Bane

September 27, 1973

She squeezed his hand. It's okay. I'm okay.

Of course he could not hear her; of course he could not know what she was thinking.
Most of the time, she was certain - too certain - that it was all in her imagination, her connection to Jonathan.

He squeezed her hand.

Nadjia made a wish, and snuffed the candles out on a single breath.

There was applause, and cheering, and Nadjia understood none of it, but again, understood that it was big - huge - and whatever this was, it was bigger than she; bigger than Jonathan.

Bigger than anyone - everyone in the room. The thoughts came in flashes, brief waves of intense emotion that all at once were absorbed in the applause, and just like that, with her nine years officiated by those responsible for its continuity, she was only certain one thing, and one thing only.

The boy, whose hand held hers, was the most important thing in her world in this moment, and all those moments past.

Nadjia hoped it would always be.

✟ ☧ ✟

Of all the gifts given Nadjia, none so matched the marrow in her bones, once made gross by the poison what drove her deadly illness into oblivion, the part of her that once belonged to Jonathan; the marrow that by some miracle was a match for her.

Fine dresses, and glittering jewelry gifted by wealth she could not imagine; of course she was grateful, holding the dresses up to herself to display that they were well appreciated, and would be well worn by her, and how the peridot gem in her new golden earrings complimented the olive in her skin; her favorite gift though was a four-hundred-ninety-three page book signed by the author William Goldman, a book called The Princess Bride.

The gift was to 'The Princess Buttercup', and signed from 'Wesley'.

Had the writing not been Jonathan's distinct cursive, Nadjia would have know from whom the gift had come.

Then, they danced.

Nadjia waltzed with Jonathan, her first real dance. "Where did you learn this?"

"Mom insisted." Jonathan was not much talkative as they danced, but as they danced, he never took his eyes off her. The blue was deep, and commanding, and Jonathan was thankful he was in them.

"Jon..." Nadjia felt a moment of fear, but pushed through it, leaning into him, and kissed him on the mouth.

There was a flash of light around them; Nadjia did not see it, though the wide eyed Jonathan walker saw it all too clearly.

The flash, the pop of the bulb.

The electronic buzz of the camera.

He closed his eyes.

"Way to go, Nadjia!" Someone's voice mixed with warm amusement called from across the room as the music suddenly stopped.

Nadjia pulled away from her kiss, blushing, and stepped back from Jonathan, and this time Jonathan swooned. She steadied him with an arm, and the moment was broken.

There was motion among the party goers. Jonathan followed the movement, a photograph passed between hands. Some shook picture a few moments, looked and passed it to the next until it reached Clayton Walker's hands.

Clayton's smile said it all, as he stepped toward Jonathan, and Nadjia. He showed them the photo, Nadjia kissing Jonathan, and Jonathan's eyes wide in the picture.