Mission Impossible

Chapter 64 ~ Wish List

CLARA'S POV

After throwing on the clothes Zayn had left out for me, I started putting on makeup. I had enough in my go bag to make it work, but was unsure of which direction to take it in without my outfit right next to me. I decided to play it safe with light mascara, a bit of pink lipstick, and some golden eyeshadow by my tear ducts. After slapping some blush on, I sat back and looked myself over. It wasn't until then I noticed the dark bags under my eyes from the lack of sleep. I was about to wipe off my makeup and start again when the door flew open.

On the other side was Damian, bursting in holding a dress. He looked me up and down before tossing the dress onto my bed.

"I don't get the hype," he said before plopping down after the dress.

"Rude," I said as I turned back to the mirror to restart my make-up. Damian chuckled as I rubbed at my eyes, willing the black streaks to go away.

"Someone needs to keep you grounded," he said. "Your head is big enough already." I managed to chuckle back as I walked over to the bed and opened up the cast the dress was in. It was a dark green ballerina dress; the same color dress I was wearing when I meet Zayn all those years ago. "Zayn picked this one out. Said you'd know why," Damion elaborated. My smile widened as I realized Zayn hadn't forgotten either.

"How could I forget," I responded softly. "That was the day that changed my life forever." Damian furrowed his eyebrows.

"Why didn't, the way you said it, sound like a good thing?" I looked up at Zayn's best friend, feeling like I had been caught doing something bad.

"Maybe you've gotten rusty from just sitting around babysitting me," I retorted. Damian smiled widely.

"There she is," he said with a smirk, pleased I had started biting back. He got up from the bed and walked towards me, looking over my make-up selection. He pointed to a red lipstick, and the same gold eyeshadow I had on before. "Those," he said. "And that one," he added a thick mascara. I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Are you...?" I trailed off, hoping he would know what I meant. First, he is so protective of Zayn, and now this...

Damian looked confused for a moment before he broke into laughter.

"Not quite," he cleared up. "I just have five sisters."

"And you still speak about women the way you do?" I remarked.

"Lack of a male role model," he shrugged, going back to sit on my bed.

"Is that how you got set on this path?" I asked him as I started to apply make-up to cover up my bags. I saw Damian shrug from the corner of my eyes.

"Maybe a bit. I had to provide for my family, put food on the table. Especially after my mom got sick. My old gig wasn't paying enough though, so when they came knocking offering more money, I had to take it."

Something about this story of offering more money than the previous job sparked something in me, but it was put out before it gained enough oxygen when Damian shouted from next to me.

"Damn! You clean up good," he remarked as I put the finishing touches on my mascara. This time when I sat back and looked myself over, I wasn't disgusted by what I saw. I looked...decent. Better than decent, even. I looked like my world hadn't just crumbled into pieces.

Because it didn't.

Life was moving on. I was moving on. I was fine. Everything was fine.

I pushed my chair back and walked over to my bed, grabbing my dress. I took it out and examined it more closely before looking over at Damian, who was starring up at me like a kid.

"Do you mind?" I asked, pointing towards the door.

"Oh, come on," he whined. "In a short bit, you're only going to be seen naked by one man for the rest of your life. I'm doing this for you," he tried to reason with me. I looked up as if I was pondering his offer.

"Fine," I said, which clearly shocked him. "But you'll have to deal with Zayn afterwards."

"So worth it," he joked with me.

"Clara?" Zayn's voice sounded from downstairs. Damian's face turned to one of panic very quickly as he stood up.

"Gotta go!" he said before he dashed out of the room. He left me in a fit of laughter as I walked towards the bedroom door to answer Zayn.

"Yes?" I called back.

"Dinner is in 20 minutes. Will you be ready?"

"Yeah, I'll be down soon. Sorry, I had some distractions," I said with a giggle. There was a short pause before Zayn called out again.

"Damian!" he called throughout the large house. This made me giggle more as I closed the door to finish getting ready. It felt good to laugh again. I was starting to feel like myself, and that was....refreshing.

So with this new pep in my step, I finished getting ready, before heading down to my, second, engagement dinner.

___________

In my dark green ballerina dress, and golden heels, I made my way down the stairs to where I knew Zayn was waiting for me. I couldn't help the butterflies in my tummy as I rounded the curve in the stairs, and finally saw Zayn standing at the bottom, looking as handsome as ever in his black suit. His eyes lit up as he saw me near me.

"Wow," he breathed out. "You look as beautiful as the night I saw you three years ago." I couldn't help but lean up and kiss him.

"I couldn't believe you remembered," I said after I pulled away.

"A spy never forgets," he said as he took my hand and led me to the dining room.

I felt a dull pain in my body as I was reminded of that very fact. A spy never forgets.

I would never forget.

Not my parents, and certainly not him.

"Which is why," Zayn said as he led me to the dinner table. "I planned this." He gestured across the table, which was adorned with lasagna, garlic bread, and a side salad.

"The lasagna," I chuckled softly, remembering the dinner we ate with my family after telling them the good news. It hurt, but felt good at the same time. I missed them, but the memory was too good to let the dull pain sour... How my mom added so many red pepper flakes, and Zayn was just not accustomed to that much spice in a traditional non-spicy dish. My parents thought it was hilarious but Zayn never did. I guess not until now...

"It probably won't be as good as your Mom's, but it definitely won't be as spicy," he joked with me. "I thought it would be nice to have a little piece of them tonight." Zayn said this late bit hesitantly as he pulled out my chair, unsure if I was mentally strong enough right now. My attention was suddenly brought to the big bay window, where little droplets of rain started to pelt the glass. The rain came down harder and harder; Mother Nature's cruel way of reminding me of my loss. And I had lost too much.

"I know what I want as my wedding gift," I abruptly spoke after Zayn took his seat.

"Whatever you want. Just name it," Zayn said with a warm smile.

"I want to kill Director Rain."