I do not own the Quest's or anything associated with JQ

            I do own Alleyah, Aisha and Marcus.

            Mild HR between J&J and H&A.

            The poem was written by Kahlil Gibran and it is titled Be Still, My Heart.

* * * *    Notice the rating change from PG-13 to R.  It's because of 'Morning After cont.'  Did it just to be safe and to give myself more room to move later.

* * * *    This is a note to anyone who reads any of my other work.

                        In my previous work all the stories take place primarily during sophomore year.  In these stories I have a character I created named Claire.  In an up coming (but not finished work) Claire is murdered and the case goes unsolved.  This is brought up in Part Two of Be Still.  You haven't missed anything, I'm just really behind.  Sorry!

The Alleyah Series

Ancient Arabic literature classifies love into seven different shades.

Shade One

HUB . . . their eyes meet, it is like a touch. . . a spark . . . Attraction.

Be Still

By

Irene

Part One

Six months in the past. . .



                                Be still, my heart. Space does not hear you.

        It came to him.
        It was a soft sigh of someone dying. A mourning of a soul drifting in-between the velvet darkness of death and the light of life. It called to him and brought him to it.
        To her.

                                Be still, my heart. The ether heavy with
                              mourning and with lamentations, will not hear your songs.

        The room was simple and almost empty. A soft glow of candlelight broke the night's touch but not the thickness of death that sat heavy in the room.
        In the corner was a bed and Hadji felt his inner self drawn to the soul that laid in it. He expected to see in aged person, someone who was ready to pass over. Instead, he saw a young woman no older then himself. It brought him to his knees.
        She was a small person, petite in build with long silk like jet black hair. She breathed with great difficulty, straining on each intake of air. Her long black hair spilled off her pillow and dangled onto the wood floor. Beads of perspiration covered her face and ran down her neck. Her face was an angels and without thought Hadji reached out to stroke a few strands of hair from her forehead.
        Hadji leaned in closer and gently brushed her cheek. She felt like fire under his fingers. He could feel a wave of the night run through her and her heart skipped a beat. Slowly, she opened her eyes and revealed the loveliest shade of violet Hadji had ever seen.

        "Haresh?" Her voice was a whisper that quickly faded as she struggled to see in the dim light. She turned her face towards Hadji's and tried to focus.
        Hadji was at a loss for words. She knew his father? How?

      "No," Hadji whispered. His eyes studied hers. She still had some life in her and most likely couldn't see him.

      "I was wondering," her eyes became distant and clouded as she spoke. "I was wondering if this is what death looks like?"

        He bravely took his hand and rubbed the side of her cheek. He traced her full lips with his finger and trembled as her breath warmed his skin.

        "No," Hadji replied. " Please, you must tell me where you are so I can help you."

        "No," she whispered painfully. "Leave, I want to be alone."

        Hadji began to protest but her suddenly found himself sitting up in his bed. He had literally been through back into his body.  Hadji blinked several times and took a deep breath. His mind began to roll over what had just happened.
        A dream?
        No.
        Hadji positioned himself on his floor and began to meditate. He quieted himself and reached out for the voice from beyond, finding only silence.

                    Be still, for the phantoms of the night will not heed the

whisper of you mysteries,
And the procession of darkness will not halt before

 your dreams.