Permanent

"Suddenly I realize: you're permanent.."

She comes to him at night. Not every night, so it's always a surprise to him. It usually catches him off-guard, making him dizzy and fuzzy. When she arrives, the nightmares disappear. She no longer lies beneath him in a blood-soaked uniform, while he tries to stop the bleeding by pressing his hand firmly down the gunshot wound. She's no longer looking at him with glazed eyes, while he watches the life slowly drain out of her. She's no longer that ghostly appearance in the hospital, a shell of her former self after she nearly died -again- during surgery.

No.

She's her own lively self, with eyes that shine full of life. Her hair tumbling down her shoulders and her skin no longer pale as a ghost. She wakes him from his deep and terrifying nightmare, gently pressing her lips to his forehead. He already knows she's there before he opens his eyes. He feels her presence all around him, enveloping him with her scent, like a warm blanket. He immediately relaxes, his limbs no longer hurting with tension, no longer filled with the everlasting need to protect her from snipers, tigers and rooftops. She's here.

She lays herself next to him, the white shirt rustling softly against the sheets. In the faint moonlight he can see a hint of a smile before she kisses him softly on the corner of his mouth. It's so soft that he barely feels any of it, but that doesn't matter. The imprint she left on him is deep and permanent.

Her head rests on his pillow, pushing her forehead against his. Her hand rests over his heart, as if she's trying to protect it. It's hers. It's been hers for a long time and it will always belong to her. He hopes she knows that.

She closes her eyes, a faint smile still on her lips. She whispers a few words, too soft to understand. Maybe it was the wind, or maybe it was "I love you".. He lays his hand on her waist, caressing her softly while she gets pulled under to the depths of a bottomless dream.

He's in awe. She's his very own miracle, an angel that was brought to him by the roads of life and who saved him in more ways than she would ever understand. He likes to think he did the same thing for her. He also likes to think that this dream will never end.

A chill goes through the room. He shivers and opens his eyes. Did he leave the window open again? He turns his head to the window, sees the curtain flowing softly on the wind, while the first rays of sunlight try to enter his own world of oblivion. He lets out a sigh and turns his head to her side of the bed. Yeah, it's empty. He expected that. He knows, but against better knowing he still hopes that it would be different.

He looks at the picture on the nightstand. The two of them on the balcony at the Hamptons. He is standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist, while she has her head turned towards him and a genuinely happy smile on her face. She adored him. He still adores her.

Although his bed is cold and empty, he still feels her presence. He still smells her scent. She's all around him, everywhere he goes and with everything that he does. He's never truly alone.

For some reason that comforts him.

He looks at the alarm clock. It's 08:15.

Maybe he'll visit her grave early today...

Fin.