When the fever came, it came hard and consumed every particle of her being. It had gotten worse since her visit to the church. The man awakened a voracious hunger that was rarely sated. It demanded payment--release. No. Retribution? Every **** had the ring of revenge and yet she was never quite sure where the punishment was directed.

Instead of shoving it away, she let it consume her like wildfire. It was the extremes after all, that made her feel less like a ghost of herself. If she was stuck in the prison of this body, she'd put it through its paces and push every single one of its limits.

Selective with her lovers, they were chosen carefully to be ones that pushed her both mentally and physically and then beyond. If she could not have that, she wanted none. In her bed, any tenderness was a taboo for it could never come close to His and there were plenty that were just fine with that arrangement.

There was nothing that could slake the hunger that arched her spine like a fever dream but a merciless form of Lust that left her body nearly broken. As if she were trying futilely bind something within her, her skin became intimate with the bite of teeth, leather, rope and chain.

She was only satisfied when her body was sweat slick, with breath coming ragged from swollen lips and bruises littered her throat, thighs and hips. When every muscle was left in a state of exhaustion that brought sleep that was mercifully dreamless.

But there were times--even afterwards when the sheets had cooled and the hunger didn't stop and the fever refused to come down. It was during these times that the only thing that helped her was imagining the cool, baptismal waters of His gaze.

That blue was deep enough to drown in, and yet in a moment could shift into the perfect reflecting pool. She never saw herself as clearly as when he looked at her. In fact, she often looked away because it was too difficult for her to accept that image of herself and believe that she deserved a love so all encompassing and consuming.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" When she thought of him, he was there in an instant.

"Stay out of it." Ground out through clenched teeth; her jaw setting against what she knew was coming. She knew he disapproved of all the bruises. Finally, she answered him. "Maybe I just want to see how far I can draw the band back till it snaps."

There was silence for a long moment before he answered. "That tends to be your pattern. You were never one for half measures."

"You would know. And stop talking to me like you are indulging me, please." She paused, she could almost feel him smiling, though he said nothing. "You set the bar too high, you know." She spoke to him through the darkness, just toeing the waters for now. "It's almost unfair. All else seems like a world of grey compared to you. It would have been a mercy to forget." But she knew she would never forget--could never forget. When she was with him, everything in sight bloomed and leaned towards him like the sun.

"Most do forget." He answered her. " But you chose to remember. There is beauty in the grey. You are seeing through the lens of duality. You place me on too high a pedestal and forget you stood right by my side. What does that tell you?"

"And where am I now?" The question was almost snapped, spoken like a self inflicted lash that left the sharp sting of being left behind. She could taste the bitterness of the emotion on her tongue.

Only silence followed and flowed between them. He let her sit with the moment, let her taste the bitterness as it seeped in and bled out of all flavor till it gave way to sorrow as it often did.

"Where am I now?" He asked her gently. His presence was at once all around her and flowing through her in ripples of white gold. She felt the fever start to come down. He was effective at making points by volleying the right questions back at her and letting her figure out the answers for herself. Opening up little pockets of awareness and letting some of that pent up pressure release in that unsettling furnace within that rarely gave her rest. One could almost see the steam rise as the energy released.

The dam broke as her eyes welled and stagnation gave way to flow once more. "Here...with me." She shook her head, ashamed of herself for the way she was acting. "Forgive me."

"I wish for you to see, Nasreen. See yourself as you saw me. Then your vision will clear. Then you will see All."

There was silence then that seemed to almost rock her gently as the moments ticked by.

"I loved the sunset yesterday." Confessed to him softly as the fever cooled and she drifted in and out of that place between consciousness and sleep. "The colors...were so... " She trailed off as she searched for the words. She was so much more relaxed in his presence, it was difficult to latch on to any rational thought. "Sometimes a sunset feels like a love letter."

"So you got my note."

She could hear the smile in his voice as he said it--could almost picture it. He had a wonderful sense of humor. Many did not remember that about him, that he was not so serious. Somehow it got lost in all the tragedy. The focus too much on how he died and not enough on how he lived.

His humor was on the dry side; genuinely amused yet without mocking or sarcasm. He used to delight her with it and his laughter was a balm to her soul. The subtle notes of his humor disarmed her in unexpected moments. Its warmth filled all the darkened crevices of her heart like the sun coming up on the ruins within her.

He tended to wield it effortlessly, like a patient warrior with a well placed hit. Adept at removing shields without harming, opening hearts without spilling a drop of blood. His hits always impeccably timed, his words a well placed arrow that always found their mark with unimaginable ripples of energy that radiated into not only moments, and matter, but dimensions.

"A hit. A very palpable hit." She teased him lightly, half drowsy.

"Shakespeare has become a favorite of yours."

She smiled, delighted he knew well of the things that pleased her. "Well...Mouse knows I'm fond of it. He's nice enough to read it to me when I'm not reducing his books to ash."

Moments ticked by again in silence. After a moment, a tremor of anxiety or perhaps a sliver of a premonition moved through her.

"I'll cross paths with him again. The man from the church. I can feel him getting closer. He's drawn to something that's within me. I could feel it when he touched me. It started this whole..."

She paused before she took a breath and continued. "There is more to that initial meeting than you are telling me."

"Yes."

He gave her no more than that word before sleep claimed her again like a curtain drawn upon an act. But she felt him brush her cheek in a way that felt more beautiful than any caress she'd experienced in lifetimes.