A/N: Aaaalright guys, this one deserves a note before you start. Be warned, the first scene is disturbing so please tread with caution. This fic is my p-teddy's birthday present (which is 7 days late…-_-) and many many thanks to CxV who's allowed me to use the whole past life theme. Thanks to Chan…I didn't use your idea but you inspired me. :D Happy reading and do review!! This is only part one of the story. Part two will come out next week, I am thinking…
A Walk to Eternity
~…at times I almost dream
I too have spent a life the sages' way.
And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance
I perished in an arrogant self-reliance
Ages ago; and in that act, a prayer
For one more chance went up so earnest, so
Instinct with better light led in by death,
That life was blotted out—not so completely
But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,
Dim memories, as now, when once more seems
The goal in sight again. All which, indeed,
Is foolish, and only means—the flesh I wear,
The earth I tread, are not more clear to me
Than my belief…~
--Robert Browning, "Paracelsus"
[*~*~*]
The jubilant couple walked down the aisle, arm in arm, as rice was thrown over them. It was a small gathering of approximately a dozen people but joy was evident in every corner as some scurried forth to shake hands and offer their blessings and bestow their wishes of a happy life. That they needed. Needed so very much. The war had ravaged the small country and food and clothes were rationed and hard to come by and the blissful faces of the man and woman were a portent perhaps…
The dark haired man looked at his wife with burning eyes, eyes of love. "I'm with you now…forever."
"As I am," she smiled widely and tightened her grip. "Eternally yours—"
The doors burst open and fierce, dirty, men entered with savage looks interrupting their conversation. "Halt!" And so they were, soldiers. Ruthless enemies. Killers. "Any of you move and you'll be dead before you can speak!"
Panicked looks swept through the small assembly and the bride and the groom pulled away to the side. His sharp maroon eyes looked at the soldiers clad in faded clothes that needed repairing badly, though their guns were powerful and no doubt in good condition and capable of killing them off without any thought. He held his bride closer and put his arm around her waist so they stood beside each other.
"What's going on?" she whispered quietly as the men one by one motioned the people outside. An uncomfortable knot grew in his throat as he regarded the hard eyes of the men…what was happening? Their country was in the process of an alliance now…the war was coming to an end, wasn't it?
The entire church was empty and the group of five men stepped in front of them. But they weren't particularly interested in the man that stood before pretty-eyed wife…they were interested in her. A slow smirk spread on one of their faces who she guessed was the head and he walked leisurely towards her. "Beautiful, you are…very beautiful." He tutted softly, "Do you know what my orders are, beautiful?" The dark haired man stepped in front of his wife and shielded her from the tainted eyes of the soldiers.
"Step aside unless you want that pretty little thing to die," the soldier hissed. Their eyes met; dark burgundy locked with woodsy ones. With an effort that sapped all this strength, he stepped aside, all the time gritting his teeth. "You didn't answer my question," he continued nonchalantly with the woman as a few of his soldiers grinned.
"N-no. I don't know." She held her head up proudly and in that moment he realized that this was one of the many qualities she possessed that sealed his love, made it irrevocable, immortal. It was these moments when he wanted to pull her into his arms and protect her, protect her from the disgusting, filthy world where men like these dwelled. However, the next thing the man said, robbed both of their breaths.
"I was ordered to burn the church and kill all of you…"
Her sea-green eyes widened tremendously and subconsciously she dug her fingers into her husband's back…not even realizing when she had wrapped it there. The other men watched their reactions with active interest while one whispered something and the other laughed.
"…however, I am willing to overlook those orders, burn the church, but let all of you go. No one will have to know," he smiled, revealing crooked yellow teeth, "it'll be my wedding present…a boon…to you."
Her face lightened slightly and the little well of hope was annihilated as the man continued, "But, you must know, these things come with a price."
"What price?" unruly dark strands of hair got into his eyes as he stepped forth, immediately missing the warmth of her hand on his back.
"Aaah, the price…" cruel brown eyes eyed his wife with a sordid look of desire making him wish he could carve his eyes out and blind the man. "The boys and I haven't had the, pleasure of seeing a woman like yours there in quite a while…" he chuckled and scratched his balding head, "we all decided that if she looked good enough, maybe she could give us a peek a little show of what she has to offer. All she has to do is…" He glanced at her and gave her a jaunty smile. "Undress herself in front of us."
She paled.
There was a sickening sound and it was as if time was still. The man's nose was broken and bloodied by the hand of the young man, his fist shaking with rage and utter fury. "You bastards! You come an inch closer to my wife and I'll strangle you goddamnit with my own bloody hands!" Every pore, every fiber of his body was heated, livid beyond coherent words. Immediately, the men sprung upon him and he was held back by a four pairs of arms as the man stepped closer to his wife. "Hitomi!!" he cried out in anguish, not able to contain himself, "run away, Hitomi—just leave!" A man punched him and it landed squarely on the cheekbone, immediately turning a purple color.
"…Van!" she was running to him, freely, running to him, and as she groped for his figure, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her away. "No…!"
"Yes," the man spoke harshly. "You undress and we'll let all of you go." Hatred, a strong hatred that had never flowed in her blood until now, gushed forth so strongly like a current.
She met the brown, dull eyes boldly, the spark in her eyes taking him aback and yet her lips quivered as she spoke the words, "Unhand me." She paused and gulped. " I'll do it." She shook his arm away and stepped back.
"Hitomi—listen to me, you are not going to do this! You will not sacrifice your honor—dammit, listen to me! Don't do it, you hear me?"
She met his eyes and he gasped. The love of all creation shone in her magnificent ever-green eyes, the love for him. "I love you, Van." She turned away from his penetrating gaze, and like a virgin offering herself as a sacrifice, she slowly started to undo the laces, the laces that was meant and stitched so painstakingly, so lovingly, for her husband to untie…
And at that moment, the heart of the man called Van wept. Cried for the loss of her innocence, for not being able to protect her, for not fulfilling the vows he had taken, for their short lived dreams of a happy future. He cocked his head away, tears wishing to spring out so much that it hurt. There was an ache in his chest that he knew would never go away, no matter if they lived after this ordeal.
There she was half naked and the eyes of the men roved over her hungrily as she covered her breasts with the palms of her hands when she felt their eyes on them, her eyes cast down. "Remove your hands," one of the men yelled and Van bit down a cry of wrath.
"Yeah! Now, that's more like it." They observed her like some specimen and their jaw slackened when she extracted the last piece of clothing—an underskirt. She bit her lips until they bled and seizing that opportunity where their gripped tightened, he swiftly kicked one in the groin with the back of his foot, punching another, before the other two could react, he ran. She met him halfway, her lips trembling, running blindly to him. All she knew was that she would be safe with him. She pressed her naked body to his clothed one as he removed his jacket. He gently laid it on her back as her front was pressed fiercely to his body.
"Van…" she cried, a tear escaping her eyes, "Oh Van...don't ever let go of me. Don't ever let go of me…please…don't." A power borne out of sheer will made his hold so tight that the men could not remove his arms from her. They attacked his arms, their bodies stimulated at the sight of her lush, young body.
"I won't let them harm you, Hitomi," he whispered. "Ever."
"And I will always love you…yesterday, today, tomorrow, in all my lives, I will love you…Van." She wrapped her arms around his neck. Perhaps she could hear the inevitable calling of death, or feel its growing shadow as she made those vows.
"And I you. In all my lives, in all my tommorows and yesterdays, I will love you. Only you…Hitomi." Their love was like the wave crashing on the shore, the lone breeze that sometimes quietly overtook one's figure as their mind wandered alone, the gentle sway of the trees at night in tropical weather, the dance of the water in the oceans. It was immortal; eternal and everlasting.
A general interrupted them and stormed in the church looking irate at his five men, "What the hell do you think you're doing? My orders were to kill them! We have to leave!"
The men moved back, one on each side of the couple. They pointed the pistols to their backs. "Hitomi…Just hold on to me tightly. Close your eyes and don't let go," he whispered rapidly and followed his own instructions by squeezing his eyes shut and having an iron like grip on her waist.
She complied as well as the last words barely got out of her mouth, "It doesn't matter, as long as I'm with you…Van."
The sound of pistol echoed as both were simultaneously fired. They two bodies fell as if in slow motion but both held on tightly as the male lay on top of the female in a feeble act of protection. He would take any assault, any harm that was meant for both of them.
Their breaths mingled during the last few seconds of life and a wish, a desire, a plea so potent, so heart-wrenching soared up into the seemingly infinite heights of the firmament to heaven.
The men spilled gasoline around the couple and with an easy flick of a match, he lit the gasoline and it roared into a full fledged fire.
…but no fire, no force in the universe was going to tear these two lovers apart in their perpetual embrace of unconditional, timeless love.
She gasped awake, her honey-blonde hair moist with sweat and her breaths uneven and rapid. She inhaled deeply and tried to calm her heartbeats. It was happening again. Those dreams. She closed her ever-green eyes and whispered a prayer. The moonlight bathed her bed as she stretched her arms. Her eyes wandered over to her nightstand where the red glow of the alarm clock said it was only one in the morning. Who was that man? And oh God! The look in his eyes…she knew that look haunted her every living, breathing moment. Unconsciously she searched for him on the streets, in subways, everywhere…that man in her dreams. Unconsciously she was looking at ever male's face, looking for his eyes, seeking that same look, but she knew just as the sun came in the morning, just as she knew there would be another day in the after she slept. He was there. Somewhere. Waiting for her. She could feel it. She knew it!
~I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories~
She knew him…the nuance of his every emotion, his littlest habits. The way he joked with that jaunty smile that could make her heart flutter like a winged being, the manner he had so very seriously whispered in her ear during mass one day how he would sleep in their bed so that he faced her, no matter how much she said it was unlucky to sleep facing the left side, the way the breeze ruffled his dark hair, the way his eyes shone magnificently, hypnotically when he looked at her. She knew him so well, the patterns of his veins on the back of his palm, heck!—she even knew all the lines on his palm! She shook her head again and sighed deeply.
She removed the sweatshirt as she made her way to the bathroom. A cool shower would do it, she hoped. This was happening every night for the past week. Every goddamn night she lost him. Every goddamn night she saw him, felt him die—them die!
As she pushed open the bathroom, her orange tabby Merle gave a mewl, a sign of her good-morning. She halted and lightly aired her tank top. Bending down, she gave her cat an affectionate pat. "Some black haired male haunting your dreams as well, Merle?" The cat blinked innocently and she shook her head. Wonderful. Now she was talking to cats, expecting them to reply. The bathroom door closed shut and the sound of water indicated her actions…
…not too far away in a cold hotel room, a raven haired man awoke panting, his impressive bare, honey-colored, muscular chest slick with sweat. What the hell is wrong with me? He wondered as pushed away the covers and got ready for a shower. Every instant, walking, talking, eating, dreaming, he saw her. Sudden flashes came into his mind, flashes he knew he had never created—yet he was in them as real as he was now. He covered his face with his graceful hands. He knew so much about her…her every little inclination, how she slept on the right side of the bed, how her curtains were always apart to let the moonlight creep in…how she couldn't stomach alcoholic beverages, the slight freckles that decorated part of her nose, the delicate color of her eyelashes and their length, how she smiled, the way her eyes lit up like dark green mountains basking in the sunshine…
~Remember all the good times we had
I let them slip away from us when things got bad
Clearly I first saw you, smiling in the sun
I want to feel your warmth upon me, I want to be the one ~
[*~*~*]
She stared intently at the portrait before her. Vibrant green eyes shone with some mysterious emotion as a cascade of golden brown hair fell down to her waist. The woman in the portrait people could say was the carbon copy of her. Same eyes, same hair, same body…everything. Had that prompted her mother to name her Hitomi? She'd said that the first time she'd looked at the older version of "her" in the portraits when she was fourteen. There wasn't just one portrait of the woman before her…no, there were dozens, but this was the only one that had survived. The ones that existed were just mere copies…but she was the only living creature that owned one of the real paitings; the only one that existed now. In portraits, she was doing multiple things—dancing, smiling as she bent down to tend to flowers, shaking her finger. But one thing was evident: in every picture the same emotion lingered…love…adoration. That was it. She was called the "Face of Love", particularly when at the back of the wooden frame, tucked in was a piece of parchment that held the endearing words: "To my beloved—Hitomi. In all my lives, in all my tomorrows and yesterdays, I will love you only.—Keivan" She trembled with a strange sensation as she thought of those words…so similar to the ones he'd used in the dream. And his name. His name had been Van…perhaps a short form of Keivan? she wondered.
History had been her first love. She had immersed herself so deep that there were times when the world she lived in seemed almost flimsy…and she wasn't sure whether she was living, breathing in the world of the present. That had brought her to her current occupation/hobby of gathering art pieces and selling the ones she could part with.
She checked the time on her watch and went accordingly to unlock the front door of the building. It would be no time when dealers and buyers would come in to bid on the paintings…
Under the canopy of long, dark lashes, his burgundy eyes looked at the image in the mirror and he mentally cursed. He straightened the tie on his business suit. He was late. Van Slanzar de Fanel hated to be late and after his cold shower, he had slept fitfully into late morning. There was an art gallery he had wanted specifically come to bid on a particular painting that had caught his eye… He would get it at any cost. The painting of the bronze haired lady. Carefully shrugging on the dark coat, he tugged it into place and with a quick glance in his room, he left. Now, all he needed was to pull the right strings…wait the right amount of time…and the lady would be in his keep.
She guided the customers towards the many portraits, landscapes, and drawings. "This was painted during the Time of Suffering by a Lord Kimura…the dark undertones, the ravaged country land indicate it and prove our theory to be so."
"Ma'am," a man with a pad raised his voice, "we hear that Face of Love is under your possession…might it be for the bids?"
Her rose colored lips spread into a small, sad, smile, "No, no, sir. It's not for sale—"
"I'll be willing to pay ten million dollars for it," he quickly interrupted her.
"This piece is never going to leave my ownership. I acquired it through my family and it's going to remain that way."
"A blank check—"
"You can't put a price to something like that," she spoke quietly making the other men look at the two. Every stroke of the paint brush on the portrait was executed so lovingly, so intricately, so delicately; it was obvious. It reminded her of a ballerina gracefully dancing across a stage. Every feature of hers was so detailed and portrayed in an almost tender manner. Why she thought that way, she couldn't explain.
It was unnerving how much she resembled the woman and man quietly suppressed his questions. Strange world he lived in where history came to haunt the living… He shrugged and followed her upstairs as she went to introduce one painting after another.
She sighed; this was going to be a long few hours…
With a thud, she collapsed into a chair. She had sold two paintings. The bids weren't very exciting…other than the one for Face of Love…but she had made it clear. It was not going to be sold. She wished they had lingered longer, but most of them had come for the same reason the man had.
He stumbled into the art gallery, his hair disheveled as he tried to put it in some semblance of order. He paused midway, his palm at the back of his head, in a vain attempt to smooth his hair. There was something strange in the air. Something very, very strange. The feeling was almost tangible, as if he would feel it enveloping him like an embrace. She was here. The picture was close by. He was so sure. He headed for the staircase blindly, just following his instincts, the call. Now, only moments more…
She heard the treading of footsteps downstairs and she checked the time. Oh gods! She was late! Her friend Yukari Uchida was probably here to pick her up to go have an early lunch, shop and talk. She mentally issued a curse and called out, "Coming! Wait!!"
He paused as he was just about to step upstairs. That voice, that voice had hit a chord. It was familiar. His heart beat quickened for no reason. Egads! He was becoming paranoid! She flew down the stairs, wearing a modest heeled shoe…unfortunately they were not meant to be worn while thundering down the stairs…
He gasped as she came into view…masses of honey colored hair tumbling around her as her head bent down to her purse to place something inside. She cried out when the heel of the shoe twisted and she found herself falling down the flight of the stairs. It was as if in a dream…she was coming down, falling down fast, as he reached out and grabbed her by the waist as her soft figure approached him. Her weight pushed him down on the floor and she landed right on top of him, in a position one would find lovers locked in…and very intimate.
He groaned in pain and whispered hoarsely, "Get off of me." Her right arm was pressed to his neck which blocked his breathing and he found himself choking. She moved it and groaned. They lay there…her chin resting on his shoulder, her palm on his chest and their breathing shallow. With slowness that sapped all her strength, she raised her body and her head to get a look at the figure she had been thrown upon. A strand of honey colored hair got into her eyes as she lifted her head.
She gaped.
~I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories~
She was falling. She was falling with him…the sound of the pistol…the arms around her…the embrace of love…his undying promises…the feeling as if her heart would burst open and fly away into the blue of the sky…
For there he was, below her and she realized that she wasn't the only one gaping with wide eyes. A knot came into her throat. The wonderful curve of his dear face, the same dark eyebrows, that untamable hair, the very same soulful eyes that made her feel hollow for some reason. There was something else in his face that she didn't realize that mirrored hers: a deep kind of sadness.
…these two souls had waited an eternity to be reborn together…it was an eternity before they laid eyes on each other…but when two souls mate, they mate for life and in every life, every world, they would know each other…for a mate has two souls living in each body and they can recognize anyway, everywhere, what is a part of themselves.
She found herself sitting on his
abdomen and she bent down, her verdant eyes not blinking, her hands shaking
uncontrollably. A hand came to rest on his cheek as a crystalline tear slipped
from her eyes onto his cheek.
"It's you…" her voice shook and wavered slightly. "It's…you…Van." Wave after wave of memories were hitting them…them laughing, singing duets, him chasing her in the gardens as they laughed, him holding her…
He stiffened as her fingertips caressed his cheek and brought his hand to stop her. "Stop that! What're you talking about?"
Her heart almost broke at his words as he looked up fiercely at her. "Don't you remember, Van?"
His gaze did not shy away from hers. "Yes, I remember…I remember telling you to get off of me!"
She looked as if she had been slapped and with a hurt expression, he stood up above him and lent him a hand. He didn't take it and got up by himself.
"Who are you?" he asked flatly, no trace of emotion in his voice as he straighted his jacket into place, his eyes not meeting hers.
Her heart-melting eyes that were constantly searching…unnerved him. "Kanzaki. Hitomi Kanzaki. You?"
"Van Fanel, at your service." He gave her a small grin that confirmed her suspicions and considerably softened his austere face.
"I am sorry about what happened earlier," she bit her lip, "I—you, you reminded me of someone I once knew…"
"I am sorry," he said quietly. "I was rude." He looked down at her with the shadow of a grin, "you don't exactly find yourself in a position where a beautiful woman is lying on top of you everyday…it kills a few brain cells, you know." She replied with a smile but her eyes weren't amused. They were still looking at him in that heart-wrenching manner. "Don't," he whispered suddenly.
"Don't what?"
"Look at me like that." She slowly removed him from her gaze and looked down at the floor.
With a deep sigh, he turned around for the door. He was not going to spend even one more second here…
Swiftly, she grabbed a hold of his arm and she pushed herself in his arms, her arms wrapping around his torso. "Why are you lying to me? Why are you doing this? You said that you'd…"
He pushed her away and with a look that took her breath away, he ran away.
She fell down on the floor her eyes never leaving his retreating figure…she knew, sure than she'd ever been…it was him. A sharp, emotion cut into her chest as she saw the fading figure go.
…a tear coursed down her cheek.
~I'm so tired, I can't sleep
Standin' on the edge of something much too deep
It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word
We are screaming inside, we can't be heard~
A/N: *cowers* How was it?? Leave a review and make me happy. *grins*
Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne…never will…and the song is "I Will Remember You" by Sarah McLachlan.