Each Coming Night

The door creaks open, allowing a small stream of light to penetrate the folds of the dusty room. The wife on the bed winces and lets out a little cry of melodramatic agony. It is more a warning call than a scream of true pain. The door should be closed; this small illumination is a fracture in her day. She does not wish to see.

The opener heeds her threat, and steps in quickly, then closes the door. It is the girl, Juliet. The bodyguard is a woman now, middle aged, she realizes, drifting temporarily into awareness. Time passes quickly for her.

Juliet wrinkles her nose slightly at the dank smell of the place. Suddenly she can sense it too. The odour of sweat and urine nearly overcome her senses. The bedding that she lays on is stained and thin. She shakes her head to clear herself of this that anchors her to the room and fights to recede back into herself.

Juliet clears her throat nervously, and places a tray on the desk by the bed. As usual it contained two plates, adorned with the finest of foods.

The girl leaves, shielding her eyes awkwardly.

She vaguely wonders why she noticed Juliet today. The date must be significant.

Artemis saunters up to his meal. It looks good.

She replies that it is good. But she doesn't touch it, she is unable to engage in her food at the moment. Juliet's hauntingly wrinkled face lingers in her mind. Something is off. Artemis' touch seems a little farther away. His kiss is detached.

She snuggles into bed and pulls him to her.

Do you remember the first time we slept here? We were both so nervous, but so excited too. I tripped over my own feet in a rush to get to you. You laughed so hard, I thought that I would never stop blushing. You told me that I looked cute. I wasn't sure whether or not to believe you.

Her brow furrows in confusion. Why are you bringing this up now? Her fingers trace the seams on the sheets.

It's been thirty years today.

Thirty years since what?

Pictures flash across her vision. She fights them, knowing that she doesn't want to remember. Her mind grapples for something to do. She cannot let go. She grabs the sheets harder, bringing them close to her face. Her fingers find the threads. She counts the stitching on the sheets, one, 

two, three, the little strings weave in and out of the cloth. She is devoted to those threads, four, five, six, but it is no use.

She gives a little mew of protest and grips the bed. She is launched from her dream. She cries and shuts her eyes to the images that assault her.

She is standing over a body, hot blood runs down her hands and the metallic taste coats her lips as she desperately tries to revive him. Her sticky hands touch his cold cheek in disbelief and she shakes uncontrollably. She kisses him, unconvinced that it could be over so quickly.

Smack. Her head is knocked against the headboard and the vision clears temporarily. She can focus on the sharp pain that penetrates her skull.

There is no hiding in your delusion today.

She lets out a guttural scream and touches at the spot on her head that feels hot and painful. There is more blood, dripping onto the bedspread.

She is almost too exhausted to lift her head up. But she does. There is a baby there. It is red and filthy, and its features look distorted. Her neck strains with the effort, but she examines it as best she can. Its ears are pointed, its eyes are closed. Her head falls back onto the pillow in surrender. Before she drifts into unconsciousness she notes another strangeness about the child. It is silent.

Later she wakes up and cries for her son. The burly man talks to her in a soothing voice, but all she can understand is that the only thing she had left is gone.

Her head hits against the wall this time. The burning knifes that shoot through her body nearly knock her unconscious. She bites the bedsheets in frustration. Her fingers shake as she starts the counting again. One, two, three.

Stop it, you will accomplish nothing. Artemis' voice was harsh and pleading at once.

Now she's lost count! She tries to restart, but the next wave of memory overcomes her.

Her fingers grasp matted fur on a cold flank. She holds her best friend in her arms. She could barely remember a time without him until this second. The hole in her chest threatens to swallow her.

The next loud crack of her head against wood sends Juliet running. The woman struggles against her. Her hair is matted with blood. The girl wraps her in the sheets on the bed, their cream stained a horrifying red. The bodyguard carries her down the stairs with her. She hits and kicks and cries. Begging to be freed from her embrace. She loosens one of her hands and digs her nails into her own skin. Her mind zeroes in on the pain, focusing on the little beads of blood that trickle down her arm, and the horrible ripping feeling that seems to pull her skin off of her body. Juliet notices this and grabs her hand and disables her successfully. Her eyes are unfocused. One, 

two, three, she tries to keep track this time. She lets out a hoarse sob. His voice whispers softly in her ear.

Move on, dearest. Let go, please. See what your life is now, please make it better.

She bites her lip fiercely. There is nothing that Juliet can do to remedy that, the girl just speeds up. She struggles against the tightly wrapped sheets, kicking her immobilized legs as hard as she can. Her eyes try to zero in on the threads. One, two, three...

When we got these sheets you didn't like them, remember? It was one of our first decisions as a couple, and we fought, of course. We always fought. I have to admit, I enjoyed it. You're so beautiful when you're angry. Your face tinges red and your fists clench up. You're like a little fireball. We got into that fight because you wanted emerald sheets, but I said that they wouldn't match. As usual, we blew the entire thing out of proportion. We said somethings that we weren't proud of. We're just both too stubborn. You told me you'd leave me and I took you so seriously. That entire night I sat up wishing that I had just let you get the goddamn green sheets. Our engagement party was the next day, and I was too afraid to call it off, even though I was certain that you wouldn't show. When you did I nearly collapsed on my knees in front of you. But you know me, I'm so controlled. That's something I'll always regret. In the end you agreed to get these ones, saying that you weren't planning on looking at them much anyways, seeing as I would probably like to be on top. It was a cheesy sentiment, and horribly vulgar, but I loved it. I loved you. The adventures brought us close, the big things brought us together. But dearest, it was those little things that kept us that way. You may be the most altruistic person I know, but the fact that you would threaten to leave me over a piece of cloth was what made it all worth it. It sounds silly, and maybe even unbelievable, but it was the imperfections that did it for me.

Why are you doing this to me? The tears stream down her face and she cannot breath.

She begs for her life as an instinct. The pixie grants her it, and she is unsure why. She kneels and submits, pride does not even cross her mind. She is remarkably calm. She wonders how she can keep such a perfect demeanour. There is nothing left to lose. She walks away, puzzling over her freedom. A shot rings out and she finally understands.



She kicks and screams as she is brought into the kitchen, calling for him. The sheets no longer distract her.

She hides, alone. His friends and family care for her meticulously. It is almost as if he is there.

He is, he is!

Or he was, he was there a second ago. She screams at him. Something sharp pierces her skin and she lets out a groan of anguish.

Her eyelids droop and she is slipped into bed. She whimpers his name.

Oh, there he is. She sighs in relief.

Goodnight Artemis.

Goodnight Holly.

AN: This was a frustrating piece to write. I just could get satisfied with it. Urgh. Oh well. Thanks to Meova, Carino and Target Aquired for dealing with this piece for me. :D And anyone who knows the song from the title rocks and gets triple chocolate cookies. It is an amazing song, and the perfect one for A/H.

Reviewers get chocolate chip cookies. Concrit is needed.