18 – If I Could Turn Back Time

Voices and birdsong penetrated my mind. They pulled me towards consciousness. Shapes flitted past a light source. I flinched slightly as each brief shadow crossed over my closed lids. I listened again to the sounds. They drifted through a window most likely, I thought. Happy voices, incomprehensible chatter and soft laughter.

I struggled to open my eyes, the lids seeming reluctant to carry out my bidding. But with effort, slowly, they gave way and I greeted the morning. Images were blurry, possibly due to a build up of sleep matter.

I took a deep breath and was awarded with slight aches and pains, particularly on my left side. Carefully testing my scapular in an attempt to gauge the pain of movement, I gingerly lifted my wing. The shape and colouring of the limb did not compute. I strained to see what was in front of my eyes, willing my vision to clear.

Gradually, contours began to stabilize. It was no wing which was before me. I blinked again. It seemed an almost lazy exercise, for it seemed to take eons for my sight to reveal what was truly in front of me. It looked like a human arm! I brought my other one in front of me. Was I dreaming? Was I a man again?

My heart started beating a forceful rhythm. Pulling my arms closer, I started to flex and fold my fingers. Fingers! Flashing images then crossed my mind - spinning runes, the sound of someone chanting in a deep reverberating baritone. The vision dispersed as my fingers neared my face. I could see the creases at the joints, lines on my palms and at my wrists. Small cuts and bruises, healing nicely but nonetheless still evident. My fingernails; some chipped, with traces of dirt underneath were still fairly well manicured, considering. One or two callouses had developed, a little rough to touch but nothing drastic. I marvelled at my hands, turning them back and forth before my eyes as if I were seeing them for the first time.

My breathing was rapid, escaping my mouth in hot bursts. My tongue brushed against teeth. I grinned. I had almost forgotten what it was like to have teeth. I clasped a newfound hand to my mouth and exhaled, then inhaled. My nose wrinkled. I needed to brush my teeth! While they had been absent for ... how many days? I wondered. Five? Six? Seven? More? The calculations could wait, the point was, my breath was rank. But it was my breath. My human breath! I grinned again, wider this time.

I then traced over every contour; my brow, temples, eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks and chin. Without a mirror it was hard to gauge how I looked, but I certainly thought my face was thinner. By the rough prickle against my palms it seemed a number of days growth had established. I made a mental note; that would need to go.

I looked down and could make out my human form under the bedding. An incomputable wave of euphoria washed over me. I was myself again! Then, a moment's panic gave way to a slight hitch and tremor in my breathing. I grabbed the edge of the sheet that covered me. Lifting it, I raised my head and peered under. I had definitely lost weight, but that was not what concerned me. I reached down with my right hand and felt between my legs. Seconds later, I sighed with relief. All was intact.

I lay staring at the ceiling, smirking, most stupidly I had no doubt. The absurdity of my moment's fretfulness then dawned on me and a solitary laugh, more of a guffaw really, escaped me as I withdrew my hand and settled the sheet and blanket around me again.

My mirth eased. I sighed as I turned to look to my right. Aches began to intensify as I became more awake. I focused on my surroundings. A room. A familiar one at that. My bedchamber. Correction – our bedchamber. Sarah's and mine.

I recognised the dresser with it's large mirror. I smiled as I could make out ornate bottles of Sarah's cosmetics, her favoured scents and her hair brush. I visualised her sitting in front of that mirror, brushing her hair methodically, sweeping it over, flicking it back and brushing some more. I remembered watching her carry out that very ritual before she'd come to bed. Her eyes would then watch me in the mirror while I lay, waiting for her to join me. The image wavered then vanished.

So how did I get here? I wondered. My recollection was fuzzy. My earlier recognition played over in my mind once more, peppered with one or two more details. A night elf, reciting ancient Thalassian script. But who was he? What was he? A sorceror? It looked like he was in my study, manipulating a circle of symbols. Pulsing, spinning, rising and... ensnaring me, then...nothing!

My mind mulled it over for a few moments more. I knew I had left a secret message in a journal. For someone in particular, but that was not who I had seen in my study. So who was that elf? The remnants of the image then dispersed, offering no final resolution to my quandary. In due course, no doubt, I would have all the answers.

My fingers kneaded the soft blanket that covered me and I inhaled. An audible sigh escaped me. I could not only smell her, I could almost taste her. Sarah! Her perfume, honeysuckle and wild lotus, permeated the air, the bedding, the room. It was the most beautiful scent. Even though my mind told me it was familiar, my senses received it as something unique. Exciting, intoxicating, exotic.

As I revelled in this discovery, my gaze drifted over to the window. The delicate voiles were billowing softly on the morning breeze. At first I thought I was imagining things, but as I stared longer I conceived the gossamer drapes were lightly hovering over a human shape curled up in the generously upholstered armchair. I angled my head so I could better observe the figure.

There, with a blanket draped over her, was my Sarah. I drank in the vision that was her. Her gentle face, framed by her dark auburn hair, the odd strand having fallen over her cheek. I smiled as the tips fluttered under her nose while she slumbered. Her nose twitched, the hair tickling it. My entire being felt joy at the sight of her. The curve of her brow, her slightly upturned nose, the full lips, the fall and rise of her breasts as she breathed softly. How I longed for her.

I tried to push myself up, but pain in my left shoulder made me grunt rather loudly and I fell back onto the pillows. My effort stirred her from her sleep. I stilled as her eyes fixed on mine. I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms and shower her with kisses, feel her softness, smell her hair and her skin. As she continued to hold my gaze however, a cloud formed over my desire. Something lurking, brooding in my memory. Had I hurt her somehow? Had I been less than loving to her?

Slowly, it started to come back. The rhythm of my heart changed tempo. Echoes of arguments flooded my mind. I saw her tears, her anger, I saw my anger and heard my accusatory tone. I felt my heart crush. How could I have been like that with her? Every muscle in my body tensed. My behaviour had been unforgivable. I felt a profound sadness. "I – I'm sorry, Sarah," I managed, breathless. My voice was strained through lack of use for ... how long? "I didn't mean the things I ..." I could not finish, I felt so remorseful.

She unfurled the blanket from her legs. I watched as she rose from the chair and came towards me, but as she neared, my conscience made me avert my eyes. I felt the edge of the bed sink slightly when she sat at my side. I turned my head away. Her voice whispered my name. Consumed by shame for having been so unkind, I could not look at her, but again, my name tumbled softly from her lips. Her fingers gently touched my chin, turning my head to face her. Being so close to her was igniting sensations I felt I had no right to feel, but I could not prevent how my body reacted to her.

"You have been through much," she said, her voice like a soft summer breeze. "Do not punish yourself for things that were outwith your control."

Her compassion overwhelmed me. "I said some – harsh things, which I can never retract." I could feel a tight lump in my throat, my mouth went dry. "I ..."

She hushed me, placing her forefinger on my lips. Her soft smile amazed me. "You and me both," she said quietly. "I reacted sharply to what you said, and I'm sorry too. But I know now it was the influence of the Void. And you were not alone, Khadgar, many others experienced the same torment. It was a heavy shroud of fear and uncertainty that made us say what we did. It was not us. Never us." The look in her eyes bathed me in a conciliatory reprieve from my torment.

I lifted my hand to stroke her cheek, but pain in my shoulder caused me to wince and lower my arm rather heavily. My eyes fixed on hers as I watched her studying my face. Her fingers neared my cheek, then she hesitated, uncertain. Slowly, her fingertips moved forward again and they touched my mouth. She was trembling.

My lips parted in response to her touch, my pulse racing. I noticed her breathing had become short, hitched. I wondered what was going through her mind. Do you forgive me? Do you still love me?

As if in response to my unspoken questions, she leaned down and her mouth covered mine. I closed my eyes in sweet surrender. It was the most tender, love-filled kiss I had ever experienced. It filled me with her forgiveness, her understanding, her love and a heartfelt promise, that again caused stirrings in my groin.

As she pulled away, I bit back a deep disappointment that the intimacy was broken. "Sleep. I will be here when you wake," she whispered, gently tracing her fingers over my eyes.

I succumbed to a sea of tranquility where sleep claimed me once more.

The smell of cooking tantalized my senses, pulling me up from the depths of slumber. I could not place the aroma but it smelled good. My mouth started to water although I cannot say I was overly hungry. The door opened and in she walked carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of whatever it was she had prepared. She placed the tray on the dresser then she approached the bed.

"Good afternoon, sleepy head," she said, a smile curving the corner of her mouth. "Can you manage to sit up?" She reached over me to grab the other pillow and I caught a glimpse of her breasts down the front of her top. I fought an involuntary response down below. Pressing my palms on the mattress I pushed myself up, grunting from the aches in my shoulder. I hoped she had not noticed my reaction to her closeness, for it seemed very inappropriate at that moment.

She plumped up the pillows behind me, settling me back against them very gently. I made a concentrated effort not to let my eyes drop from her face. She tucked strands of her hair behind her ear then laid the other pillow across my lap. In one way that was a relief. I watched in silent awe as she moved over to the dresser, collected the tray then brought it over, resting it on the pillow upon my lap. Still I kept my eyes on her face.

There was an expression of quiet pleasure in her eyes, as if she was enjoying nursing me. It was curious in a way, I felt as if she was a stranger, one dedicated to healing and tending the sick. Namely me! On the other hand, she was my Sarah, the mother of my son, the woman I loved, my partner, my life. She unfolded a napkin and draped it over my chest and shoulders. "Chicken noodle soup," she announced. "It was always what my mother made me when I was poorly."

All I could do was nod, I was transfixed. Perhaps I had just been in my avian form too long, but it was almost like being human was a novelty and this vision before me was nothing short of a miraculous dream. She dipped the spoon in the broth then lifted it to my lips. Her eyebrows raised as she looked at me askance. I offered a sheepish grin as I realised she was waiting for me to open my mouth. I accepted the broth. The warm soup slipped over my throat, the chicken enhanced by fresh herbs and seasonal vegetables. Simple, but extraordinarily flavoursome. She fed me more.

Now and again her eyes met mine, the sparkle in them doing things to me beneath the pillow which I tried exceptionally hard to ignore. I thought talking may distract me. "How long have I been... human?" I asked, smirking at how utterly ridiculous my question sounded.

"Two days," she replied, raising another spoonful of soup.

"I have been asleep all that time?" I gasped. She tipped the broth into my mouth.

"Uh huh. First time you opened you eyes was four hours ago. " She let the spoon rest in the bowl and dabbed my mouth with the napkin before resuming her task of feeding me.

"And, how long was I..." she tipped another spoonful in my mouth, a little quickly I thought.

"Dead?" she asked. Her eyes unexpectedly narrowed, a hint of pain in them. Her question took me completely by surprise.

"I was going to say - a raven," I replied a little hesitantly. As I looked into her eyes, I suddenly saw it all with crystal clarity. I relived being trapped under the pillars of the Dark Portal, escaping by a hair's breadth. The wailer as I had called her had been Sarah! The desperate sounds of "Caagaw" played back in my mind again and again. Her tearful face haunted me, though I had not understood why, at the time.

Next, I recalled Lor'themar Theron with his confidantes Grand Magister Rommath and Ranger-General Halduron Brightwing. They had traveled from the elven lands in Quel'thalas to attend my funeral and I had rather cheekily hitched a lift on the Regent Lord's zeppelin. They had speculated a momentous turnout for the service.

Although I had been unable to witness it, I could somehow sense from Sarah's response a moment before, that it had indeed drawn an unimaginable number of people from both factions. Never had horde and alliance agreed to peacefully stand together within the gates of Stormwind. Never. But, more significant than that, this woman had stood in front of them all, suffering, grieving ... and all unnecessarily.

She trembled as she lifted the spoon to my mouth again but I shook my head, I wanted no more. "Please, put it aside," I asked her. She did as I asked and put the tray back onto the dresser. She remained facing the window, silent, her hands in front of her, fingers lightly toying with each other.

For all my muscles and bones still ached, I nonetheless pushed myself up out of the bed. I needed to wrap myself around her, to offer comfort. She had grieved for me, had bravely borne the grief of countless others from my assumed death. Now she was nursing me back to health.

What must she be going through, I wondered. She was possibly even worrying about how she was going to explain to everyone that their grieving had been misplaced. That, on top of the other changes she had undergone, which I had never properly acknowledged and left her to deal with alone; it must have been an insurmountable amount of emotional turmoil for one to carry alone.

The need to hold her was overwhelming at that moment. "Sarah," I said softly, reaching towards her. She turned. Before I knew it, her arms were around me and she was sobbing against my chest. I pulled her tight to me. If I could have somehow absorbed all her pain, I would have. "I'm so sorry to have left you to deal with everything. Please forgive me. If I could turn back time, I would change it all ..."

She sniffed back the tears, their moisture warm against my skin. "I have had enough going back in time," came her muffled reply. "I never want to return there again. I want no future either, only the present, the here and now. This moment."

Lightly holding her shoulders I pulled back from her. She lifted her eyes to look at me and I saw the silvery rivulets tracing down her cheeks. So much grief and pain still held within. Gently, I wiped them away with my thumbs, then kissed the glistening residue and pulled her close to me again. For all she said she wanted the status quo to remain as it was, I still wished I could whisk us back and erase all that was upsetting and negative for her.

But then it truly dawned on me; the magnitude of her pain was still to come. One day, we would be parted for good, and our son would also leave this life, leaving her alone to carry on, ageless, timeless. I understood why she wanted this moment to stay untouched, unblemished. My breathing shuddered as I acknowledged her pain was far from over, and again, and I was helpless to ease it.

I became acutely aware of her breath on my chest and the softness of her lips as they brushed against my skin. The small rush of warm air aroused me once more. I was at a loss. I wanted her. Desperately , but I felt now was not the time. I mumbled an apology and turned from her. Her fingers curled round my hand, stopping me. I looked back , my face betraying my shame. Something akin to pleading resided in her eyes. Had she somehow interpreted my moving away as rejection?

The need to reassure her came tumbling from my mouth in a pained incoherent whisper. "It's not that I don't want - I just thought, you wouldn't ... with all that's happened..." I felt oddly shy and awkward. An affronted twitch pulled at the corner of my mouth. She moved round in front of me, her hands on my chest, slowly sliding them up round my neck.

"I have been afraid to touch you until this morning," she said, her eyes following where her hands traced over my skin. "Up until then, I feared you still weren't real, that I was dreaming and you'd end up vanishing in a puff of smoke. I was terrified I would wake up alone again." She lay her head against my chest.

I had no concept of what she had went through, but when she spoke of her fear, I felt a crippling guilt that I had been the cause of yet more suffering. "Forgive me, Sarah, I never meant to hurt you. Be rest assured, I'm going nowhere, not for very a long time anyway. I am here for you, and for Ocel. We are going to spend time as a family and I am going to shower you in whatever your heart desires."

She lifted her eyes to mine again and her lips parted in a soft smile. "All I desire, is you," she said, her hands moving over my chest. The sensation of her touch stimulated my yearning again. I tried to divert my thoughts, to block out the need for the kind of intimacy my body was aching for.

She moistened her lips as her eyes met mine. Her hands lifted to my face, tracing my brow, cheeks, nose and mouth. "I am as much in need of love..." she pulled back and glanced down between us. I felt a blush spread at the less than subtle display of my avidity. "..as you are," she giggled. Her eyes looked back up at mine. I felt a sheepish grin twitching. "But we should wait until you are recovered a little more at least," she said. "For now, just hold me and let me heal you."

She lay next to me, her markings glowing with gentle wisps of white gold, sparkling, floating, caressing me, easing my aches and pains. I felt as if I was being renewed, reborn.

I could not take my eyes from her as she focused on healing me. I watched her face, her eyes exploring me, hands hovering above my body. It was as if she was giving herself to me in the most deeply spiritual way.

As I felt myself tumbling towards the brink of sleep again, I heard her soft, heartfelt words, "I love you so much, Khadgar. You are home now. You are safe. With me."