A/N: I do not own Laguna, Julia, the Deling Hotel or the song Eyes on Me.

Songbird's Tears Companion to Reflections of a Nightingale

                               

                Perhaps – just perhaps, she mused, quietly nibbling the edge of a lock of ravenblack hair as she fretted, resembling a teenager, though she was five years past that stage of life. The black pen lay on its side on her desk, uncapped, next to the half-written score of her new song. She had not named it, not yet, but she determined that this one would have lyrics, unlike her previous compositions. Beautiful lyrics, ones that she could sing with pride:

                Ones that would allow her to air her voice in the first revealing of the talent of a songbird. But it was hard to live up to expectations as that which she set for herself. A quick reminder pointed out that this song was not entirely for her musical abilities to find some outlet; it was for him.  For him, and only
him. The sweet, shy but dashing desperado who had come in here and captured her heart and her music with a glance from those eyes – and that smile -
She shook herself sharply, snapping herself back to the present, but moisture gathered in the corner of one eye and slid down in a crystalline rivulet.

                The grand piano had been open for anyone to play on when she had first seen the tiny lounge in the Deling Hotel. It was a luxurious place, richly carpeted and furnished, but few came down here. It was so inviting, that glossy black grand piano. Her fingers had reached for the keys,  automatically, as if the keys were pulling her to them. In half-an-hour, she had convinced the hotel manager that she was a suitable pianist for the hotel. She did like playing there – it was beautifully serene, wonderfully peaceful.

                Then he had come, and changed her entire world. The man with the machine gun, with heartstopping blue eyes. Oh, those eyes – she could not forget them; not when she had seen them latch smoothly onto her, and glimpsed that faint smile on his face. For a moment, brown locked with sapphire blue, and then broke away as she tremulously sat down to play the piano, fingers trembling. But she had seen his smile, slightly confident and encouraging, and she drew a breath and played.

Idly, she leaned forward, pen in her hand. Those eyes, that smile. Her music. She knew what to write. Slowly, the black pen left a neat flowing script on the thin paper – I saw you smiling at me, was it real or just my fantasy – Julia gave a wistful smile. She missed him: she could not deny that. She could not expect that he would pop out of nowhere into her room and smile at her. But she did hope that her song could cross the oceans to him, no matter where he was.

He ordered an orange juice, seated at the usual corner table with his two friends, as she walked down the stairway, keeping a sharp lookout for him. She tried to disguise it, but did she catch the faint flicker of his eye towards hers? Did he know that she had looked at him, met his gaze with one equally enchanting – And she pulled back from those thoughts, unsure yet of what she felt fluttering within her for this soldier who was so distinctly unique.

But he never held back, this time. She saw him move up, towards her, and limp back. Small slaps on the back from his friends, and the faintest hint of red on his cheeks. He was blushing! She wanted to laugh, but it would have hurt his feelings; and she wanted to talk to him. She finished the song, bit her lip in nervous anticipation, and moved forward.

The corner booth. The Deling Lounge: she knew it. The words were flowing into her, within her. Slowly, a new line was inked neatly across the paper – You'd always be there in the corner, of this tiny little bar – it was quite tiny, after all. Her dark eyes surveyed the messy black lines of words critically.

"Ju-Julia? I must be dreaming," he whispered, those beautiful locks of coal black hair in mild disarray from surprise. And those blue eyes reflected a mix of shock and pleasure. She wanted to reach out then – tell him it wasn't a dream. She wanted to pinch him, shake him awake, and tell him that she wasn't a figment of his imagination. She wanted to –

He sat down heavily on the chair, staring at her face, framed by silken midnight-black hair. He was stiff – she wanted him to loosen up, she wanted to relieve his tension, but she didn't know how to. The first  words that came out of her mouth were "Thank you for coming ..." It trailed off in a soft whisper, sounding just so faintly grateful. She never doubted that he had caught the scent of the gratefulness in her voice. 

But he paced like a caged animal that needed soothing. Finally he stopped, shaking his head as if everything were impossible, then looked up at her slender, red-gowned figure. "...I...I've always been a big fan....of your music....so I'm nervous –" She could have shuddered with joy, whooped with it, but she held on to her wine glass, maintaining her position.

"You were?" It hinted faintly of surprise. He nodded, shyly, turning his blue orbs away from her own hazel-brown ones – and then she smiled, a sudden smile. "You know...you have beautiful eyes," she whispered, "Beautiful. I – " She paused, looking at his bewildered expression – "Don't worry, I won't pluck 'em out and eat 'em – I just want to gaze into your eyes while we talk."

She twirled the pen absently, smiling to herself. She could never forget those beautiful eyes. Sapphire, tinged with the slightest touch of mild emerald, so faint that she almost missed it. Julia leant back in her chair, lost in the haze of recollections. She now knew what she had fluttering in her heart, like the gentle touch of butterfly-wings. She loved him, loved the shy desperado with eyes as blue as the waters of the lake – how fitting, then, that his name was Laguna. She had learnt it only at the last second, but it was gratifying to know his name:

"Enough about me," Laguna said, stopping short in the next of a series of interesting stories that he had gathered from his various travels. "So – ah, yeah, what about – about you, Julia?" She was listening, and jerked up suddenly when he asked her.

"Me?" she mused aloud. "I – I want to sing...not just play the piano but sing –"  And he stared at her, taking in silently the sudden revealing of her quiet secret. She had always wanted to sing –

"Why not?" he asked. "Whyever not?"

"Because I can't write lyrics – but with you, I think I can manage my first."

"Me? Because of me?" She could see the soft surprise in his eyes, and it was delightful to see it.  She nodded.

The look on his face – so surprised, so...beautiful. So utterly, utterly, striking. Him in her room, with that look on his face – and he was smiling, smiling because of her.

-Darling so there you are With that look on your face As if you're never hurt-

She scribbled down those lines as the ideas touched her mind.

"Laguna! Laguna, we've got a new mission!"

He had given her a terrible glance – terrible in the sense that she could sense his unwillingness to leave. She bit her lip, biting back the cry of protest that threatened to escape her. "Can I see you again, Laguna?" she whispered.

His answer brought a smile to her lips. "Of course!" he replied. "I have to see you sing someday, don't I?" And before she could even say anything more, he had turned and left.

She swallowed, leaning back. Oh, Laguna – to see him again. But she would – once she sang this song. And she knew its title: Eyes On Me.


                ***

                The microphone was in her hands. She knew it was now or never. Nervously, she raised her voice and sang her tribute to the man who inspired this song, eyes scanning the small crowd.

Whenever sang my songs
On the stage, on my own
Whenever said my words
Wishing they would be heard
I saw you smiling at me
Was it real or just my fantasy
You'd always be there in the corner
Of this tiny little bar

My last night here for you
Same old songs, just once more
My last night here with you
Maybe yes, maybe no
I kind of liked it your way
How you shyly placed your eyes on me
Did you ever know
That I had mine on you

Darling so there you are
With that look on your face

As if you're never hurt
As if you're never down
Shall I be the one for you
Who pinches you softly but sure
If frown is shown then
I will know that you are no dreamer

So let me come to you
Close as I wanna be
Close enough for me
To feel your heart beating fast
And stay there as I whisper
How I loved your peaceful eyes on me
Did you ever know
That I had mine on you

Darling so share with me
Your love if you have enough
Tears if you're holding back
Pain if that's what it is
How can I let you know
I'm more than the dress and the voice
Just reach me out and
You will know that you are not dreaming


Darling so there you are
With that look on your face

As if you're never hurt
As if you're never down
Shall I be the one for you
Who pinches you softly but sure
If frown is shown then
I will know that you are no dreamer

Desperately, she scanned the crowd again, and again, looking for his blue eyes and the smile she knew would be there. He had said he would

hear her sing – she believed that he would come. But he was not there, and suddenly she felt the tears of disappointment welling up in her eyes, and she blinked them back. Yet they came fast and furious, and as she stepped off the stage, she could feel the coolness of the first crystal tear on her cheek.

                And she turned her head away, and wept.