This is my response to the "Things I Love" challenge and it is dedicated to bookwormofmassiveproportions. I love my new icon, so thank you very much.

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Timeless beauty- no woman embodied that phrase the way Pernelle did. The first time he had seen her disguised as a man, albeit unconvincingly, during one of the first lectures he had given on the concept of an elixir of life Nicholas had known that there was something compelling about her. Upon seeing her dash from the hall when he finished speaking, Nicholas had experienced the same fear that he did about losing his results; she was, in some way or another, connected to him and he had to find out why. He had cut short the questions of his stale old colleagues and ran after the figure, squeezing through crowds, past stands where vendors sold their goods, and between rows of beggars kneeling on the ground, praying that he wouldn't lose sight of this intriguing persona.

Nicholas slowed down as the 'boy' dashed around the corner into an alleyway he knew to be a dead end. Sooner or later he would return and when he did, Nicholas would be waiting. Gradually his heart beat returned to normal as did his breathing, and he continued to wait leaning against the brickwork. As a beautiful young woman clad in spectacular finery emerged from the dark recess moments later, a small sack clasped tightly in one hand, he barely noticed. Nicholas had looked away for a split second before his eyes were drawn back by her extraordinary looks. It occurred to him that she was so at odds with her surroundings that she would be a target for all sorts of vagabonds, and as a humanist it was his duty to terminate his investigation and help her.

"Excuse me, madam." Nicholas had watched, fascinated as she had stiffened and turned around, giving a look of boredom that confirmed his theory that she was of noble birth.

"Yes?"

"This is no place for a lady such as yourself; allow me to escort you to wherever it is that you are going." She had raised one haughty blonde eyebrow and laughed. "I swear that I will allow no harm to come to you."Her response was less than encouraging.

"And where does a woman like me belong? The parlour? The kitchen? The bedchamber?" She had glanced at him disdainfully and made to turn with a swish of her long blonde curls and continued on her way, but Nicholas had remained by her side.

"Forgive me madam, I did not mean to cause offence. I merely meant that there are many unsavoury characters in this area that would, perhaps, do you harm." Nicholas tried to convey his sincerity, but he had no way to gauge his success.

"And how do I know that you are not one of these 'unsavoury characters'? If I allow you to accompany me long enough to put the scientific method into practice then I may never make it home safely."

"You don't, but you could be a villain wearing the disguise of a beautiful woman. Maybe you'll leave me bleeding in a ditch with my pockets empty." She had laughed then; a musical sound that made Nicholas' heart beat slightly faster and it was then he picked up on something she had said, attempting to keep the tone of surprise from his voice. "You are a natural philosopher then Madam?" A pained look had crossed her face.

"Yes and no."

"Yes and no?" He wondered what exactly she had meant by that.

"That is what I said, was it not?" The unbridled anger in her voice surprised Nicholas.

"What is your name, or do you have a pseudonym? I would like to read your theories."

"I have no pseudonym and I will never have a name."

"Oh?" There was a lull in the conversation and they ground to a standstill on a little bridge to allow a horse drawn carriage to pass.

"As you inferred, there is no place for women in the scientific world as things stand."

"Then make one. And if you have no given name then I will simply have to call you... La Belle Femme avec esprit." Still they did not continue walking.

"The Beautiful Woman with Wit... Accurate, Nicholas, very accurate but perhaps it would be quicker if you could call me Pernelle." They both laughed.

"How do you know my name?" Her easy smile faltered.

"I guessed."

"And I do not believe you, Belle Femme Pernelle. In fact, as you understand the scientific method I shall explain why not. Observation; a young man with something suspicious about him ran from my lecture into an alleyway, an alleyway which I happen to know leads nowhere, and you come back out. Hypothesis; you are one and the same person. Experiment?" He took the bag from her unsuspecting hands and lifted out the loose white shirt that served as a part of her clever disguise, "And verification."

She had looked at him with what could only be described as terror before her face had slipped into a calm mask, and moved with an elegance that would never become less striking to him to hold the stone walls of the bridge.

"What will you do?"

"What do you mean, Pernelle?"

"Now that you know my secret what will you do?"

"Nothing."

The look she had given him was one Pernelle would never forget, and he had seen it many times over their lifetime together, a lifetime that was now drawing to a close. The elixir was fast running out; she knew it and so did he. They had finished preparing everything for their passing last week and were growing increasingly weak, tired by the slightest task. Two days ago Pernelle had staggered out of their lounge and collapsed on the lawn. He had followed at the more sedate pace that was all his body, the more worn out of the two, could muster.

Instead of the ageless woman that his wife had come to be, Nicholas had seen the girl of his youth, and it was at that moment that he knew the end was near for them both. Over five and a half centuries' worth of memories had started to blur into one another and also reality, causing the Pernelle of today to appear, in his eyes, indistinguishable from the day they had been married. Knowing that Pernelle would be amused by the thought- she had always been the braver of the two of them about death- he had started towards her, the grass pleasantly soft underfoot, and the air still miraculously refreshing. Sitting painfully slowly, the vigour the philosopher's stone had afforded him all but gone, Nicholas ran a hand through the long tresses of his wife's hair, made golden blonde once more by the sunlight, or was it his imagination? The smile Pernelle had given him spoke of a tiredness that did not belong to her youthful demeanour.

"You look just as you did the day we first met, mon Belle Femme." A spark of recognition had flashed in her deep brown eyes when he had spoken.

"it has been long since you addressed me in such a way..." There was now a slight frown, which suggested that she too was reminiscing about their first encounter. "I was so scared, in the beginning, that you would tell my father about my books and the serving boy clothing I wore. When I think of that woollen shirt my skin still itches."

"You always were- still are beautiful." The way her hand, not quite as plump and unlined as he had anticipated, found its way into his told Nicholas that she had noticed his hurry to change to the present tense.

"I was frightened in the beginning, and you are frightened of the end." It was not a question, nor was it an accusation. They had understood each other well from the moment they had first met. Nicholas wondered if her fear of eternal life exceeded his of death.

"You are certain that you wish to do this?" Pernelle was not as keen to take the elixir as he- Nicholas was the alchemist and she the philosopher. She had sat heavily on the bench in their dark laboratory, so close and yet never more distant.

"If you ask me to then I will destroy the stone and we will never speak of it again." And Nicholas had meant every word; he loved his wife even more than his magnum opus even if it meant death in the end, there was no question of that. But it was her that had increased Nicholas' zeal as he had wanted immortality for Pernelle more than he ever had for himself. As he had mused something in her posture had changed, and it was with a quiet determination he would witness on countless occasions during their life together that she had hopped down from the surface to stand in front of them, her hair and skin glowing white in the moonlight. Drunken singing drifted through the open window, carried by the warm breeze. Pernelle lifted the perfectly spherical stone, still warm from the heat of the furnace, from the palm of his hand.

"No, we shall do this and it will be... we will keep each other from corruption." Was she certain? He brushed one of her marble cheeks with the tips of his fingers.

"We need not do it, and I will never resent you for its destruction." Not even the hardest of hearts could resent Pernelle due to her arresting balance of kindness, cleverness and natural beauty.

"You're right; we need not implement this tonic, but aren't you interested to see the advantages in magic- or the advances in science? Don't you want to be there when the theory behind spell casting becomes know to wizards and witches? We could act as custodians for our culture once it comes to pass, and try to keep the same mistakes from being made over again." It became clear that Pernelle felt the same passion for the project as he did. Relief surged through Nicholas' veins- just because he would destroy the stone didn't mean that he wanted to. Now he would see the dawning of a new era, with Pernelle by his side.

"I would not endure eternity, my love, were it not for your timeless beauty." She had laughed in response, gently batting his arm, but they both knew it was the truth.

By the time they had fallen into bed at sunrise, exhausted by the previous day and night during which their energy had been spent on the precarious final stages of the creation of the philosopher's stone, they had become immortals. Despite the overwhelming tiredness, they would live well beyond the time of a natural life. The satisfied smile playing around Pernelle's mouth as she rested her head on her hands told Nicholas that the decision had been right for both of them- she only ever slept in this position when she was happy.

The memory faded as Pernelle's voice made its way to his ears.

"Nicholas? Nicholas, will you hold me?" They were not, as he had expected, lying in the plantation bed of their first home together, but the canopy four-poster that would serve as their final resting place. Happy to oblige, Nicholas wrapped his arms around her slight frame and was astonished by how much energy this simple action had cost him. The thought that he and Pernelle were dying dimly registered. "I love you Nicholas." Her once melodious voice rasped, belatedly ravaged by time, and Nicholas knew that they were the last words that would ever emerge from her lovely mouth. A sudden urgency overtook him as Nicholas realised that he may have limited vocal power, or worse, be too late. He ignored the urge to close his eyes and spoke.

"And I love you too, Pernelle." His voice was cracked, but her eyes fluttered open once again. "And I always will." With a sigh she nestled against her hands, and Nicholas knew that his wife had died at peace. This, ultimately, was all that he had hoped for. There was no pain or fear inside him, only the desire to be with Pernelle once again. Resting against her, inhaling her unique scent for the final time, Nicholas closed his eyes and welcomed the sleepy clam that washed over him.

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