My first Troy one-shot! Feel free to correct me if you see that I've made any mistakes. CC is always welcomed.

Disclaimer: I do not own Troy or anything pertaining to it. Nor do I own the song.

Summary: Time will not erase her memory of him. Not when his touch has never felt more real. Post Movie.

I am that one voice in the cold wind that whispers,

And if you listen, you'll hear me call across the sky,

As long as I still can reach out and touch you,

And I will never die…

-Josh Groban; Remember

She is haunted.

Briseis wakes in sweat and tears, the image of fire and death is still being seen behind every blink that she must make. There is darkness all around but it does not affect her as it once had. After all, she is living in an eternal night with only the fury of flickering flames to alight her memories. And she is shackled to this darkness by time…one painful minute after another until she loses count.

But it is night and she awakes, as always, to an eerie silence. Around her lays her family and her fellow Trojans. No one has stirred. But her eyes have found the beautiful Helen, Paris beside her with his arm tightly around her waist. Even in his sleep he looks as if he will never let her go. A deep envy and—dare she even recognize it—loathing fills her. But try as she might, Briseis cannot bring this hate into her heart, not even for Andromache's sake. Paris brought Helen to their former home out of love, selfish as it may have been. Hector had fought and died for his devotion to Troy, and Achilles was killed in his pursuit for peace—in his fight to get to her.

It is a sickening twist of the Fates and their reputation precedes them.

Briseis lays back down.

Sleep still refuses to come. She continues to envision Helen's body pressed close to Paris', their love evident even beyond this world and into their dreams. And because of this, she sees his piercing black eyes watching her, sees the glistening of sweat and blood across his artfully sculpted muscles. Achilles radiates power—even within the confines of her memories. There is no limit to his power, it seems.

But even as she struggles for rest, she feels his calloused, but tender hand travel down the curves of her body where it eventually encircles tightly around her waist and she can feel his comforting heat seep through her shift. The hard stubble along his jaw tickles her face as she hears him inhale her scent the same way a dying man who thirsts would. He settles behind her.

"Sleep," he whispers.

And that's just what she does.

They are in the temple courtyard, but it is not as she remembers it. There are no shadowing statues of Apollo or of any of the other Greek deities and the sound of trickling fountains no longer fills the serenity of the sanctuary.

It is consumed by fire. The chorus of screaming women and children and dying men is now the music of the once great city of Troy. The pride of its walls that it had once held so dear is now a shattered dream.

And he is there, alone, standing before her. His eyes are dark and he looks like a warrior of the gods with the glow of the fire an outline behind him. And there she realizes he is everything. And everything is gone…

His chest and abdomen, his ankle is bleeding from the points of Paris' arrows and yet he still stands. His face suddenly softens.

"Remember me." He whispers and Briseis recalls his words of a name succeeding the centuries. And she realizes that he wants to be remembered by her.

But Achilles has no need to doubt, his place has already been secured in her heart and in her memories. He is her protector, her defender and he will always be with her. Achilles' legacy as a warrior may have transcended the bounds of time, but the barring of his heart—the man would live through her remembrance of him.

Tears start anew and she steps forward, clasping his angular jaw within her frail hands. The action feels so familiar. Have they ever been apart? It doesn't matter, all she feels is the texture of his lips against hers; senses his need as his fingers burry themselves deep within the dark mass of her curling hair and trembles as his tongue sweeps her mouth, showing his dominance as only a man such as Achilles can. There is warmth curling in the lower part of her belly and she feels her own need arise to meet his. But suddenly he pushes her away and Briseis watches in horror as another arrow pierces him, then another until her lover finally falls to his knees. She turns to see Paris, a faraway look in his eyes, but revenge for his brother ever so evident. Her scream of denial catches in her throat and she finds that she has no voice. Nothing can stop what is unfolding before her. Her world is enveloped in darkness.

When her eyes open again, a queer feeling has filled her person. She is in a cavern, a river of black water flows before her. A boat lies in wait on a beach of ash, a wraith like being at its hull. It stands motionless but for a beckoning finger. A shiver of premonition travels up her spine as she spots the man standing before the boatman.

"Achilles!" she yells but he doesn't seem to hear her. "Please…"

He turns, looking as calm as she had ever seen him. There is a quirk of his lips and she feels her heart flutter.

"Remember me, Briseis," he says again, "And I am alive."

It is the promise of his memory and she is grateful, however small the gift may be. He turns back at the boatman's silent call and gives him the coins for passage. She looks across the way and sees Patroclus, his cousin, she sees Hector, her own blood and warm tears come to her eyes. When the ghost of her lover arrives to the other side, he embraces Patroclus tightly. They are speaking but she is beyond their words though their smiles make their joy evident. Achilles then turns to Hector and they stare at one another, still remembering their former lives. Then, in a single gesture they are brothers, clasping the other by the arm. Her heart is warmed by the sight.

But she knows she cannot stay. She knows she must move forward…

Achilles looks to her and nods; his eyes show what his beyond any matter of words and gestures. She realizes then that she has his heart, just as he has her own.

Briseis knows that there will be a reunion one day. And she knows that when her day to pay the boatman arrives, he will be waiting for her on the other side. By this she is both consoled and comforted.

She awakes to the tickling of warmth upon her face. The sun is rising and with it her family and countrymen. She cannot help but feel the lingering of his warmth along her body, the fire of his touch on her face. Her heart beats dully as she wonders if it had been a blessed vision of assurance or a wanting dream. She hopes for the former.

As she stirs she feels the penetrating eyes of Paris on her. She senses his judgment though no words have been spoken. He seems keen on keeping her intimacy with a Greek—Achilles, no less, a secret. But she is beyond the point of caring. She would give anything to have him back in her arms, anything so that he might have obtained the life he wanted in the end. Together they had opened a new door of possibilities but their time had been cheated before he even had the chance to step through its threshold.

But it has all passed and Briseis will do all that she can do, which is the only thing he had ever asked for. She will remember.

...

End

I have yet to decide whether to add two more chapters in the views of Paris and Andromache after this one. It depends on your thoughts on this oneshot. Until then it shall remain completed. But please review!

-:TDS:-