Coeur de mon Coeur
(Heart of my Heart)
The lights were dim, reflecting the starlight that shone through the room�s only
window. The room was silent now despite the fact that it had been full earlier.
She kept silent vigil in the uncomfortable chair beside the room�s single bed.
Her red eyes fixed on the figure that slept there.
His unmarred cheek- no, one of his unmarred cheeks- was pressed into the
pristine white pillow. His black hair contrasted with the surface on which it
lay. Dark lashes contrasted with pale skin. He was handsome in a boyish way.
His broad shoulders were tipped forward as his side dented the mattress beneath
him.
She had cried on those shoulders. Her heart had been near death and in need of
life. He had given it to her. He had been her rock. His love had slowly given
life to her torn and beaten heart.
She could remember when he had first kissed her. The feelings it had provoked
were like nothing she had felt before. He had tasted better than anything she
had ever tasted before.
She remembered being able to return those feelings. She had held him when he
mourned. He had been broken in grief over the lose of his friend and wingman.
She remembered almost losing him less than twenty-four hours before. The fear
that had provoked had sat in her gut like a really large kidney stone. It hurt
to remember too. Yet he was still here. Lying beside her. His presence giving
warmth to her still healing soul.
All she could do was keep loving him. All she could do was keep hoping that he
would live another battle. All she could hope was that he loved her.
