...Been a hell of a long time, huh? Well, I was bored, out of inspiration and looking back at my old fanfic and, upon receiving a comment requesting another pleashipping fic, decided I might as well write a little romantic tragedy. I have changed, grown and hopefully improved a fair bit since...whenever it was I last posted anything.

So no, I am not making a complete return to fanfic, but anyways here's hoping you enjoy this little Isis x Mahad fic.


She knows.

She knows tomorrow she shall watch his image recede from her sight, leaving nothing but ghosts of his voice whispering in her ears, his touch gliding across her skin and his mouth against her own; his beating heart echoing from within his chest.

A heart that shall no longer beat.

This time tomorrow.

She knows; and she knows that he knows.

Inevitable. Like the breaking of a bird's wings will leave it unable to fly, this is not avoidable, escapable or preventable. No.

But not a word of such a grim topic will be spoken. Not now. Not in their moment of precious proximity, passionate and sweet. Their final moments. Odd, how in all the expanse of time they had shared in close company, as they did with all the court, they had taken the very last few slivers of it to disclose what they had been obscuring within their lonely hearts for so, so long.

Foolish.

But the past cannot be rewritten. All they can do now is cherish every second they have left now, worship one another's steady breath and gentle, knowing touch while it is still here. She will miss it so very dearly.

Because this time tomorrow...there will be no rhythmic heartbeat beneath her fingers, there will be no gentle depthless eyes gazing down at her, there will be no kind smile and hushed voice. There will be no him.

And she knows.

This time tomorrow.

Would it have been better if she was blind to what shall come the following day? Would it have hurt less to be so sweetly oblivious? The constant shadow of dread snickering at them, mocking them, whispering morbid promises into their ears regardless of their attempts to drown it, indulge in one another's oh so wonderful presence.

'Enjoy yourself now, because this is all the time you have left.'

When dark was devoured by its rival sunlight and day triumphantly took back its grace, they would part from one another, two halves of a shared heart would be torn apart never to be recombined regardless of how she may struggle to stitch its tatters back together. Her eyes will spill tears for the soul she lost, and she knows her heart will cry with them.

This time tomorrow.

And now she twines her fingers into his rich mahogany hair, she melds her lips with his own and she tries to ignore the sting of her crying eyes. She wants to savour this precious and delicate moment, because she shall never get a chance to repeat it.

She feels his arms winding around her, holding her close, the warm flesh of his skin against her own and she has to touch him, has to feel him, has to know he truly is here with her now; not a ghost, not a shadow, not her accursed visions.

And he really is here, his heart really is beating against his firm chest and his lips really are connected tenderly with her own.

But they won't be.

This time tomorrow.


I am extremely sorry if the repetetive line got on your nerves or if it sucked. But hell, it can't be much worse than my old stuff, right?