December 22
The simple greeting devoid of eye contact was more than he'd expected from the formidable older man. Operations stood staring down at this domain, his stance as it always was ? feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back. Only a slightly higher tension in his shoulders revealed anything to Michael. Operations was worried.
"I'm sending you back to the States. You will resume your cover as Michael St. Just and spend the holidays at the beach house. I have already sent Walter and Birkoff ahead to help maintain the cover."
"Why?"
"There is a possibility that the Roberds will be spending the holiday there. The Senator is still concerned with his daughter's safety. We are doing this as a favor." Operations explained, his voice hesitating to emphasize the last word, his eyes never leaving the workings of the people below.
Michael stood beside Operations silently. From the corner of his eye, he saw the other man turn and regard him. Slowly, Michael turned his head, allowing their eyes to meet. Operations smiled at him coldly, yet that coldness did not reach beyond the smile. There was something in his expression that left Michael uneasy.
Reaching into the interior chest pocket of his blazer, Operations withdrew a small data disk jacket and handed it to Michael. "All the information you need is here. It is encrypted. Birkoff has the key." Retrieving a PDA from the ledge beside him, Operations handed it to Michael, "All other information has been transferred to your PDA."
Michael stood under Operations penetrating gaze, "There are many things I have kept from you, Michael. I have my reasons." Glacial blue eyes locked onto hooded green, "There is nothing I would do differently." He turned from him then, to glare out at his domain, signaling to Michael that the meeting was over.
With his usual stealth, Michael exited the aerie and forced his mind to blank as he walked toward his office. Once inside, he seated himself behind his desk and immediately disabled the surveillance before leaning back against the chair.
Even now, the very mention of the house brought memories swirling to the forefront of his mind. Fragments of a life that warmed and pained him at once. In his mind's eye he could still see her, his Nikita, smiling, laughing, her blue eyes shining and he felt himself smile inside. She was the silver light that illuminated the dark corners of his soul, the very life that flowed through his veins. He missed her, ached for her, but somehow, in the four months since her death, he learned to carry her with him in a way he never had before - she comforted him, eased his pain. Her memory opened his eyes and heart, allowing to see the world as she had, giving him the will and the reason to continue with Section's true mission. She was his soul.
Sitting straight in his chair, he reactivated the surveillance and quickly committed to memory the information on the PDA.
********
Two hours had passed since he had spoken to Michael. Part of him wondered if this wasthe best way to handle the situation. He had spent a few too many hours putting himself in Michael's place, imagining how he would feel and react. Those suppositions had guided his decisions - until now.
Now, it was in Madeline's hands. This is what she wanted - she and Nikita.
Operations watched as Michael crossed below him, stopping to look up at the darkened glass. His eyes met Michael's glance and felt his uneasiness melt away - Michael was ready, prepared to face an unknown. Operations could see it in the set of his shoulders, the alertness of his stance. He smiled, knowing that Madeline had indeed been right. This would work.
*****************
Michael's Apartment
Michael set the light, medium sized box and his shopping bags, the product of his "mission preparations", down beside the door before entering his security code and unlocking the door. Quickly, he glanced around the room. Finally his eyes settled on an object across the room. On top of his desk sat the single greatest source of light for the room - an angel. Hand-crafted of porcelain and silk with 20 white lights positioned under her gown and a piece of smooth cut glass exactly positioned behind her head to create the effect of a halo glowing around her pale, blonde hair, the figure infused the room with a ethereal and serene quality.
The angel reminded him of Nikita in this season she had loved, with the lights and the festivities and the feeling of joy and the vitality that seemed to saturate everything and everyone. Somehow, this season and knowing he would soon return to 'their' home made Michael feel closer to her - like he could almost touch her. Perhaps that was why he bought the angel and always kept it lit. A tangible reminder that she was always with him - his light in the darkness.
Satisfied all was as it should be, Michael triggered the lights, and retrieved the packages from the hall, carrying them over to the open sitting area in the middle of the loft. With meticulous care, Michael opened a cardboard box he had removed from storage earlier that morning and withdrew several wrapped boxes. He examined the tags attached to each in Nikita's hand, stacking each one on the glass coffee table before him.
A momentary pang of pain stabbed at his heart before it was chased away by the warm memory of Nikita as she sat surrounded by scraps of wrapping paper and ribbons. He could hear her laughing as he teased her about Christmas shopping in June. His mind's eye replayed her smiling face, the way her hair flew out like a wing when she spun around, the glint in her eyes as she laughed with him. He could see her sitting on the sofa in their living room, the light steaming through the glass curtains illuminating her as she caught his arms and pulled him down to her.
The muted chime of a clock reminded him of his limited time table. Rising, he quickly crossed the loft and retrieved a suitcase. He placed a few necessary personal items in the bag, knowing Section would provide anything he needed and then carefully arranged both his packages and Nikita's. Carefully, Michael walked his apartment, checking alarm settings, turning off lights, shutting doors till he stood once again in his foyer. Flipping the last light switch he turned and glanced back at the his glowing angel, which illuminated the room in a soft glow. Standing in the golden light, he could feel the warmth of his love for Nikita surround him, filling him with a renewed peace.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
December 23th
Mid-afternooon
Jet en route to US Michael sat in his seat, swirling the white wine around in his glass, grateful to have a least some small amount of privacy as one of only three passengers in the first class section of the Transatlantic flight. Reaching into the inside pocket of his suit coat, he withdrew a well worn envelope. Carefully, he unfolded the paper - a wallet size photo falling out. Longingly, he gazed at the smiling faces of he and Nikita - the setting sun enveloping them in a warm glow. He clearly remembered the evening - while a party had "raged" within his home, he had stood gazing out at Nikita as she stood alone on the beach. Closing his eyes, he allowed the memory to wash over him.
Nikita was so beautiful standing there. His heart tore, sharing her pain. He knew what she was thinking, understood what she was feeling. He had heard Linda and Ann teasing her about being pregnant. The jesting had ripped at the illusion of the life they lived, reminding her that she could never have what she so wanted. He had listened proudly as Nikita joked her way around the issue. She had played the ladies masterfully - redirecting their attentions and only later when it wouldn't be so noticeable, she had slipped out the door. But he had noticed- he always did. And despite his distance, he could feel her struggle, empathizing with her pain. He also knew she needed to deal with it on her own. He watched as her head, which had been tilted skyward, suck low and then rose again - so that her eyes were level with the horizon. The cue he had waited for - the outward sign that she once again had her control - her equilibrium. Opening the door, Michael slipped onto the beach and walked up behind her. Gently, he had embraced her, his arms wrapping about her waist and kissed the top of her head. He could feel her body relax against him, giving a silent "I'm okay." He felt her arms capture his, holding him close to her, and then loosening her grip, "Thank you." He heard the door to his home open, and the light footsteps approach them from behind - In unison they turned. "Gotcha!" Michael heard Linda shout as the clicks of the high speed shudder of her camera sounded. Opening his eyes, he gazed down at the picture and then the opened letter and began to read,
My Dearest,
I love you.
Even now, cautious as I am being with this letter, I find it impossible not to write those words. I know how dangerous they are, but somehow, I must, at least write them.
Today, when Linda brought me this photo and a second one of you watching me on the beach- I was amazed. For a long time I have known what you feel for me, and I pray you know how I feel - but seeing it so l clearly in the photographs has compelled me this once to put those feelings into words.
Seeing these photographs made me realize that I need you to know that while I may never be able to say the words aloud - I will be saying them with every touch, with every glance, with every smile, and every recrimination. For even while I may be angry and hateful to you - I will always love you. You are my home, my heart , my soul.
You will be here tomorrow, and I know already that you will not see this letter. Not yet, maybe never. But I pray that someday you will see it, and I pray that even without it - you will still know how much I love you.
Folding the letter once again around the picture, he placed them both back into it's envelope and tucked it safely within his breast pocket.
Looking out the airplane window, he unconsciously fingered the St. Michael's medallion that rested against his heart. "I love you, Nikita." He whispered softly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Madeline stood at the dining room window staring out across the dark stretches of beach and ocean. Periodically, she would raise her tea cup to her lips, sipping the now lukewarm liquid. In the background, she heard the crackle on the comm and Birkoff's voice reporting that Michael's SUV had just passed the last check point and was no more than 20 minutes from the beach house. Setting her cup on the serving tray, Madeline walked toward the master bedroom.
She found Nikita sitting by her vanity just outside the bathroom, dressed in a natural toned wool, cable knit sweater and cream jeans. She was staring at the picture of Michael that had once been placed on her dresser. The slight redness around the rim of Nikita's eyes attested to the fact that she had been crying.
Madeline was struck by a sweet, yet melancholy sense of déjà vu as she moved to stand behind her, looking at them both in the reflection. If only the answers and cures for Nikita's problems were as simple now as they had been when she had first come to Madeline for training. With infinite care, Madeline stroked Nikita's hair and smiled, letting her own emotions show.
Madeline could see the fear in Nikita's eyes, knew she feared that Michael would hate her for not letting him know she was alive, and for allowing herself to be captured in the first place. She knew Nikita feared that too much time had past and he had moved on with his life. And she knew that Nikita worried about her appearance.
Taking her hand, Madeline drew her over to sit on the bed and eased down to sit facing her. Gently, she brushed the tears from Nikita's face.. She watched as Nikita took a faltering breath. Madeline squeezed her hand reassuringly then rose to give Nikita some needed space. She walked over and stood by the frosted glass window, gazing out at the world that seemed more a blurred darkness.
An image of Michael flashed in her mind and she felt a sweet rush akin to victory sweep through her. "Nikita," Madeline began, not turning from the window, keeping her tone soft and warm, "did you know that Michael had taken to wearing a St. Michael medallion? I am not sure when he started wearing it. I only noticed it the other day when he was in Medlab." She heard Nikita shift her position on the bed and decided to continue, "It is quite beautiful actually, a simple oval medallion on a fisherman's chain."
Madeline looked over her shoulder to see Nikita staring at her intently. She could see the concern etched in her face, but more importantly, she could see the tiny sparkle had returned to her eye. As a sense of profound satisfaction filled her, Madeline smiled. She had guessed right about the medallion. "Don't worry about Michael. It was only a flesh wound. He's fine."
A knock at the bedroom door startled both of them. Instinctively, Madeline closed the distance between herself and Nikita as the door began to open. Mentally, she registered the shift in Nikita's posture as well, the straightening of back and shoulders, the mask that fell across her face.
"He's here."
Again, Birkoff's voice drifted to her from the other room. She watched as Nikita rose from the bed and walked to the bedroom door, pausing momentarily to glance back. Madeline saw the strength and determination in her eyes and found it hard to repress a smile. With a nod, Nikita crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her.
Turning back to face the beach, Madeline flipped open her cellular phone and dialed the familiar number.
"Hello." She smiled at the brusqueness of his tone.
"Paul - he's here. All is going along as planned."
She could feel him pause, "How is Nikita?"
"Fine. She's strong."
"When are you returning?"
"Christopher and I should be back by morning."
"Good."
"Birkoff and Walter?"
"They arrived a few hours ago. Birkoff took it better than I expected, but not as well as I hoped. Nikita handled him."
She paused, her breath slowing as she watched the scene unfolding before her on the cold sands.
"Madeline?"
She heard the concern in his voice and only then realized that minutes had passed -
"I'm sorry, Paul. Nikita is approaching Michael. I need to monitor the situation. I will call you from the plane and brief you."
"See that you do. " he paused, then "Take care of yourself - I will see you tomorrow."
The phone disconnected, and Madeline flipped her cell phone shut unconsciously as she watched the scene before her. They had once been a formidable team - Michael and Nikita - their one weakness the fear of loss. That fear was now conquered - they knew that they were strong enough to survive. It was time to move on to the next phase - time to truly integrate them into the command of Section One.
*****
Even now . . . I remember all the empty spaces
You filled with love
Even now . . . Every corner of the world we shared
Is still filled with love
Even now . . . not a day goes by
When I don't ache for you
Through my tears I still hear your laughter even now
Stars still shine when they're gone
Hearts that break still beat on
Letting go's the hardest thing to do
'Cause all those feelings start
And time can't change my heart
It all leads back to you
Even now. . . you are in my dreams and in my dreams
You always will be
Even now . . . You're the one true thing that brings my heart
Back home here to me
When I'm scared . . . I can close my eyes
You are there . . . Ever young
And somehow, I can always find you even now
From all the memories kept inside
To all the dreams we knew, the rush of you
Will always be a part of me
Even now. . . you are in my dreams and in my dreams
You always will be
Even now . . . You're the one true thing that brings my heart
Back home here to me
Even now . . . in my darkest night
Still you shine silver light
So I fall thorugh forever with you even now
- Words and Music by Frank Wildhorn & Jack Murphy
The simple greeting devoid of eye contact was more than he'd expected from the formidable older man. Operations stood staring down at this domain, his stance as it always was ? feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back. Only a slightly higher tension in his shoulders revealed anything to Michael. Operations was worried.
"I'm sending you back to the States. You will resume your cover as Michael St. Just and spend the holidays at the beach house. I have already sent Walter and Birkoff ahead to help maintain the cover."
"Why?"
"There is a possibility that the Roberds will be spending the holiday there. The Senator is still concerned with his daughter's safety. We are doing this as a favor." Operations explained, his voice hesitating to emphasize the last word, his eyes never leaving the workings of the people below.
Michael stood beside Operations silently. From the corner of his eye, he saw the other man turn and regard him. Slowly, Michael turned his head, allowing their eyes to meet. Operations smiled at him coldly, yet that coldness did not reach beyond the smile. There was something in his expression that left Michael uneasy.
Reaching into the interior chest pocket of his blazer, Operations withdrew a small data disk jacket and handed it to Michael. "All the information you need is here. It is encrypted. Birkoff has the key." Retrieving a PDA from the ledge beside him, Operations handed it to Michael, "All other information has been transferred to your PDA."
Michael stood under Operations penetrating gaze, "There are many things I have kept from you, Michael. I have my reasons." Glacial blue eyes locked onto hooded green, "There is nothing I would do differently." He turned from him then, to glare out at his domain, signaling to Michael that the meeting was over.
With his usual stealth, Michael exited the aerie and forced his mind to blank as he walked toward his office. Once inside, he seated himself behind his desk and immediately disabled the surveillance before leaning back against the chair.
Even now, the very mention of the house brought memories swirling to the forefront of his mind. Fragments of a life that warmed and pained him at once. In his mind's eye he could still see her, his Nikita, smiling, laughing, her blue eyes shining and he felt himself smile inside. She was the silver light that illuminated the dark corners of his soul, the very life that flowed through his veins. He missed her, ached for her, but somehow, in the four months since her death, he learned to carry her with him in a way he never had before - she comforted him, eased his pain. Her memory opened his eyes and heart, allowing to see the world as she had, giving him the will and the reason to continue with Section's true mission. She was his soul.
Sitting straight in his chair, he reactivated the surveillance and quickly committed to memory the information on the PDA.
********
Two hours had passed since he had spoken to Michael. Part of him wondered if this wasthe best way to handle the situation. He had spent a few too many hours putting himself in Michael's place, imagining how he would feel and react. Those suppositions had guided his decisions - until now.
Now, it was in Madeline's hands. This is what she wanted - she and Nikita.
Operations watched as Michael crossed below him, stopping to look up at the darkened glass. His eyes met Michael's glance and felt his uneasiness melt away - Michael was ready, prepared to face an unknown. Operations could see it in the set of his shoulders, the alertness of his stance. He smiled, knowing that Madeline had indeed been right. This would work.
*****************
Michael's Apartment
Michael set the light, medium sized box and his shopping bags, the product of his "mission preparations", down beside the door before entering his security code and unlocking the door. Quickly, he glanced around the room. Finally his eyes settled on an object across the room. On top of his desk sat the single greatest source of light for the room - an angel. Hand-crafted of porcelain and silk with 20 white lights positioned under her gown and a piece of smooth cut glass exactly positioned behind her head to create the effect of a halo glowing around her pale, blonde hair, the figure infused the room with a ethereal and serene quality.
The angel reminded him of Nikita in this season she had loved, with the lights and the festivities and the feeling of joy and the vitality that seemed to saturate everything and everyone. Somehow, this season and knowing he would soon return to 'their' home made Michael feel closer to her - like he could almost touch her. Perhaps that was why he bought the angel and always kept it lit. A tangible reminder that she was always with him - his light in the darkness.
Satisfied all was as it should be, Michael triggered the lights, and retrieved the packages from the hall, carrying them over to the open sitting area in the middle of the loft. With meticulous care, Michael opened a cardboard box he had removed from storage earlier that morning and withdrew several wrapped boxes. He examined the tags attached to each in Nikita's hand, stacking each one on the glass coffee table before him.
A momentary pang of pain stabbed at his heart before it was chased away by the warm memory of Nikita as she sat surrounded by scraps of wrapping paper and ribbons. He could hear her laughing as he teased her about Christmas shopping in June. His mind's eye replayed her smiling face, the way her hair flew out like a wing when she spun around, the glint in her eyes as she laughed with him. He could see her sitting on the sofa in their living room, the light steaming through the glass curtains illuminating her as she caught his arms and pulled him down to her.
The muted chime of a clock reminded him of his limited time table. Rising, he quickly crossed the loft and retrieved a suitcase. He placed a few necessary personal items in the bag, knowing Section would provide anything he needed and then carefully arranged both his packages and Nikita's. Carefully, Michael walked his apartment, checking alarm settings, turning off lights, shutting doors till he stood once again in his foyer. Flipping the last light switch he turned and glanced back at the his glowing angel, which illuminated the room in a soft glow. Standing in the golden light, he could feel the warmth of his love for Nikita surround him, filling him with a renewed peace.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
December 23th
Mid-afternooon
Jet en route to US Michael sat in his seat, swirling the white wine around in his glass, grateful to have a least some small amount of privacy as one of only three passengers in the first class section of the Transatlantic flight. Reaching into the inside pocket of his suit coat, he withdrew a well worn envelope. Carefully, he unfolded the paper - a wallet size photo falling out. Longingly, he gazed at the smiling faces of he and Nikita - the setting sun enveloping them in a warm glow. He clearly remembered the evening - while a party had "raged" within his home, he had stood gazing out at Nikita as she stood alone on the beach. Closing his eyes, he allowed the memory to wash over him.
Nikita was so beautiful standing there. His heart tore, sharing her pain. He knew what she was thinking, understood what she was feeling. He had heard Linda and Ann teasing her about being pregnant. The jesting had ripped at the illusion of the life they lived, reminding her that she could never have what she so wanted. He had listened proudly as Nikita joked her way around the issue. She had played the ladies masterfully - redirecting their attentions and only later when it wouldn't be so noticeable, she had slipped out the door. But he had noticed- he always did. And despite his distance, he could feel her struggle, empathizing with her pain. He also knew she needed to deal with it on her own. He watched as her head, which had been tilted skyward, suck low and then rose again - so that her eyes were level with the horizon. The cue he had waited for - the outward sign that she once again had her control - her equilibrium. Opening the door, Michael slipped onto the beach and walked up behind her. Gently, he had embraced her, his arms wrapping about her waist and kissed the top of her head. He could feel her body relax against him, giving a silent "I'm okay." He felt her arms capture his, holding him close to her, and then loosening her grip, "Thank you." He heard the door to his home open, and the light footsteps approach them from behind - In unison they turned. "Gotcha!" Michael heard Linda shout as the clicks of the high speed shudder of her camera sounded. Opening his eyes, he gazed down at the picture and then the opened letter and began to read,
My Dearest,
I love you.
Even now, cautious as I am being with this letter, I find it impossible not to write those words. I know how dangerous they are, but somehow, I must, at least write them.
Today, when Linda brought me this photo and a second one of you watching me on the beach- I was amazed. For a long time I have known what you feel for me, and I pray you know how I feel - but seeing it so l clearly in the photographs has compelled me this once to put those feelings into words.
Seeing these photographs made me realize that I need you to know that while I may never be able to say the words aloud - I will be saying them with every touch, with every glance, with every smile, and every recrimination. For even while I may be angry and hateful to you - I will always love you. You are my home, my heart , my soul.
You will be here tomorrow, and I know already that you will not see this letter. Not yet, maybe never. But I pray that someday you will see it, and I pray that even without it - you will still know how much I love you.
Folding the letter once again around the picture, he placed them both back into it's envelope and tucked it safely within his breast pocket.
Looking out the airplane window, he unconsciously fingered the St. Michael's medallion that rested against his heart. "I love you, Nikita." He whispered softly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Madeline stood at the dining room window staring out across the dark stretches of beach and ocean. Periodically, she would raise her tea cup to her lips, sipping the now lukewarm liquid. In the background, she heard the crackle on the comm and Birkoff's voice reporting that Michael's SUV had just passed the last check point and was no more than 20 minutes from the beach house. Setting her cup on the serving tray, Madeline walked toward the master bedroom.
She found Nikita sitting by her vanity just outside the bathroom, dressed in a natural toned wool, cable knit sweater and cream jeans. She was staring at the picture of Michael that had once been placed on her dresser. The slight redness around the rim of Nikita's eyes attested to the fact that she had been crying.
Madeline was struck by a sweet, yet melancholy sense of déjà vu as she moved to stand behind her, looking at them both in the reflection. If only the answers and cures for Nikita's problems were as simple now as they had been when she had first come to Madeline for training. With infinite care, Madeline stroked Nikita's hair and smiled, letting her own emotions show.
Madeline could see the fear in Nikita's eyes, knew she feared that Michael would hate her for not letting him know she was alive, and for allowing herself to be captured in the first place. She knew Nikita feared that too much time had past and he had moved on with his life. And she knew that Nikita worried about her appearance.
Taking her hand, Madeline drew her over to sit on the bed and eased down to sit facing her. Gently, she brushed the tears from Nikita's face.. She watched as Nikita took a faltering breath. Madeline squeezed her hand reassuringly then rose to give Nikita some needed space. She walked over and stood by the frosted glass window, gazing out at the world that seemed more a blurred darkness.
An image of Michael flashed in her mind and she felt a sweet rush akin to victory sweep through her. "Nikita," Madeline began, not turning from the window, keeping her tone soft and warm, "did you know that Michael had taken to wearing a St. Michael medallion? I am not sure when he started wearing it. I only noticed it the other day when he was in Medlab." She heard Nikita shift her position on the bed and decided to continue, "It is quite beautiful actually, a simple oval medallion on a fisherman's chain."
Madeline looked over her shoulder to see Nikita staring at her intently. She could see the concern etched in her face, but more importantly, she could see the tiny sparkle had returned to her eye. As a sense of profound satisfaction filled her, Madeline smiled. She had guessed right about the medallion. "Don't worry about Michael. It was only a flesh wound. He's fine."
A knock at the bedroom door startled both of them. Instinctively, Madeline closed the distance between herself and Nikita as the door began to open. Mentally, she registered the shift in Nikita's posture as well, the straightening of back and shoulders, the mask that fell across her face.
"He's here."
Again, Birkoff's voice drifted to her from the other room. She watched as Nikita rose from the bed and walked to the bedroom door, pausing momentarily to glance back. Madeline saw the strength and determination in her eyes and found it hard to repress a smile. With a nod, Nikita crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her.
Turning back to face the beach, Madeline flipped open her cellular phone and dialed the familiar number.
"Hello." She smiled at the brusqueness of his tone.
"Paul - he's here. All is going along as planned."
She could feel him pause, "How is Nikita?"
"Fine. She's strong."
"When are you returning?"
"Christopher and I should be back by morning."
"Good."
"Birkoff and Walter?"
"They arrived a few hours ago. Birkoff took it better than I expected, but not as well as I hoped. Nikita handled him."
She paused, her breath slowing as she watched the scene unfolding before her on the cold sands.
"Madeline?"
She heard the concern in his voice and only then realized that minutes had passed -
"I'm sorry, Paul. Nikita is approaching Michael. I need to monitor the situation. I will call you from the plane and brief you."
"See that you do. " he paused, then "Take care of yourself - I will see you tomorrow."
The phone disconnected, and Madeline flipped her cell phone shut unconsciously as she watched the scene before her. They had once been a formidable team - Michael and Nikita - their one weakness the fear of loss. That fear was now conquered - they knew that they were strong enough to survive. It was time to move on to the next phase - time to truly integrate them into the command of Section One.
*****
Even now . . . I remember all the empty spaces
You filled with love
Even now . . . Every corner of the world we shared
Is still filled with love
Even now . . . not a day goes by
When I don't ache for you
Through my tears I still hear your laughter even now
Stars still shine when they're gone
Hearts that break still beat on
Letting go's the hardest thing to do
'Cause all those feelings start
And time can't change my heart
It all leads back to you
Even now. . . you are in my dreams and in my dreams
You always will be
Even now . . . You're the one true thing that brings my heart
Back home here to me
When I'm scared . . . I can close my eyes
You are there . . . Ever young
And somehow, I can always find you even now
From all the memories kept inside
To all the dreams we knew, the rush of you
Will always be a part of me
Even now. . . you are in my dreams and in my dreams
You always will be
Even now . . . You're the one true thing that brings my heart
Back home here to me
Even now . . . in my darkest night
Still you shine silver light
So I fall thorugh forever with you even now
- Words and Music by Frank Wildhorn & Jack Murphy