The Last Rose Of Autumn (2024)

On a storm-laden evening that veiled the city in a gossamer mist, Thomas McGill, a weathered former Navy SEAL turned intelligence operative, found himself aboard a train slicing through the heart of America. The rhythmic clatter of wheels on rails provided a stark contrast to the turbulent thoughts swirling in his mind. Across from him sat a woman whose presence commanded the dimly lit compartment. Her fiery red hair, cascading around her shoulders, seemed almost aflame against the dreary gray backdrop.

She was Bella Bouquet, at least, that’s what her passport said. In reality, she was known in the shadowy circles of wet work as the Irish Rose, a moniker that belied her lethal prowess with a poetic nod to her Irish heritage. But like a beautiful rose, her thorn pricked fatally before you could say WTF!

Their conversation began as a dance around the mundane—the weather. "Seems like the clouds are gathering," Bella noted, her voice tinged with the weight of unspoken stories. “Yes, but sometimes, it’s the storm that clears the path,” Thomas replied, his voice laden with a resignation born of too many battles.

As the train rumbled through the countryside, their dialogue deepened, moving from the innocuous to the intimate, weaving threads of trust and mutual recognition. They spoke of places seen only in the shroud of secrecy and operations whispered like ghost stories within their community. By journey’s end, they had silently acknowledged their shared destiny, entwined by their clandestine lives. It was a meeting arranged by the CIA and MI6. But it wasn’t meant to be a first date.

Several weeks into their carefully concealed romance, a mission summoned them to the rugged terrains of Croatia. Tasked with dismantling not just a notorious terrorist network but also a broader criminal syndicate intertwined with destabilized paramilitary units from Croatia's turbulent past, Bella had previously infiltrated deep within. These groups, remnants of the war-torn region, had evolved into nefarious organizations involved in child trafficking and other illicit activities, using these heinous acts to fund their operations and exert their influence.

“Tomorrow isn’t just about taking down The Host. There’s a child, Thomas. We can’t leave him behind,” Bella confessed one night, her resolve flickering in the candlelight that danced across the maps strewn before them. He tried to sway her back to focus, to not kowtow to unnecessary emotion. He may have used the words, “stay professional,” which was a mistake. Professionalism is probably not an accurate description in what the couple did for their countries. Discipline, efficiency, lethality, resourcefulness—these words fit, but professionalism sounds cleaner and best left to the corporate world.

And when Bella made a decision, there was no changing her mind, especially when kids or other innocents were involved. This was the soft petal side of the Irish Rose. Thomas knew he would never want to be on her thorny side.

Their mission unfurled at dawn, wrapped in the golden hues of an Adriatic sunrise. As they approached the hideout, disguised as fishermen, the serenity of the morning belied the violence that would soon break. When the operation hit, it was a maelstrom of gunfire and adrenaline. Bella, with her customary grace under fire, neutralized threats with a dancer's elegance, while Thomas orchestrated their escape through a chorus of chaos.

The child, a small boy with eyes wide as the coastal tides, was found trembling in a dark corner. Bella swept him into her arms, shielding him with her own body as they made their way out, her eyes meeting Thomas’s over the child’s head with a look that spoke of future possibilities.

The aftermath of their mission blossomed into months of tender romance and sweet reprieve. Her name had changed once more, but to Thomas, she was always his Bella Bouquet. As they spent countless hours wrapped in each other’s embrace, he would gently kiss each freckle that adorned the visible and invisible landscapes of her body. He would whisper that they were roses making up his most cherished Bella Bouquet. It was her, his lethal sidekick assassin, that oddly enough brought out a romantic softness of character he never had experienced. And it showed in each elongated, soft kiss of her skin, celebrating the beautiful constellation of freckles that adorned her, making her uniquely his.

As time neared to their next clandestine project, they took a celebratory ride along the Dolphin Bay Highway, the ocean sprawling beside them like a blue giant at rest. They celebrated not past strategic wins, but that they had been given an officially sanctioned break to feel human again, to laugh, to love, to dream, and to stroll endlessly along the beach, forgetting what they had been programmed to become and remember what they thought from youth to be.

And yet, it was here that fate cruelly reasserted itself. A black SUV, nondescript yet menacing, surged out of nowhere, sideswiping Bella’s motorcycle. Thomas could only watch in horror as the love of his life was flung over the cliff’s edge, her scream lost to the wind.

Oddly enough, the authorities concluded it was most likely a tragic accident, even though the perpetrator fled. But Thomas knew better. This was an assassination, targeted and precise. With Bella went their unborn child, a secret joy they had only just begun to embrace. The depths of his loss were immeasurable, the future they had begun to envision obliterated in an instant.

In the wake of Bella’s death, Thomas was enveloped in a darkness that no operation had prepared him for. The world of espionage, once a game of chess, now seemed a cruel joke, its players devoid of humanity. It was during this nadir of his existence that he found an unexpected solace in Christianity. His newfound faith didn’t dull the ache for vengeance but offered a different kind of battle to fight—one for peace and understanding over retribution.

Motivated by a desire to keep Bella’s spirit alive and a newfound insistence on visibility as protection, Thomas ventured into the world of independent filmmaking. He understood that the public eye offered both protection and power—a spotlight these shadowy figures typically shunned. By sharing their story, and the broader implications of their work, through cinema, Thomas could expose the injustices and corruption that had remained hidden from the public view.

His debut film, "The Last Rose of Autumn," blended the personal and the political, weaving Bella’s story with the intricate dance of espionage and the stark realities of their missions. It was not just an act of remembrance but a call to awareness, shedding light on the unseen battles fought in the shadows. The film resonated widely, providing Thomas not just catharsis but also a platform to shine a light on some of the world's most notorious crime hotspots and advocate for systemic change.

Despite his newfound success and the solace it brought, the lack of resolution over Bella’s murder continued to gnaw at him. However, his evolving Christian faith began to reshape his perspective on vengeance. He wrestled with his desire for retribution versus the biblical teaching that vengeance belongs to God. Over time, Thomas began to accept that divine justice, in its perfect and exacting form, was more righteous than any he could administer himself. Though part of him still hoped to be the instrument of that justice, he increasingly trusted that if it was to be delivered, it would be by God's hand, not his.

As Thomas's career progressed, he decided to encapsulate his journey in a memoir, "The Shadows Behind the Camera." This work not only chronicled his adventures and losses but also his spiritual growth and the profound realization that peace often comes from letting go of grievances that can consume one's soul.

At a book signing, an elderly man approached Thomas, his demeanor marked by a life similarly touched by the complexities of moral struggles. "Your films, your book—they articulate the silent battles many of us face. You've managed to find light in the darkest places," the man remarked, his voice laden with both admiration and a shared understanding of deep-seated pain.

Thomas smiled as he signed the man’s copy, his response thoughtful. "We strive to do what we can with the time given to us," he said. "And perhaps, in the end, our stories will help us understand that the paths to justice and peace are not always ours to choose."

As the man walked away, Thomas looked out at the bustling city, its ordinary scene belying the profound undercurrents of human experience. He felt a quiet satisfaction, knowing that in sharing his story, he had not only honored Bella’s memory but had also contributed to a larger dialogue about justice, redemption, and the human capacity for resilience and transformation.