Paradise
By: Rita

Sleeping soundly in the plush bed, her face still buried in the feather pillows. She was drifting on the edge of consciousness, her internal clock warning her that she should be getting up soon. It was then that she felt the soft butterfly caress of lips on the back of her neck.

Sliding slowly through the levels of sleep, she felt many more caresses on her skin as she rolled over slowly and opened her eyes. There she drowned into a field of deep green. She knew of no better way to start the day but by gazing into the eyes of the man she loved, her husband.

"Time to get up cherie." He said as he trailed one finger deliciously down her arm.

"How about we get up later?" Her implication quite evident.

Regretfully he shook his head. She had distracted him the three previous mornings with this tactic but, this time it was not going to work. She began to play with the band of opals on her finger nervously. "You know what we must do today. The thaw is commencing." Worry and sorrow filled her eyes and she nodded her quiet quiescence to his unspoken order. He leaned in and kissed her forehead gently thankful that she had agreed. "I am setting up outside. I will wait for you."

Watching as he walked away with his familiar long stride, the particular uniqueness of his every step that called out to her. She stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom beginning to get ready to venture forth out into the frosty weather.

Stepping outside onto the porch she breathed out and puffy clouds marked each exhalation. A frost she pondered, I think not. The snow crunched under her footsteps. She had to admit, the Alps were very lovely. Yet, the part she treasured most was the privacy and serenity, which it had afforded her this past couple of months. Hibernation with Michael was a beautiful thing.

He was standing there, setting up wine bottles on a fallen log. She smiled at her perfectionist in motion. Bottles lined up precisely. Staring at the wine bottles fondly she recalled their conversations by a warm, crackling fire while sipping a glass of Merlot.

There was no doubt that he had heard her coming yet, he had not turned. Knowing that he had to give her time to come to him on her own. No more goading her into action. She had to pick up this responsibility freely.

Walking slowly and methodically but quite literally in his footsteps in the snow she finally reached his side. "I am ready."

The smile she expected did not arrive. He turned and handed her the object she had been avoiding. The gun was heavier than she had expected. Her black leather glove closing around the butt of the gun. She took a stance as she had seen on television and movies several times. He stood behind her correcting the position of her hands and feet gently, almost imperceptible, the phantom of death.

Leading her into a ritual where life and death seamlessly blended. There was no gray, simply black and white. Kill or be killed. It was survival and pulling the trigger for that was hard. She peered at the bottles imagining them to be actual flesh and bone. Soft skin that would be pierced by hard metal propelled by her desire alone. It was a responsibility that she did not know if she could bear the mantle of death. Yet, she had no choice in this life and so she gently pulled the trigger for love's sake.

The glass shattered into pieces, too innumerable to count.

Creating a stained glass on the pure crisp snow and a tear escaped her trailing slowly down her cheek. For she had crossed a line for love. Love propelled her every movement. A love so fierce, and overwhelming that is blurred the lines of morality and let her find a new place to draw the line.

He said nothing as he stood silently behind her. His hands came to rest on her shoulders absorbing the next jolt that came from the gun. She was firing with a precision that she had no idea she possessed. Perhaps she was possessed, some part of her mind registered. Yet, she would do anything to protect herself and more importantly, him. He was her lifeline, the reason for her to continue. If he was gone, she could continue on the solitary road but it would be a half life.

They practised all morning and for a few days to come. Never saying a word between them of a personal nature. It was frightening and yet, the only way to learn the art of death.

The nights though were tender and full of love which made everything make sense. Yet, neither of them could know that the upcoming days would test their fragile bonds. Their Eden was about to come to an abrupt end and this apple would be a bitter pill to swallow.

***********

Their time at the cabin was at an end. She was feeling the pain keenly as she packed each of her things. He watched her carefully. A small part of him mocked himself. How dare he drag an innocent creature into the mire. This existence would drain the life out of her. Yet, he continued under forces that prodded him forward regardless of consequence.

He knew what was bothering him the most. This act he was about to commit would send them down a path from which there was no retreat. Walking over to her he pulled from the small of his back a gun. He presented it to her much like a courtier presenting a rose to his lady love.

She hesitated for a millisecond and then took up the mantle of responsibility. Quietly tucking the gun into the small of her own back, taking comfort from the trace of the warmth of his body that remained on the gun.

They left the cabin without a backwards glance. For both of them knew the happiness that lay there would always rest in their memories and hearts.

Stepping out onto the porch for the last time she assumed, she took a look around the peaceful cabin that had been their first home with a wistful smile. Feeling his hand on her back she asked, "Will we ever come back?"

"Perhaps." He said as he slipped on the sunglasses to protect his eyes against the glare of the snow. Suddenly, something caught his eye and he pushed her to the ground as the first shot rang out.

They had been found. Paradise spoiled by a barrage of bullets. Rita's heart filled with dread as she reached for her gun. Holding it in her hand yet, still not firing it.

The snowmobile they were going to take was parked in front. Michael pulled her towards it. They approached it in a crouched position. Shooting a few shots above the seat of the snowmobile he hopped on firing shots and injuring one man. Rita jumped on back. Her heart was in her throat. He revved the motor and they were off.

Rita, with one arm around Michael's waist and the other holding death. She shot from behind, not really intending to hit anyone. Yet, she did and down went the human in the snow. A silent scream filled her mind. She watched anxiously as the person did not move. It all happened in the span of seconds yet, it seemed like hours. The line had been crossed and there was no turning back.

As Michael was oblivious to the internal pain Rita was going through he drove them at a hurried pace through the winterland driving in a zig zag pattern to avoid the bullets. They finally made it to a copse of trees in the distance where there was a small barn that housed the 4x4 that would get them out. Without a word, they ran to the vehicle and they were gone. Their pursuers long behind them.

After they were safe and had changed their mode of transportation twice Michael became disturbed by the silence emanating from Rita. It was too quiet. Reaching for her hand he found it nervously tapping the top her thigh. Touching her startled her and her hand neatly eluded his. She felt that she did not deserve his comfort.

Not a man to be denied easily he attempted again. Yet, again she skirted away. At that Michael swerved the car to the side of the road. Wide-eyed she looked at him in surprise. Yet, still she said nothing.

Michael looked at her carefully. He detected the unshed tears in her eyes. Yet, there was something else hidden in their depths. They had a wild look around the edges.

"What is wrong?" Michael inquired very softly.

She chose not to answer. Afraid that once she said a single word a flood would escape and she would say something she would regret. Her thoughts were in turmoil, torn between pleading for rest and sleep or screaming at the horror of what she had done. Thou shalt not kill was still ringing down the corridors of her mind.

Michael knew better than to push at this time. She seemed fragile at a glance. A wrong look and she would shatter into a million pieces that he could perhaps not put back together. He started the car back up again but he had to change their destination.

They crossed on the Italian side of the Alps down towards Tuscany. For three days she still had not said a word. She followed him mindlessly almost. It was as if the internal battle in her mind was taking all of her concentration. It was too late for regrets she kept telling herself. Yet, there was always time for the ever paralyzing guilt.

Arriving at a villa located amongst a lush valley in wine country Michael pulled into the drive and up the hill to the house. It was a gorgeous location wasted on Rita in her current frame of mind. She had finally succumbed to sleep a couple of hours ago. He thought her mind would never let her sleep. He was concerned for he had not figured out what could be torturing her so much. Yet, he knew there was not much he could do to help. Once again a pang of guilt strummed its way through his body. He quickly stifled it. What was important was to help her now.

Michael carried her sleeping form out of the car. At least she still subconsciously trusted him enough not to awaken with a scream. It would have killed him if she had. Once inside, he brought her to the master bedroom. He then prepped a bath for her and woke her up, ever so gently, with the slightest of touches.

He lifted her up and took her to the bubble bath. Giving him a grateful look, he nodded and left. By the time he returned she was buried in bubbles. Slowly walking towards her with a glass of wine in hand he sat down on the edge of the tub.

"Michael." She broke the silence hoarsely and cleared her throat. "How can you live with it?" She asked as her hand skimmed the top of the bubbles.

He had been waiting for this question. Yet, for all the years he had been asked the question he still had no answer that would clear the matter up. He could only answer for himself. "Love sees me through."

She slowly nodded. It was as if she had reached that conclusion already. For this love was so consuming and all encompassing that in the end it scared her. In a way, she killed so that she would never know what it would be like to live without him. For that would kill her.

Reaching out for his hand she grasped it tightly. Staring into his eyes, seeing the pain she had caused him hidden within the fields of green. "Love will see us through."

The precipice his heart had been standing on sighed in relief. He had refused to acknowledge the silent voice telling him that she would leave him. She was back. Her eyes were clear again. He moved to kneel beside the tub. Bracing himself on the sides he leaned in and kissed her softly.

She knew it was time to continue the life she had chosen for better or for worse. All she could do was make sure there was more joy and happiness than sorrow and despair. On that note, she gripped his shirt and pulled him fully clothed into the tub. Michael startled, laughed in surprise. She giggled mischievously.

Paradise was found again, for paradise was not a place but their two hearts beating in joyful tandem.

The End

This story ©copyright Tasamin, July 21st , 2001


Alphabetical Index

Illusions 2001 Index