"I Still Believe" by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. Dianne la Mercenaire) ("I Still Believe" from the musical _Miss Saigon_) -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- -Last night I watched him sleeping,- -My body pressed to him.- -And then he started speaking,- -The name I heard him speak was...- "Janette!" She turned from her memories and towards the voice that called from the other end of the bar. For a moment the memories carried over and she was in the Raven again, responding to a call from Miklos to attend a difficult customer.... But that faded almost immediately as the vaguely familiar surroundings of a nameless dive on the back streets of Paris closed in around her. -Yes, I know that this was years ago,- -But when moonlight fills my room- -You are here still.- An old acquaintance ...as they _all_ were, really. They'd renewed that acquaintance in the little room she had taken overlooking the Seine, then he had left to hunt. She didn't know if he would be back, and frankly, she didn't care. The moon's light followed the breeze in through the open window, and as she watched its focus slowly shift down the length of her pale white body, her mind again drifted back -I still, I still believe- -You will return, I know you will.- -My heart, forever more, holds still...- Janette reached for the locket that hung at her pale throat. She had taken it, snatched it from an Enforcer's very hands as they had systematically eradicated all traces of Nichola's former existences. The Enforcer had snarled briefly, but she stood her ground and he had let it go. She opened the clasp and smiled involuntarily. It was a "momento mori," a little reminder of mortality and the inevitability of death. They had been quite the rage in Victorian times, when coffin rings and jewels strung on the hair of a dead lover were to be found everywhere. It was simply too delicious a joke to pass up. -Yes, still, I still believe.- -As long as I can keep believing, I live.- The miniature was of Nichola, pale, and still--fashioned as he lay in a coffin, making a mockery of the very trend they aped. The obliging artist had even clipped a lock of hair for her to keep pressed under glass on the other side. It was still there, tied with a bit of black silk thread, darker probably than the locks that were now bleached daily with the sun's harsh rays. -I live. Love cannot die.- -You will return. You will return.- -And I alone know why...- Nichola had found it so hard to lie still for so much of the night, not to laugh at their little joke. Not to move towards the pulse of the unsuspecting painter who sat beside him, struggling to preserve his fine features for all eternity--never knowing his feeble efforts had been bested by a master, centuries before.... She shuddered when she thought of that last night-- the shock of LaCroix's destruction, the wrenching pain as she lost all consciousness of Nichola as anything but another mortal among millions... -+*+-+*+-+*+- =Last night I watched you sleeping,= =Once more the nightmare came.= =I heard you call out something,= =A word that sounded like a name.= The moonlight streaming through the window must have awakened her. Natalie sat up in bed trying to rid herself of the last wisps of forgotten dreams--images of blood, of death, of fear. Then Nick moaned and rolled restlessly away from her. The nightmare--he was having it _again_. =And it hurts me more than I can bear,= =Knowing part of you I'll never share,= =Never know.= It had been the same nightmare over and over, ever since the accident. Schanke had responded to a message from Nick to meet them on the pier and had arrived to find them both floating unconscious in the lake. The doctors had had little hope for either of them at the time. Considering how close they had each come to death, the losses they had suffered seemed almost petty. =But still, I still believe= =The time will come when nothing keeps us apart.= =My heart, forever more, holds still...= Neither of them had any clear memory of the last few years, certainly not of the night of the accident--why they had been there, who had done this to them, what even had happened. Schanke, detective to the core that he was, had done everything possible to discover the trail of their last night, but to no avail. She had lost only a few years, but Nick, who had been in far worse shape, could remember nothing of his life at all. Schanke had done his best there too, but had had no more success. Embarrassed by not knowing more, by the realization of just how little he had actually known about the man he worked side-by-side with for three years, he had found little more than a few scattered dates in a personnel file. To all intents and purposes, Nick had simply had to start his whole life anew. =It's all over. I'm here. There is nothing to fear!= =[Nick], what's haunting you?= =Won't you let me inside what you so want to hide?= =I need you too...= She wanted to wake him, to reassure him--to hold him in her arms and chase away the demons that haunted his soul. But she knew from experience that would only leave him pale--so pale--and trembling with inexplicable fear until the first light of morning. Better to let it run its haunting course... -+*+-+*+-+*+- -For still...- -I still believe.- She had left Toronto that night, closed up the Raven and left it abandoned. Sent the fledglings to find haven elsewhere. =I will hold you all night,= =I will make it all right.= =You are safe with me.= She watched helplessly as his restlessness became a thrashing, twisting terror.... And when he sat bolt upright, eyes shining--almost glowing--in the moonlight, she was there to pull him close and murmur words of love in his ear until the tension eased from his body. -As long as I can keep believing, I live.- Everyone assumed she had given up on Nichola, released him back to the mortal world from which he'd come. That is what the Enforcers had decreed. That was what everyone else who had known him down the centuries had done.... =And I wish you could tell= =What you don't want to tell...= =What your hell must be.= It frightened her--how could it not?--but there was nothing to be done. Medical experts could not explain his torment. Psychiatrists trying to root out the source of his terror ran quickly into a wall of time, beyond which there was simply nothing. There was just so much unknown about the human brain, about memory--about the very things that made a person who and what they were. There was little chance they would ever discover what had happened...or why nameless, faceless ghosts from the past continued to haunt him so. -I live, you will return,- -And I know why- But after so many centuries, so much between them, she could not simply walk away... =You can sleep now, you can cry now.= =I'm your wife now--= =For life...= She held him until the shaking stopped, and then until he fell asleep again, his head resting peacefully on her breast. She sat there, just holding him, until the first light of dawn chased the moonbeams from the windowsill. -I'm yours...- He would be back. Nicholah was "human" now, knowing nothing save his circumscribed mortal existence. But one day he would look death in the face again and, as he had so long ago, fight to turn away from it.... =Until we die.= The past was irrelevant; it could harm him now only in his dreams. What mattered was the future--a future bright with promise. A future they would find together-- forever... -Until we die.- And when that time came, she would be there to reclaim him. To take him in her arms again and once more open his eyes to the beauty of the night. And once more they would lie in each other's arms throughout eternity... -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- Dianne Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- -*-"We must be powerful, beautiful, and without regret."-*-