Frank Wedekind owns the original characters from SPRING'S AWAKENING. Steven Sater and Duncan Sheik own the character used here from the adaptation of the play to SPRING AWAKENING.

She daydreams as she walks on the grass, the water on the path aching up towards her when her foot slips a bit. Her arms are extended on either side of her body so she can keep her balance and her eyes stare forward, looking at nothing but the endless green that surrounds her.

It's been a year and a handful of months since she stood at the graves, saying good-bye to her friends and leaving strands of flowers on the earth that held them. She still remembers his uncertain comedy and her naïve words. Sometimes, when she's walking alongside her mother in town, she thinks she sees them walking across the way, but when she looks closer, there's no one there.


The voice startles her and she turns towards it. Her foot slips on the grass and sinks into the shallow pool of water that fell from the sky the night before. With a grimace, she lifts it back onto drier ground, shaking it gently even though it doesn't help.

"Melchior." She hasn't seen him since they've died, either. He has hidden himself away from them and the rumor was that he was sent back to the reformatory after he appeared in his parents home. It could have been true but Anna will never know. "You're back," is all she says to him because she's not sure what else to say.

"I am," he responds just as simply. He doesn't move closer to her, just stands in the grass with his eyes boring into her face as though he can find out her deepest secrets. She draws in a deep breath at the stare and the look is broken. "You're out here alone?"

She bristles at the tone in his voice; he has no right to judge her. Parents don't usually allow their children to walk alone but she's older than the other children. "I'm old enough to be alone," she says briskly. He chuckles at her and the sound grates on her eardrums. "I'm older than," she breaks off her thought because she can't bear to say it, especially not in front of him.

"Wendla," he says quietly. "You're older than Wendla."

"Melchior," she begins. She walks to him slowly, cautiously, giving him time to stop her, but his face has gone a little blank and she thinks he's remembering, too. She bravely places a hand on his shoulder and he flinches, causing her to draw away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up."

"And why not?" he asks but his voice is distant. "It's a part of our past, a part of who we were." Anna bites her lip because she wants to console him, but he's not done speaking. "Life must find its end, even when it may not have started."

She finds his words strange and wants to ask what he means, but Melchior is shaken from his reverie and turns a smile to her. His face has changed and Anna is drawn to him, the way she was when they were younger and she recalls laughing with her friends and teasing Thea about her schoolgirl crush.

"Are you alright?" he sounds concerned now; Anna wants badly to say no. For the past few months, she has been trying to find someone who might understand her feelings, who might listen to her speak of memories and dreams. She longs to hold Melchior's hand in her own because she believes they might understand each other. "Anna?"

His hand is warm, even against the coarse fabric of her dress. She looks up at him again and when she meets his eyes, she thinks she understands what Wendla may have felt when Melchoir first looked at her.

"I'm fine." She can hear the lie in her voice.

So can he. "Anna."

She looks away from him and turns her body so that she can no longer feel his warmth. "I'm fine, Melchior." There is a sense of finality in her voice this time and from the corner of her eye, she can see him nod. He stares at her for a few seconds more before he turns and leaves. Once more, she finds herself alone with just her thoughts and thinks that maybe, just maybe, her thoughts are all she needs.

Thank you to Sara for the beta work.