A/N: This story took me a long time. I actually put some time in researching my idea, so I could attempt to convey this horrible disease in a way that hopefully won't offend anyone. (Forgive me if it does, I'm only a teenager!) I am fortunate to have never been affected by this disease, although my grandma's friend is suffering from dementia. So I don't know how someone would feel in this situation, so I tried really hard to express the emotions correctly.

The song 'Shooting Star'(my favorite!) is the song I was listening to when the idea came to me. I hope you like this angst-like story.

So please read and review, and let me know what I did wrong if you want, I can always use the help! I also realized halfway through writing it that it was very melodramatic/over-dramatic, so bear with me on this one. I've never written a story longer than three (Bad, really bad) chapters, so this may be...well...interesting.

Shooting Star

Summary: The love they felt for each other was immense, unspeakable, and amazing. There was absolutely nothing that could ever get in their way, in sickness or in health.

"He was the sun burning bright and brittle and

She was the moon shining back his light a little

He was a shooting star

She was softer and more slowly

He could not make things possible but

She could make them holy"

Harry Chapin - Shooting Star

Five years ago today, Clarisse Renaldi married the love of her life. Hence becoming Clarisse Renaldi-Saporta. The ceremony had come as a shock to them both, but they remembered it vividly, as if it were yesterday. Now, here they were, turning circles together on an empty dance floor once again. They held each-other close as the music played softly. The cross between a waltz and a tango, or a wango (as it had been affectionately named), was their favorite dance. It brought them closer, moving to the beat of the music, clasping one hand at their sides, resting the other on her stomach, swaying gently together. The dance made them lock eyes, and study the feelings they felt. The love they felt for each other was immense, unspeakable, and amazing. There was absolutely nothing that could ever get in their way, in sickness or in health.

"Clarisse, my darling, I've forgotten what we call this dance." Joseph broke the passion-filled silence, puzzled at the sudden lapse of his usually sharp memory.

"It's a "wango", darling." The former queen whispered huskily in his ear. She cast her blue eyes downward, her senses completely indulged in the passionate Spanish dance they were sharing.

"Mmmm... yes. How could I forget?" He whispered back as he spun her to face him. Clarisse laid her head on his shoulder, moving closer, thoroughly enjoying the close contact with her husband.

"Joseph?" She said into his shoulder.

"Yes?" Joe replied. He felt her gentle breath on his neck and a tingle ran down his spine.

"How are we going to celebrate this milestone day?" She raised her head and looked into his eyes, conveying a feeling neither could speak aloud.

"Are you suggesting something?" His hand came up to run through her short blonde hair.

"Maybe a little." Joseph kissed the woman in his arms as she blushed a deep shade of red. Five years together and she was still completely mad for this man.

"Alright then." He didn't need much coaxing as he lifted her completely off the ground and started down the hall. She shrieked loudly in surprise.

"Joseph! What are you doing?"

"Carrying you to our room, your majesty." He kissed her softly on the head.

"Joseph, people are going to see us." She giggled softly as they passed a guard struggling to keep his composure at the sight of the former queen being whisked down the hallway in the arms of her husband. "Besides, you are going the wrong way."

"Oh I am, aren't I?" Joseph turned around and headed for their room. He could have sworn it was down the North hallway, and not the South.

Clarisse awoke, the morning creeping upon them, once again in the arms of her former head of security. The man she loved with all her heart. Her husband. She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. She thought of how lucky she was, to have spent the last five years of her life with Joseph.

"I love you." Clarisse spoke softly in his ear. Her intention was not to be heard by the sleeping man, but only to inject some affection into his dreams, and to speak her constant thought.

"Mmm. Good morning to you, too." Joseph mumbled.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"I like to be roused like that. But only by you." Clarisse blushed.

"Well, I can only hope, my dear." She whispered, kissing him again. "We should take a walk today."

"Oh, and where should we go?" He teased her.

"I suppose through the gardens, as usual."

"Yes, the apple trees are blossoming." Joe rolled out of bed. "It should be beautiful." Clarisse nodded, motioning for him to come back to bed.

"Don't leave."

"My dear, I could never leave you. But seeing as it is nine o'clock, we should get out of bed."

"Oh! Oh Dear. Is it already so late?" She jumped out of bed and hastened, (a queen never rushed, not even an former queen rushed in the privacy of her own suite), across the room to her closet. "How about this?" The formidable woman held up a strawberry pink skirt suit.

"It's lovely." Joseph's words were sincere, and kind.

"I thought so, too." Clarisse grinned.

A walk among the gardens of the palace was exactly what they had in mind for their day. The newly blooming trees created the perfect backdrop for the perfect fairy-tale love. The trees held the captivating white blossoms and were dusted with dew from the morning. The sun shown brightly with white, fluffy, clouds lining the sky. It was warmer today than yesterday had been, and the suit that Clarisse had picked out was now causing her the least bit of discomfort. Clarisse held Joseph's hand gently as they walked along, talking of what was floating around in their minds.

"You know, I never thought I'd be this lucky." Joseph leaned towards his wife and whispered in her ear.

"What do you mean?"

"To finally have you all to myself. I love you, Clarisse."

"I love you, too." The wind picked up and a few apple blossoms fell at their feet as they kissed lovingly. Joseph reached behind him and plucked a twig overflowing with flowers off the tree. As they parted he tucked it in her hair. She laughed throatily and reached for his hand. She felt so much like a child again, walking in the orchard with the man she loved.

"Must we go back?"

"Yes, I have work to do." She darkened, upset that he ruined the mood.

"One would think that when you gave up the job, you would really give up the job."

"Oh. . . Joseph. I'm sorry." Clarisse apologized, sensing the bitterness in his voice. "I suppose the work can wait until later, after all, you are much more important."

"No, no. Do the work now, but I get you at night."

"Of course." She giggled. "Thank you for understanding Joseph. I love you."

"I love you, too." Holding hands, they walked slowly back toward the palace, and out of the romantic fairy-tale.

Chapter 6 -