It was the same dream.

Over and over and over again.

There was a church full of guests.

Beautiful, fragrant flowers up and down the aisles.

Her mother, seated in the first pew, dabbing at her wet cheeks with an embroidered handkerchief, and looking like the cat that had swallowed the canary.

His mother, smiling at them in benediction.

A veiled figure, walking up the aisles slowly, so slowly as the priest asked if anyone present had any objections to their union. Manicured fingers poised to remove the veil, every breath in the church held in anticipation…

She woke up at the same point every night, heart pounding in her chest, blood roaring in her ears, breaths escaping her lips in frantic gasps.

Who was the woman?

Who threatened to ruin the happiest day of her life again and again and again?

It was just a dream.

A nightmare that had no foundation in reality.

She had what she wanted.

The man she had loved always.

A career on the rise.

She was smart.

People even told her she was beautiful.

She was happy.

She had a future.

She was the winner.

He worked for her father, making small change in an upstart position, but she didn’t care.

She was proud of him.

He was finding his way in the world of big business and lawlessness and making a brand-new name for himself.

A name that still sounded strange on her tongue.

But she could live with it.

Long days at the office meant shorter days together.

Shorter days together meant most of their time was spent with his newfound family.

His father’s wife extended an arm of courtesy to her, and she gladly accepted it, clung to it in the midst of her unfamiliar surroundings.

His half-sisters watched her with hawks’ eyes, silently comparing and measuring her by another’s standards after and before her.

His cousin—could Charity be called his cousin—unsettled her with eerily spoken words about the unrest deep within her heart.

She shrugged the words off, reassuring him, reassuring his family, that she was as happy as she’d ever been.

Her road in life had taken a sharp, unexpected turn, but now it was all easy riding.

His uncle watched her with sharp, unnerving brown eyes as if he knew she was hiding something.

Blue eyes, clear and cloudy, looked into hers for some hint of their past.

While another pair of eyes, deep and brown in their color, were prayerful. Hopeful that their faith would be rewarded.

She wished the invisible string tethering her to her past would snap as Sheridan’s had. So that she might move on with her life. It was already frayed past the point of recognition.

His hand was warm as it held her own, and as she looked into their nameless color, she couldn’t help but feel an unwelcome sense of familiarity.

He loved those cloudy blue eyes with a hopelessness that would not go away. Wishing for that unexplainable spark that occurred whenever brown eyes met blue. That unexplainable spark that survived separation in this life and the ones before it.

There was a murky connection she could not deny, but she could lie to others about it.

Those eyes of nameless color intensified with the pangs of recognition as her hand slid from his, following her and the man she’d loved always out of the cottage with relics of days gone by.

Two pairs of dark eyes watched her, anger in their depths. Anger directed at her for taking away something, someone, considered another’s.

That look…that anger…that question why…it followed her everywhere.

She did not want to weigh herself down with the why’s because then…then she might not like what she found in herself.

Admitting the man she’d loved always wasn’t the same man would hurt her and open her up to a world as scary and frightening as an endless black void.

She pushed their anger and indignation to the far recesses of her mind and took his arm, letting him lead her away. Away from those that would condemn her simply because she loved him. Had loved him her entire life. Aware from their cold, dark stares and back to the safety of her own carefully constructed world.

Always, always in their quiet time together, she felt her brown eyes staring at her back.

Laughing at her. Mocking her. Taunting her by reminding her the man she’d loved always had not always loved her.

He’d loved another. Another who would not go away. Another whose memory lingered on in the small things.

Her heart clenched in her chest every time he looked at her with that ill-hidden regret in his faraway blue gaze.

Her blue eyes threatened to betray her with their carefully guarded tears as he spoke to her in soft whispers of his worry for a girl she knew he could not erase from his heart, and she’d offer half-hearted words to ease his mind. Encourage him to believe that desperation and greed would not lead to her ultimate downfall. Encourage him to trust in the good that surely still existed in her heart.

Good? In a heart as selfish as hers, she wanted to rail. In a heart that bore me no sympathy?

But she loved him. She loved him, and she did not want to witness his unrest.

She closed her weary eyes against the twilight, willing her mind to safeguard her heart and protect her from harm.

It began in the same fashion every time.

She was caught in a never-ending, unmerciful apparition.

The church full of guests admired the elegant simplicity of her wedding gown in the same breath they lowered their voices in secretive gossip.

Flowers of exquisite color, rich and sweet with scent, adorned the aisles.

Her mother, his mother, granting blessing to their union.

The veiled figure, slender and of graceful carriage, posed to object. Manicured fingers hesitating and dropping to her sides as gasps of relief, disbelief, and curiosity were drawn around her.

She reached a shaky hand out to the man she’d always loved, tears spilling over her cheeks as the priest continued the ceremony, his deep voice fading from her ears as a golden band was fitted on her finger.

Eyes of brown, blue, nameless hues watched her, and a deep shiver rippled up her spine as her veil was lifted and her husband’s kiss touched her lips.

Congratulations, some sincere, some insincere, were uttered, and she took his offered arm, letting him lead her back down the aisle.

Husband leading wife, she realized with a strange lurch of her heart, finding those big brown eyes glistening back at her with tears and resignation. The absence of a veil covering them plummeting her heart to her knees.

Her skirt rustled around her legs as she pushed through the disbanding masses, an uncertain fear gripping her by the throat as she clutched the black-clad shoulder, whirling the veiled figure around.

“Who are you? What reason do you have to ruin the happiest day of my life?”

A sad sound, somewhere between a strangled laugh and a desperate cry, emitted from hidden lips. “Who am I?” she asked, manicured fingers no longer hesitant as she lifted the black lace slowly over her mouth, her nose, her eyes. Blue eyes etched with regret. “Someone you don’t know yet.”

A silent scream tore from her throat as the golden band on her finger suddenly grew too heavy, the ache in her heart a little sharper with recognition. “No. No,” she shook her head violently, wisps of her hair clinging to her neck and forehead.

Her own eyes stared back at her, sympathy in their blue depths. Her own hand reached out to cover her arm as a voice identical to her own spoke in low, knowledgeable tones. “It’s not too late.”

“Not too late?” she rasped, tears making her throat tight. “What do you mean?”

The veil fluttered back into place with a solemn shake of her head.

She watched, powerless to move, as the figure faded and disappeared from her sight. Frightening numbness spreading throughout her body as she dropped to her knees, a scream no longer silent ripping painfully from her throat.

And she heard his voice in the distance as she felt his hands close around her arms, shaking her forcefully out of her hysteria.

“Gwen! Gwen, what happened? Are you hurt? Gwen! Talk to me!”

She woke with a start, gasping for breath, sweat beading her forehead.

Ethan’s concerned blue eyes stared down at her, and gradually, he loosened his grip on her arms, rubbing the skin he’d clutched so harshly in his efforts to wake her from her nightmare. “Are you okay?”

She squeezed his hand weakly, sad realization seeping through her consciousness as she remembered the last images of her dream. “I’m fine now,” she reassured him softly. “Really, Ethan. Go back to sleep,” she whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips lightly against his lips. A kiss borne more of friendship than love.

“Only if you’re certain,” he said. Already turning to his side.

Away from her, she realized with a pang of recognition. Why hadn’t she woken up to all the signs earlier?

“I’m sure. It was just a dream.”

“Sounded more like a nightmare to me,” he mumbled sleepily, his words muffled by his pillow.

“Not a nightmare,” she murmured, turning over on her side, her back to his. “Just a realization.”

She smiled at the quiet sound of his snoring, suddenly fighting the temptation to laugh.

It wasn’t too late.

She was right on time.

The End

Disclaimer: This story in is in no way meant to infringe upon the rights belonging to , NBC, or any entity thereof. All rights to Passions and any related content, including characters used, belong to "Outpost Farms Production Inc", James E. Reilly, and NBC.
This story is the property of the author. Copyright 2002. Nothing may be reprinted in whole or in part without the written permission of the author.
The Nightmare - Copyright © 2002 - All Rights Reserved.