Even in the afternoon, the street was dim. Long shadows stretched across the concrete, and a breeze pulled at him with cold fingers. He could see her ahead, near the alley, her platinum blonde waves almost silver as they shone in the weak light. He longed to call out, but he didn't want her to stop and turn around. Didn't want her to stand still in the open. In a few more seconds, she'd reach safety.
His instincts registered the danger a moment too late. By the time he saw the figure, he could hear the gunshot.
Cassia hit the floor.
Fear broke over him. He ran, and everything he'd been taught abandoned him as he dropped beside her. "Cassia?"
There was a wound in her forehead. A bullet hole with an abrasion ring. Her eyes were glassy.
"No!" His hands clamped over her shoulders. "Cassia!"
***
He woke up with a hoarse shout, then drew air into his lungs to yell her name again even as some part of him entered reality. Gasping, he reached across the bed.
She wasn't there.
Jesus Christ, it hadn't been a dream. He stared at the unmoulded half of the mattress. She'd gone, and she'd taken a piece of him with her --
Then his exhaustion cleared, and he remembered. She'd gone, but she was alive.
Relief ebbed into his veins, mingling with a loss that hadn't shifted since the previous evening. She'd left him, but he hadn't been ready to let her go.
He climbed out of bed and staggered into the living room. Tinsel and glittery baubles winked on the Christmas tree. Out of habit, he powered the fairy lights up and watched them glow. He remembered the way she'd got tangled in them and how beautiful she'd been.
"Merry Christmas, Sebastian," he muttered.
Once, it had been a difficult day of the year. Now it felt like the worst.
Her love had changed everything, and he didn't know how he'd ever bridge the gap between them. As well as no more sex, there would be no more trips to the pub or wayward pottery classes, no more casual conversations or feeling at ease when they attended crime scenes. No more understanding, either -- because he didn't understand how she felt. He didn't understand what love was.
Occasionally, other women had told him they'd fallen in love. Usually while screaming, and sometimes while throwing things. It had confounded his belief that love was something to be afraid of. But Cassia had been different. She loved him, and because of that, she'd set him free.
The problem was that although he was afraid of commitment, he didn't want to be free anymore. He knew he'd never look at another woman the way he looked at Cassia. His playboy days were over. He didn't want to move on.
He strolled to the window and looked at the city lights shouting in the darkness. She'd liked them because they were so alive. They'd represented survival to her.
He didn't know how he was going to survive without her.
He wanted to live with her again, to cook with her, and to decorate the Christmas tree with her every year. He wanted to bring her home from the mortuary or come home and find her here. He wanted to tell her his deepest feelings and darkest fears, and to hold her when she told him hers. He wanted to kiss her, to have sex with her -- to make love to her.
He realised that he desperately wanted to be in love with her the way she was in love with him. He assessed his feelings again, wondering what was missing. Was anything missing?
Yes. One thing. Lack of fear. But it wasn't at the thought of commitment.
He was afraid because he'd lost her.
***
Christmas morning on her own. It was exactly what she'd feared.
Cassia rose before dawn and sat in her living room, watching the city's neon signs from her window. It helped to order her thoughts, but it didn't make her feel less lonely.
She'd missed having someone, and then she'd found him. Not just someone. The One.
Then she'd lost him.
It felt like a void was opening inside, and she desperately didn't want to fall in. Everywhere she looked in the flat, she thought of Sebastian. The poky kitchen made her think of his, a room he'd hardly used until she'd met him. The empty living room made her think of his tree and the fun they'd had decorating it.
When the city began to lighten, she escaped it all and descended to the street. Shutters hung over shop doors, but the festive holograms flashed brighter than ever, eerie in the quiet. No one talked and no one shouted; no trams screeched; no fast trains whooshed in the sky. Not a soul was about but Cassia. Everyone was wrapped up warm inside, enjoying their own private Christmases.
She travelled to the mortuary on foot, her hands buried deep in her pockets for warmth even though she was wearing gloves. Her breath clouded in front of her face, and she wondered if her child would ask why that happened one day.
She wondered how old they'd be when they asked about their father.
When she arrived at Socrico Hospital, she found some life. Although less staff were around, the doors could not be closed here, and the building was bustling with cheer. She passed through an infestation of tinsel that had grown in the main lobby and descended to the mortuary. There, she would find no company -- while a few unfortunate pathologists were on call, no one was performing post-mortems.
"Cassia!"
She turned around on the mortuary's threshold. Sebastian was walking down the stairs towards her.
Her heart squeezed. No. Not now. She couldn't deal with him now, on Christmas Day. She backed up and released the door.
"Wait!" He reached it before it locked, his legs too long for her plan to work. "Don't run from me."
He entered the mortuary, and they stared at each other under the mistletoe.
"I'm sorry," he said. "There's something I need to tell you. Will you listen to me?"
Not now, please. She'd come here for peace. But he looked bereft, and she found that she couldn't turn him away. "Yes."
"Thank you." He took a deep breath, running a hand over his hair. "I'm sorry for what happened yesterday."
"Don't be. We can't help the way we feel."
"No, we can't." He held her gaze. "But sometimes we can have trouble understanding what our feelings really mean."
Surely he wasn't suggesting...? Anger sparked inside her. "For God's sake, don't tell me that I don't really love you!"
"What? That's not what I meant at all! I'm trying to say I'm in love with you!"
She stared. Somewhere in the mortuary, a clock ticked.
"It wasn't supposed to come out like that," he said eventually. "It was supposed to be romantic."
Her heart flipped. She tried to swallow, her mouth dry. "You can't mean this. You were horrified yesterday."
"I was afraid. I've never felt love before, but I finally understood it when you walked away." He cupped her cheek. "Cassia, I love you."
He kissed her while it was still sinking in, and everything faded around them. She melted into him, euphoria slowly taking over. When he pulled back, she was smiling.
His eyes brightened as they held hers, and he smoothed his thumb over her skin. "I've loved you for a long time, longer than I realised. I don't want you as a friend with benefits, or a fling, or a bit of fun. I want you as something more than that -- and I want you forever."
"I want you forever, too," she said huskily.
"Good," he replied. And then he got down on one knee.
He searched his coat pockets and produced a plastic ring. "No shops are open, so I had to pull all our Christmas crackers. I promise I'll buy you a real ring tomorrow, but I have to ask this now. Not because I don't want to spend another Christmas alone, but because I don't want to spend another Christmas without you."
She gaped at him.
"Cassia Rames, I've never met anyone as special as you, and I know that I never will again. I want to live with you, laugh with you, love with you. I want to settle down with you and raise a family. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. So...will you marry me?"
His gaze was sincere, something deep and passionate in his eyes. Her own drifted to the plastic ring, and she smiled. Strangely, it meant more to her than a diamond. He wanted her, and he didn't want to hang around -- because he had felt what she'd been feeling all along.
Humour flickered in his eyes. "I like the look of that smile, but an answer would be nice."
"Yes." She took his hand. "Yes!"
He slid the plastic ring on her finger and then stood up, sweeping her off the floor. She felt the mistletoe tangling in her hair, and then his lips were on hers again. The kiss was fierce and fiery, their passion burning deeper as their hearts connected. He loved her.
When he finally put her down, she was breathless and trembling. He plucked a leaf from the mistletoe off her head, and she glanced up at the plant. "This is good. Do you think we should take it home?"
"No." His lips curved into a mischievous smile. "I'm never going to need an excuse to kiss you again."
She smiled back, then felt something else -- almost a flutter. A second person's joy. Nerves crept in with the happiness.
His eyes searched hers. "What is it?"
"You mentioned starting a family. Did you really mean that?"
"From now on, when I say something about the way I feel for you, I'll always mean it. I know you want children, and I want children with you."
"You had a bad experience growing up."
"Now I'm more determined than ever to make things right for us." He frowned. "Why are you so worried?"
She just looked at him.
His eyes lightened with understanding. "You're not...?"
"Yes. I'm pregnant." She swallowed. "I'm sorry. I should have --"
"Shh." He put his finger over her lips. "Don't be sorry. We'll just have to plan the wedding quickly. Unless you wanted to wait until afterwards?"
Love and relief spread through her like a warm glow. "As long as I'm with you, it doesn't matter."
"Don't worry -- I'm never letting you go again." His lips hovered over hers. "So I suppose we can think long and hard about it later. But for now...there's something I haven't said to you."
"Oh?" She cocked an eyebrow.
"Merry Christmas, Cassia." He placed his hands on her stomach. "I love you."
She smiled. "I love you, too. Merry Christmas."
THE END