"Nick?"

Maya's whispered voice comes to him through his sleep, and as he swims into consciousness he can feel her fingers gently gliding across his chest.

He turns his head to find her looking at him, her head resting in her hand as she holds herself up on her elbow. She's dressed in a white, flowing nightgown, so translucent that it's almost see-through. Her black hair is hanging loosely around her, but not messy at all from sleep. She looks like she's been awake for hours, just watching him.

She's smiling down at him softly. "You finally woke up."

He stares up at her, a strange feeling of nostalgia coming over him. He isn't sure why. He and Maya have been together for years. Maybe its the way she looks younger than usual in the soft light coming from the window, or maybe it's some sort of déjà vu from their early days together.

Either way, she looks beautiful. She leans down to kiss him, and her lips against his are incredibly soft. He reaches a hand up to run his fingers through her hair before resting his fingers on her neck, then lets his hand slide down her back to wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him, feeling her body against his.

She pulls back soon enough, and blinks slowly at him.

"I love you, Nick," she says quietly. "You know that, right?"

He cocks his head slightly. "Of course. And I love you."

Maya smiles. "You always will, right?"

"Always."

Maya brings the hand that's resting on his chest up to caress his cheek. When he looks into her eyes, he can see they're wet with tears. "Don't forget me, Nick."

He furrows his eyebrows. "How could I?"

She doesn't answer him. She looks down at her hand as her fingers go back to his chest to trace circles and shapes into his skin. "I miss you," she whispers.

He shakes his head. "I don't understand, Maya. I'm right here."

"I'm sorry, Nick," she says. "I'm sorry for hurting you again."

With that, she moves away from him. She looks so graceful as she gets out of bed and walks towards the door, so much so that he can almost swear that she's floating.

He sits up quickly, a feeling of dread suddenly overwhelming him. Somehow he just knows that if Maya walks out that door, he'll never see her again. He gets out of bed, rushing to stand up. Maya stops at the door and turns towards him to smile once more, and he hurries forwards, holding out a hand to take hold of her. He's too late though, Maya steps out of the bedroom, and everything goes dark.


Phoenix wakes with a start in his room. It's dark, the only light coming from the faint red glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand. For a split second, he searches for her, reaching his hand over to the other side of the bed expecting her to be there, but instead all he feels are the cold sheets beneath his palm.

A dream. It was a dream. He clenches his fist and squeezes his eyes shut, fighting off the rush of emotions he gets as he remembers that Maya is gone. It's even worse this time, thanks to that dream. He hasn't dreamt about her for a long time, and it felt so real… her touches, her kiss, her voice, it was like she was right there with him.

He turns over in bed, tears beginning to stream down his face. He has to shove his face into his pillow to cover up the sound of his sobs. He doesn't want Trucy just down the hall to hear him.

He misses Maya so much that it physically hurts. If not for Trucy, he's not even sure he would be able to bear it. He knows that if Maya were around she would smack him for thinking such a thing, but if he wasn't needed… well, he'd rather be with Maya than exist in a world without her.

He reaches over to open the drawer in the nightstand and pulls out the old green magatama she'd given him all those years ago. It's dull now, the spiritual charge given to it has faded from disuse, but he holds it to his chest with a shaking hand. It's one of the last things he has of hers.

He thinks about the dream, letting his tears fall as he remembers her words, still so clear in his mind. 'I love you.' 'Don't forget me.' 'I miss you.' 'I'm sorry.'

"It wasn't your fault, Maya," he murmurs into the dark. "It was mine. I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so, so sorry. And I will never forget you. Not a day goes by I don't think about you or what I could have done… I'm sorry."

He clutches the magatama to his chest as he speaks. It's cold and hard, but still somehow comforting. "I miss you, too," he says, speaking almost into the magatama in his hands, hoping that somehow she can hear him.

He feels a warm breeze brush over his arm and turns his head to look at the window. It's closed. His bedroom door is closed too, and besides that brief moment, the room is cold, and the air is still.

Fresh tears spring to his eyes. Maybe she can hear him. Maybe she's closer than he thinks.