A/N This is NOT a continuation of the last chapter, rather another stand alone one shot. However, as it is similar to Free Me, I thought I might as well post it here.

This Is The Place

She is young.

He watches as she dances along the gossamer-thin threads of half forgotten memories. She is beautiful in her joy, her dark hair sways around her as she twirls and twirls.

He strides forwards, and takes her in his arms. She stops, and looks at him. She looks, and around them a half formed ballroom materialises. Silver cobwebs hang from the ceiling and a fine layer of dust swirls around their feet as they stand together. She wears the dress, but it is old, faded. Around them gather the ghosts of masqueraders behind their masks. She smiles, her gaze only on him, as the only part of her that remembers.

They start to dance, slowly, as sadness is heavy. She cries silently, tears falling down her cheeks, not knowing why. He smiles, knowing exactly why, because he is eternal. They don't speak; somehow they know it is nothing in his forbidden place. He knows he shouldn't be there, but he is. He is there. He can't stop himself.

She dries her eyes, and smiles. He wishes that smile could be his alone, but touch is insubstantial in this place and with no goodbyes, she fades away as the clock strikes. She moves away to other dreams, for he is not her world.

He fades away too, because he knows he cannot keep her. Sometimes she does not dream of him at all.

She is older.

The dreams are different now. Rarer, and different. She embraces him, her lily white arms around him. She looks at him, her eyes dark, he watches her with a bittersweet smile. I am yours, is the unspoken whisper. But they both know it isn't true. There are no lies about love in this place.

He doesn't care. In a wish for oblivion, he drowns himself in her, as she does in him.

In different ways, he both loves and hates this change. She still fades away, as does he.

Idly, he wonders where the power lies now, as he runs his palm down her back.

She is older.

He still comes to her dreams. He can't stop. He watches, and sees her dream of another. Those dreams are both innocent and not, for she is in love. She is not in love with him, but another. She walks with this other,her eyes only on this other. In the background of these dreams, his eyes darken and pale with both agony and fury. But it is hopeless, there is nothing he can do, even if he wanted, for he is forgotten. But he remembers.

She still comes to him sometimes. He wonders at his fascination with her. She pauses sometimes in her dreams, she looks at him, she feels she should know him. There is some part of her that remembers, but it is not enough to make her stay.

She is older.

She is blooming, lovelier than ever. She smiles, and it lights her dreams. Pink blossoms fall, in her spring dreams. He comes closer, and she beckons him her face alight with serene happiness, one hand rests on her stomach where new life grows. He does not frown, he only smiles and turns away, knowing he will not return.

She grows, and then she begins to age. She lives her life, as people do. He is eternal, for those who do not die, do not live. He thinks, for the first time in forever, what maybe could have been. What if, he wonders. This does not last long, he knows it is useless.

She has a family, she grows old with laughter lines in her face. He does not watch, and tries to forget.

She is old.

Finally, one night, she dreams of him again, one last time. She is young again, in a white dress. Around them, autumn leaves glide to the ground. She holds out her hand, and he takes it. She speaks, her voice not sound. Thank you, she says.

He inclines his head slowly, the onlybow he'll ever make, as he quietly accepts. She moves closer, and he holds her hand to his heart. They stand together.Her scent surrounds him, and she kisses him gently.

Then she moves on, and he accepts.

Review please:)