Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

Part One: Wings

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

My key slid into the lock with a smooth whisper of well oiled metal, and a click as the key turned and the door unlocked. I turned the knob, and stumbled inside with a collection of scrapes and cracks as my multitude of bags caught against each other, the door, the door frame, the side table... anything that could be reached. I sighed, exasperated, and calmed my impatience to get inside. I smile slightly as I caught a glimpse of the table, set for two, candles and all. Clare was already home, then. I made my way into the kitchen, dropping the bags on the floor near the counter and fervently rubbing circulation back into my hands. With feeling coming rushing back into my palms, along with a very bad case of pins and needles, I checked the oven, curiosity getting the better of me. What had she cooked? I smiled slightly. Beef Burgundy. My favourite. The smell of it wafted out of the cracked oven door, and my stomach obligingly rumbled. I was starved. I straightened, shut the oven door, and looked around. Where was she? I smiled slightly as I considered the possibilities. Bathroom, toilet, garden, out somewhere, balcony, bedroom... My thoughts stopped at that. That was where she'd be, she was sure. I slipped off my coat, put it over the back of one of the chairs, and went searching for Clare. I stopped at our bedroom door, and listened for noise inside. Nothing. She was being quiet... I opened the door, and poked my head inside, disappointed to find nothing. Damn. I looked around anyway, but she wasn't there. I moved around the rest of the apartment, first in enjoyment of the game she was playing, then in growing frustration and worry. Where was she? Finally, standing back where I started, I called her name, my tone short, frustrated. “Clare, where are you?!” Her voice came from the balcony. “I'm here, George!” I smiled slightly, relieved, and walked out onto the balcony. This was the reason we'd bought this place. The view was stunning. Clare was standing there, her back to me, long hair blowing in the wind that was coming off the harbor. “Heya Sweet!” I called, teasing her with the name. She turned her head a little towards me, and I could see immediately that something was wrong. “Clare, what is it?” I asked, moving closer to her hesitantly. She didn't like telling people things... she wanted to be strong, alone. “What is it?” I repeated. She made a visible effort to cheer herself up, smiling, her blue eyes suddenly sparkling with fake cheerfulness. “Nothing, George...” She murmured, and I was forced to believe her. “If you say so...” I said doubtfully, and she moved close to me, slipping her arms around my hips and bending her head to kiss me. “I do.” She murmured, and I smiled slightly, reassured despite myself. “Ok.” I whispered, and lifted a hand to gently brush a strand of hair out of her eyes, and kissed her again, closing my eyes. I always felt safe in her arms. I loved coming home, wondering when she'd get here, impatient to talk to her, see her, hold her, touch her...

It was dark in our room, comfortable, warm, but I couldn't sleep, I lay on my side, Clare's arms around me, her body neatly against my back... we fit together perfectly. Her breath was a hot caress on the nape of my neck, and I had an urge to turn around, to wake her, just so I could feel her lips on mine and know that she loved me. But I stayed still. She'd had trouble sleeping lately. I'd been letting her get whatever rest she could. I was thinking back over the day, my eyes closed, trying to let the memories lull me into sleep. It wasn't working. I tried to remember Clare as she'd been over the dinner she'd cooked, tried to recall the conversation, tried to remember the touch of her lips on mine, her hands on my body, her fingers entwined in mine... but I couldn't. Instead, the scene on the balcony when I'd first found her kept coming up in front of my eyes. The look in her gaze, the pain that had left her lips down turned and made her hug herself. There was something wrong. I'd learned over the years not to ask her what was wrong, that it just upset her and strained our relationship. I still maintained that Clare would tell me whatever she wanted to, that if she needed to tell me something, she would. I clung to that, though in my heart, I didn't believe it. Tonight... tonight I'd almost broken that oath I'd made to herself, almost asked her to tell me what was wrong. But I hadn't, knowing that it would lead to nothing. I shifted restlessly, and cursed as I felt Clare move as well, and knew that I'd woken her. I turned, so now I was facing her, my face inches from hers on the pillow. “Sorry.” I whispered, and she gave a sleepy smile. “It's ok.” She murmured, then sat up. “I'm going to get a drink.” She said, “Some tea...” I refrained from reminding her that tea wouldn't help her get back to sleep, and merely nodded. “Ok.” She smiled down at me, and gently lent over, kissing me. “I love you.” She murmured, and I blinked in surprise. “I love you to.” I murmured, my heart warming with the words, before she got out of the bed, her black boxers and vest blending in to the shadows, making an oddly disconcerting impression of arms and legs and head moving independently towards the door. She paused, and turned, leaning against the door jamb. “Don't wait up, I might do some work or something.” I nodded. “Ok.” I knew she'd understand me not getting up with her; I had an early meeting that morning with the Heads of History at the university I'd started lecturing at the previous week. She smiled at me a last time, a tender look in her eyes, and I smiled back, before snuggling down deeper into the blankets, commandeering her quilt as well for my little nest, trying to get warm to compensate from the lack of her body heat. I still couldn't sleep. I scowled at the opposite wall, and shifted about, turning and twisting in the blankets, before I decided that I wouldn't be able to sleep either. Damn it. I threw back the blankets and got up, my white shirt, a silk button down one that reached almost to my knees, glowed in the faint light from the moon. I thrust my feet into my slippers, and walked out, frustration at my sleeplessness not quite able to block out the faint puzzlement I felt at Clare's actions, at her words. She'd said it. Said she loved me. I felt a warm glow inside me, just from thinking it. She'd never said it before... always been careful not to say it, even though I knew she did. But at the same time, it seemed strange that she should say it now. Three o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday night, just before getting up and making herself some tea. I reached the kitchen, and looked around. No one. I frowned, puzzled, then walked out. I caught a glimpse of Clare out on the balcony, and gave a slight smile. She'd gone out to enjoy the view. I got a slight shock as I realized that Clare was sitting actually on the railing, and opened the door quickly, but carefully, so I didn't startle her, didn't make her fall. The words to tell her to be careful, to get down, were on my lips, when Clare turned around, tears streaming down her face, and saw me. “Meus amicus, ego sum sic rumex. non volo pondero vos, nam est tardus quod ego can non tracto is...” She murmured, her voice hoarse, before she looked back down at the view beneath her feet, and pushed herself off. I screamed, my cry piercing my heart and soul, and ran forward. I looked down, and watched, tears streaming down my face as she fell. She didn't make a sound, didn't twist or turn or cry out, and I felt her gaze on mine right down to the bottom, though by that time she was little more then a spec. I fell to my knees beside the wall, hugging myself, my tears wet on my cheeks, and the wind howling around me, plucking at my clothes and freezing my tears to my cheeks as I tried to forget those words.

'My friend, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to weigh you down, but now it's too late and I can't deal with it anymore.'