Eve was warm and comfortable, but her eyes were so tired that she couldn't lift them to see. She shifted and her body cried out at the movement. She was stiff and exhausted. The events of the morning returned to her. Was it real or just a dream? Real. She had to believe he was real and that he was out there. She felt like she wouldn't be able to live if he wasn't real. Without him, she knew she wouldn't be whole. She feared what that truth really meant.
She curled up in a ball and tried her best to drift off into a dreamless sleep- free from him, free from the past. The next time she awoke it was dark outside. There was a hot bowl of soup next to her bed, the scent of it had lured her from oblivion. She ate silently feeling completely numb from the morning. Nothing made sense to her, and the only person she felt had any clues was decidedly avoiding her. She glanced at the victorian dress still in the cardboard box. Perhaps there was something other than this dream man that could bring back some memories?
She pulled the dress out carefully, fingers tracing the pale blue embroidery. She felt that she had always loved this dress. The burgundy satin felt familiar, and memories of mindlessly stroking the smooth fabric returned to her. She lay the dress down and pulled out the corset. It was yellowing with age, but she remembered it as it once was- fresh and white. She remembered how it felt when another's fingers deftly removed it from her. The anticipation would leave her breathless. She hooked the eyelets and pulled on the strings. The corset gripped her like a second skin and for the first time it felt like she was herself again.
She looked at herself in the mirror. The noted how the corset fit perfectly. "Because it was made for me." She whispered to herself. She went back to the dress and worked her way into it, layer by layer. Nearly thirty minutes later, she pulled her hair into a loose bun and turned to the mirror completely dressed- the very image of Victorian finery.
"Beautiful, my beloved." A familiar voice floated to her. Shocked, she looked around, but found she was still alone in the room.
She looked back to the mirror, shocked to find her surroundings were gone. The Brooklyn apartment bedroom was replaced by the image of an old gothic bedroom, grand and covered in floral wallpaper. She was fully dressed in the mirror, her copper hair perfectly coiffed. Adam appeared behind her, adjusting his cravat before smoothing his hair into the side-part he'd had as long as she remembered. She smiled lovingly as he wrapped his arms around her impossibly small waist, placing a kiss upon her cheek.
"You are the only thing that makes eternity bearable." Adam whispered while nuzzling her ear. He took a deep breath, as if to try and breathe some part of her into his being. Eve thought she could almost feel his breath upon her.
"You've kept me to yourself for the past three days." Her reflection said with a sigh as he kissed the spot just below her ear that made her shiver. "I am determined to go outside for a short interlude."
"Very well." He relinquished with a sigh, backing away from her. Desperate to keep his memory with her, Eve turned to stop him, but remembered where she was- Henry's room. Alone.
"I've failed you." The familiar pained voice called her attention back to the mirror. Eve turned and saw Adam framed in the mirror, a blade in his hand. Before she could say anything his hand drove the blade through the mirror into her ribcage piercing her heart with terrifying accuracy.
Eve's screams echoed through the apartment and her protectors found her curled into a ball in the corner of the bedroom. She was inconsolable for nearly an hour. When she finally calmed Henry handed her a cup of earl grey tea. The cup clattered against the saucer as she did her best to drink without spilling. The warmth of it soothed the chill her fear had left.
"How about we get you out of that dress so you can rest?" Henry offered with a proffered hand. Reluctantly, Eve took his hand and they returned to the mirror where Henry began his careful removal of the old dress. As the ties fell away, Eve began to voice her fears.
"Henry?"
"Am I making you uncomfortable?" His eyes met hers in the mirror. There was a deep sorrow in her bright green eyes, the kind only an immortal could hold. It made his heart sink.
"Oh, n-no." She shook her head and blushed. Maybe she should have had some sort of discomfort at his removal of her garments, but she was certain he had seen enough naked bodies to have little interest in seeing hers as well. "I-I had a question." Henry stopped what he was doing and turned to look her in her eyes.
"What is it?" He held his breath, fearing the inevitable question.
"Why does this dress fit me so perfectly?" Her eyes were locked to his so that he could not evade her. She was certain he knew more than what he had been telling her. His eyes darted away from hers betraying his intentions.
"There could be many reasons." He replied trying to move behind her again, desperately avoiding her gaze as he continued to undress her.
"Henry," She turned to face him, "Why do I remember being murdered?" There, she had finally said it. Henry paused staring at his feet. It was all the confirmation she needed. Her dreams were real and he knew it. "Henry...please." She took his hand in hers. He finally met her eyes then sighed.
"We're going to need something stronger than tea, I'm afraid." He hung his head and made to leave before calling to her from over his shoulder. "You should change into something more comfortable and meet me in the living room."
It took a few moments before Eve gathered herself and began changing from the old dress into a more modern outfit. She left the corset on under the flowy blouse she had changed into. It felt like a big hug, and she needed something comforting. She couldn't be certain what Henry was going to tell her and she didn't know if she wanted to hear the truth.
"I need to know." She told her reflection as she gave herself a final look. She nervously approached the living room, now bright with the early morning light. Henry didn't say anything to her, just handed her a glass of amber liquid. She sniffed it and felt the unmistakable sting of whiskey. She couldn't bring herself to drink it just yet. She needed to know that she had a clear mind when Henry told her the truth.
Henry took a seat on the couch, but Eve couldn't join him. She stood by the window with anxiety radiating from her person. She wasn't the only nervous one. Henry gulped down the whiskey he had poured himself and set the glass down so that he could set about to wringing his hands. He still wan't sure telling her was the right choice to make, but after yesterday, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep her safe any longer without telling her the truth.
"I'm not sure how to begin." Henry admitted feeling rather foolish. He wished he hadn't asked Abe to remain downstairs. Abe was quite good at cutting to the heart of a conversation.
"Why does that dress fit me perfectly?" Eve asked, her voice cracking with her own fears. She was watching his reflection in the window, not wanting to look at him directly.
"Because it was probably made for you." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"But it was made in the late 1800's. How is that possible?" Her voice was little more than a whisper. She needed him to say it, to give voice to the truth tugging at the back of her consciousness.
"It's possible because you were alive in the 1800's." His voice was sure, but directed at the floor. She turned to look at him over her shoulder.
"That's not possible." She whispered with uncertainty, "Henry, that's not possible."
"I-I'm afraid that it is." He stood up and looked at her, sadness in his eyes.
"Henry, this isn't funny." She turned to face him directly.
"Why do you think you remember being murdered?" Eve stared at the floor, "Every time you die, you are reborn in water..." She looked at him, "Just like three days ago...just like me."
"This is ridiculous." She tossed back all of the whiskey and broke out in a coughing fit as it burned down her throat. Henry took the glass from her hand and guided her to the couch. When he was sure she wasn't going to pass out he got the whiskey bottle and refilled both their glasses.
"I know this is a lot, that's why I didn't want to tell you." He handed her her glass.
"Are you sure? I mean, if you wake up without memories of the past, how do you know?"
"I wake up with all my memories. I'm not sure why you do not." He admitted with a sigh, sipping on the whiskey.
"What about Adam?" She turned to look at him, "Why do I dream about him?"
"I don't know." He shook his head, "I suspect that you spent a great length of time with him. It would appear that your memories are trying to surface through your dreams."
"I remember him killing me." She commented before tossing another glass of whiskey back. This time it went down smoothly. The whiskey was helping it all seem reasonable. Sure, she was immortal, why not? It all made sense with whiskey.
"Don't take it personally, he has killed me once before." He shivered remembering the knife against his neck. "It occurs to me that he is quite practiced in the art."
"Why am I remembering all of this now?"
"I couldn't say." They became quiet. Eve grabbed the whiskey bottle and took a swig straight from it. Her head was starting to swim, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the conversation or the alcohol. Could an immortal even get drunk?
"He called you the other night, didn't he?" She didn't need to say his name. She almost felt like laughing. She had been so certain that Adam was her connection to the truth, that he was her other half. Now Henry was the one revealing the truth, guiding her to see things for what they were. Was he even the man she had been dreaming of?
"He did."
"What did he say?"
"That he wanted to check in on you. That he knew you were in good hands."
"He always apologizes before he kills me." She noted before taking another swig. The whiskey was warming her insides. "Did he apologize before he killed you?"
"No, in fact he expected me to thank him." Henry replied wryly.
"How odd." They sat drinking quietly. "How old am I?" She asked, breaking the silence.
"I can't be sure. Though, I suspect you are older than me." Staring blankly across the room.
"How old are you?"
"Over two hundred years, I'm afraid."
"Wow. That is old." She paused and Henry couldn't help but chuckle.
"Yes, I suppose I am."
"How many times have you died?"
"More times than I can count. You see- I've been studying our condition for well over one hundred years. It requires a certain amount of...trial and error."
"That sounds...well, awful." Henry couldn't help laughing. Her questions were so child-like in their inquisitiveness, it lightened the mood considerably. In fact, she was handling it all remarkably well.
"You are quite correct."