Mortal Coils - Part One

"There was a time once, when we had it all." He whispered this to her ear as she rolled over in her sleep, sliding an errant lock of hair away from her peaceful features. "A time once when you and I could have had this...all of this." He looked around the room, seeing not the grunge of dirt from years gone by, seeing not the glowing eyes of whatever pests had taken up residence in the abandoned storeroom.

He thought of his family, the one he had forged unwittingly with someone he convinced himself he loved, someone who was eating him alive from the inside out. He thought of her family, made of many more tenuous strands, much less solid than the bonds he had forged but somehow more valid. He then thought of them, and the history they shared.

It was not just a history of this life, but the one that had come before. And the one before that. From the instant they had seen each other, something was there, reminding them of each and every instance. It was very much, he mused, like a near death experience, except instead of his life flashing before his eyes, it was every life, every moment they had or would have together. But for all of his seeing and knowledge and forethought, he never could have imagined that.

Stroking her arm gently and feeling the flesh warm beneath his touch, he sighed softly. How to reconcile the two different ways of life? He, the man born of a heritage that was supposed to be bound to walk the earth, tied down to a family - a family he wasn't even sure he wanted. And she - she who he had always thought was bound for a life of complicity and domesticity, she - living the life he thought he was destined to have.

It was rare, these occasions that they spent together. Rare enough that they even got a glancing moment in which to say hello. As they lay upon the mattress that held years of dirt, dust and god only knew what else, he contemplated it all. Was it worth it, to see her like this, the only way they could? To meet in the back storeroom of an abandoned building on the worst side of town, to risk not only their lives, but their hearts as well?

He could not deny that she crossed his thoughts regularly. Nor, when asked, could she deny the same. But a shadow of doubt crossed her face every time they embraced and the cold hand of reality touched his heart every time he felt her tremble and shudder beneath him. Though they were together again, nothing could ever be the same.

It had been years ago that she had broken his heart - not so many that the hurt had subsided. Not so many that the passion had died either. But laying her next to her, his hand on the hollow of her chest feeling her heart beat through the thin skin of her torso, he could not help but let his mind drift to all the wonderful things that could have - should have - been.

"You were to be mine, my love." His breath caressed her ear with each word, his words, in turn, caressing her heart. A connection was there, one that could never be severed. She stirred in her sleep, a peaceful respite from the arduous passion they had just shared. "If only I had known....if only I had told you. If only you had known.....we would be together."

It wasn't that he regretted his family - he loved his son with every fiber of his being, a son that had his eyes and his laugh, his mannerisms and his smartass sense of humor. It wasn't that he regretted his wife, either. She was as good of a woman as any could ask for, and had picked up the pieces when she had broken them. But there was always, somewhere in the bowels of his mind, the longing and desire for more.

His arm tightened around her, causing her to shiver and curl into the hollow of his body. She was larger than he was, but colder, always colder. She was a creature of the daylight hours, and always retained so much warmth. Until they made love. Afterwards, she was always cold, unbearably cold. Closing his eyes, he did the best to soothe her discomfort by pulling the ratty and worn woven blanket further above the two of them.

He did the only thing he could do; he listened. He could hear every heartbeat, every breath, every movement. If he tried and concentrated, he could catch glimpses and flashes of her dreams, the dreams she had when she was within his arms.

A flash of red crossed his field of vision, a voice - her voice - crying out in the night. She was having nightmares again, but no audible sound escaped her lips. Nightmares of being caught in a place that was not quite here and not quite there. She was pregnant, in her dream. And alone. Her eyes were filled with tears and she was calling his name. He came to her side, but in her dreams he looked quite different. He was but a shadow of himself, perhaps another figure from another life.

"It's you," her dream self stammered through very obvious pain. "What will it be this time, my savior or my slayer?" He looked on through her dreams, watching her in labor, and a child - their child - born dead.

Her dreaming voice drove deep into his heart. He hated to think of himself as the source of any of her pain. He didn't know what had occurred to make her run away, and resented the fact that she had run away from him. It didn't matter that she was young, so young, and so very very scared. He didn't like the thought of her in pain. And much less did he enjoy the thought of her in pain and so scared she was unable to reach out to him, the one she had promised to spend the rest of her life with.

That was, of course, in the past now. Their lives together were beginning to start over. He slipped into her dreams once more, into another scene in another life. They were dancing together, their bodies as entwined as their hearts. She looked up to him, her eyes glittering with tears of joy. She held him tightly, grasping as though the world would slip away if she were to let go.

He tried to shut out the images he was receiving from his lover, images and thoughts he knew were wroth with pain, jealousy and greed. He saw them, as they were in this life, in the situation they were in now. He saw them - each with their respective families. It was an odd circle of loves. She had hers, and he had his, and they, among all else, had each other. They did not have to sneak off to this horrid place, in her dream.

They cherished each other, as lovers do. Freely, and without the jealousy and petty anger from their respective significant others. She openly embraced him in this dream, and again, she was heavy with child. He knew it was his, but he was not frightened by this, or scared, or even regretful. He felt as though a wrong was set right - though their "family" had not begun the way it should have, nor had it progressed as it could have, it was on course again. He sighed again, pushing her unrealistic dreams from his head and opening his eyes. It was wonderful to hold her, but not so wonderful that he could see every thought inside of her mind.

She must have felt him pull away because she stirred in her sleep. Her hands moved up, wiping the remnants of grogginess from her deep gray eyes. "What is it, honey?" She whispered in a husky voice, emerging from the cushion of safety that sleep had afforded her.

"Nothing." He smiled, a strained smile at best. "Go back to sleep, my love. Go back to sleep." His fingers ran through her hair, doing his best to soothe her into dreamland once more. But his efforts did not work, and she propped herself up upon an arm, looking at him with concern.

"I was dreaming again, wasn't I?" She asked, her voice wrought with concern. He nodded and sighed softly.

"I don't mean to do it, you know." She shook her head, averting her eyes with what could have been shame.

"Don't mean to dream, or don't mean to hurt me? You seem to do both without regard!" he snapped.

"I would give my very life to be near you always, you know that. I would do anything to right what I have put wrong, and do anything to regain the kingdom that was to be ours - yours and mine together." She whimpered the words.

He snorted in disgust. For all that he loved her, he hated her too. He hated loving her.

She sat up, and glared at him. "You don't believe me, do you?" She shook her head.

Mimicking this gesture, he stifled a laugh. "How can I believe someone who left me in pieces? I love you, my dear, I truly do. But what we were to have, and what we have now has no bearing on how I feel. What does is these silly dreams you have for you and I. These silly dreams keep hurting me, only reminding me of what could have been."

"There is a way," she said, cautiously choosing her words, seeming to ponder each one for an eternity before it left her lips. "A way I could be with you always, a part of you always. A way that I could be yours forever, without hurting you or your family."

He knew instantly what she was thinking of, and shook his head. "No. Completely out of the question. "

Before he could stop her, the knife was already to her throat. The warm blood that ran through her veins was upon him. The heartbeat he had, only moments ago felt through his fingertips was creeping up through his body.

He looked down, horrified, as her body started to fade. The blood seemed to move of its own accord, snaking its way around his arms, his legs, his naked torso, embedding itself within him. Patterns began to take shape, vines and animals and all manner of life and being. A voice pulsed through his mind.

"I would give anything to be a part of you, love. Including myself. It was not a promise I made lightly, and like as not, you have all of me now. You may not have believed me in the past when I told you that I loved you. You may not have believed me in the heat of the moment when I told you I would be with you always, one way or another. You even believed me when I told you I would not, under any circumstances, bring harm to you or your family. But you wanted me as much as I wanted you. And this was the only way."

Her voice inside his head. Just one more damned thing to get used to in this fucked up relationship of theirs. Now he would have to find a way to undo the damage she had done to her mortal coils, and bring her back from a land beyond reach, a place deep inside of himself that even he feared to tread - his heart.