Ｓｅｐｔｅｍｂｅｒ - ２０１９

The passing thunderstorm that struck the town in Elba kept Harper awake for hours on end. Her eyes drifted over to the alarm clock on her bedside table before sighing, listening to the thunder rumble in her small abode. It was only 1:30 in the morning and she wasn't able to get any sleep whatsoever since going to bed a couple hours ago.

Harper pulled herself out of the bed with a slight groan, the feeling of her leg was numb but she could feel the pain regardless. The lamp on her bedside table flicked on and her bedroom illuminated with the yellow tone, the floor-length windows showcasing the ocean outside which thrashed.

She wasn't surprised to notice the amount of leaves that had fallen onto her back porch as she reached for her phone. No notifications, nothing. Nothing for the past few months since she went into hiding after her failed mission in Russia. The terrors. It was something Harper couldn't shake off, especially since she hated storms with a passion and they certainly didn't help.

The crutches lying on the floor were a support that she desperately needed but hated using so when she picked them off the floor, Harper stared at them for a long while before using them to push herself off the bed. Her shoulder ached but she pushed through, her body hobbling along the floor towards the bathroom.

Harper knew that treating her injuries herself wasn't the best thing but she didn't want any help nor did she want anybody to know she was alive. This little Italian beach house was where Harper had woken up, somebody knew she was alive but she didn't know who. The whole house was packed with necessities and a note was left that read "You're safe here" which didn't immediately reassure her but as the months went on, she did feel safe.

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, the storm had somewhat calmed down outside and it was quiet outside for the first time tonight. Harper moved slowly over to the bed again and plopped down with a sigh, placing the crutches back onto the floor. The only thing that was heard within the house was the soft pitter-patter of rain on the roof and her heavy breathing.

It was time to try and get some sleep so she had laid back down in a position that was comfortable, on her back staring up at the ceiling. The position hadn't messed with her shoulder pain nor did it hurt her leg even more. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief, the thunderstorm was gone for now and Harper could finally fall asleep.

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By the time October came around, Harper's injuries had healed up completely so she was free to do some of her physical therapy by running along the beach. The island was small meaning the little coastal area was very quiet with the occasional people walking by. Her footsteps were heavy in the dense sand making it even more difficult to run let alone walk.

She still had no idea as to who saved her from Russia and how they managed to transport her over here without knowing. The entire transport Harper must've been out. Who knows how long she could've been out before even waking up from the failed mission.

"Buongiorno," Every person who walked past Harper on the beach greeted her, luckily no one ever mentioned anything else so she could move on with her day. It was the best thing about this small island, she wasn't bothered whenever she stayed near the house but when going into the city to get food was hard.

Having to take a taxi every time into the city was tough seeing as the money situation wasn't the greatest. Being down to around €15,000, Harper had to control how much money she spent each time. Luckily, everything within the house was still working as normal bills had been paid seemingly. This must've been someone's house, it had to be.

The morning was the best time for Harper to go for a run along the beach, not feeling insecure about wearing shorts and a regular top showing off her leg. Looking out over the horizon was calming until it wasn't. The thoughts swirling around her head made her expression go stern, her hands going to run through her hair.

She decided to head back towards the house and strolled into the kitchen, looking into the fridge for something to make for breakfast. Suddenly, Harper's ears perked up at a slight shift change in the mood and she grabbed the security pistol in the drawer before aiming it behind her.

"I hear they call you Tulip." The low voice greeted her with his hands behind his back before slowly holding them up in surrender. Her breath was heavy but gradually calmed down when she saw the man surrendering, the pistol she held wasn't being lowered at all.

"Sorry. Captain Jonathan Price, but please just call me John. It looks like you've healed up nicely." John introduced himself and lowered his arms back to the side of his body but Harper didn't lower the gun. It's been forever since she came into contact with someone who knew her, about six months to be exact.

"H-how? I don't understand. N-no one knows I'm here." Was all Harper could stammer out while tilting her head, the gun aimed at John wasn't being lowered until she got answers. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife as she stared at him, his body dressed in casual clothes rather than military attire.

"The Special Air Service found you left for dead in the Cheremkhovsky forest then got you transported here until you healed yourself up." The Captain that was standing in her house explained, folding his hands in front of him not fazed by the gun aimed at his head. Harper's eyes couldn't help but gloss over as the memories, more like trauma, replayed over in her head. It was something she couldn't control.

Harper blinked rapidly, trying to rid of the tears that threatened to fall but quickly inhaled to push them aside. Slowly, she placed the gun onto the countertop and glanced over at John, trying to find the words to say anything.

"Why are you here?" Harper questioned, unmoving from her spot in the kitchen while he did the same. She was hesitant about anything right now and she had every right to be. Waking up in a strange house six months ago with very little human contact was scary enough, now a strange man standing in her house knowing who she was.

"You're a strong resilient woman. I want to offer a place on my team, we are planning an attack on Roman Barkov's chemical factory." John offered with a small friendly smile and she immediately shook her head before spinning around to look in the fridge again. Harper was not about to get herself involved in other wars.

"No. If you have any sort of conflict at all with the Ultranationalists, then let me know. But I'm not going to put my life on the line again for someone I don't have anything to do with." Harper explained, grabbing a pot to fill up with water. The carton of eggs that sat on the countertop had four left inside it, two empty eggshells that weren't thrown into the bin yet.

"I know how injured you were when we found you in the forest. Obviously, no one knows what even happened to you but it seems like you were tortured." He spoke softly, the gruffness in his voice was evident while Harper put some bread into the toaster before cutting up an avocado.

"I think you should leave." She ordered while not looking over her shoulder at him, instead focusing on the stove top waiting for the water to boil. The mood in the room changed to an awkward silence before John sighed softly behind her.

"I'll put my number on the counter here. If at any point in time, you change your mind about fighting alongside one another, we are launching the mission on November 3rd. I'll leave you alone now." John explained even further while placing the piece of paper down on the counter while staring at the back of her head. Harper's mind swirled with thoughts. She wanted to fight again, she wanted to fire a gun again but is this the way she wanted to do it?

The front door opened and closed to leave Harper alone in the kitchen, she turned to see the man gone before glancing at the piece of paper. Her mind was dizzy but she shook all the thoughts away. It had been some time since she had fired a gun, what if she wasn't good at it anymore? No. Surely someone's ability wouldn't change especially if they've done it for so many years on end.

Harper continued making her now-late breakfast before sitting down at the small dining table, bringing the piece of paper with her to scan over the number. The Captain of the SAS had given it to her. She would have to have some training beforehand to make sure she was good anymore. Harper's mind went back and forth between contacting John about doing the mission but in the back of her mind, she didn't want even more enemies.

The night eventually came around and her mind was still going back and forth over the proposition he gave before she finally decided upon contacting him. Harper's fingers danced around the screen of her phone while thinking of something to type, she didn't know how to even word the message.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

H: Hey John, it's Tulip. Your proposition has really been on my mind since you left and I'm not even sure what to mention within this message. It's been half a year since I've done anything like firing a gun or hell, been in some sort of war. I want to do it but I don't think I'm the strongest soldier anymore.

J: Don't worry about it. We'll have you run a few trials before anything happens anyway, I'll have a chopper come and get you tomorrow morning 👍🏻

H: I don't have any supplies anymore either. No uniform, only a pistol. Absolutely nothing to my name.

J: No stress. We'll have everything sorted out for you. Chopper coming to get you at 0930.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Harper stared at the messages John had sent with her and immediately the anxiety began rising inside her body, knowing she was taking a risk that couldn't be taken back now. One side was good, she was able to get back into the career she loved but on the other side, it was hard. The potential risk of being injured again was weighing heavy on her mind. Who knows? Maybe the PTSD was going to become too much for her to bear.