Authorette's note: Just a short, 1917 Erik chapter. The next chap might be a while, but in the mean time please review! Thanks Stephy in advance!

An Interlude

1917, 27th June

After hours of writing and recalling, I finally drop my pen on my pile of papers, now covered in some of the events that shaped my life. I must have been at my desk for hours as the sun soaked sky is now a pleasant lilac, my angel's favourite colour. I look at the clock, eight o'clock. Exactly thirty-six hours since I found her lifeless form; her eternally warm body, finally cold.

That was really what hurt me the most, for I had never held my beautiful wife without experiencing the joy of feeling her warmth mingle with my cold. Yet, that last time that I held her, I encountered only a barrier of ice. Even her rosy lips were chilled.

But I can't write about that. For just the mere thought of her lifeless body seems to make the room spin and I lose my grip on all that is real and not. It's the most frightening feeling I have ever had, and with my angel I have had a good many; yet she always managed to see me through every problem and fear I had. However, the fact is my angel is not with me anymore.

The funeral, that will be the next thing.

I know that I can not remain shut away in my study, that come tomorrow I will be forced to face reality. However unpleasant it may be. Charlie will probably be sent up here first, and in his gentle manner he will try and coax me into coming downstairs. Then he will eventually make me start to go outside and visiting the funeral parlour. I'll have to make ever dwindling small talk with some sour faced undertaker, interested in my angel only for the fee that he will receive at the end of the sorry business. In fact, he will probably love the fact that she's dead, after all she wouldn't make him any money alive.

After a few sessions of small talk, I'll then have to start choosing the coffin and all that. I'll have to decide how my angel will meet her final rest, what clothes she'll be wearing and so on. There will be all that paraphernalia that comes with a funeral, the church service, the flowers, the guests, the gravestone; I don't even know what I am going to wear. But how can I? My word, what a morbid thought, deciding what clothes I am to wear as an angel is directed back to heaven. I'll have to get a new suit, or someone else will; I am not rushing out to some tailor before her delicate body is even in the ground.

Oh and how that thought disturbs me…. Her soft body, eternally beautiful and special; being tossed in the soil, surrounded by worms and insects eating away at the coffin until they reach her rotten corpse. Images rush to my head and I can cope no more, they are in my head showing… oh I can not bear it any more… Why don't they stop? Why isn't she still with me? I want her. I need her. Who can deprive me of her? She is mine.

I can hear a voice. A mocking, laughing, snickering voice. It's swimming in the room, it's everywhere. I can't grasp it, I try, I throw out my hands to catch it. But I can't, instead the voice keeps mocking me. It cackles and in a menacing tone states a simple truth, the most painful in the world;

"She isn't yours anymore."

I feel a burst of emotion in my heart, and with a gasp accompanied by a smothered scream of agony; I collapse on the floor, finally free of this whirlpool of hell that surrounds me. All be it until what seems to be the morning when I feel a pair of hands shaking my body and causing me to finally stir.

I look around and see that I'm lying on my sofa, Charlie supporting back and looking despairingly into my eyes. I try to swallow and compose myself, but this time I can not control my feelings. I pull away from Charlie's hands, bring my own to my wretched face and allow every tear in my body to flow. Not because my angel is dead, but because God has denied me the right to join her.

Authorette's Note: Now what to do? Ah yes, review!