A/N: This is somewhat sort of based on Ladyhawke – a lot of the ideas & plot will be from that but with my own twists.

I hope to have the first real chapter up this week:)

Thanks to johnsarmylady & mattsloved1 for checking it over for me:)

I hope you enjoy.

I don't own. Sad that:)

Prologue

I remember the last night we had together and I hold it close inside, as precious a gift as any I have ever received. It moves in front of me. I can almost touch the heft and weight as if it were tangible. The colours are bright and sharp, like painted glass with the sun streaming through, sun John hasn't seen with human eyes for nearly two years or more. It is the clearest memory I have, much richer than anything that happened yesterday or the day before. Much purer than the other memories I retain as the wolf. Those are completely animal and instinct, all betrayal of my intellect and self-control. His appetites are base and simplistic. They are about transport and survival. Or protection of the one I love above all others.

That night, that last perfect, heartbreaking night, the firelight gleamed bright, picking out the gold in his hair, gold, brown and gray I only see in the feathered wings any more. As the wolf, I don't see the bright colours and as the human, feathers are different from hair.

He sat in his chair, arms on his knees in that way he has and leaned forward and laughed, the crow's feet in the corners, warm and familiar. I reached out and cupped my hand to his face, awed that I was finally allowed this. We both reached at the same time and then we kissed, simply, chastely, reverently. It was as easy as breathing.

He stood and took me by the hand and led me to my bedroom. There he unwrapped me slowly, taking off one piece of clothing, stealing kisses in between. My breath stilled, as he stroked his hand up my spine, fingers playing against my skin in such a way as if he had done this all of his life, as if we had known each other from lifetime to lifetime. I was lowered to the mattress and held close, as I shook and stammered, called his name and prayed to all of the gods I hadn't believed in until the world changed. We fell asleep in each other's arms, drifting, thinking we had fooled them, that we were secure. But then the first cursed dawn came. We felt the tremor in the air and heard the unseen speaker chant the words and before my eyes, the sun's rays touched John and he changed, changed into the hawk, wild and agitated, trying to fly on unfamiliar wings. It was a sight I have beheld every dawn since, only now I see it begin with the eyes of the wolf and feel the sorrow of the wolf as it changes into the rage of the man. It's sometimes more than I can bear. I have thought of ending it for us both. But how can I when I hold on to hope that I might touch him once more, hear his voice speak my name, feel his fingers card through my hair rather than through my fur?

For we are damned, John and I, always to be together, never to touch or speak or love, never to know each other as humans, flesh and blood turned to feathers and fur; they didn't even give us that.

This will be my last entry. For tomorrow, for better or worse, tomorrow we either change the curse the gods wrought upon us or we die and end this miserable half-life. Wiggins has finally brought me word.

Tomorrow, in front of Magnussen, Janine and Mary we end this.

All is ready.