The Greatest Showman#780 - sealed with a kiss
In his eyes, Rita saw herself—her past self. The Battle of Verdun had stripped away her innocence, forcing her to witness the deaths of her comrades and lover time and time again. Victory had been paid for in blood, built upon the corpses of those she had fought beside. She was no saint. Her soul was riddled with wounds, invisible but deep.
She saw her own reflection mirrored in the depths of Cage's gaze—hesitation, anguish, torment, and an internal struggle. But beyond the pain, she glimpsed something else: resilience, unyielding resolve, and quiet heroism. He was ready to die. So was she. This was their farewell, perhaps forever.
A hidden fire flickered behind Cage's eyes.
He looked at Rita—just looked. In her world, they had spent less than twenty-four hours together; in his, they had lived and died alongside each other countless times. He had thought he had come to terms with it, that he had accepted their fate, that he was at peace with it. But he wasn't.
And yet, this was the end. She was right—there was no retreat, no future, only now.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his blood burned hot, and the air between them grew thick with heat and desperation. Then, in a single, impulsive motion, Cage seized Rita's wrist and pulled her into him, crashing his lips against hers. It was deep, searing, a kiss that transcended words. Lips melded together, fierce and urgent, as if the contact alone could merge their souls.
Rita's eyes fluttered shut. She held onto him tightly, their breaths mingling, and in that moment, bitter tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. Salt met blood and grit, seeping into their kiss. But before the coldness of her tears could settle, it was consumed by the heat between them—by longing, sorrow, passion, and release.
Sealed with a kiss.
No words, no glances, no gestures could compare. That kiss, desperate and all-consuming, ignited like a flame, burning with the brilliance of a dying star—tragic, breathtaking, and utterly magnificent.
The world around them rumbled. Distantly, the roar of aircraft filled the air, the whisper of falling debris echoed, and alien screams cut through the chaos. The ground beneath them trembled as the structure they sheltered in threatened to collapse. The apocalypse was at their heels.
Noise. Destruction. Havoc. And yet, the serenity of that single moment remained untouched—like a flower blooming amidst the ruins, fragile yet stubborn, fleeting yet resolute. A quiet, haunting beauty amid the carnage.
A small, fragile smile curved Rita's lips. Tears clung to her lashes, her cheeks smeared with dirt and blood, yet the warmth of that smile was enough to defy the devastation surrounding them. It carried the weight of finality, of a decision made without hesitation.
It was time to part.
Cage's grip tightened, his body unwilling to let go. His brow furrowed, an unspoken plea lingering in his eyes, his despair palpable. If they held on just a little longer, if they waited for the world to end together—perhaps that wouldn't be such a terrible fate. But reality clawed its way back in. He knew they couldn't.
With sheer force of will, he loosened his grip, his lips brushing against her forehead before pulling away. Words failed them both. Their ragged breathing was the only sound between them, their hearts still hammering as if reluctant to part ways.
Then, with unwavering resolve, Rita stood. No hesitation. No second-guessing. She turned and limped forward, dragging her injured ankle, disappearing into the battlefield ahead.
"Cut!"
Paul Greengrass's voice shattered the spell. Silence hung in the air, the tension still palpable. He had called "cut" out of instinct, but now he stood frozen, unable to process what had just unfolded before him. His mind reeled, replaying the scene in slow motion, grasping at the raw emotion that had just been captured.
On paper, the scene had been planned as a standard sixty-to-seventy-five-second sequence. The script was clear. But Renly and Jennifer had deviated, improvising their lines, morphing the moment into something far beyond the script's intent. And yet, it remained within the planned timeframe.
More importantly, it had something else—something electric, something indescribable.
The unspoken emotions exchanged between Renly and Jennifer were so vivid, so tangible, that they transcended the physical.
The time-looped agony that Rita carried, the death she chose, the storm of emotions she battled... The torment Cage had endured, the eruption of love he had no time to process, the self-sacrifice he had come to accept... Every bit of it existed within their eyes, woven into the smallest of gestures.
This wasn't just Cage's transformation from cowardly officer to selfless hero. This wasn't just a war fought through endless time loops. This was something deeper—a bond forged in the crucible of repetition, of loss and rediscovery.
Before the world's end, before their final goodbye, emotions had erupted in their rawest form. It was beautiful. It was devastating.
Paul could only stand there, reeling.
Jennifer heard the "cut" but remained rooted in place. She had taken refuge behind a pillar, maintaining her position as Rita would have, hiding from the camera's view to indicate she had gone to lure the Alpha. Now, that same spot became her sanctuary. She needed a moment to breathe.
The scene had veered wildly off course.
Jennifer knew Renly's acting rhythm was different—she had experienced it before in "Crazy Love"—but even so, she had thrown herself in completely, afraid to miss a beat. She had let herself become Rita. She had watched Renly's expression shift, had felt the weight of the moment through his performance, and she had reacted instinctively, without hesitation.
For Rita, those 24 hours with Cage were fleeting, but she knew, in another version of time, they had fought countless battles together. She didn't remember those fights, but she understood their significance. She had lived through Verdun. She knew what it meant to be caught in a cycle of endless war.
And in that instant, she recognized the look in Cage's eyes. The certainty of death. The quiet sorrow of someone who had lived through countless goodbyes. The unwavering resolve of a man who had learned to let go.
And for the first time—she lost control.
The emotions burst forth, overwhelming and all-consuming. Rita was unmoored. Jennifer was unmoored.
That split-second of recognition, of sorrow, of love—it had made her heart race, her pulse pound. Thousands of lifetimes leading to this moment. A single glance that unraveled it all.
Rita had chosen death. Cage had chosen to die with her. In that instant, their souls had merged, making the same choice, bound by the same fate.
In just sixty-five seconds, Jennifer had felt the weight of the entire story unfold through their eyes alone. The lines between performance and reality blurred, her heartbeat erratic, breathless.
And deep down, she felt something else—something exhilarating.
She had always known Renly was an exceptional actor. "Crazy Love" had only been a glimpse. When "Edge of Tomorrow" had come to her, she had hesitated. Fresh off "The Hunger Games," she had little interest in another action film. Her agent had agreed. But when she learned Renly was attached, she had said yes.
And now, she understood why.
This wasn't just action. This was art.
A thrill coursed through her veins. She wanted more. Another take. Another scene. Another challenge. And most of all—she wanted to test herself against Renly again, in something raw, something real.
Because for the first time, she wasn't sure she would win.