car was coming straight at you. And at the very last minute, a stranger pushed you out of the way. But in the process, your head hit the pavement and you lost consciousness. A very close shave, indeed but you escaped with nothing but a slight head injury."
"A stranger saved my life? Who?"
"Well he just gave in his first name. One Tom."
"That's curious, I know no one by that name.Anyway bless his soul."
"Indeed Madame. You will be discharged in a few days. The nurse will take care of the formalities."
"Thank you, Doctor."
When he had gone, she asked the kind and chatty nurse to see if she could give a description of the man who had saved her from the clutches of death.
"Well all I can tell you was that he was tall and handsome. A most striking aquiline nose and high cheekbones. Quite like a prince charming, Madame. But I only saw him for a few minutes sadly" she giggled
Mila frowned and tried to remember if she knew anyone of that description but nothing came to her mind.

A few days later, she was discharged and sent back home. Her friends who had come to pick her up settled her in her apartment and left reluctantly after she persuaded them she could manage alone. She lay down on her couch and for the first time realized that she was glad to be alive. And that she should find the stranger who had helped her. She drifted off to sleep. She awoke to the sign of the pattering rain drops on her windowsill. And to a stranger sleeping on a chair next to her-an incredibly handsome man, with an aquiline nose and those high cheekbones. And she smiled knowing that the handsome stranger had crossed her path again.