Coming back...

Автор:  Anastasia

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She went through the long corridors, accelerating with each step. She knew he waited for her. And then she went out of the building to lighting. There he was, waiting for her in the shadowy trees. But he was not alone; there was a little girl at his side.

" I am glad you could come", he said.

" You know I am always ready to come when you need me", she answered and pointing at the child asked: " Who is it?"

Connor looked at her with his deep blue - gray eyes. His answer sounded like a shot: " My daughter."

"But.. I never thought you had any," Lindsay stammered.

" I thought you liked surprises", Connor took her hands in his: "Please, you have to defend this child. You know I have to go away any minute." "Please don't," Lindsay begged, " I need you, the team needs you."

And then it became dark. The wind cried in the branches of the trees, tearing at hair, bringing Connor away from her.

"Look up," Connor asked Lindsay. She watched the dark sky and could read the words written on it with big, glowing letters. The words she knew for a long time, but now she could read only the last ones: "I will be coming back…"

Connor looked at her for the last time: " Take care of yourself and don't forget Elisa". And then he was gone.

" Connor", tears ran down her cheeks, "don't go, don't leave me again, please". But only wind answered her with a mocking echo, repeating the plead. And then she heard a bell ringing.

Lindsay woke up, still sobbing. " It's only a nightmare," she tried to calm her thumping heart. But if it was only a dream, then why was she so nervous, feeling so bad. Why did Connor return after all these years? She thought she got over his death, she thought she has already used to living with Praeger. Then why the dream?

The ringing didn't cease, it became louder and louder and Lindsay realized it was the telephone. She picked up the receiver: "Donner".

"Hey, how is the little Lindsay carrying on without me?" a young, laughing voice asked.

Lindsay couldn't help smiling: "Marc, do you know what time it is now?" "No," he answered, "but I can check. Hey, guys, what time is it now?" Having got the answer he told Lindsay: "Four o'clock in the morning."

"I know that Marc and do you know why I asked you about the time?" she added patiently.

Marc shrugged: "Wait, I'll ask. Hey guys, why do you think Lindsay asked me to check the time?" he cried.

" Marc, it's not funny any more", Lindsay sighed. "Is there something urgent?"

"Yeah, how would you like to pack your things and leave with me for the week - end?"

Lindsay considered the situation. She would have called on Peter, telling him about her dream - she still had a bad feeling - but should she wake Peter's memories, pain and feelings of guilt? Had she the right to disturb his sleeping senses? And if not, wasn't it better to go with Marc, being in a company and making new acquaintances? Yes, going away was the best. Though she knew she can't always flee from her memories.

"Well, yes, I'd be delighted", she answered to the waiting friend.

"We're going to break away in half an hour", reported Marc. "So you'd better be ready, I'll fetch you. Bye. And Lindsay?"

"Yes", she wondered what he was going to ask. All seemed to be clear.

"I love you, darling", Marc said.

"Me too", she replied, feeling guilty. But she simply couldn't tell him she loved him. Not now. Not after the dream.

Marc thoughtfully put down the receiver. He felt that something was wrong with Lindsay. Always so gay and careless, she now sounded hurt and he could swear she had cried. It was none of his business to ask but it was Praeger's work, Marc was going to show him his real place.

Lindsay gathered the coffer, still disturbed. She took a bath, dressed, made her hair, surprisingly not feeling sleepy at all. And nevertheless the dream stayed, glued to her sub conscience. The ringing bell again disturbed her musings. She looked out of the window and saw Marc, waiting for her in his blue Jaguar. There was no time for looking back, the life went on. Lindsay sighed, locked the door and having come up to the car, returned the kiss.

"Hi, where are you going to take me?" Lindsay asked.

"I thought you liked surprises. You'll see for yourself."

Lindsay startled: "What have you said? Repeat the last sentence!"

Marc looked concerned at Lindsay: "Anything wrong? You sound so strange today."

"I am well, thanks," she replied, " just a bad dream" and wished it were the truth.

The place where Marc brought Lindsay was a little village in the mountains. Lindsay immediately liked the surroundings and telling Marc she went for a walk, strolled away heading the mountains.

It was a quiet, golden morning with sun shining through the branches and making the green leaves look like laces. She could hear only birds singing and was overcome with a sudden relief and feeling of safety. She was away from the noisy crowds, cities and away from her grief and her nightmare. Lindsay made her way through the forest, feeling as if lead by someone. And then on a lighting she stopped dead, frozen in place. She has already been there. Today. In her dream. And then the house came in sight. It was half destroyed and the trees took the possession of the walls, once proud and high and now covered with ivy. Trees stretched out their branches upon the roof and the walls and it seemed to Lindsay they stretched their claws to her, wanting to imprison her, to make her stay in this building forever. But was it really that spooky?

"Come on, Lindsay, you behave like a child, but you're not one, you're an investigator," she tried to sooth herself. But it didn't work. Uncertainty, this ancient fear took hold of her and without really knowing what she did, Lindsay turned and fled away, pushing the bushes as she ran by. She never looked back but she felt eyes upon her back, staring after her from the destroyed house, from the gloomy windows, from the past.

Peter tried to call Lindsay but failed. Nobody answered the phone. Only Lindsay's voice on a tape told Peter she would ring back as soon as possible. Peter tried the mobile phone but again nobody picked up the receiver. He began to feel worried. She would have never left the call unanswered. Perhaps it was better not to worry Lindsay with his musings? But whom else could he tell about his dream? Whom if not Lindsay? She was the only one whom Connor's death shook as much as him. It was better to talk to her than to stay alone with his thoughts. Even if Lindsay considered him partly guilty of the accident. It felt strange: now, after three years past was swiftly returning, making Peter uncertain and revealing the facts in his mind he thought were hidden forever. He sighed and dialed again Lindsay's number.

Marc was just finishing to unpack his coffer as Lindsay burst through the door. He immediately looked up: " Anything wrong?".

This time he was really worried. Lindsay was pale, hard breathing and seemed to be frightened.

"Don't say this time you're alright. I know very well, that something happened. What?" Marc took her hands. "Come on, Lindsay, you know you can trust me."

"Marc," Lindsay stammered, "it's really nothing serious. It's just I have seen a dream tonight and as I walked in the woods here I have seen a house from my dream. There must be something in it."

Marc's face lightened up: "Ah, you mean the Old House. It's a ruin, Lindsay, nothing to feel uneasy about. There are a couple of legends about it but none is true. I'm a skeptic, you know and I am sure you simply haven't slept well. Which is my fault," he added smiling. "Come along, Lindsay, let's meet my friends."

Lindsay let her being taken to a house nearby where she made acquaintance to young men and women. They were very friendly but Lindsay, usually so gay and open - hearted, still felt strange and so everyone seemed suspicious to her. She sat down at a table in the corner of the room and watched the dancing pairs: "It's silly to behave like this and to spoil my week - end", she said out loud, "It was just a dream." "Are you sure?" asked a voice behind her. It was so sudden that Lindsay span around not knowing who hid behind her back.

"Why were you eavesdropping?" she asked with a shaking voice.

"I wasn't. You have said the last words out loud my child", it was an old woman speaking.

"What are you going to tell me?" Lindsay's curiosity was woken up and she forgot at once the uneasiness and inexplicable fear she had before. "Follow me," and with this words the old woman left the room and went out into the soft darkness of the night. "I know what you're looking for, my child", she added, making her way to a bank near the entrance.

"How did you find me? Who are you?" Lindsay felt magnetized by the mysterious woman.

"My name is Mrs.Canningham and yours? Mrs. Doyle?". Lindsay felt cold shower down her back. This woman knew Connor? It was impossible! Or perhaps she did, Lindsay never knew the whole story of Connor's life, he never told her much and she never asked too much not to hurt him.

"My name is Lindsay Donner", she answered trying to make her voice stop shaking. "Why did you think I were Mrs. Doyle?"

"Even if not, he seems to have played a great role in your life, so I am not very far from my first guess. I have seen you today running away from the Old House. Though you're destined to come there, you know," Mrs. Canningham sighed. " I think I have to tell you a little history lesson. You look as if you need one."

Staying silent but even much more intrigued Lindsay followed the mysterious woman to the bank and sat down.

" The story of the Old House begins just after World War II, in 1946" she started, " I was a little girl then, not older than seven or eight. One day a group of soldiers came to our little house and demanded speaking to the head of the village. And I know what they spoke about. I have to explain that my father was actually the head and so I had the opportunity to listen to the talk," she noticed Lindsay's expression and smiled, " no, I wasn't eavesdropping, they considered me too little to understand anything and let me sit in the same room which I did listening attentively to their discussion. Everything I remember was a plan to build a house in the woods. It was needed for some military purposes. It was going to do no harm either to the village or to the people and my farther agreed. And so the big house was built here in the mountains. Nobody was actually interested in it, it was too impersonal and of no use to the village. Nobody except me. I spent every free minute I got spying and soon found out that something secretive was on. But by that time I have finished school and had to get away to the town to enter a university. I won't tell you about my life in the town, it's too dull but as I came back after four years ( I studied languages) the first trip I made was to the Old House ( that is how it was called in the village). I spent at least four weeks watching and began to feel miserable because nothing happened. But then one day I have seen a man and a woman there. They didn't belong to the Americans and they spoke another language. I knew French, German, Italian and of course English but this was none of them. I have thought about the affair during some time and then came upon an article about the Cold War. It dawned upon me that the language they were speaking could be Russian. But what were Russians doing on an American base? This was a question I kept asking as again I went away to the town to look for a job. They surely didn't look like prisoners but wore no uniform either. It was not until ten years later that I could come back to the Old House. I have met a nice young man, was engaged and wanted Clark to get to know my parents. I was so happy that I almost forgot the secret place. But still I felt drawn by the base, I even dreamt of it and one day after having sent Clark with my parents hunting, went to the mountains. That was how I met Natasha. She was a little girl of five and played alone in the trees. I like children, Ms. Donner and I couldn't help playing with her. Natasha spoke surprisingly well English and we chattered a bit. She told me she was a child of Russian physicians and that her parents worked for the American government. From then on I have spent a lot of time with Natasha. I came to play with her every day until it was time for me to come back to the town." Lindsay listened attentively afraid to drop a word. "Then came wedding, Eric was born," the woman smiled warmly and Lindsay returned her smile," Now I had children and a husband, childish plays were forgotten. I lived happily until my parents died. It was when Eric was fourteen, Alice ten and Frank only five. I had to come over to the village and to witness a tragedy. The first person I came upon after the burial was a young doctor Doyle. He told me he lived in the Old House". "His name was Connor, wasn't it?" Lindsay couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice.

"Yes," Mrs. Canningham answered.

"Lindsay, are you there?" Marc's voice made her startle. Mrs. Canningham quickly got up and began to go away.

"Mrs. Canningham, please wait, you haven't told me the whole story," Lindsay's fear returned.

"I will. You will find me. See you later, my child," she soon couldn't be seen in the darkness but it seemed to Lindsay she simply disappeared into thin air.

"Lindsay," Marc touched her shoulder making her whirl around. "What are you doing here?"

"Marc, you frightened me," Lindsay tried to calm her thumping heart. "Sorry honey, but you've disappeared so suddenly I was simply tortured by my friends with question when the beautiful lady who happened to be my companion will show up."

His words like always made her smile and broke the spell, scaring all her uneasy thoughts. And then suddenly Marc seemed concerned: "Don't get this mood go too far, Lindsay, sometimes you scare me. Does it have something to do with Praeger or O.S.I.R.?"

Lindsay shook her head: "No, this time Mathew is not guilty, it's a man I knew long ago."

"Then why does this man make you unhappy now?" the question caught her unaware. She didn't know the answer. Why couldn't she simply forget Doyle, to behave as if nothing happened, as if there were no years of mutual work, as if there was no understanding and no trust, to behave as if she never loved Connor? It was hard to explain to Marc. She doubted she would be able to do it. And she doubted Marc would ever understand.

"I don't know Marc, honey, I am so sorry to spoil your holiday and to behave in such a weird way in front of your friends. Perhaps I should go home," she sounded miserable and unsure just like she felt.

"Oh, darling," Marc felt sorry for her," don't say you spoil something for me. You know I love you more than anything else. And value more than my friends or my work. If you feel tired or unhappy let's simply get away. If you want some rest I will bring you back to you, just make me a sign."

He gently kissed her. Lindsay imagined the empty house and shivered. She was in no mood spending the rest of the week - end contemplating about the nightmare or about the words of Mrs. Canningham. And she had to listen the story of the Old House to the end. Finally she had no intention of hurting Marc, in spite of Connor she felt a deep affection towards the young barman.

"Marc, thank you so much for your proposal but I would like to stay here with you and our friends. I like them very much. And I love you, Marc." They hugged one another and went back to the house, sparkling with lights.

This night Lindsay tried to get all unpleasant thoughts out of her mind. She danced, laughed and told jokes. There was no man in the room who didn't feel drawn to this beautiful, charming woman. And then happened the worst: middle in the sentence Lindsay stopped dead. In the other corner of the room she saw Connor. Dressed like always in a suit with a tie he raised his hand and waved Lindsay to come up. She rushed forward… only to be taken back by a hand. Lindsay turned around and saw Connor's face.

"What are you doing here, Connor?" her voice was no more than a whisper.

"Lindsay are you alright?" frightened Marc shook her. But Lindsay didn't answer, her eyes watched something distant he couldn't see. And then she fell unconscious to the floor.

"Please, you have to help me Lindsay, I don't belong to this place", a little girl with long dark hair and big gray - blue eyes begged Lindsay. These eyes reminded Lindsay of someone she already knew. They reminded her of Connor.

"Where are you? How can I help you?" Lindsay watched helpless the border appear between them. At first it was just a fog, making things unclear and now the mist grew to a shroud. Lindsay could only hardly see the little - one.

"Elisa, don't go away, please, where are you?" Lindsay rushed after the girl but failed. Someone very strong held her back. She struggled to free but it was already too late: Elisa was gone, only shroud expanded as far as eye can see. Lindsay turned to watch the one who held her. And screamed.

Marc quickly entered the room. Lindsay lay on the bed, screaming and with tears flowing down her cheeks. He called the doctor and after some minutes he held in his arms the weeping girl.

"Marc, it's so horrible, what am I going to do?" she asked through tears. "What Lindsay, what frightens you so much?" Marc gently wiped away the tears.

"Connor, why did he had to get away? He told me he would be coming back but he lied. He simply left me alone. I wouldn't have carried on without you, Marc."

Marc sighed. He didn't have a slightest idea who could be that mysterious Connor who caused so much trouble. He thought of calling Mat and asking him but then decided against it. That arrogant man would make everything even worse and Marc doubted that he knew much about Lindsay's private life. The only way he had was to wait and to try finding out the whole story asking Lindsay.

"I caused trouble yesterday, didn't I?" Lindsay asked sitting in her hotel bed.

"Well, I found a way to avoid a lot of questions," Marc smiled cunningly. "What have you told them?" Lindsay was intrigued.

"Well, I told them you're expecting a baby," he smiled. " I don't know how you'll take it but it was the only solution!"

"A baby!!!" Lindsay burst into laughter and couldn't stop it. Marc couldn't help laughing with her. But then it came to Lindsay that it was true. She was indeed going to have a child. A little girl, little Elisa. She was going to do everything to find her. To find Connor's daughter. Her daughter.

"You're laughing, that means you're feeling well," Lindsay watched her new friends entering the room.

"Are you already O.K.?" they approached the bed.

"Thank you for the concern, I am fine, yesterday was just a little accident," she smiled reassuringly and charming.

"Good old Lindsay," Marc thought with relief.

"Oh, who are you going to have?" Maria, a pretty young woman asked. "A girl, I'm sure. I am not good enough for boys," Lindsay answered. "And what will be the name?"

"Elisa," Lindsay said thoughtfully and Marc looked up. She sounded strange.

"Her name is Elisa."

After a while the guests told their farewells to Lindsay who reassured them she'll be present tonight at the party. They wanted to go wandering and invited Marc who agreed after some wavering. He would have liked to stay with Lindsay but if she said she were o.k. and wished to be a bit alone why not?

As for Lindsay she knew that Mrs. Canningham would come. It was a strange feeling Lindsay couldn't explain. Perhaps it was a dream, but in the last two days reality became entwined with dreams and Lindsay couldn't part them.

And as she heard someone knocking at the door, she said: "Come in, Mrs. Canningham."

"Well done, my child. You learn quickly," the old woman sat down on the sofa. "You knew I would come?"

"Yes, I did," Lindsay answered quietly. No more hysterics or fears: she wasn't a little child. She won't let this woman take hold of her.

"I would like you to tell me the story to the end, Mrs. Canningham. Would you like some tea?" her gray attentive eyes met the blue ones of the old woman.

"Aren't you afraid to learn something bad?" she asked and there was a shadow of a smile upon her face.

"I'm not. Milk or lemon?"

The woman smiled: "Lemon. Well, this young doctor Doyle fell in love with Natasha. It was obvious. They liked each other, spent a lot of time together and were happy. They visited me often, Ms. Donner and we have talked about different things. Doyle told me he was going to marry the girl. I doubted it would ever happen but he insisted. I am sorry I was right," the woman lowered her eyes. "That night there was a storm, we were cut of electricity, my husband and children went to bed very early and only I was lying sleepless. It was around midnight when I heard someone knocking at my door. I was at once wide-awake, got down and opening the door saw Connor and Natasha. And then the sky: it was red, though it was already midnight. In few words Connor told me about the explosion that caused fire in the Old House. Natasha's parents and everyone in the building died. They were the only soles that survived. Natasha was very sad, she loved her parents but still there was Connor and I think his presence cheered her up. They left the following day, disappearing from the village and as I thought from my life. The Old House lay in ashes, everyone in the village told me the next day about the fire. I could have never imagined that the past will return, haunting me and causing another tragedy. I was already living here for some time: my older children were working by then and Frank stayed with them in the town, in a boarding school. The story happened six years ago just when Clark was away on business. One day I saw Natasha staying in front of me. She has changed a lot: there was no trace of light - hearted girl with golden curls and laughing blue eyes. There was tiredness on her face and traces of tears in her eyes. And do you know what struck me the most?" "No," Lindsay tried not to say more.

"She was pregnant, Ms. Donner and it looked as if she got the baby every moment. I won't hide I was shocked and astonished. We sat in the living - room and between sobs Natasha told me that the whole CIA and other secret services were after her and that she couldn't involve Connor in that business. I found out she has worked for KGB in spite of the fact Connor warned her thousand times she must finish the play. And now when CIA collected enough files for her to be arrested she simply broke away, leaving Connor without any trace. I tried to sooth her and to remind her of her child. Then she said I must make everything possible for the child to get to Dr. Doyle. But I didn't succeed. The following morning I saw Natasha was gone. Her body was found in a day in the woods and there was no trace of the baby. The first whom I called was Doyle. As he came here he was too grief - stricken to ask anything. He never mentioned the child and I told him nothing because it was already too late."

"And what happened then?" Lindsay knew she had to find out the whole truth.

"I don't know, I have seen neither Doyle nor the kid again. But I was sure that some day the story will start again. Be cautious, my child, I feel another tragedy coming. It's an unlucky place for you."

"But you told me that I was destined to come to the Old House. Why?" "You're a scientist Ms. Donner, aren't you? But as far as I know you work for the O.S.I.R. and you have seen inexplicable cases. I simply knew you would come. Perhaps it was Natasha who told me", the woman waited for Lindsay's reaction and as she saw none, she proposed: "Maybe you would like to know where Natasha's buried?"

It was more a statement than a question and Lindsay agreed. She has already thought whether it would be right to draw the team to the case. But what did she have? A pair of old ghosts, things dating back to World War II? A dead girl referring to a dead Case Manager? And Lindsay desperately wished Connor were alive.

The two women left the hotel and headed the mountains. As Mrs. Canningham made her way through the forest, Lindsay silently followed her.

"You can feel it as well, can't you?" the old woman suddenly asked. "What?" Lindsay wondered. And then all at once she knew: it was still. Too still for a forest. Usually there were singing birds, wind whispering in the trees but now it was a dead silence. Lindsay shuddered, "dead" was the word she would have liked not to use but only through "dead" she could describe the atmosphere. And not for the 1st time in this strange place Lindsay had a strong wish to run away.

At last they stopped at a little grave - yard. Lindsay went after Mrs. Canningham following the narrow pace that led to a grave. There were fresh flowers and letters on the tombstone shone, having been newly painted. Lindsay bent forward to read. Everything was usual except the words, written in a language Lindsay didn't know.

"What is it?" she wondered.

"Here is written "ja vernus' "", the woman answered. "Translated in Russian it means…"

"I will be coming back," Lindsay said quietly.

"You know Russian?" it was Mrs. Canningham's turn to be surprised. "No, I don't but I know the words. I have already heard them, in a poem," she replied thoughtfully.

"Natasha liked poetry and Doyle too. As far as I remember he even wrote some."

Lindsay wavered before asking the question but still found courage to do it. "Was Natasha's child a girl?" she wondered cautiously.

"How do you know?" the woman watched her sharply. "Have you seen her?"

"No, not really," quickly replied Lindsay regretting her curiosity. But there was no doubt: there was Elisa and she was waiting for her out there.

After having said farewell to Mrs. Canningham Lindsay went to the Old House. It was a ruin, the walls black from the fire and windows staring like blind eyes. The whole scenery gave the creeps but Lindsay told herself she won't be intimidated. She had to find out more about the mysterious house and about Elisa. The door creaked warningly as Lindsay opened it. Inside it was stiff, damp and dark, the floor covered with fallen leaves and dead mice. Lindsay switched on her flashlight and attentively studied the walls, looking for a sign that would lead her to the laboratory.

Having found nothing she simply took the way through the door that could be seen on the other side of the hall. As she wandered, she used flashlight not to fall over the roots or burnt furniture. And then her eye caught something looking like a glass. It was a glass indeed, a little white - black photo taken already long ago. It was the photo of a young couple: the blond girl was smiling gaily into the camera and near her Lindsay saw a face she knew only too well: it was Connor. A very young boy, looking almost as careless as Natasha. Lindsay wondered how the fire spared the photo. Looking around the room she saw traces of an inferno. Lindsay could only too well imagine how the building exploded into millions of pieces, causing a big fire that seemed to burn the sky. A fire that destroyed lives, dividing loving soles. A fire that killed Connor. Lindsay lowered to the floor and sobbed, mourning the loss she wouldn't ever get over.

Peter tried once more to reach Lindsay. No one answered. He became worried: could something have happened to her? Though Connor's death seemed to cool down their friendship, there was still a bond between them that grew with every year of their work together. Peter fancied that without Lindsay he weren't able to stand Praeger and his jokes. It was hard for Peter to think, that all at once there could be no Lindsay.

Still wavering he dialed Anton's number.

The voice on the another side of the wire sounded warm and friendly like always. And now Peter was very grateful for that. "Anton," he said, after the greeting, " have you heard something from Lindsay?"

Anton's voice became at once attentive and Peter could hear the concern:" Should I?"

"No, I don't even think you should but I wanted to talk to her and no one answers my calls. I have tried her mobile phone, her house but nobody is there."

"Perhaps she's with Marc," smiled Anton. "Do you have something urgent?"

Peter paused. He didn't know the right answer. Yes, it was urgent to talk to Lindsay but was the dream really of such an importance? "I think it is. For her at least." He could almost see the frowns on Anton's forehead.

"It has something to do with Connor, doesn't it?" the psychologist asked. "Yes it has," and Peter could feel advice coming.

"Peter, perhaps you should have a little rest?" Anton started. Otherwise Peter would have heard to the answer of his old and experienced friend but not now.

"No, Anton, I really don't deserve stealing your precious time any longer. See you later, on Monday," and he put down the receiver not caring what Anton said. Anton was a good man and an understanding friend but he would never understand how Peter really felt. He would never guess what it meant, having to live with that sense of guilt, knowing it was his fault Connor died.

Peter sighed and dialed for the hundredth time Lindsay's number.

Anton sat thoughtful on the sofa, still holding the receiver. Peter's behavior was strange. No, not strange but restless. Perhaps it had something to do with the sense of guilt? But it was years ago! They have got used to Praeger and so the new Case Manager wasn't a problem any more. Of course he could sometimes see, how Peter and Lindsay changed glances when Praeger told them to do something and he knew they still missed Doyle. But during the last year they never mentioned his name and Anton thought, they began to forget the tragedy. Now he saw it wasn't the end. And a strange feeling told Anton it was a beginning of a new tragedy.

"Yes, and then I have caught a big fish. Let me show you," Marc tried not to laugh seeing the expression on Lindsay's face.

"Oh, and then it decided, it has played enough and could go home to its children. Didn't it, Marc?" Lindsay was amused.

"Hey, you have no right of mocking!"

"Don't I?"

Marc made an angry face but couldn't resist laughing with Lindsay. "And what did you do? Reading and such?" he awaited a witty answer but none came.

"Reading and such," repeated Lindsay. "Isn't it time to get ready for the party?"

Marc watched her disappearing in the bathroom. And he felt uneasy. He didn't stop asking himself what was going on.

The party was a success and driving home Marc still told jokes until he mentioned that Lindsay was only half - hearing. "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"Hmm?" she seemed not to notice he was saying something. "Marc, have you ever thought about death?"

Lindsay's question caught him unaware. "What do you mean by death?" "People come and go, Marc. And no matter how we love them they get away. No one can live eternally," she watched him with her gray eyes that now seemed black.

"Of course you can't. It's a law, Lindsay. If people were immortal then perhaps you would have never been born. And who knows, maybe it's even better somewhere else. Maybe that is why everyone dies: there is another world to live in."

"Do you think that dead can come back?" Marc shrugged. He already had to answer this question. It was ages ago but he still could see the frightened face of his friend: "Marc, do you think that dead can come back?"

And he answered just the way he already had: "Everyone can return."

Praeger was very angry. It was Monday, a normal working day but there was no one in O.S.I.R. He got even more annoyed as he saw Elsinger coming up to him. "Good morning Mathew and where is the team?" Praeger let the anger out: "What the hell do I know, Frank. I thought it was one of your orders."

"What do you mean by "my orders" ", Frank snapped.

"Well, you are used to give Lindsay more information than me, maybe the whole team is on their way while I must play the fool here. I am already fed up with your endless jokes, Frank," Praeger cried out.

"Don't get too far Mathew, patience is not one of my best qualities. You know very well, I don't give any information to the members of your team. You're always the 1st to know about the case," Mat's anger seemed to reach Frank as well. "But I won't wonder if they behave that way. It's a decease to have such Case Manager."

And before Praeger could do anything else he gave him some papers: "This is your new case, Mr. Knowing - All". With these words Elsinger turned and went away.

"To hell with the team, to hell with…" he was just going to throw the papers on the floor as he heard a voice behind him: "Good morning, Mat."

Praeger span around and saw Lindsay, smiling like always. She was smiling like always while he quarreled with Elsinger because of her. "Where have you been?" he asked shortly.

Even if Lindsay was surprised her face gave nothing away. "I was at home. Have I missed something? As far as I know the last case was closed and there was no extra work to do. Am I wrong?" she cautiously asked, watching the expression on Mat's face.

"Do you know what time it is now?" he asked and his voice promised nothing good.

"No, but I will tell it in a minute," she looked at her wristwatch and said: "It's a quarter to eight. I know, I was due to come a bit earlier but we're talking for already five minutes and …"

"A quarter to eight?" unbelieving Praeger stared at his own watch. It showed half past eight.

Praeger looked at the big watch hanging in the room. It showed a quarter to eight. Then the whole team knew of course everything. Again he was fooled. Lindsay still waited for Mat's answer:" Perhaps there is something I can do?" she asked.

"Get out of my way," and Praeger stormed out of the room.

Lindsay shrugged. Of course she was used to Mat's behavior but now she felt hurt. She hasn't slept well because of the trip and because of her thoughts. Though Marc and she spent the rest of the way chatting merrily about the party and parted like always lightly, she still thought she treated Marc in a wrong way. He was not responsible for the way she behaved and for her past.

Anton interrupted her musings. "Where's Praeger? You scared him away?" he wondered smiling after the greeting.

"Seems like he had another quarrel with Elsinger," replied Lindsay. "But even if he had, he sounded too rude. Though it matters nothing," she added.

Anton watched her attentively: "Lindsay, has Peter reached you?"

"No," she answered intrigued, " did something important happen?" "Well, I guess he wanted to talk to you. Anyway he told me nothing. Seems to be a top secret," Anton smiled.

"Have you heard what our next case would be?" Lindsay wondered. In that moment Elsinger entered the room. Lindsay was the 1st to see him. "Morning, Frank," she said cheerfully.

lsinger was at once thankful to her for the good mood. It would have been horrible if everyone in that team had Mathew's character. "As far as I can see your Case Manager is away. I gave him the description of the new case but he was very annoyed. Perhaps you should watch for yourself," and he reached out the papers.

"Anton, Lindsay, see you later," and he disappeared in the door.

"Do you think we should look it through?" Anton meant of course the case.

"I don't know whether it's a right thing to do. Praeger will again accuse us of a conspiracy against him," she sighed. "Mat is a good man and can be a true friend but sometimes he drives me crazy."

"Not only you," Anton added. They were deep in the case and didn't hear the door being opened. As for Peter he was relieved to see Lindsay safe and sound.

"Hey, guys and where is our commander?" at the sound of his voice Lindsay and Anton turned and smiled.

"Hi, Pete, how was the week - end?" Lindsay seemed to be her old self: light - hearted, gay and witty.

"That is what I would like to ask you. I have tried to call you every two hours and nobody picked up the phone!"

Lindsay made a face:" Sorry, daddy, I have forgotten to tell you that I was going with Marc to a village in the mountains. I hope you weren't too worried, Pete?"

"Oh, Lin, it's not funny," Peter couldn't stop laughing.

"Did you have something urgent?" Lindsay became serious.

"I don't know it's just that…"

Praeger burst in the room red from anger, interrupting their talk. "You are again plotting!"

"For goodness' sake, Mat! Why don't you stop behaving like this? Why can't you trust us?" Lindsay exploded.

"Trusting whom? You? Oh, Lindsay with all anonymous calls and Mike's story?" he laughed sarcastically, " If someone here should speak of trust and loyalty than surely not you!"

Lindsay became pale but she said nothing.

"And Peter is not better, watching every my step and only waiting for me to make a mistake so that he can become the new Case Manager."

Peter opened his mouth to protest but before he could say anything Lindsay interrupted: "You've gone too far, Mathew. You have no right telling such things to Peter, you have no right of accusing us. If you have some personal problems, it's neither mine fault nor Peter's nor someone else's. I would like so much you to be only a bit like Connor," she turned away and left the room, Praeger staring after her.

"You shouldn't have done it, Praeger," Peter said menacingly. "She doesn't deserve being hurt!"

"Oh, yes, she doesn't," Praeger mocked. "I am here the only bad boy." "See you later than," Peter replied angrily, anxious to get hold of Lindsay before she drove away.

He exited. Praeger, who now calmed down and was even feeling a bit ashamed asked Anton: " By the way, who's Connor?"

"It's a long story, Mat," Anton answered. "And a long way for Lindsay and Peter to go."

Mat shrugged. Everyone in the team seemed to defend Lindsay. As for Peter and that mysterious Connor, he will find out everything. Even if he has to contact Elsinger. Without saying goodbye Praeger went out of the room and headed Elsinger's study. Anton shook his head. He had to find out why Peter and Lindsay behaved in such a strange way. Mat's rudeness was not the only reason for it.

Peter could catch Lindsay just as she was about driving away. "Lin," he cried," don't run away, we have to talk."

He was almost sure she will refuse but Peter was wrong. "Get in, I don't think it's the best place to talk," she opened the car door.

Sitting close to Lindsay Peter could clearly see the change in her: she looked tired and it seemed to him she has cried during the week - end. "Hey, are you o.k.?" Peter asked softly.

"No," directly answered Lindsay, having watched him shortly. "Pete, I also have to tell you something. I thought a lot about it and I now I reckon you have a right to know."

She stopped the car and they got out into the park. They strolled down the alley, heading their favorite place: a bank near a lake, hidden between the trees. As they sat down, Lindsay started telling about her dream and then about the Old House and Elisa. "She's still alive, Pete, but I don't have a slightest idea where she could be. And I have discussed the matter with no one. Pete, I know you're the only one in the team who cared about Connor as much as I did. I was wrong accusing you of his death, you could have done nothing but my pain was too big and I had to blame someone. I am sorry if I made you suffer, which I know I have."

"Oh, Lin," Peter felt grateful," you don't have to make excuses. I did feel miserable but I also knew why. It was not easy for the whole team to accept Doyle's death and you don't have to blame yourself because of me. Lindsay, I have also seen Connor. That is why I have tried to reach you. And you know he was not alone. There was a woman I haven't yet seen." Lindsay interrupted his words taking a photo out of her bag.

"Was it her? Was it Natasha?" Peter stared unbelievingly at the old white - black photo in the broken glass frame. The young couple watched him laughing.

"He told us nothing about Natasha," said at last Peter, returning the photo back to Lindsay.

"He never told something about his private life. Only once we talked about his Navy experience in the Bermuda Triangle but it was also summered as shortly as possible," mentioned Lindsay.

"And now Connor comes back asking you to take care of his daughter?" "The main thing is he comes back," Peter could hardly hear her voice. "You know once I have spent the whole night in front of monitors and Connor was making some notes on a sheet of paper. Then someone called him and he went away. I have seen the paper he left and thinking these were some important remarks thought of looking for Connor and giving him back the paper. But it wasn't anything referring to the work: it was a poem."

"A poem?" Peter asked unbelievingly.

"Yes," replied Lindsay. " And do you know what the last verse was?" Peter shook his head. "There was written…", and as Lindsay was just about reciting the poem they heard Peter's telephone ringing. Peter made a face and picked up the phone. Lindsay watched his expression changing.

"Well, if you insist… No, we will be there in a minute," his face was lowering.

"Lin, his Majesty insisted on our immediate come back to the O.S.I.R. He would like to start a new case." Looking at her skeptical face Peter smiled:" He even said something like "I am sorry". That is progress, let's go." The poem was forgotten, Lindsay and Peter going further and further away from the lake.

An hour later the whole team was sitting in a van and driving to the Whites.

"Why are we required?" asked Matt, acting as if nothing happened. "Whites are living in the forest on a farm. As far as we know they have two children: a grown - up son who helps his father and a younger girl about 16 years old. Three days ago, on Friday, they have heard someone crying outside their door. Mrs. White went down to explore and found a little girl of six or seven years. Of course she took the little - one into the house but the girl neither speaks nor shows any interest in her surrounding. The family says she spends her whole day sitting at the window as if waiting for somebody," Lindsay paused. "Do you think it requires a scientific investigation?" she asked unbelievingly.

And before Mat could even open his mouth Anton replied: "But of course. We have to find out where she comes from, who are her parents and what her problem is."

"Certainly aliens," Mat started laughing but stopped quickly. "It was just a joke," he added hastily. Nobody noticed a light smile that touched Anton's lips.

Elisa was sitting on a windowsill and staring out of the window. She had a strong feeling that something was going to happen today. She waited for her mother to come. As far as Elisa could remember she was alone with the strange man in the uniform who didn't stop measuring her forces, which they called "supernatural". Yes, she could read someone's thoughts, she could sometimes predict what happened, she even could move subjects - not for a long time or a big distance - but it seemed that it was enough for those men to make her life unbearable with experiments and "science". Though Elisa was already used to it. She could remember neither her father nor her mother but the woman she saw in her dream was going to change everything. She didn't know why she was on the farm and there were no more uniformed professors but she has got a chance to go to her mother. And she was going to take it.

Hearing the car in the distance she got out of the house and ran across the fields towards the approaching vehicle.

The team fell silent watching the scenery they were driving by and caught by the magic of nature. On the either side of the road there were fields, alive with golden, red and blue flowers that were swinging in the wind giving one the impression of a colorful sea. Suddenly Lindsay asked Mat: " Could you please stop the car?"

Praeger shrugged and put the vehicle to the standstill. He was just about to wonder about the reason when Lindsay got out of the car and began running towards the figure in the field.

"What the hell is she doing?" Mat like always lost his temper. "I thought we cleared our morning quarrel."

"Why do you think she did it because of you?" asked Peter, intently watching Lindsay.

"Pete," Anton demanded," it's time you tell us what is on."

Lindsay heard nothing and saw nothing except Elisa. It could be only a dream or her eyes tricking but her heart was looping with joy. It was real. She has found Elisa.

At last she saw the girl in front of her, dark hair tossed by wind and attentive blue - gray eyes. The eyes of Connor. It was then when Elisa spoke for the first time. She said: "Mummy, I found you".

Lindsay could feel tears feeling her eyes. She stretched out her hands and in a minute she was holding Elisa, they both crying from happiness.

On the farm worried Mrs. White met the O.S.I.R. team. "She just ran away without saying a word! Mr. Praeger, I am so afraid something happens to her. We don't even know her name or where she comes from but still she is only a child and I feel responsible for her well - being." "Elisa," said Peter.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Mrs. White.

"Mrs. White, her name is Elisa."

"Look," Anton showed at the two figures approaching the house. They were walking side by side, involved in a conversation.

As the two came nearer, Mrs. White exclaimed:" Good God, it's Elisa!" "And Lindsay," added Praeger thoughtfully.

"You mean you already know the girl?" Mat could hardly believe his ears.

"Yes, I do. She's Elisa Doyle," Lindsay answered firmly.

The child was sitting on her knees, attentively watching Praeger, who paced across the room. "Eh… Lindsay, could I talk to you? Alone?" he certainly meant Elisa. Without saying anything the girl stood up and looked at Lindsay.

She smiled: "We'll discuss it later darling, o.k.?" She watched Elisa go and Praeger could see in her glance tenderness he never mentioned before.

"What do you think you're doing?" he started. "We're coming here with an official investigation and you rush out of the car and returns five minutes later with a girl from nowhere, trying to prove it's a daughter of some Doyle, your old Case Manager who died three years ago. Lindsay, have you already thought of a little holiday?"

"Mat," she even sounded softer, "it is Elisa, I have met a woman who can tell you the whole story."

"O.K., this little - one is Doyle's daughter but you must understand only one thing: she doesn't exist, Lindsay. There are no papers at all that say when or where she was born. She has never been born on this planet, you don't have to believe me, look for yourself in the Data Banks."

"But she is real, Mat. You do see her. Or perhaps you want to say you have changed your mind about the aliens?" she stood up. "I would like to talk to Mrs. White, Mathew. Shall I wait for your permission or do it on my own?"

"Do as you wish," Praeger has already made up his mind to ring up Elsinger. The whole case was either a mystery or a hoax.

Lindsay found Elisa sitting on the ladder of the Mobile Lab. She looked up and smiled: "Is he still angry, Mum?"

"It's not so simple, honey," Lindsay lowered herself to the steps. "Mat is a skeptic, and I must say it's not easy to believe you exist. There are no papers and no documents."

"But I am here," the girl shrugged. "I can read thoughts but it doesn't mean I am not real. You could do it too." "

Reading thoughts?" Lindsay asked. Elisa nodded.

"But I wouldn't like to. It's a great responsibility and not a gift. I wouldn't have liked to know what strangers think. It won't do any good," Lindsay said.

"I know, I dreamt so often of a normal life, of loving parents instead of tests. But now I have a chance," Connor's eyes watched Lindsay.

"I have a chance too," Lindsay replied slowly.

"I think you exaggerate, Mathew," Elsinger looked amused. "You're again making an elephant of a fly. It's only a little girl."

"But Frank, Lindsay is behaving like mad and I have a strong feeling that no matter what happens Anton and Peter will be on her side," Praeger was really worried.

"How would you like to have Donner around telling you Elisa is Doyle's daughter? I never actually knew Doyle but it seems to me it's Lindsay's skeleton in the cupboard. She's obsessed with the child," Praeger didn't even mention that after mentioning Doyle's name Frank's face became again serious.

"She said the girl was Doyle's daughter?" he interrupted Mat.

"Yes," Mat sounded surprised by Elsinger's interest in Lindsay's words. "I'll come over and take charge of the situation," Elsinger promised. "And Mathew don't let Lindsay and the child disappear. It's a warning." Praeger put down the receiver.

Again he was left with nothing. The worst was that he had to look after Lindsay. It has always been hard, but now their relations became worse and he doubted she would listen to him. Or to Elsinger.

Mathew sighed and walked out of the room. He saw Peter and Anton discussing something with Mr. and Mrs. White. There was no trace of Donner. Anton noticed the Case Manager and made a sign for him to come nearer. Mat approached the group and after having greeted the Whites he asked Peter: "Axon, where's Lindsay?"

"Heading home, Praeger," it was obviously a pleasure to Peter watching the surprised face of his chief. "She has called HQ half an hour ago and they told her the investigation was over. Lindsay said she must get to the town before eight because she needs some shopping for Elisa. So Mathew she went away. And don't say she did it behind your back," he added seeing that Praeger wanted to tell him something," you were busy calling up so she couldn't get to you," he finished smiling.

"She had no right, Axon and you do know it," Praeger snapped.

"Oh, you have got orders to keep her here? Mat I would like to give a piece of advice: don't trouble either her or Elisa. It's none of your business," and Peter turned to the Whites showing Praeger the conversation was over. Anton shook his head: the situation was getting worse and worse and he wondered what would the end be.

Lindsay felt as if she were new - born. It was a pleasure being with Elisa, having her eyes opened. They spent some hours buying clothes and toys and for the 1st time since the long three years Lindsay was completely happy. Now watching Elisa sleep she thought about her parents. She could rather well imagine what life the girl had because she was sure that in that or other way CIA was involved. And that they won't stop till they find Elisa again. Will she be able to face them? Was it right to let past return? But there was a question that troubled her even more than all the others: will she able to live without Elisa?

The knocking at her door waked Lindsay up. She looked at her wristwatch and saw it was already seven o'clock. She stood up, trying to remember what was yesterday and went to open the door. It was Marc. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he greeted her.

"Hi," she was still hazy.

"Aren't you going to work today?" he wondered and that made Lindsay remember yesterday.

"Oh, my God, I am due to be in the O.S.I.R. in forty-five minutes and I haven't a slightest idea what I shall do with Elisa… though wait a minute," she attentively watched Marc.

"Marc, would you do me a favor?"

"Everything you wish," he smiled.

"I'll be here in a moment," and before Marc could reply Lindsay was out of the room. He sat down on the sofa and grinned. Lindsay sounded just like she used to.

Lindsay cautiously shook Elisa. "Darling, you have to wake up. I am working but I'll leave you with Marc. I am sure you'll like him."

It took an effort for Elisa to open her eyes. Then she saw Lindsay and smiled: "Good morning, Mummy."

"Good morning, Lizzie but would you please hurry up? I don't want any confrontations with Mat. I'll pick you up at five," she gave Elisa her clothes.

In five minutes they both entered the room where Marc sat. "Marc, it's," Lindsay paused and then finished bravely," it's my daughter, Elisa."

The words sounded unusual but warm. Even if Marc was surprised he gave nothing away. "Hi, Lisa, I am Marc and as far as I know I am meant to keep an eye on you."

"Don't worry, Lin," he added having fastened Elisa's seating belt. "I'll be a good baby - sitter."

Lindsay stooped and kissed the girl: "Until later, Lizzie."

Then she turned to Marc:" Thank you so much, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Marc smiled: "You're very special and that is why I love you."

Lindsay saw the car driving away and got into her own. No matter how she wished to stay with Marc and Elisa there was her work to face. And Praeger.

The first whom she saw in the building was Peter. They greeted warmly and Peter asked: "How's the girl?"

"She's fine," Lindsay smiled," Marc is looking after her. "Oh, Pete I think you should get to know her nearer. it's a charming child!"

"Just like her father?" Peter wondered. And Lindsay didn't make a face or sounded hurt. She replied: "Yes, she's so much like Connor."

They continued discussing the former Case Manager and were doing it as they were called from behind. They turned and saw approaching Elsinger. "Beware, Lindsay," Peter warned. "He's dangerous and I am sure he's after Elisa."

"Peter, Lindsay, I am so glad to hear the last case was successfully finished," his face was beaming.

"Indeed it was," Peter answered cautiously.

"Lindsay, could I have a couple of words with you? I am sure Peter would have liked to stay here as well but I think it would be better if he goes to Praeger and tells him you're here. You know how annoyed Mathew can be," he was playing the role too well. Peter threw Lindsay a glance. She pressed lightly his hand as if reassuring.

"O.k., Frank. Lin, don't talk too long. I know there's a lot to be discussed but still…" he went down the corridor and Lindsay followed Elsinger into his study. "Well, I don't have to pretend with you. The girl is none of your concern, Lindsay. You should give her back, she's very valuable for the experiments. I don't quite understand you: you have never met her parents and you have never known her. Why do you need her?"

"Frank, she's not a parcel to be given and taken back. She's a child, who needs care. You told me you wouldn't pretend: why do you say then that I don't know her parents. You're very well informed, Frank, I won't believe you don't know Natasha. I won't even believe her death was casual."

Elsinger went a bit pale: "Don't get too far, Donner. You're on a thin ice. You surely don't want to end up like Natasha."

"Should I consider it a warning?" Lindsay asked, looking straight into Elsinger's eyes.

"Yes, who knows, little accidents happen now and then," his glance was as cold as ice.

"I presume our talk is over. Take care," the glare of her gray eyes was as firm as his. Elsinger watched her go and silently wished she weren't so cocky. It would be a pity to hurt this woman.

In two weeks everyone who knew Elisa was charmed: she was loved by everyone in the O.S.I.R., Peter enjoyed talking to her and he was surprised to find out the girl could understand some physics and as for Marc he simply adored the child and spent as much as possible with her and Lindsay. It was a happy time going out for trips, strolling down the town eating ice - cream, taking Elisa to the Zoo or to a park. But everything had an end on the day Lizzie was due to go to school for the first time.

"I'm so worried, Marc," Lindsay said waving her hand at Elisa disappearing in the building. "I have a bad feeling."

"That is what every parent feels sending his child away for the first time. Are you perhaps still worried about Elsinger's words?"

"I don't know but her both parents died and I am sure that it wasn't a casual death," she looked up at Marc. " I am so afraid to lose Elisa," she added. The wind gust blew her hair upon the face and Lindsay remembered how Lizzie said that wind could talk. And now she had a feeling it was a warning.

Lindsay and Marc couldn't see a man entering the building from the back door and they couldn't see him approaching the door of the class where Elisa sat.

Elisa didn't listen to what the teacher was saying. She was smiling to herself thinking that Lindsay was waiting for her. She had a mother. Even if only for a short time.

It was only when the man burst into the room that Elisa understood: she won't ever see her mother again.

Tom felt pain. He had the pain for already twenty years, because he knew that his family died because of him. Now it was their turn to pay: the man told him that if he kills the girl, he will be free from his tortures. It was the only way to be forgiven. And taking out the revolver he fired at the little girl who made him suffer.

Lindsay had heard the shots and within seconds she was at school, running in the direction of the classroom. It was over, she hasn't been able to defend Lizzie. As she entered the room she saw Elisa lying on the floor, scared teacher and children around her. She took the bleeding girl into her hands. "Mommy, thank you for all. I am sorry it happened." "Don't say it, please," Lindsay fought tears," the ambulance is on its way, you'll be again healthy in a week or so."

"I know I won't. I am sorry not to have told you about it."

"You knew it would happen? But why did you tell me nothing?"

"We have no right of changing the future, Mommy. Please don't be unhappy."

"No, don't go away, don't leave me, Lizzie, you mean too much," tears ran down Lindsay's cheeks.

And before the girl closed her eyes she whispered: "Do swidanja." Lindsay could hear the wind crying outside.

Elsinger was reading a report as he heard someone knocking at his door. And then without asking permission, Lindsay entered the study. "She's dead, Frank. Is it what you wanted?" her eyes fixed his.

"You have no right talking to me like this, Lindsay," Frank replied calmly.

"And you had no right to let them kill Elisa. She was just a child, not one of your toys, Frank."

"She had to die, Lindsay. She shouldn't stay living," this time his calm voice was obviously an effort.

"You are not God to decide who should stay alive and who should die. And they have no right to play God either. Elisa was none of your dirty business and none of theirs," she still spoke in a low voice but the words struck.

"Lindsay, I am warning you directly: you know what happened to Doyle," Elsinger began to speak louder.

"Oh, yes, he went against you and against them and had to die. Why, Frank? Why Natasha? Why Elisa?" she tried to fight back her desire to throw the files on the desk into Elsinger's face.

"I like you, Lindsay and that is why I will give you a chance to get away with the whole affair. I won't mention your name to them. As for the whole Doyle business, I advise not to get involved. Connor knew what he did, he could still live if he were a bit cleverer. Go home, Lindsay. I hope you have understood everything."

He smiled watching the door closing after Lindsay. He won again. It wasn't very hard, he was sure that Lindsay would never try to do anything against him. She knew too much.

Lindsay felt as if she were drowning. The head pounded and she felt sick. She could do nothing. She knew the whole machine and she couldn't go alone against the whole world. And even if she took revenge: it wouldn't help her to revive Connor or Elisa. She has again lost. Like always.

And then she remembered the poem and a faint smile touched her lips. Who knows what will happen if she goes on believing? Wind touched her face and ruffled her hair, flying away and returning back, playing with the clouds.

Cold November rain was falling down like a heavy curtain, making the few people out in the streets shiver. Wet night was descending on the town, lights of cars melting to a shining stream. The wind whining in the trees was watching a lonely figure on the graveyard, standing lost in thoughts near a grave. Lindsay didn't notice her hands grow cold or rain upon her face. She was thinking about the past. "Please forgive me," she whispered, not knowing whether she was addressing the living or the dead.

Marc touched her hand and she startled. "You shouldn't stay here, come along, I have news for you," he saw her wet cheeks and was not sure whether it was tears or simply rain.

"Do you know what she told me before her death?" Lindsay looked up at Marc. He shook his head: "No, Lin."

"She said good bye. It wasn't a farewell," it was already too dark and Marc couldn't see her eyes.

"Perhaps you'll meet someday. Perhaps it was really only a "good bye"?" "Perhaps," Lindsay answered, taking his hand. They went to the car, night absorbing the two figures.

Wet blanket of the night still covered the graveyard and rain still fell like tears on the tombstone as if reading the words from a verse:

"No matter that the years will pass,
I'm sure I'll find my track
I know for you I'll never die:
I will be coming back…"

Written by someone years ago and saved by someone who loved. No matter whom, where or when. It was all the same for the blind darkness.

The End

Август, 2001,
by Anastasia.