"How about that one? He's dishy," Carolin said, tilting her head in the direction of the doctor standing in the lunch line, waiting to check out. Her friend, Maddie, looked over, and frowned.

"Oh, no, you don't want that one, hon. They say pretty bad things about that one," she said, taking a sip of her drink.

Carolin looked over at the doctor, he was tall and slight, almost too thin really, with dark green eyes and messy brown hair. He was cute, but even she could tell he had a...sad or depressed air about him.

"What's his story?" Carolin asked, curious.

Maddie shrugged, "I'm not really sure. Everyone says that he's in love with death."

Carolin frowned in confusion, "In love with death? What do you mean?"

"He only takes on patients that are terminal. Usually the admistration spreads those pactients out among the doctors, so that none of them have to deal with the dying too much. It's not good for them. But him? He actually requests for the terminal pactients. And since he works in oncology ward, they really can't refuse him, there's just too many patients dying of cancer," Maddie finished.

"Really? Only dying patients? No wonder he looks so depressed," Carolin said, watching the subject of their conversation take a seat at an empty table and proceed to eat his lunch.

"He always looks like that too, but no matter how much Admin says that he doesn't have to take the terminal patients, he does it anyway," Maddie said.

Carolin watched him, feeling a strange mixture of honest confusion and concern for this stranger. The doctor looked up suddenly, and stared right at her. Carolin colored a bright red and quickly looked to her plate. Maddie chuckled at her reaction.

"Yea, he's got a creepy sixth sense like that sometimes. It's startled quite a few people."

"What's his name?"

"Jack Kirato."

<<<>>>

"Why do you only take on terminal patients?" Carolin blurted out before she could catch herself. She blushed bright red as Jack's eyes widened in surprise. But before she could apologize for being so abrupt, he smiled at her.

"You're the first person to ever just come out and ask me that, you know?"

But Carolin was so startled by his smile that she could do nothing in the wake of it. She'd never seen him smile like that. It actually reached his eyes. It actually made him look...happy. It made the cloud of sadness that seemed to cling to him constantly, recede just a little; and Carolin could see a hint of the kind of man he could be.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked her, tilting his head to the side. Carolin could only nod. Jack looked into the distance, his eyes going out of focus for a moment. Then he sighed and refocused on her.

"Alright. But you'll have to come down to the patient ward tonight, about 3 or 4 am, okay?"

"Why?" Carolin asked. Jack shrugged his shoulders.

"You just have too. There's something you have to see before I can explain anything," he said.

Carolin bit her lip and looked at him searchingly. He just waited for her answer quietly. Finally, she nodded.

"I'll be there."

<<<>>>

Jack was waiting for her by the nurses station that night. The entire ward was silent save for the faint humming of the machines. The lights were dimmed, and there was only two nurses, and one security guard making their rounds quietly, their sneakered feet barely making a sound on the tiled floor.

Carolin walked up to him, but before she could speak, he held his finger to his lips as a signal to stay quiet. He then guestered for her to follow him. Carolin did so without a word. He lead her down the hallway to one of the rooms. He slid the pactient folder from a plastic holder on the door and handed it too her. Then he silently opened the door and lead the way into the room. Inside there was a woman who looked so painfully frail and sick. She was laying in bed, the covers drawn up to her chin, and with the full moon light spilling in through the windows, her pale skin almost glowed. Jack took one of the seats infront of the windows and nodded to the other one. Carolin, hesitanted for a moment, but eventually came and sat. With the light of the moon at her back she could read the words of the pactient's file.

Carrie Grace Holdart. Age: 27. Suffering from organ failure due to rapid spread of malicious tumors orginally found in the lung tissue two years ago. Responded to treatement well for five and a half months before suffereing from relapse. Life expextancy: Hours.

Carolin looked up from the file in horror. This woman was dying. Right now. In front of her. She looked to Jack, horrified. But he was just looking at her with that sad look that he'd worn every day since she'd introduced herself months ago. He held out his hand to her.

"Take my hand, and you'll understand in a minute," he whispered so softly that she barely heard him. Her doubts were growing, but she reached out and took his hand.

A few seconds went by. Then she felt his hand tighten around hers. She looked over at him and realized he had stiffened in his seat. She looked around for the source of his stress. But saw nothing. She heard not-.

Wait...

She hadn't paid it any attention at first. But now that she thought about it. The sound of high heels on tile didn't make any sense. This ward was closed to everyone except the doctor on rotation: Jack, the two nurses, who wore sneakers, and the security guard who did as well. But there it was, the sound of someone wearing high heels walking languidly down the hall, coming closer.

Carolin turned to Jack, the question on her tounge, but he answered it before she could ask.

"Would you be surprised to learn that Death wears high heels?" he asked, his voice again barely a whisper. Carolin jerked, shock shaking her to her core. She tried to pull away from Jack but he held her hand fast.

The footsteps stopped outside the door. Carolin felt her heart lap to her throat.

It wasn't possible.

This was a joke.

A horrible twisted joke.

But the door knob turned and the door was pushed open.

Carolin couldn't look away from the dark doorway.

Footsteps came into the room, and there, on the other side of the bed, someone shimmered into view.

Carolin opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

She tried to again pull away from Jack, but he contiuned to hold her hand tight.

The figure came around the bed and stepped into the bright patch of moonlight.

Carolin stared in both horror and surprise as the figure's features were illumanted fully for the first time.

It was a woman.

She was beautiful, but completely human, except for two things: the uneartly scythe in her hand, and the grey wings that extended from her back. She was tall, wearing a pale bell skirt with flowers embroidered along the hem, the hem brushed the tops of her calf-high boots. She had on a dark colored shirt, purple or blue, Carolin couldn't tell in the moonlight. She wore a long, grey trench coat that ended just above the hem of her long skirt. Around her neck was a multi-colored scarf, and her long dark hair was loose about her shoulders. And she looked at Jack with such a familiar sad look.

Carolin looked back and forth between them, stunned.

But the silent moment was ended when the woman turned around and faced the dying woman on the bed. Carolin leaned forward a little to see around the woman's form to see what was happening. Jack still didn't let go of her hand.

Carrie Holdart's eyes suddenly opened and she looked up at the woman standing over her bed. Carolin had to hand it to the other woman, she didn't scream to appear startled in any way.

"Oh...already?" Carrie asked, her voice a harsh murmmer.

The woman, Death, only nodded. Carrie looked past her and over to Jack.

"You can see her?" she asked.

"I can," Jack answered solemly.

Carrie looked back at Death and then at Jack.

"You know her?"

"I do," Jack answered again.

"Will I'll be alright?" Fear touching Carrie's features for the first time.

Jack smiled a little there, a soft, sad smile that touched his eyes and made them shine with such a deep and aching pain.

"You'll be fine. She'll take good care of you, I promise," Jack said.

Carrie looked up at Death again, still afraid but a little more at ease. Death offered the frail woman her hand. Carrie looked at it with no small amount of trepidation, and looked over to Jack for reassurance.

"Someone once told me that sleep is a little like death. But the truth is, death is a lot like sleep. All you have to do is take her hand, Carrie. She'll be with you every step of the way," Jack said softly.

"Why doesn't she say anything?" Carrie asked.

"Because we can't hear anything she says. You will in a moment though, after."

"After..." Carrie trailed off, understanding. She closed her eyes for a moment, a hand going to her chest, just over her heart. Then, with a weary and eloquent sigh, Carrie reached out with the same hand, and took Death's offered one. There was a flash of light, and Carolin heard the whine of the heart moniter as it lost track of Carrie's pulse. Carolin stared in wonder at the sight before her. A faded, and transparent Carrie stood next to Death, hand in hand. But there was a glowing line of gold that connected Carrie to her slumped body on the bed. Death twirled the scythe in her hand, and brought it down across that line, neatly cutting it.

Jack reached out with his free hand and switched the frantically whineing heart moniter off.

Carrie shimmered and suddenly withdrew like smoke into a glowing sphere of light. It hovered for a moment above Death's hand before floating up to rest just above her shoulder. Death turned and faced the two still sitting in their seats before the window. Carolin recoiled from the woman, her fear suddenly rising again in a surge. But Jack merely sat there, looking up at her, such sadness in every line of his body. Death reached out with her free hand, and cupped his cheek without actually touching him. He tilted his head just a fraction, not touching her, but leaning into her phantom touch none the less.

Then she drew away, and he straightened. Death looked at Carolin her face so sad, but there was something in the woman's eyes that she didn't understand. Pleading. She was begging for something. Death glanced at Jack, and then looked to Carolin again, her eyes full of such entreaty. But Carolin couldn't understand what she wanted.

Death closed her eyes, and Carolin was further shocked to see tears slip down the woman's cheeks. Jack sighed. Carolin looked to him and found he too was crying silently.

But there was nothing further to be shared. death walked around the bed and towards the door. The air around her form shimmered, she looked over her shoulder, and then she vanished from view.

Carolin listened hard, and she knew she heard the sound of Death's footsteps walking slowly away, down the hall until they faded entirely.

Carolin turned back to Jack, completley shocked at what she'd just witnessed. Jack just gave her another one of his sad smiles and finally let go of her hand.

"Understand a little more?" he asked.

Carolin finally found her voice, "Not at all."

<<<>>>

They were walking home later than night, or rather later that morning. They were arm in arm for warmth and comfort, as they passed through the dodgy end of the town that sourrounded the hospital where they worked.

"To fully understand what happened, I'll have to tell you a story. It's a sad story," Jack began, while Carolin listened with rapt attention. "When I was seven years old, I met the love of my life. Though I didn't know that that was what she would be to me at the time. Her name was Ruth, but everyone called her Rue. We became the best of friends and stayed that way all the way through elementary school and middle school. It wasn't until we were both 17 that we admitted that we were attracted to each other. We started dating. Knowing that we were risking our friendship, we took it very slowly. We stayed together all through the first four years of college. We were that happy," Jack sighed.

"I realized that I was in love with her, the kind of forever, over the moon, never die, passionate, epic, sonnet kind of love just before I started med-school. she had gotten a job at a design firm in New York and wanted to take it, but couldn't bring herself to accept it because of me. It was like a fairy tale. But we loved each other, of that we were certain. we were it for each other. Best friends. Lovers. Companions. Partners. Soul Mates. I proposed. She said yes. We decided that she would take the job in New York and save up. I would push my way through med-school as fast as I could. When I graduated, I'd come up to New York to get a job, and we'd use the money she'd saved to get a place together. Our last night before she left was perfect. Dinner, movie, drinks in a quiet bar that had alraedy closed but the staff let us sit in one of the booths to just talk while they cleaned around us.

"We parted ways on a street corner. She was going to stop by her friend's house to say goodbye before going home. It was only two blocks away. But as I hugged her goodbye, I almost offered to drive her. I wish every day that I had. But no, we kissed goodbye, I told her I'd pick her up tomorrow to take her to the airport. She said goodnight. I can still remember the sound of her walking away, her heels on the concrete side walk. It was just two blocks. That was it. But between where we said goodbye and where her friend lived, a drunk driver jumped the curb and hit her. She died in the street."

Jack fell silent after that. Carolin said nothing, somehow knowing that the story wasn't over yet.

"I read once that when a soul mate dies, the other is left bereft of emotions. Their ability of love, to laugh, to be happy is taken away. It is a fate worse than death. A cursed existance that is no life at all," he said harshly.

"I didn't live much after that. I just sort of survived, went though the motions, the routine. Then...one day, we were taken to the hospital for class. While passing through the emergency room, a man was rushed inside from an ambulance. They took him into one of the ER rooms, and our professor took us to watch through the observation window. They were working on him furiously, but I could tell it was hopeless. That's when I heard it. Her footsteps. Just like the night I last saw her. She appeared in the room, and took the man away. But before she left, she caught sight of me. My Rue, had become one of the angels of death.

"After that, I hung around the hospital as much as I could, around those that were expected to die, hoping to catch sight of her again. After I graduated, I came to work at this hospital and took a job in the oncology ward. taking only terminal patients. And now, I see her often."

Carolin was quiet, trying to absorb what Jack was telling her. She knew, that if she hadn't seen what she'd seen tonight, she'd think he was crazy. But...after witnessing it. What other explination was there? Jack Kirato really was in love with Death. Just like Maddie had told her all those months ago.

Carolin suddenly stiffened in surprise, she realized that for the past few minutes, a set of very familiar footsteps had been following them. Carolin twisted and looked over her shoulder.

She was there, Death, Rue, walking several feet behind them. Slowly, lauguidly as ever.

"She's behind us," Carolin said, fear touching her voice, Why was she following? Was she here for them?

"Yes. She follows me home most nights," Jack said.

Carolin looked to Jack, "Why?"

"Look around us, notice anything different from when you usually walk home?" Jaack said.

Carolin did as he suggested. Now that he'd brought her attention to it, she realized that it was different. When she usually walked home, there drunks, drug additcs and all around scary characters that cat-called or hollared out lewd things to her. Some of them even stalked her for a few blocks, trying to scare her. She'd quickly learned to carry mace always, and usually stuck to the route the cops routenly took when partolling. But now...the characters were still there, but they were avoiding her and Jack, turning away, ignoring them, even crossing the street when they approached.

"What's going on?"

"it's a natural instint of the living to fear and avoid death. And that is excatly what haunts our footsteps. They may not be able to see her, like we can, but they can feel her. They probably don't even understand why they're afraid of us, only that they are, and thus they act like that. She's done this ever since I was stabbed during a mugging three years ago."

"She walks you home?"

He grimiced, "Yes."

Carolin looked at him, his face, the saddness there. She felt the aura of strained depression that always hung around him with new understanding. she glanced over her shoulder, looked back at the specter that haunted them. Haunted him. Suddenly everything fell into place for her. She suddenly knew. She understood.

"She is what keeps you alive," Carolin said suddenly.

Jack made no effort to deny it, "Yes. I told you. This isn't a life. It's just a pathetic existance. When she died she took so much of my heart with her, that I can't function. I'm barely here, Carolin. But she won't let me die. She won't leave. She's always just as sad as me. But she won't let me die. It frustrates me endlessly. But the moment she faulters, it'll be over. And we can be together again."

Carolin looked over her shoulder again, looking for confirmation. Rue was there, tears in her eyes. Begging. Silently begging.

"She doesn't want you to do that," Carolin said softly. Jack glared at her.

"I know that. But it doesn't matter," he hissed.

Carolin pulled him to a stop, turning them both around to face Rue, who stopped as well, a fair distance away.

"It should. Look at her, Jack. She's trying to tell you something important, I can feel it, can't you?" Carolin asked, gesturing to Rue.

"I don't understand. I've never understood. She's always like that. She's sad, but she stays. She cries, but she follows me. She's miserable, but she won't let me change anything," Jack said angrily, waving his hand at her.

Carolin looked back and forth between them once again. Trying to understand this new problem. She looked to Rue. The woman was crying silently. Her eyes still pleading Carolin to understand. To speak the words that can't be heard. But what words?

Carolin closed her eyes and tried to feel. She treid to feel what Rue was feeling. She tried to form the words that Rue couldn't.

Memories of old pain resurfaced in her mind. A midnight phone call. Th drive to a lover's house. Disbelief. Shock. Heartbreak. The scene before her that made no sense. Her love's curled form on the bathroom floor. The gun. The blood. The inconrehensible amount of blood that shouldn't be. The single word on a scrap of paper: goodbye.

The fallout. The nightmares. The wishes. The 'if only' s.

Carolin opened her eyes and looked at Rue.

Oh. Of course. I understand.

"She stays, Jack, because she's afraid of what you'll do if she's not here," Carolin began, Jack looked at her with surprise. "She stays and haunts your footsteps because she knows the moment she leaves, you'll try to follow her to a place you shouldn't. Not yet."

Carolin felt tears well up in her eyes and spill down her own cheeks, a perfect mirror of Rue's face.

I understand. Don't worry. I'll help him understand too.

"And she cries, Jack. She cries because she knows what you won't do because she hautns you so."

Jack frowned, confused.

"What won't I do?"

Carolin smiled sadly through her tears, "Live, Jack. You won't live. So she's torn. Because if she leaves, you'll die. But so long as she stays, you refuse to live," she explained. And for the first time since Jack could remember, Rue smiled. She smiled like she had when alive. Brightly, freely, and with such happiness. He could almost hear her voice.

Yes. Yes. Listen, my love. She speaks truth.

"But..." Jack began, but Carolin stopped him.

"No buts, Jack. Life isn't something that you just have. It's something you have to live. By you're own admission you've just been surviving, going through the motions. You just exsist. Because you're clinging to her. You won't live. And she cries for you. Every night. She cries for you."

Jack looked to Rue. She smiled, despite her tears, and held our her arms as if to say: You see? You understand? She then pointed to Carolin with her free hand. Here is truth. Hear her words and heed them.

"Let her go, Jack. The only reason she haunts you, is because you won't let her go."

"But..." Jack began again, "I love her," Jack said.

"And you always will. But you of all people should know that it won't be the last time you see her. It's not forever."

And it wasn't, Carolin realized with a start. A wild hope bloomed in her heart. It wasn't forever. The boy she'd loved. Still loved in some ways. Her parents. Their seperation wasn't forever. She'd see them again. Be with them again.

But not now. Now she was alive. And she had to stay that way, and let fate takes it's course. She had to follow her path to its end.

And so did Jack.

Carolin took his hand and squeezed it tight.

"You have a live to life, Jack." she said simply.

Jack said nothing, just continued to stare at the form of the woman he loved so deeply. Tears slipped down his face again. And his pain was almost a tangible thing that Carolin felt she could reach out and touch. Rue took a couple of steps towards them, but then came to a sudden halt and came no further. She reached out a hand to him and then touched her heart.

"Yea," Jack whispered, "Me too. I love you too."

She smiled at him again. And he felt his heart lift in a way he'd forgotten. Of course. How could he have been so stupid? She'd taken so much of his heart with her when she'd died. But then, she'd left him with so much of her own heart, hadn't she? So in a way, he could live for the both of them.

Yea...I think I could do that.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. Carolin felt her breath catch in surprise. There was hope in his eyes.

"Goodbye, Rue. I love you," he said.

Rue tapped her heart again, and nodded her head. She looked to Carolin and bowed. Carolin just bowed back in thanks as well. Rue looked at Jack once more. Their heart in her eyes. Her grey wings unfurled, she shimmered, and she was gone.

They took a few minutes, but slowly, in stages, turned, and began to walk towards their respective homes once more. They were silent for most of the trip. Until they reached the street corner where they had to go their sepereate ways.

"You don't have far to go do you?" he knew that a great deal of the hospital staff lived in the apratments around here. Carolin shook her head.

"No I live just a few blocks that way," she said pointing down the street. He looked where she pointed, then back at her.

"I'll walk with you," he said. Carolin opened her mouth to object, but then caught herself.

"I'd apreciate that, thank you."

He shrugged, but they set off down the street. They were quiet for most of the journey. But when they got to the door of her building, he finally spoke.

"Who did you loose?" he asked.

She knew what he meant. Who had she lost that allowed her to understand what Rue had been trying to say.

"When I was 20, the boy I loved killed himself," she answered softly. "It took me a long time to get past that fully. Tonight, in fact."

He looked at her strangely, a question in his eyes. She smiled at him. 

"I learned tonight, that death doesn't mean forever. It won't be forever before I see him again." 

He closed his eyes and smiled as well. A chill winter wind raced up the street, stirring the leaves from their resting places in a flurry. It stirred his hair as well, brushing it across his eyes and cheeks.

"You're right. It's not forever," he said. He turned, murmmered a 'goodnight' and made his way back up the street.

"Jack!" Carolin called. He stopped and turned to look at her.

"What?"

"Me and some of the doctors and nurses are having a Christmas party at the bar down the street from the hospital next Thursday.  Would you want to come with?" she asked hopefully.

He opened his mouth to say something back, but then stopped. He was still for a long moment, and Carolin held her breath. She had the strange feeling that the air around them was as well. They both waited for Jack's answer on tenderhooks.. Finally, he opened his mouth again and answered.  

"Okay. I think I'd like that."

The wind sighed in response, and then fell silent.
 

"I didn't ask this of you," she said.

"I know," he answered.

"I don't want you here," she said.

"I know," he answered.

"I don't need you here," she said, this time unable to keep the quiver from her voice.

"Yes you do," he answered, reaching out and taking her hand in his. They laced their fingers together and she sqeezed as tight as she could.

It began. It wasn't quick like she thought it'd be. It was slow, like a ebbing tide. Strength left her outer limbs first, her toes, the tips of her fingers. She could feel it all pulling inward, pulling inward and vanishing.

"You'll die," she whispered.

"I know," he whispered back.

She knew he did. He'd been there, after all, when she'd been told that her powers would eventually take her life. That was the price of using them. And she couldn't not use them. It had been a choice she'd made knowingly and willingly, but here now, she understood there was no way to really know about this. To feel your life being pulled away. To know that everything near you was dying as well. That your dearest friend, closest companion, was dying next to you, because of you. How could anyone know what that was going to be like?

She turned her head and looked at him, surprised to find him already looking at her. They were laying on their backs in a grassy field. The grass was withering around them, and she could see a tree behind him begin to loose it's leaves.

"Why are you here?" she asked. She'd asked before of course, but he'd always answered with one word: Because. This time, the last time, she hoped she could get an answer.

"I didn't want you to be alone," he answered, a small, simple smile forming on his features that made his blue eyes look so soft. She felt tears rise in her own eyes.

"That's stupid," she said.

"I don't think so," he said.

The numbness had reached her hips now. She didn't have much longer. And she knew he didn't either.

"I'm scared," she finally admitted, her tears slipping down her cheeks, and into the dead grass under them.

"It'll be alright," he whispered, "I'm right behind you."

Cold touched her heart, and she felt the organ falter in her chest. The last of her tears fell. Darkness began to creep into her vision. But she kept her eyes open, staring at him. He was still smiling at her. That was what she wanted her last sight to be. His smile.

"Thank you," she whispered, knowing it was inadaqute for the expanse and depth of what she felt right then. But knowing he knew what she meant by it as well. She felt something fall inside her.

And blackness shrouded her sight.

But she clung to the sight of his smile.

And felt him, just behind her, taking her hand, and coming forward to walk beside her.

(*)

She awoke with a sigh.

Morning light filtered through her blinds, after twisting through the boughs of the tree outside her window casting strange patterns on the floor of her room.

She sat up, her quilt falling from her shoulders to pool in her lap. She raised a hand to her head, brushing strands of her hair from her face. She knew that she should feel unsettled, sad, or confused at her dream. But she felt none of those.

She felt...happy.

A smile curved her lips upwards and she leaned back on her hands. It was so odd, but she was, she was happy.

She stayed like that for a moment, basking in her happiness before throwing aside her covers and getting out of bed. She hunted around for some clean clothes, pulled them on, and grabbed up her purse and cell phone. She left her house and got into her car, and while she pulled out of her driveway, she called him up.

"Hey," she greeted, "I know this is really strange, but I had the best dream last night..."

"Really?" he asked over the line, surprise in his voice, "Cause I did too..."

(*)
 

The Globe. 18.00. Tonight.

The notes he left were always just like that. The place. The time. The date. How he managed to get into her flatroom, pin it to her calaender and get out without ever being seen or without leaving one of her doors or windows unlocked, she never asked. She knew it was safer that way.

The streets were empty. The orange tint from the streetlights throwing the colors of everything off, but at least it preserved her night vision. People rarely laughed anymore, and that was what she missed most. She may not remember it well, but she had a precious few memories of her country before the coup. And one of those was of...laughter. Walking down a crowded street, decorated for the winter holidays, between her parents as they talked and laughed. The presence of happy people around them. She missed that. Now, everyone was just...tired. Poor. Hungry. Scared. They retreated into their homes, their jobs, their families and forgot what it was to live freely.

She hefted her small bag up higher on her shoulder, and pulled the wings of her coat about herself to ward off the late autumn chill. She had had to look up the address of The Globe, but was pleased to find that it wasn't far from her University. She turned a corner, and found it, tucked in between two other, newer office buildings, squat, and a little rough around the edges. She ducked inside, and relished in the wave of heat that thawed her cheeks and nose. The pub wasn't busy or empty, but in a pleasent balance between. Most of the patrons had glanced up when she made her entrance before returning to their own interests after assuring themselves she wasn't a threat.

She calmly walked up to the bar, and hopped onto one of the high seats. The bar tender came over.

"What's your fancy, love?"

"Draft is fine," she answered, pulling out a few coins and putting them on the bar. He nodded and went to get her her drink. A few minutes later, she was sipping the cold brew, and just waiting.

She never noticed him until he was already next to her. As always. But over time, she had gradually stopped jumping when she finally did realized he was there.

"What have you got?" he asked, not wasting breath or time on pleasentries. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. He was ordinary, but then she imagined that that was one of his best weapons for his line of work. Plain, stright brown hair, in an ordiniary bowl cut, that hung over his ears and a little in his light brown eyes. His nose was a bit too long for his features, and when he smiled, it was crooked. But all in all, she knew that all he had to do was ask, and she'd die for him.

"More of the same," she answered softly.

He sighed, "I was afraid of that," he replied. He nodded to the bar tender and pointed to what she was drinking. The bartender grabbed another glass and poured the new customer his drink.

"It's evidence though-" she began

"Evidence gathered illegally," he said back, his tone tired; like he had aleady explained this to her, and knew he would have to many more times.

"But it should be enough to secure foreign aid-"

"But it's not," he said.

She pursed her lips and took a long pull from her glass, enjoying the bitter taste that went so well with her bitter mood.

"They're killing people," she spat after she'd put her glass down with a thump. The bartender arrived and handed the beer over to him. He handed him a few coins as payment.

"They are. Lots of them. Horribly. And the only thing you can do is keep doing what you're doing. It helps, I promise," he said simply, downing half his beer in one go.

"It doesn't feel like it's helping," she hissed.

He shrugged his shoulders and looked away from her. "We do what we can," he said, "We survive, we bid our time, and take what little comfort that we can in the fact that nothing lasts forever. They'll fuck up eventually, and trust me, when we catch them, my country will be more than happy for the excuse to invade."

She grumbled a little more but subsided. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Taking one and returning the pack to his pocket, he began patting himself down looking for his lighter or a pack of matches. Not finding one, he turned to his companion, "Got a light on you?"

She rolled her eyes, and pulled out a small silver lighter and handed it too him, letting her fingers linger over his. He lit up his cigerette and took a long drag. He turned his head up, knowing she didn't appreciate the smell as much as he did, and blew the smoke up in a long exhale.

"Anyone shown you any interest?"

"The bad kind?"

"Of course," he said, asperated.

"No," had a couple of freshmen come around asking questions about joining. I gave them the standard speel on our club, only one seems honestly interested."

"Our kind of intrested?" he asked.

She shrugged, "Possibly, haven't a clue yet, still working on the kid. He really just seems like a camera geek, into the older types, I mean like 19th century tin types and things. I think he was a little disappointed when he found out that our Photography Club emphazised more what we taking pictures of, rather than what we're using. But he seems persistant, and he could be a good addition," she explained.

He hummed thoughtfully and took another drag. "Be careful. It's the quiet types that always make me twitchy," he said.

"No worries, it'll be months, maybe years before we let him in all the way."

"Good, good, can't ever be too careful," he said. She just rolled her eyes at him again. She picked up her glass and knocked back the last of her drink. He watched her do it, entranced by the sight of her throat, barred to his sight. She thumped the glass back on the bar, and stood up. He reached out, quick and graceful, and brushed some of her straight blonde hair from her face, and tucked it behind her ear. She didn't move, or show any sign of disliking or liking the contact. He finished. She turned and left.

He'd kept her lighter.

OoOoO

Years, she had kept that geeky kid in the dark about what the Photography Club really did for years. And he'd bided his time, and waited for her too trust him.

Bastard.

She coughed, leaning against her bonds that tied her to the metal chair so that the blood and fluid that was expelled from her lungs landed on her interrogators shiny black loafers. He sneered at her, and backhanded her right across the cheek.

"Give us his name, and you're death will be a quick one," he spat at her.

"I don't know his name," she said dully. It had only been four days, but it might as well have been decades. Centuries. Eons. Whatever. Really didn't matter anymore. She was just about out of time, and she knew it.

"You worked with him for four years, and you never asked him his name?" he said, sarcastic disbelief coloring his words.

She shrugged humorlessly, "Nope," she answered.

"I find that extremly hard to believe, why would you do such a thing?"

"In case I found myself here, with you, asking these questions," she answered simply.

"And I doubt you trusted him that much. You must have a way to contact him? See him? Reach him?"

She shook her head. "No, I told you. He leaves me notes on my board in my room. I get them, go to the place at the date and time. Pass on the pictures, and then we part ways," she answered for the millionth time.

Someone behind her that she couldn't see hit her, hard, making her see stars. Her mind was already so fuzzy with drugs they'd given her, and from starvation, dehydration, and other torture sessions.

"I highly doubted you trusted him that much," he said.

She twitched her shoulders, not able to summon a shrug at that moment, "He told me something when we first met. After that, I'd have killed for him," she said.

"Oh? And pray tell, what did he say?"

She looked up, her eyes swollen, but their bright green color still vibrant, "He told me: If you find your principles and ideals easy to believe in, then you aren't believeing in the right ones."

There was a long pause of silence. Then someone in the shadows off to her right began to chuckle softly. Another man, in a trim, expensive suit stepped into the light of the only lamp in the dark, concrete room, a smile on his face.

"You really know nothing, do you?" he asked her.

She shook her head, "I don't know a thing about him. But I know plenty about you," she answered. There was a flicker of something - fear mixed with loathing - in his eyes, but it vanished. The man in the expensive suit, turned to her interrogator.

"Take her out back and shoot her, she's of no use to us," he said.

The interrogator nodded, smiled and moved to do as bid. She got slowly and painfully to her feet, her hands still bound behind her. Her interrogator shoved her towards the door. Before she left however, the man in the expensive suit called after her.

"When we catch him, is there anything you'd like me to tell him?" he asked, his little smile as cold as the farthest reaches of the Artic. She glanced at him over a a bloodied shoulder.

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then answered, "Goodbye, I guess. If you see him that is."

He sneered, "I assure you, I will."

Her eyes flickered with the first touches of amusement in days, "I'm sure you will. However, I wonder in which capacity it will be in? Predator? Or prey?" she asked.

"Take her," he spat. The interrogator grabbed her and dragged her from the room.

She couldn't help but one last parting shot, "Nothing last forever! Remember that!" she called, almost in a sing-song tone.

"Maybe," he hissed under his breath after she was gone, "But I'll out last you, you filfthy whore."

Despite his convictions and confidence, not even the sound of the shots that ended her life, warded off the chill that had crept up his spine at her final words.

OoOoO

They had ransacked her flat room after they'd taken her. There was no arrest, she had been a suspected terrorist after all, in those cases, this governement could help themselves to anyone. He looked around the room, her meger amount of personal things strewn about, some broken, and trampled under foot. He couldn't stay long, her parents would be here soon to pack up their daughter's life. He ran a finger down a worn and cracked spine of a book that lay face down and open on top of the desk. It didn't matter how often it happened, he never got used to this. Standing in the bits and pieces that make up aspects of a persons life, knowing that the life that had touched these things, used these things, cherished these things...was gone.

It never seemed real, standing here. Maybe that was why he'd come. So he could pretend for just a few precious moments that she was still here. That if he left her a note on her calaender, she'd show up, sit down at a bar, at a table, on a bench, and they would talk. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath of a scent he'd never smell again in the waking world. And then he left. After all, he still had a job to do here. A government to spy on. People to kill.

Hours later, when her parents stumbled into their daugther's numb from loss and disbelief; they would both wonder at the note pinned on her calaender.

Afterlife. 25th hour. Someday soon.

OoOoO


 

"Tell me truthfully, Will, can you value the night when you only live in day? Can you want for a breath of air, when you've never breathed? Would you have noticed me at all, had my sister not refused your advances in favor of your brother?" Will took a step back from Moria in surprise. He gaped at her, and she stood before him, shaking with the effort to not cry. Will opened his mouth then closed it, then opened it again, only to have nothing come out. Moria bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. Finally, he managed to speak.

"Would you have me lie, to spare you feelings?" He asked, his eyes pained. Moria shook her head.

"Never, never would I perfer that over the truth. Disreguard my feelings, Will Scarlet and tell me the truth!" Moria yelled the last bit, her fists clenching in the fabric of the pancho like cloak he had given her to cover her torn shirt. It drawfed her smaller form, covering the ripped breeches to her knees as well. 

"Then...no, Moria. I'll never lie to you. Had your sister, accepted my advances over that of my brother's, I most likely never would had seen you for more than a sister."

Moria held her composure, but it was clear it took such a force of will, that the man before her was humbled. She was strong. As strong as her sister who faced down the Sheriff of Nottingham. Perhaps stronger, for it was in Will's opinion that it took greater strength to face someone you cared for, than some one you hated. 

"Right then, nothing more to be said then, is there?" Moria turned, and began to walk the paths that would take her out of Sherwood, and away from Will Scarlet, and away from her bleeding heart that she left at his feet. Will however, had no intentions of letting her go, in two steps he had her by the arm and jerked her around to face him in his grasp. She thrashed, and ripped her arm away, taking a few steps back to put distance between them. "What more is there to say, Will? I've learned the truth, I fancy no more details to make it any shaper."

"You bade me to never speak a lie, Moria. You cannot fault me for doing as you asked."

Moria nodded, her voice becoming thicker with tears and saddness, "You are right, Will, I cannot fault you for doing as I asked. Then would you now please consider my feelings and let me alone!" She screamed, at him, turning and making to flee down the paths that she knew as well as he did. He was after her again, in three steps he grasped oth her arms, but this time let her face away from him. She bent over, trying to use her weight to free herself, but he held her fast.

"No, I will not leave you alone, Moria of Bagell. There is much more to be said. You asked me if I'd never seen dark, how can I value it? If I'd never breathed a breath of air, how could I know it's worth, yes?" She let out a cry of such desperation as answer, but Will pushed forward. "Then I asked you, Moria, friend, how can I value the dark having never seen light? How can I value air, without being deprived of it? What you say goes both ways! Hear me now, I love you all the more because I have known your sister. I value all the traits you bear because I have known a woman without them. You are my air, my heart, my friend, and I could no more keep away from you, than I can stop the sun from setting. If you bid me to go away again, I fear I would have to travel beyond life's arms in order to bear any kind of existance." Her weight, and pulling away, brought him to his knees, and her to hers. She was crying now, great sobbing cries that echoed in the otherwise quiet forest. Will felt his own eyes fill with tears, at her continued pain. Was there to be no relief for either of them?

And suddenly she was there, turned, and in his arms. She clung to the clothes on his back, and cried into his shoulder. He hesitated but a second, before engulfing her in his embrace, holding her too him as if that act could somehow keep her close always.

"Please, love, please, stop crying. I cannot bear your tears."

"You're going to bloody well bear them, Will Scarlet! For putting me through this hell!"

"Putting you?! I've suffered just as much as you have, Moria! For God's sake, you've treated me as nothing but a friend all this time!"

"Of course I have you idiot! I thought you in love with my sister! How else was I supposed to act!?"

"You could have given me some hint!"

"Some-?! I'll give you a bloody hint!" Moria snarled in his face that was pressed dangerously close to her own as he yelled. She just rose up on her knees just a bit, and met her angry lips with his equally angry ones. Will sat there, stunned, and trying to figure out just how excatly he had gone from yelling at this woman to kissing her. 

Then, he decided, it didn't really matter. He'd rather be kissing her anyway.

Kelly was at the end of her rope. Her boyfriend of two years was going off to the deep end and he wasn't letting her help. Hell, he wasn't even letting her in, not at all. It had been two days since he had stumbled in from his ER rotation. It had been two days since he had said more than one word at a time to her. It had been two days since he'd shown a sign of life. He was just...not there.

He was sitting on the piano bench, looking out the picture window that the piano was next too. He had two days worth of beard decorating his chin and jaw. His green eyes were clouded over like he was in deep thought. Only, that was the way he had been for two days. Kelly didn't know what to do anymore. She'd tried talking, yelling, crying, whispering, anything to get him to speak to her. Tell her what was wrong. 

Kelly's thoughts were interrupted by a the door. Someone was pounding on it, insestently, and loudly. 

"Marcus Derek Anderson!! Open this door right now, or I swear to God I'm breaking it DOWN!!" Kelly looked at her boyfriend, who had flinched, and hunched his shoulders in response to the woman's voice. Kelly hurried over to the front door of his apartment and flung it open. There, standing, soaking wet from the terenchal down pour was veiling the world behind her. She was panting, like she had run here, and her face was flushed. 

"Hi, Kelly," Lynn said her lips twitching into a weak smile. 

Lynn and Kelly weren't the best of friends. They weren't even friends. Kelly didn't like the relationship that Lynn had with her boyfriend. And Lynn didn't think Kelly was good enough for her friend. They stood at an impasse. They had settled to agree to forever disagree some months ago, and settled into a tenious relationship. They tried to avoid each other, and managed it pretty successfully, much to Mark's annoyance. 

"Um...Can I come in please?" Lynn asked, shifting nervously on Mark's tiny porch. Kelly instantly stood aside, Lynn rushed in out of the rain. She dropped her sopping purse on the floor and jerked open the coat closet to her immdiate left. She then reached in and yanked out one of the old ratty beach towels that Mark kept in here. Lynn wiped the water from her face and neck, and then rubbed the excess water from her hair in furious strokes. Then she dropped the wet towel on the floor by her purse and stalked across the floor to the other side, where Mark sat at the piano. 

She slid in between him and the window, then knelt on the floor in front of him. She took his face in her hands and pulled it down to make him look at her. 

"You are an idiot. Why didn't you call me?" She asked him softly. He didn't respond, just like he hadn't when Kelly tried the same thing. But, Lynn didn't stop there. 

"You are such a kind soul, Mark. The idea of hurting someone pains you. But...you knew. Remember? That class you took, and the professor told you, he warned you. You would kill someone. It was a fact. You said you could handle it, take it, survive it. What happened to that?" Kelly drew closer to hear her as her voice dropped lower. 

"Hold on, love. Remember why you are a doctor. Remember, and hold fast to that. You are a good person. And I don't love you any less. Neither does Kelly, or your parents, or...any of your friends."

Mark stilled, and the two women  could practically feel him focus on the present. Mark leaned down just a little and pressed his forehead against Lynn's. His eyes drifted shut. Lynn smiled and held on to him tighter. Kelly walked softly over and put a hand on Mark's shoulder. He shifted, and brought up his opposite hand to place it over hers.