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A man awoke one night, laying there, thinking of the things that had happened in his life. He thought of the things he'd done, the things he'd seen and the how he had treated the people in his life. There were sorrows without number and very little happiness as he thought back on his words and deeds. He closed his eyes for but a moment and felt a weight on his chest. Opening his eyes, all he could see at first were the blazing green eyes. She stared down at him, silent, neutral, unassuming. The eyes, though, they shone forth with a light that came from within. Each eye was light green circled by a deep forest green, a ring of fiery gold in the midst of it all. She stared down at him with a sort of unearthly and patient humor, as if she were waiting for him to get the joke. He didn't recognize her at first, but, as his eyes got used to the light, he noticed the long, luxuriant and deep brown hair, the pale, creamy skin, the full lips, curved in a soft smile. He knew this woman. She had loved him. She had given him her heart and he had thrown it aside as so much refuse. He expected anger or sadness or vengeance of some sort, but all he got was a sweet, patient gaze. He quickly became annoyed, asking her again and again what she wanted, what was she there for. And no answer was forthcoming. At some point, he became enraged, screaming at her incoherently. She tilted her head as she stared at him, blinking, raising an eyebrow. He tried to push her off his chest but found that, though her weight was real, she was insubstantial. She sat there, immobile, waiting for God knows what, no matter how he thrashed and screamed.

He finally wore himself out and just laid there, looking up at her. He started to remember things. He remembered her sweet, bright smile and how it would make him smile. He remembered her unerring support, always willing to help in any way she could. He remembered how her eyes would sparkle when he told her she was beautiful and how her cheeks would flush a faint pink. She had loved him, unerring, faithful, patient and completely. And, in the end, he'd not even given her the decency of a clean cut and an explanation. He had skipped all the tears and anger, he had run from the guilt of his poor behavior, and he had never looked back. And, in the end, she had forgiven him. Her heart wasn't made for grudges or hate.

He knew, finally, that her heart, her fierce and bright heart, had been wronged by his actions....his lack of action. To let her continue to love, continue to try, remain in limbo while waiting for him to come back, it had bruised that heart and made it a little less than whole. He had used her. He had used her for the way she made him feel, for the smiles she invoked, for the unerring patience and sweetness she gave him. She had never really asked for anything in return and so he hadn't given it, hadn't thought he needed to. He took and he took and he took and he had never given, leaving a vast emptiness in that sweet heart.

And even now, on this dark night, she gave him that one last chance to clean a wound that he'd inflicted upon his own soul. For, in the end, she had healed, if a little more careworn than before. He had not. For he had never realized that he was injured, a mark of cowardice imprinted upon his spirit for all time, bending him, twisting him, making him less than a whole man. It had stained all his actions from that time forward, all his thoughts, how he treated the ones around him.

And now he stared up into those blazing green eyes. She blinked, the light winking out for just a moment, and when it returned, he was crying. Tears poured out of him like a bitter river, his chest heaving beneath her weight, his hands clenched in the sheets, pulling at them ineffectively. He sobbed, face twisted in grief for that which he now now realized he had lost. And she waited, she waited for him to work through it with that same patience that she had waited for him to return.

When the tears subsided, his breath uneven and hitching, she was still there. He looked up at her with weary eyes and she smiled that smile that had always made him smile. And it did much the same now as it had then. Through the end of his tears, his breath shaky, he smiled back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He was surprised into laughter as she made a goofy face at him. Even after so long and under such odd circumstances, she was unchanged. He laughed and the laughter cleansed the last of his sin from his soul.

He was surprised again as he felt a light kiss against his lips. He looked up into her eyes, all he could see was an endless green and gold before him, dazzling and bright. He felt one last caress on his cheek and she was gone in an instant, leaving him blinded in the utter black of the night. It occurred to him that, sometimes, being forgiven hurts worse than any punishment. Having to forgive yourself is, sometimes, the hardest thing to do.

As his eyes closed, sleep pulling him under, a hint of a whisper, just a thought of a sound, reached his ears, more the remembered sound of her voice than anything else. He smiled softly, hearing the words he had heard so many times, and slept.