A/N – This chapter is a turning point in my original idea for the plot. The original idea was kinda cutesy, and the fic is becoming more angst (despite its occupation as a romance), so this idea suits it better. I hope you like this chapter, and if you think it ends on a sour note,

I claim no ownership over the Shamanic Princess characters.

Chapter 7 – The Dream


Sleep… Nothingness…

Peaceful…

Clouds over my head… pale flowers in a waving green field…

Dreamland…

I laugh, run through the field… pick flowers, put them in my hair… make wreaths out of them… the air is so sweet…

A figure appears over the rise of the field… Graham…

For once I lack all uneasiness at his presence… I spread my arms wide, saying, "Come sit with me!"

He does.

We sit in the field… the only sounds are whispering grasses and the only feeling is one of contentment and tranquility. The realm of sorrow and worry has no business here… only peace…

I lay back, fling my arms over my head, and watch the clouds drift by. Within their forms are shapes of people, places, animals and artistic designs. I study them.

"Riya…" Graham says, and I am hit with the feeling of his presence becoming stronger, of him being more there than before.

"When we were being chased by that creature… and you defeated it, and it left… you seemed concerned of my injuries, and I told you I would be alright… why did you say what you did?"

I blink. "What I said? I said, 'good', because I was worried."

"About me?"

"Of course you."

He falls silent once more, and the tranquility returns, although not as tranquil as before…

He speaks again. "Riya…"

"Yes?"

"When you called me… brought me to life…you were crying…"

My breath catches. "Yes…I remember…"

"Why?"

"I…" Why? The real question is, why now? Why is he only bringing this up after weeks of opportunities?

"I- I was sad… because I'd brought you back…When someone dies they have the right to stay dead." I feel tears form, and the sky above me becomes blurred.

"You only came back for me… for my own selfish reasons… Mother had mentioned you before, and I always wondered what you looked like…"

"Why did you wonder?"

"Because…" The wetness in my eyes runs down my cheeks. "Because everyone said you were… ugly, and I wanted to know if it was true…"

"Why?"

So many 'why' s, and not enough reasons. I close my eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears.

"Mother… Mother always said that beauty was in the eye of the beholder… and I didn't think it was fair to say someone was ugly… if they had a beautiful spirit… and I wanted to know if yours was… I'm sorry… for what I've done to you… pulling you back to a place where you suffered… I only wish I knew how to send you back…"

"I don't."

What?

I open my eyes in astonishment-

and are met by his own, the single eye and gently closed one mere inches from my face. His hands are on either side of my body, his silver hair a curtain around me…

My eyes widen as the distance between us closes…

And I feel the cool metal and softness of his lips pressed to my own…

Graham…

So warm…

Sweet…

My lashes flutter closed in bliss…

Graham…

The kiss feels so real…

As if…

I open my eyes to the waking world…

Graham…

His lips to mine…

Oh…Graham…

My instant reaction is to gasp, drawing his attention immediately. My shocked and amazed eyes meet his one, and lock. There is a fear in that eye, a fear of being caught at doing the unthinkable. This action, we both know, is one no partner before has ever done. He has crossed so many lines, there is no excuse. By every taboo in the Guardian World, this is forbidden.

By every taboo, he would be punished.

Quivering, he pulls away, his eye never leaving my face. My skin feels the ghosts of the breaths he breathed on my cheeks before and after the kiss. The weight of his hands, still supporting his rigid form above me, press into the mattress on either side of my shoulders, mirror images of their placement in my dream.

The dream that had been real.

Those words we had spoken…

Had he said them in the waking world, and from my dream had I answered?

The emotion in our voices, had that been real?

The tears I feel still residing on my face insist that it had.

Graham is still staring at me, and I feel an apprehension in him that is so intense, I feel he may run any second. I have to say something to calm him… something.

My lips move.

No words.

Something…

I can't think clearly.

My thoughts are unable to stray from the tingling that dances over my mouth…

Graham…

"Graham…" I whisper…

I lift a hand to touch his face…

And he bolts, jumping out the window, racing over the rooftops, and out of sight…