In Love with the Prince (of Darkness, That Is)

Taylor slipped into a coma that night, and though the doctors claimed it was a healing mechanism, that his body was still trying to get over the virus, Dreama saw the truth in their eyes.

"Why did it happen?" she asked, over and again. Dr. Barker ran what seemed to her like a hundred tests, and Dr. Melsandra ran just as many, but neither of them would give her a straight answer, and soon she was pretty sure that they were avoiding her.

"Dray, you have to let them do their jobs," Nathaniel said one night when she called her brothers. "Maybe they're right, and he's just trying to heal."

"But they won't even let me see him! They've moved him into this little Intensive Care Unit and they won't let me in because I'm not his family!"

"They're doing the best they can, I'm sure."

"I'm not." And she hung up.

She was frustrated beyond belief, but it was more than that, Dreama decided. It was that she was almost certain that Taylor was in his current state because he had lost the will to live, and that hurt her more than anything that the doctors could or would tell her.

*~*~*

The sky was growing dark as Dreama left the hospital to make the trek back to the Gables' apartment. After dawdling outside, contemplating and deciding against walking through the park, she resignedly climbed the stairs to the fourth-storey home-away-from-home.

"Your brothers called for you," Mrs. Gable announced when Dreama came through the door.

"I'll talk to them in the morning."

"Are you okay?"

"Just tired."

"How's Taylor?"

"No change."

"I'll take the midnight watch, if you'd like to sleep."

"They won't let me see him anyway," Dreama muttered. "Doesn't really matter if I'm there, does it?" Before Mrs. Gable had a chance to utter a response, Dreama closed the door to her room.

*~*~*

"Why are you crying?"

She lifted her head from her hands and found herself back in her favourite spot--Taylor's basement.

Her eyebrows creased as she looked around, and then at herself. Although she was still haggard and dressed in the same clothes she'd put on two days before, Taylor was looking vibrant and flushed, in his customary slacks and t-shirt.

"Don't cry. Everything's going to work out, you know."

"How can I believe that when you're so far away?"

"Dray, there's more to your life than me."

"That's not true." She stood and took his face in hers, and his skin was smooth and dry and cool. She ran her fingers over his jaw, hungry for the feel of it. "You've changed me, changed the way I look at everything, what I want for myself."

Taylor cupped her neck, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. "I want you to want more than this, Dray. Take back your old dreams--Julliard, freedom, New York...."

"I don't need that any more."

"Yes you do. I know you, baby, you'll suffocate if you don't go after it."

"Taylor, I'll be fine if I can just have you back!"

"You think that now. But in a few years, or months--"

Dreama threw his hands off. "You're wrong!" she cried. "I want you, Taylor--now, forever... just you, and me, and that little girl you saw. That's all I need."

Taylor shook his head, tears swimming in his eyes. "No. You need more."

She turned away, sobs hammering at her chest, begging to be let go. She gave in and let the tears join them, staring at the wall.

Taylor came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, kissed her hair and inhaled the scent of it. "It's not that I don't love you."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"You're everything to me, please don't forget that. But I just can't do it anymore, and I'm sorry that I have to hurt you."

"And I'm sorry that I'm not enough," she forced out through a throat tight with tears still unshed.

"Don't ever think that, or say it. You're all I could ever have asked for, Dray. You've made everything so wonderful and colourful and bright for me this last year. Don't ever doubt that I love you."

"Why can't you let me be that for longer?"

"It's time for me go, baby. I'm sorry."

Dreama turned and captured his lips between hers, felt the heat that flushed through them, and wrapped her arms around him, his frame feeling strong under her wandering hands.

"Dreama," he whispered, breaking their contact. He repeated her name, flicking it off his tongue like a prayer. "I love you. It's time to wake up."

"I don't want to leave you."

He kissed her again. "You never will. Now wake up. Wake up."

*~*~*

"Dreama. Dreama, honey, wake up."

Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright. Both of Taylor's parents were standing over her bed.

"What's wrong?" Dreama asked, scanning their faces, but knowing the answer before Mrs. Gable whispered it.

"He's gone."