London, August 2011
Lucien sat in the oncology out-patients waiting room. Five years had passed since his last round of chemotherapy, and this check up would show whether he was officially in remission. He crossed his legs and held tightly onto Abigail's hand. He could feel his whole body shaking and the butterflies in his stomach were so strong they were making him sick. He breathed deeply and tried to relax as he waited for his name to be called.
He thought back to when this all began. A few seizures and horrendous, unrelenting headaches just after his fifteenth birthday alerted his parents that something was wrong. A trip to the GP referred him to the A and E department of the local hospital for further testing. After several blood tests and a MRI, a large mass was seen on the frontal lobe of his brain. A biopsy was performed the following day, and it was determined that he had a primitive neuroectodermal tumour, a rare and aggressive cancer commonly found in young people.
Chemotherapy began the following week. It was brutal. Lucien remembered the vomiting, the nausea, the fatigue and the fevers that accompanied his first round. Unable to leave the house, Lucien soon became an invalid, and was completely dependent on his mother. After each round of treatment, he got weaker, and his sickness showed no signs of getting better. Although his parents never said it, he was afraid that he was slowly dying.
Things began to improve a few months later. In May of 2002, he began stravagating to Bellezza, and his activities there meant that he slowly started recovering back in London. By August, the tumour was much smaller, and he was feeling much more hopeful about the future. To treat him after his months of confinement, his parents had taken him on a trip to Venice.
The Venice trip bought with it positive and negative. He had enjoyed the trip immensely, but along the way he had lost his precious notebook that was his ticket back to Bellezza. On the day of departure, they had all overslept, and in the dash to the airport, he had left the notebook on the bedside table of his hotel room. When they got back to England he immediately rang the hotel, but the notebook was gone.
His cancer improved. A lengthy operation removed the rest of the tumour from his brain, and he was cleared to go back to school. He ended up a year behind his peers and had to repeat a grade, but he didn't mind. He had learnt a new respect for life, and was determined never to take it for granted again.
When he was eighteen, the cancer returned. Lucien relived the horror of hearing the news. He was getting ready to go to university when he had a check-up for his cancer. It had come back, he was told. Although no longer in his brain, there were tumours in his chest and hips. Several months of treatment followed this. Ten rounds of chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation failed to keep the cancer from spreading. He was eventually put down for an experimental procedure, and, to his delight and relief, it proved effective. Two cycles of high-dose chemotherapy over two months removed what was left of the cancer. For four years now he had been cancer free; another clear scan and he would be in remission.
He met Abigail six years ago at a cancer support group. Although not a cancer sufferer herself, she'd been caring for her husband for eight months, while he was sick with leukaemia. He lost his battle and died a few weeks later, but Abigail continued to support Lucien through his treatment. Over time, as they both healed physically and emotionally from cancer, their friendship developed into a relationship.
Lucien raised his head and looked at Abigail. She smiled at him and he smiled back. Looking into her eyes, the colour of the ocean, and her warm, freckly face, he was overcome by his love of this woman. He squeezed her hand and brushed her long brown hair out of her face. He caressed her cheek and gently pulled her into a kiss.
'Whatever happens today, I am glad that I'm here with you' he whispered into her ear.
'Lucien Mulholland', the nurse called. Abigail smiled at him and took his hand for comfort. Breathing deeply, Lucien stood up and they walked together into the doctors office.
Bellezza, August 1577
Rodolfo lay in his hammock, swinging gently in the late summer heat. He stared at the orange sky of sunset, and his mind wandered to Luciano. They hadn't seen him for eight days, since he left for Venice, and he doubted whether they would ever seen him again. Doctor Dethridge had managed to open a window into Lucien's world, and looking into his bedroom showed that a shift had occurred in the gateway. Over the course of 8 days, they had watch Luciano develop from a teenager into a young adult. Four days ago the mirrors had shown his room full of boxes and most of his possession packed away. Everything was removed and they hadn't seen him since, so presumably he had left home.
Rodolfo missed him immensely. He had grown very fond of the boy. As night fell around him, he thought of Luciano and how sick he had been when he had last been here. He wondered if the medicine had ever cured him, or whether it had claimed his life, as Luciano had once admitted he feared would happen. Although he had seemed healthy in the mirror, they had no idea how much time had passed and Rodolfo knew nothing of this illness that he had. He wondered whether he should travel to Luciano's time to try and find out for himself.
He sighed and went inside. Candles burned in the laboratory and he saw a note from Silvia sitting next to the window. He ignored it, as he had done all of her messages lately, and retired to bed.
London, August 2011
"Remission"
The words echoed through his head as he walked home. After everything he had been through, Lucien could hardly believe it. He was in remission. Five years and his last PET scan had come back clear of any tumours. While he knew there was a possibility his cancer could return in the future, for now Lucien was relieved that for now at least, he didn't have to worry about it.
He walked through the streets of London, the sky a clear, bright blue. The weather was warm with a pleasant breeze, and he felt like the world had revolved around him today to make the day perfect.
After hearing the news, Abigail had left to go into work briefly and Lucien called in on his mother. She screamed and cried when he told her the news. His mother had sat by his side during both of his treatments, and they had grown very close as a result. She called David, his father, and he came home straight away. They all had a glass of champagne, arranging a time to go out for a proper celebration on the weekend.
When he left his parents house, he stopped in at the local mall and picked up some new toys and DVD's for the children's department at the hospital where he had spent so much time in his teenage years. They were always short on funds, and every couple of months he dropped off new supplies for the current patients. And he always stayed for a couple of hours to read stories to the sick children.
Lucien felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out to see a text message from Abigail. 'Come home quick. There is something I have to show you'. He frowned. It was unusual for Abigail to say something was urgent. Curious as to what was so important, Lucien decided to return at a later date and headed homewards.
He found Abigail in the kitchen, making preparations for dinner. He smiled. Abigail hated cooking and usually that job was left to him. He guessed that she was cooking today because of his doctors' appointment earlier. He walked up behind her and gave her a hug.
"After work I went into the second hand bookshop on Knoke Ave. to deliver some books I picked up for the charity drive. I decided to stay and help them sort through some boxes, and I found this." She walked to the counter and pulled a small book out of her bag. Lucien stared at it. In her hand, she held his Bellezzan notebook.
'How… how did you know?" He stammered. He had never told Abigail about this notebook, or about his trips to Bellezza, so he was confused as to how she had known it was his. She handed him the small notebook and resumed her cooking.
'Your mum told me about it. She said that during your first chemotherapy treatment your dad had bought you this as a gift, and that you were devastated when it got lost. When I saw it in the box, I recognised the design from what she told me and I read through it. It had your name in it, so I asked if I could keep it and bought it home."
Lucien was too amazed to move. He stared at the notebook in his hand. It had been lost so long ago, and in a different country, that he had long accepted that he would never see it again. He couldn't begin to understand how it had found it's way back to him.
"Thank you. This means more to me than words can say. Do you need any help?"
"No. It's nearly done. We can just reheat it later. Why don't you go and have a shower and we can put a movie on?" Lucien nodded and walked into the bathroom. Under the stream of the hot water he thought about the notebook. Did he dare go back? So much time had passed that he doubted whether anyone would even recognise him any more, and he didn't even know if the others were still alive. And what about his life in London? Did he dare upset that by going back in time to a world that wasn't his?
As he dried himself off and dressed, he came to a decision. He would go back for one visit and find out how things were. He was sure that the notebook being returned to him was no coincidence. As with the first time, he believed that it had found its way back because he was needed in Bellezza.
As he lay in bed that night, Abigail sleeping lightly beside him, he took the notebook in his hand. He filtered through his memories until a vision of Rodolfo's laboratory focuses within his mind. It might be risky going directly there, but he figured he could always stravagate straight back if necessary. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes, and let sleep overcome him.
Bellezza August 2011
Rodolfo sat as his desk, absentmindedly drawing on some paper. Such a lot had happened over the past few days that he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything recently. He sighed deeply. Not only had Luciano not returned, there was Arianna's arrest and subsequent trial, and the news Silvia had given him hurt him deeper every day.
A coughing behind him made him spin around. He jumped up and stared at the person standing opposite him. Black eyes framed a handsome face and dark brown eyes gazed at him. A smile was spreading across his face. He looked familiar to Rodolfo, but he was unable to place the memory.
'Rodolfo. How good it is to see you. I didn't know what to expect when I decided to return here. How glad I am to see you alive and safe."
Rodolfo spotted the notebook he held in his hand and breathed in sharply. He stared at the face again and the memory slid into place. The face of a young boy burned in his brain and he made the connection. Though he was several years older, this was Luciano.
He returned the smile. "Luciano. I did not expect to see you here. Look at how you've grown.' Then the two men walked towards each other and embraced.