"Here you go, Fannie."

Gnarled fingers eagerly took the medicine cup from the young nurse's aide. She usually detested the evening medicines, designed to keep everybody as quiet as possible for the third shift. But today was Valentine's Day.

"Good job, Fannie. I'll see you tomorrow night." Ignoring the aide's cheerful condescension, she settled back on her pillow.

Her mind wandered as she waited for sleep to come. Where would he take her tonight? Not that it mattered. He'd keep his Valentine's Day promise.

The sounds of the nursing home faded around her as the sleeping pill took effect. She struggled briefly against the enforced sleep. What if he didn't come? What if the pill kept him away?

"Joseph…" His name crossed her lips in a whisper as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Peals of laughter woke her. She was in a field of mustard flowers, running through a sea of yellow.

"Got you!" Strong arms caught her from behind and lifted her high in the air. She laughed again.

"Joseph!"

He spun her around, an exaggerated frown on his face. "Were you expecting somebody else?"

She threw her arms around his neck. "Of course not! Only you, my love."

He pulled her close and kissed her soundly. "That's what I want to hear from my favorite girl."

"Your favorite girl? Do I have competition?" She mimicked his earlier frown.

Joseph clutched his heart. "You wound me, my love. How could you doubt my unending and undying devotion?"

She threw herself back into his arms.

"Joseph, I've missed you so," she whispered into his shoulder. She breathed deeply, filling her memories again with his unique scent.

"I've missed you too, darling. Each year seems longer, yet your beauty never fades."

"Ah, my Joseph, if only you knew…"

"What I do know is that last year you made me a promise. Do you remember?"

Fannie spun out of his arms and started to run across the field.

"Yes, but you have to catch me first!" she shouted over her shoulder.

His roar of laughter floated after her, followed by the sound of his footsteps. She ran faster, free from limitations of aging body. A soft summer breeze caressed her cheek and whispered in her ear like a lover. Summer songbirds filled the air with joyful music.

Arms wrapped around her and the world tilted. An incredibly blue sky filled her vision. She was suddenly weightless, drifting like a cotton candy cloud across a sky of yellow. Then Joseph's face became her world as he gently lowered her onto a bed of flowers.

"I missed you," he whispered.

She traced a finger down his face, savoring the change in texture from his smooth cheeks to his slightly rough jawline. His cheekbones were hard and defined, what you'd expect from a young soldier. But his green eyes still reflected the optimism of a young man. She wondered what he saw - the naïve eyes of a girl in love? Or those of an older woman wise enough to seize fleeting moments?

The smell of crushed flowers filled the air as he lowered himself onto her. The ground was damp with morning dew, yet her body filled with heat as lips touched hers. A soft sigh escaped, lost in the sound of rustling flowers.

It started out as a gentle exploration, two young lovers who had been separated by space and time. But some things are never forgotten. She tasted his lips, remembering softness and the feel of them on her body. She deepened the kiss, wanting more. He met her demands and added his.

She groaned as he moved over her, his knee gently spreading her legs. She could feel him - all of him - and knew that he, too, had been waiting for this day. His kisses dropped to her neck, gently caressing. Her head arched back in response, offering him more of the sensitive skin. She felt the rumble in his chest as he softly laughed.

"You like that, hmm?" Another soft moan escaped as he gently nipped her ear. "I've had a year to think about this, to plan this moment."

Her fingers ran through the soft waves of his dark hair, warm silk beneath her touch. She pulled him closer and recaptured his mouth. It was his turn to groan as she explored it in a way she'd only dreamed about.

"You're not the only one with plans…" she whispered.

The world shifted again and he was under her. She laughed at the sight of him nestled among the yellow blooms.

"See something funny?" he growled.

"The blossoms are so delicate and you are so…"

"Manly? Handsome?" he offered.

"Strong. Beautiful." Her voice caught. "Mine."

He crushed her to him. Slowly, they once again learned each other's bodies. Each caress, every touch revealed forgotten pleasures. The world faded around them until they existed in a place outside of time.

The sun was low in the sky when she returned to reality. She shivered in the shadows, the beautiful flowers now blocking the sun's warm rays.

"It's getting late."

He rolled on his side, silently watching her. She was suddenly self-conscious of their nakedness, of the cool breeze brushing her damp skin. She wrapped her arms protectively around her chest.

"Don't." He reached for her hands. "You are so beautiful. What we have is beautiful."

"And almost over." Her eyes reflected the lengthening shadows. "Another Valentine's Day gone."

Silence grew between them, broken only by soft cooing of a single turtle dove.

"It's singing a sad song for us," she said.

"Do you recognize this place?" he asked.

She nodded. "I visited it many times over the years."

"Why?"

"Do you have to ask?"

He remained silent.

"It was the only place I could be close to you," she whispered. "It was here that my future ended. These flowers are all that remained of you."

"Such a peaceful place. The battle was terrible, but at the end it all faded and I was alone in these flowers thinking of you. My last thought was how much you'd love it here - and how I longed to share it with you."

A single tear ran down her face. He caught it with his finger.

"Don't cry, my love. Do you remember last year's promise?"

A sad smile crossed her face. "Of course. I promised to never again leave."

"Stay with me."

"My dear Joseph, this is only a dream. A wonderful dream that happens once a year. When the sun sets, daylight will come and you will leave. I will again be an old woman in a failing body, alone except for my memories."

"Please say you'll stay."

She looked into his eyes. The eyes of her lover.

Her soul mate.

She smiled.

"Yes."

---

"Good morning, Fannie. Time for your medicine." The nurse's aide swept open the curtains, nearly knocking over the vase on the windowsill.

"What gorgeous flowers! I love that yellow, so bright and cheerful. Reminds me of the fields I saw in France last year. I don't remember seeing them yesterday. Did somebody bring them last night?"

She turned to the frail form in the bed. "Fannie? Time to wake up."

She moved closer and was transfixed by the look of joy on the older woman's face.

Fragile, still hands held a single, yellow flower.

The nights were icy dark now, and the days were no more than a couple of hours of bleak and hazy light. He pulled his jacket tighter and continued on his way. The wind would whisper with thoughts he'd believed were long forgotten. He brushed them away like the first falling snowflakes of winter. That's one of the reasons he'd taken the post in this godforsaken place. It was an easy Watch, and wraith-takers and vampyrs were hardly a match for the Order's new Hammerfist Equalizers.

The moon arced wearily across the midnight sky. Deangelo checked in for one last time with the Order control, before logging off duty. His ashen skin reflected the hostile climate as he heaved open the dark oak tavern door; the threshold to possibly the northernmost revelry in the Realm. He greeted several of his elven-kin from the Watch on his way to the bar, where he intended to entertain the remaining hours of night with spirits of an altogether different nature of darkness.

Some drink to remember, some, like Deangelo, drink to forget. Oblivion is one of nature's favourite defences. His usual came with its usual smile, and he submerged himself in the ale-soaked miasma. Aurora had been tending the bar since before the dwarf-lords left, and had seen Watches come and go, and had seen their Watchers. She'd seen those who'd loved and those who'd lost. She'd seen those who'd fought and so few who'd won. Nowhere faces, nowhere places, Deangelo was one among so many. His secrets he kept locked deep within, his alabaster skin hardened by the ruthless winds and pale eyes so often retreating from this world as he patrolled the realms of his own mind; sometimes though she imagined she saw a fire burning there, in his eye, smouldering from deep within his soul, but then lights and shadows are the masters of illusion.

Tonight was the one night of the year for lovers. The music played for those who'd loved and the spirits flowed for those who'd lost. The music played, the spirits flowed, the dancing whirled and ebbed. Deangelo's mind spun with the vibrancy of the whirling and the twirling and... she was there.

Skin translucent, red hair tumbling over her delicate shoulders and her long black cloak silhouetting her slender form. This is the one who had escaped not just him, but the whole of V Watch, Hammerfists and all. His shift was over, he had neither weapon nor jurisdiction, yet there she was, no question, vampyr.

He could feel her soul, he could feel her aching for life, and the tavern was filled with the very life-blood she craved.

The spirits whirled and the music flowed, and he kept his quarry in his sight. She moved as he moved. He could feel her heart beating, aching, drawing him towards her. She was his prey, and he needed to contact the Watch. And the room was spinning and his soul burned with a passion that he thought had long ago been turned to stone. His cold elven skin brushed hers, and the music whirled, and their hearts flowed. The snow silently fell on his memories of what once was, and his pale eyes burned with passion once again.

Marie awoke to the sound of her alarm clock. She reached out to press the snooze button. Another ten minutes in bed. Another ten minutes for thinking, for planning the day ahead. The alarm rang for a second time, and Marie pulled herself out of bed, she knew that she had a lot to do before her date with Charles later.

Bright light streamed in through the window as Marie drew back the heavy curtains, she could see the sun’s rays glinting off the frost-covered grass in the garden below. She allowed herself to smile. 14th February was a special day for Marie and Charles, not only was it Valentine's Day, but it was also the anniversary of the day that they first met.

Marie sat at the kitchen table, her morning cup of coffee steaming while she flicked through the pages of an old photograph album. The pictures were fades and the edges slightly curled, but the faces smiled at her as if it were yesterday. That beautiful day in 1952, like today the sky had been clear and blue. She was seventeen. Her whole life still lay before her. She remembered the excitement of the car journey in her father’s new Citroen 15 motorcar. In her opinion the Bois de Boulogne was more beautiful at this time of year than it was when in full bloom in the middle of summer. She recalled seeing a handsome young gentleman sitting alone on a bench. She figured that he was waiting for his sweetheart. How different her life would have been if Estelle, her best friend at the time, had not urged Marie to introduce herself.

Pulling herself out of her daydream Marie set about her tasks for the day. She pulled out a large wickerwork basket, which she filled with all of Charles' favourite delicacies and a bottle of white wine and neatly folded a blanket over the top of the basket. Next she opened the huge oak wardrobe in her bedroom to decide what she would wear. After nearly an hour of changes of mind she chose a white dress with yellow flowers that reminded her of spring. Marie put on a warm coat over her dress, and basket in hand she opened the door and emerged into the outside world.

The air was cold against her pale skin. She carefully made her way along the icy pavements, stopping occasionally to greet old acquaintances. It was only a short walk to the nearest Metro station, where she joined the throng of fellow travellers. The warmth of the underground passages, the hustle and bustle of the people making their way across Paris and the sounds of singing and accordion playing was a stark contrast to the cold, quiet, bright day above.

Marie slowly climbed the steps back into the open air. She made her way across a busy road, stopping to buy flowers from a street vendor she headed for her rendez-vous with Charles.

The iron gates were open. As she walked through them she felt the air become heavier. A light mist now seemed to cover the sun, giving an eerie feeling. She made her way along the paths she had walked a thousand times. Marie put her basket on the ground and spread the blanket on the grass. She held the flowers close to her chest. Tears began to obscure her vision as she laid them on the ground beneath the stone whose words were forever engraved on her heart, 'Charles De Forges, 1933 - 1978'.

This was Valentina's day, 14th February. Not only the day of the Saint after whom she was named, but it was also her birthday. This, along with the fact that she would be spending the day alone again made Valentina unhappy every year.

When she was a young girl she had resented her parents for giving her the name, Valentina Aleksandrovna Ivanova. She frequently asked why she couldn’t have been called something normal. She had grown to understand about her Russian heritage, but she still believed that life would be much more simple if she had an English name.

This year she had made a decision. She would change her name. She knew that her parents would be upset and she hoped that they would eventually forgive her, but to Valentina her future happiness depended on it.

Valentina sat at her desk with the 'Deed Poll' forms in front of her. She had settled on the name 'Emma Elizabeth Porter', for no particular reason other than it sounded English. She picked up a black pen and began to write. The form completed, she sealed it, along with a cheque, into an envelope and stuck on a stamp.

She stood in front of the post box contemplating what she was about to do, she had finally made the decision to post it when she heard someone shouting her name, "Valentina," she turned around, "Its been a long time!" she had to think for a few seconds before realising it was Mike who had been in most of her classes the entire time they had been at secondary school.

Mike Parker was the school heart-throb, all of the girls in Valentina's year at school were 'in love' with him, and most of them had dated him at some point during their time at St. Alfred's. One exception was Valentina who had admired him from afar, too scared to approach him due to her ridiculous name.

"Its twelve years since we left St. Alfred's," Valentina replied, "How have you been? I didn't know you still lived around here."

Alfred smiled, and Valentina felt like a teenager again. "I'm alright. I have just moved back here, I have been living in Moscow for the last eight years with my mother's family."

Valentina felt her heart skip a beat as she looked down at the envelope in her hand. "I didn’t know that your mum was Russian Mike." She wished she had known this fifteen years ago, then she might have had something to talk to him about.

"My mum is Russian and my dad is English. I used to be embarrassed that my name was Mikhael, I was just really glad I could shorten my name to Mike. But now I've grown to appreciate my heritage, you can call me Mikhael." Valentina could feel his eyes meet hers. She tried to smile. "You know all the boys thought you were the prettiest girl in school? I just envied the fact that you stuck up for your roots while I denied mine to make for an easier life, I am really sorry I didn't get to know you better back then." Valentina could feel her face getting redder, her heart beating faster and her hand gripping the envelope tighter. She didn't dare to tell him the truth. "Would you like to go and get a coffee?" he asked.

Valentina folded the envelope and put it into her pocket, "I would love to," she replied. Mikhael smiled and put his arm over her shoulder. Maybe this would be the new beginning that Valentina had been dreaming of.