My Immortal
By April French

He had left her his loft, and nearly everything in it. All his books, his paintings, all the artifacts he'd collected over the centuries and all the music he had ever composed. The piano, though, was silent, the candles atop it unlit, and so many of the paintings were unfinished.

i'm so tired of being here
suppressed by all of my childish fears

The dust was thick, and if she stood very still, and waited, she could almost see a shadow of his figure, moving through the dust.

and if you have to leave
i wish that you would just leave

She couldn't bear it much longer.

because your presence still lingers here
and it won't leave me alone

How long had it been since Nick had left? Five years? Ten, twenty? Natalie had lost track. What did it matter, they were all the same. Dull, lifeless, sleepless... pointless. The day shift or the night shift... antiseptic morgues in cookie-cutter towns and cities that sapped her of all optimism and joy. It worried what little family she had left, to see her wandering from city to city, but she couldn't stay in Toronto for long. And yet, she was not looking for Nick.

She never wanted to see him again.

these wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase

They had been crutches for each other for five years, friends and shoulders to cry on.

when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears

But five years for Nick was a very different thing, barely a blink. Barely a breath. And he'd left his crutch behind. He would stumble a few times until he regained his balance, but then he would stand straight and unaided, and in time he would forget that he had ever leaned on her for support.

and i've held your hand through all of these years

It was taking Natalie far longer to regain her own two feet, but she would do it. If Nick could do it, she could do it. She just didn't heal quite as fast as Nick did.

but you still have all of me

The loft looked almost exactly as it had all those years ago, when he had simply picked up and left after Tracy's death. No word to anyone. Had he taken anything with him? She walked slowly toward the fireplace and the sitting area. There was a box on the side table; she opened it. There was the beautiful old cross that Nick had been given by Joan of Arc. He had treasured that ancient bit of wood. The jade Mayan cup that he had hoarded and guarded so jealously was covered in cobwebs. All the clocks had stopped at the exact same time...

you used to captivate me
by your resonating light
but now i'm bound by the life you left behind

All their great expectations shattered like champagne glasses, the fragments crunching under their feet.

your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

She was so tired. It was hard to sleep now, without seeing his face. Sometimes, when she was working, she would hear his voice and look up, joyful and indignant, only to see the uncertain looks of her co-workers. Whenever that happened, it was time to find a new job. To move on.

these wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase

She'd already been in Toronto for too long. Barely a day, but she was seeing him out of the corner of her eye, hearing him call her name... even feeling his fingers on her shoulder. But it had been twenty years. She had learned to ignore those pretty fragments.

i've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
and though you're still with me
i've been alone all along

But he... he wouldn't leave her alone. Or rather, the memory of him. Nick had left her, never to return. But his memory drove her on and drove her away, draining her and giving her the will to keep going.

when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears
and i've held your hand through all of these years

He had taken something when he had left. He had taken the better part of her.

The couch was dusty but it still looked comfortable, and she was tired. She laid herself down on it, her curly, greying hair mingling with the dust and the past, and the last thing she heard before darkness claimed her was a familiar voice softly breathing her name.

but you still have all of me

~Finis - April 24th, 2003~