The first time Jerome lays eyes on Mara he falls in love with her. Perhaps it's the way her bright eyes sparkle as she talks, or the way her lips are inviting and slighty chapped. Maybe he fell in love with her chirpy laugh and the way the her hands clench the hem of he dress as she chuckle. Or could it have been the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathes and the way she looks as innocent as a young animal. What made him fall in love with her Jerome doesn't know. What he does know is that he can't kill this woman. He can't kill Mara Jaffray.

His hand clenches on the barrel of the gun as he aims it at her head. He knows that he won't shoot, he just needs to see her gorgeous face again. Jealously stomps around inside him angrily as he watches her daintily stretch onto her tiptoes and kiss a blonde man on the cheek. She hangs onto his muscly arm and laughs quietly, her musical chuckle caressing Jerome's ears.

He pulls his eye away from the aim and sinks back onto his heels, burying his face in his hands and rubbing his weary ice blue eyes. He runs his hands through his scraggly dirty blond hair and sighs loudly. Could it be that world famous sniper Jerome Clarke, known for not having a heart, is actually feeling something?

After his sister was brutally murdered five years by a gang, Jerome swore he would get his revenge. His heart closed over and turned to ice. He refused to trust anyone ever again. The thing that kept him going was pain. Grief for the loss of Poppy and the pain that her life had been cruelly ripped away from her. Why not him? Was the question Jerome always pondered, why his young sister who was so full of life and actually had a future? She was full of plans and promises, all broken the second that the first knife slashed her stomach.

The police told Jerome that it took her two hours to die. Two lonely hours curled up in a freezing cold alleyway. And Jerome wasn't there.

That was the thing that really haunted him. He wasn't there to protect his fragile, delicate sister like he promised his father he would. Poppy had died without him to hold her. She had died on her own and Jerome could never forgive himself for that.

No matter how many wretched gang members he killed, no matter how much of their disgusting blood stained the floor, he could /never/ forgive himself.

Mara's loud laugh drew him out of his musings. The prematurely aged man crept silently towards his rifle, staring down at the short woman. He dark hair danced in the wind and her brown eyes were sparkling brightly. With a pang of pain he realises that she reminds him of Poppy. With a quiet howl of agony, Jerome wraps his arms around his legs and buries his face into his knees and sobs quietly. Five years of unshed tears bleed out of his eyes as he hides in the dingy, dark room, holding his knees tightly against his chest.

He feels all the ice encasing his heart shattering as he unlocks his aching muscles after what feels like hours of crying. Jerome quickly packs away his gear in a waterproof black rucksack and slips it onto his back. He takes one last look out of the window at Mara before jogging out of the room and down the metal steps, feet clanging noisily on them. He opens the back door of the abandoned shop and walks quickly through the back streets, easily blending in with passers by.

Jerome casually unlocks his car and drops the bag into the boot, slamming it shut and walking through the main doors of the shopping centre. He spots Mara standing by the fountain. She is staring down at her phone, typing quickly and biting her lip adorably. Jerome quietly strolls towards her and marvels at the fact that she is even more beautiful up close. He stops in front of her and she meets his eyes, a dazzling, heart breaking smile on her face.

"Thankyou." Jerome whispers before turning her back on him and walking away, hands clenched stiffly at his side. Mara stood still, perplexed as to why this stranger needed to thank her.

"Are you okay?" she calls after him, stepping forward to take his arm lightly. The tall man turns and the bright artificial light of the shopping centre makes his blue eyes glitter. Mara spots tear tracks lining his cheeks and she notices one dripping out his eye. She naturally steps forward and wipes the tear away gently with her fingertip.

She feels drawn to this stranger somehow and it felt like the right thing to do, but as she looks up into his pained eyes, Mara considers that she did something wrong.

"Are you okay?" She repeats, worry evident on her features.

"I am now." The stranger half-whispers, pulling his arm away from hers softly and leaning toward to push a loose curl out of her face. He then turns and walks away. He doesn't look back.

Confusion takes over Mara as she sits on a wooden bench by the fountain. She had no idea who that man was but somehow she felt completely connected to him.

Jerome walks away from the woman with a heart considerably lighter than earlier. A soft smile plays on his lips as he imagines that Poppy would have tried to set the two of them up together.

Maybe he should do what his sister would have wanted. Maybe for once he should follow her wishes.

Without a second thought, Jerome turns and runs back into the centre, finding Mara by the fountain. He pulls her up and presses his lips against hers, not caring how she reacts, not caring if she has a boyfriend.

The only thought running through his mind was, 'I'm kissing the girl that saved me and she's kissing me back.'