Part One

Another evening with Mom and Dad.

Another drink-inflamed argument, Another neighbor's call to the cops, and another trip down to the police station. Wyatt had learned to duck and cover, hide until the cops left with his parents. They were all he had, such as they were, and it was better than a foster home again. He would sneak back in once things calmed down.

He gently rubbed a finger across the swollen bottom lip, left from the back of his father's hand when Wyatt had, as usual, jumped in and took the blow for his Mother. He had earned worse punches from the old man, and he barely felt them, or at least never let the man know how it affected him anymore.

He wandered aimlessly a while, trying to panhandle cash to get a bite to eat. Luckily, he was a beautiful child. Pale skin, black hair, He put on a hang-dog look, a few tears in the big smoky, silver-flecked gray eyes, and he was able to get enough for a hot dog and a soda. Five years after the war ended and it still was much better in the poorer sections of Chicago. It was hard to find work at eleven, especially with all the soldiers returning and becoming first on the hire lists for most of them. His Dad could not keep a steady job because of the drinking, so Wyatt scrounged for food when the binges were long ones. Luckily, he was so adorable that he never had a problem gathering pocket change to get a meal. He rarely did it, unless it was a cop night or unless they were too loaded to scrounge up any kind of food for him. For crap's sake, why soak people for their hard-earned cash if you didn't need to; life stunk for alot of folks these days and there might be someone coming up next who needed it more. He'd survive.

He waited until after scarfing down the frank, covered in beans and sauerkraut. Meat, veggies, and starch all in six huge bites. He had dashed out in a T and a flannel shirt and forgot his jacket, and the December night was sharp and windy. That was Chicago for you. He shivered, jamming his long, slender hands in his jean's pockets, and hunched against the wind that blew straight off the lake. Wyatt looked around and spotted the hospital up ahead. If he snuck in there for a while, maybe caught a nap, he could head home later and wait for his parents to drag themselves back from the drunk tank and sleep through the next day.

He waited for a couple in their forties to enter the revolving door first, and he followed closely behind as if he belonged to them, sticking along until they stopped by a desk, then breaking off and hiding briefly in a broom closet. He entered an elevator and went up a few floors. He glanced at the sign above the entryway, and it read Private Rooms. That meant fewer patients, less staff, and less chance of interference for the boy, so he continued looking for an empty room where he could catch a few winks before he was kicked out.

The first rooms were occupied, but suddenly a door flew open down the hall. Wyatt heard a woman's sharp voice and a nurse rushed from the room ahead. He quickly and silently slipped through the nearest door and closed it without a bit of noise. 

The quiet was almost instantly disrupted when he could hear a loud, rhythmic whoosh behind him. Startled, he whirled around and found himself facing a thing made out of metal and shaped like a rounded coffin. It was about 6 feet long, around 30 inches wide, and stood 4 to 5 feet off the ground. It had dials and gauges on it and as he walked around it to get a better look he stopped dead in his tracks. There, trapped in this hulking machine, with only her small head free, was a girl. Young, about eleven, his own age. She was the most beautiful little girl he had ever seen. She had light, white-blond hair that cascaded in long waves over the pillow covered in blue satin. Her skin had an unearthly radiance and her lips, normally full but set in pain, were parted slightly as she saw him come around the metal chamber.

She was so slender, frail, delicate-looking that he thought she should have a sign attached saying, Do Not Touch. Fragile. Handle With Care!

She was on her back, staring at him, golden-amber eyes wide open in astonished surprise, and it seemed like, recognition. But that was impossible. They didn't run in the same circles. She lay here, like an enchanted princess, in a private room in one of the world's most expensive machines. He lived in a dilapidated tenement building, dressed in hand-me-downs, and his parents were lushes that fought every single day. He had never met her in his life.

He held his finger to his lips and flashed a roguish look from those charming eyes. She felt a familiar lurch in her very young heart. She smiled. As soon as Wyatt was certain the nurse had walked past, he pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Hi. Thanks for not giving me away." She blinked slowly and then waited about 5 seconds. In a faint whisper, she said, "Hard to..."

There was another five-second pause...

"Talk much..."

5 seconds went by, each period while she struggled for a few words was bracketed by the whoosh/whoosh of the machine.

"No Oxygen."

"Oh. Oh. I am sorry, didn't realize. I have a big mouth and sometimes I stick my foot in it. It gets me in trouble." She smiled again, unable to even nod or shake her head.

"Iron lung." Whoosh/Whoosh. "Polio---Please Help---turn my head-----Towards you."

"Oh, yeah... Let me know if I hurt you." He cupped her head carefully and turn it until she could see his chair clearly.

"Jesus, I mean, Wow! How did this happen?"

"Went to France---for summer ---last year---got sick there---By time I---got home---could not move."

"That's pretty rough. Hey, I can talk enough for the two of us. Sometimes they can never shut me up. Can I keep you company?"

The golden eyes gleamed with happiness. "Yes. Name?"

"Wyatt. After the lawman. The last name is Young. My Dad has a thing about the Old West. Don't know why, never been on a horse in his life, old phony. You can call me Wy for short if it's easier for you."

"Wei?"

"No, Wy with a 'y' at the end"

She smiled sadly.

"Okay. Laussane."

"Laussane?"

"My name----- Like the town---in Switzerland."

"You been there too?"

"Not really. Her mouth quirked in a mischievous grin. "My parents---Honeymoon."

"Oh...OH!" He was shocked at her sly humor, then grinned back.

"Hey, good one! I like your name, Lausanne. It's very pretty. How long have you had this stuff?"

"Ten months."

Wyatt noticed the girl was getting more tired as time went by. "Listen, why don't I just talk, and if you are tired, just tell me to leave. How bad is it?"

"I can talk-----for a while-----Paralyzed -----neck down-----voice-box-----partially."

"Can they fix you?"

"No. Bad."

Wyatt had never met a person with this disease. He heard about it but to suddenly find someone with it, and then realize that her whole world, her whole life was going to be dependent on a scary machine and maybe just for a short time, was overwhelming. He ducked his head and swiped angrily at a tear that dripped to his cheek,

"Don't cry." The whisper faltered. "If you do-----I will."

He nodded and was silent for a moment. When he raised his dark head, he had a cheeky grin on his face.

"Well, we don't need that. I hate it when girls cry. That means you gotta hug them, and then they want to cuddle. Then they think they're your girlfriend."

"Do you-----have one?"

"No. Not yet. Got my hands full with my parents. They don't like each other much. Drink. Fight. Who needs their girlfriend seeing that stuff? Hey! When do your parents get here? I should be gone when they get here."

Lausanne was quiet for a little. When she spoke, she sounded wistful.

They died-----I was-----very young."

Wyatt could have slapped himself. How he hated his big, stupid mouth right then.

"Sorry. There I go again."

"OK-----Aunt loves me-----Cares for me."

He was suddenly alert as he heard footsteps on the tile floor. He stood, fingers to his lips. The boy slid down behind the lounge chair in the corner. The door opened, and a nurse walked in.  "Hello, Lausanne. Time for your sleep aids. In your favorite tea. "

"Thank you. " The child drank the mixture through a straw, and the nurse, Amy, carefully wiped the pale lips with a tissue. She straightened out the pillow and used a tortoise-shell brush to detangle the blond strands. Wyatt watched as the hair, fine and shining, crackled and hung suspended momentarily from the static electricity in the air. It seemed to have a life of its own. He wished he had the courage to touch it. The nurse checked Lausanne's vitals and then left after saying goodnight. He waited a few minutes and came back to her side. He immediately saw her face, stricken and sad.

"Hey! What's the matter? Did she hurt you or something?"

"No.-----I just----I guess-----you are -----leaving soon. Nice-----meeting you----- Meds make-----me sleepy."

"Look. I can come back. I never have much to do after school. Is that okay? I mean, if you want me to, just blink once."

Lausanne looked up at his worried face, and she slowly blinked. A warm golden light shining from them, like stars, made him feel special for the first time in his life.

"Ok. Here's the plan. Make small talk with these guys. Let them know you got a cousin visiting, and he'll stop by in a day or two. That he'll spend the evening with you. OK? Friends don't leave each other in the lurch, do they? " She blinked twice for no.

"Ok, see you the day after tomorrow." He grinned, and she noticed the shining silver flecks that danced amid the soft, smoky irises. He slipped out quickly and quietly as a shadow. Like her very own Peter Pan.

She smiled as he left. Life did not seem so dreary anymore. Wei Ying was back, even though he did not remember. Again.

But then, before polio attacked, leaving her immobile and helpless and with way too much time on her hands, she had not either. She recalled the first day she woke up in this tube, trapped and terrified, and remembering dreams. Long detailed dreams. A citadel on the side of a mountain and snow all around. She could remember people bowing as they passed...her? Saying, "Good Day, Young Master Lan."

And one incredibly loud, ringing voice yelling, "Hey Lan Zhan. Wait up." She recalled staring into a lovely pair of gray and silver eyes and turning to walk away. "Lan Zhan! Wait for me, Fuddy-Duddy!"

It took many months to work things out, but eventually, she knew. Knew who she had been once, many eons ago, Knew and accepted who she was now, and realized that she would probably have to wait through this short, dreary, sterile lifetime for another chance to search for that beloved voice again. Then, he walked right into her room and dazzled her with one look. And did not remember.

Part Two

Lausanne was excited and nervous and happy. Would Wyatt come, as promised? What would they talk about? The thing she wanted to talk about would not do right away. She knew him well, better than he could imagine. He was always so slow at recalling the past. So talking like that would only scare him away. Best if he remembered spontaneously.

Amy, her private nurse, brushed her hair until it gleamed and picked up a pretty pink ribbon to tie the shining mass of hair in a loose ponytail about two-thirds of the way down.

"No, please----- red one."

"You mean the new one with the gold embroidery?"

"Yes, please."

"Oh Honey! Somebody wants to make an impression...!"

Lausanne blushed and tried not to smile.

"He is -----just my-----cousin."

"Umhum. Is he cute?"

Silence.

"That quiet is speaking volumes. He must be a little dish!"

Just at that moment, there was a knock on the door and the nurse grinned as the girl rubbed her pale lips, instinctively adding a pink color.

The woman winked at Lausanne with approval as the beautiful boy entered. Then she discreetly left the room. He was dressed neatly in a white cotton shirt and a pair of nice black pants. He carried a rose in his hand.

"Hi! I brought you a flower!" He had swiped it from a bouquet waiting to be delivered to a room. He held it to her nose, and she inhaled the fragrance deeply. Her smile was lovely. He reached in his pocket and removed a roll of packing tape. Using his bright teeth, he ripped a length from the role and taped the rose, so it dangled down from the top of the iron lung and where she could see it at all times.

"I heard somewhere that a girl should have a flower on her first date. I am your first date, aren't I?"

"Is this-----a date? -----If so-----it is -----my very first."

"It's mine too. I think we get to know one another. And see if we like each other. If we were at a restaurant, we would order dinner, then maybe see a picture. But stuffing your face and sitting in the dark being quiet, what does that get you? I thought we would just talk and learn about each other. Now, like me, I like playing baseball, marbles, kick-the-can. Like swimming in the river when it is running clear. I read some. Have you ever read The Hobbit: There and Back Again? You should, or maybe I can bring and read it to you. It makes you forget this whole, crappy world. Pardon my French!" He paused for breath and then jumped right back in.

"Hey, I am talking too much again, aren't I? I'm sorry. It's my worst habit but I usually do this when I am not sure of myself."

"You are fine-----My days-----are the same-----everyday-----Not interesting."

"I think you are interesting."

"Not much-----But I like----hearing you talk."

Wyatt grinned. "Then you are in for a treat. That is the thing I am best at." He moved his chair closer, so they could watch each other's faces, and he began.

Lausanne was enthralled. She drank every word in like precious nectar and could not look away from the boy's happy, animated face. She did not care what he ran on about, it was just the nearness of him that counted. Obviously, he had come because he felt sorry for her, or perhaps he had nothing else better to do. But Wyatt was who she had been waiting for since she became trapped in the loud, inescapable tomb.

"I like most animals, but not dogs. The dogs that hang around the streets are mean as snakes! I like music, all kinds, especially Jazz and Big Bands and blues. Never got the chance to learn an instrument, but I like listening. And I make up little tunes to whistle. I can whistle like crazy! Hey! I'll whistle one that popped in my head a couple of days ago. It's a real ear-worm right now!"

He stuck his hands in his pockets and began. The tune was soft and sweet, and her heart nearly stopped as she heard the song she had written for him in that other life. Her eyes welled up and tears began to fall, and he stopped, scared and upset.

Are you ok, Lausanne? Did I make you sad? The song was terrible, right?" Wyatt looked around and ran back with a handful of tissues. He carefully wiped her eyes and held them to her nose.

"Blow."

"What?"

"Blow!" He ordered.

"No. Disgusting."

"Nah. Nothing makes me squeamish. Blow."

She did, feeling a little awkward. He threw the issue in the wastebasket as if nothing out of the ordinary happened

"There. And you look all cute with a pink nose. A lot of people look ugly when they cry. Hey, I like your hair ribbon. Red is my favorite color."

He came back to his chair and went back to his chatter as he gazed into her amber and gold eyes. She liked how he did not seem to pity her. She hated pity. Too many people either looked the other way when they saw her or looked at her with horror and sorrow, that thinly veiled and hidden relief of it not being them on this slab. The evening flew by.

There was a discreet knock, and her nurse poked her head in.

"You kids have got 5 more minutes, then you will have to go when the intercom announces at the end of visiting hours."

He looked disappointed.

"May I come back. In two more days. This dating thing is fun. Do you mind?"

"Not at all-----"

"Great! Well, I better go now."

"Wyatt, would you-----I'd like it-----if you would-----Untie my hair?"

He blushed a little. "Oh. Okay."

He stood behind her and softly pulled the long, wide piece of satin off. The fine golden strands lifted lightly as they were freed from the confines of the ribbon. He discreetly held some strands in his fingers, marveling at how light and lovely it was.

"Would you-----keep it? -----You brought-----me a gift. -----Take my ribbon.

"He smiled at her. "Really!?"

"Yes. And Wyatt----I loved your-----song. Please-----whistle it to-----me again----- someday."

He stood thinking for a minute and then he rakishly lifted his shirt collar and slipped it around his neck, tying it like a necktie. Then he held out his arms and took a deep bow.

"You got a deal. How's it looking?"

She glowed. "You look-----wonderful."

A little while later, she fell deeply asleep, no sleeping aids that night. All Lausanne needed was to relive that gentle touch she had felt as he slipped the ribbon from her hair.

Part Three

When Wyatt arrived for their next visit, he was not his bouncy, energetic self. He was subdued and quiet and Lausanne knew immediately that something was the matter. He refused to meet her eyes, or look directly at her, His head hung down, and his shoulders were slumped forward. His cocky attitude was all but dissipated. She tried to make him laugh with hospital stories Amy had shared with her and he was not reacting. She was worried and she was suddenly afraid that he had changed his mind and no longer wanted to come and see her again. As they sat together, almost completely silent, she finally could not take it anymore.
"Wyatt. I know----- something is wrong---- Did I do----- something to------ offend you------ the last visit?----- ."

He was silent but shook his head.

Do your-----parents want you -----stop visiting me?----Do you want-----to stop coming----- to see me?"

His head snapped up in astonishment. "What? No!"

And that was when she saw a black eye on the left side of his face. Her heart jumped and she tried, deep inside of the capsule to move. She wanted desperately to break through the steel encasing her and summon Bichen. Cut some throats. Hold him as he wept his fear and pain out.

"Wyatt!" Her whispery voice rose. "Who hurt you?----- Your father?-----He struck you?" He heard the anger and panic in her voice.

"Hey! Calm down. Lausanne, you might hurt yourself! I can take it. It's not like it's the first time, you know."

"Calm down. I -----I-----want to kill him-----I want to-----hurt him."

"Please don't be so upset."

"Call Amy-----have her-----call the police."

"You can't. What if they come? They'll take me away. I'll go into a foster home. I wouldn't be able to come all the time anymore."

"I would----- rather have you----- safe then----- at my side----- I will not----- allow him----- to hurt you."

He flew to her side and began to stroke her hair. "Shhhh. Don't say that. I'll be okay. I need to come here. It is the only place I feel happy. I'd go crazy if anyone stopped me from coming to see you. Please, please don't call them."

She looked into his frightened gray eyes and began to calm down. She knew that separation was one thing neither of them dealt with well in the past and she knew where his breaking point lay.

"OK. But-----call Amy. I -----want her to -----check your eye----- Do that and----- I won't do-----anything else----- this time."

When Amy came in Laussane said, "Amy, please look----- at Wyatt's eye----- He got jumped----- by some boys----- on his block."

"I'm not a doctor, but okay." She stood above him and tilted his head back, checking for head for injuries with her hands as she went. She noticed an older bruise near his collarbone He saw her spot it and slowly reached up to button his shirt to the top button, His eyes never left hers She gave him a knowing look back, one that said, 'Do not bullshit a bullshitter.'

" You got a good-sized knot on the back of your head and a bruise on your collarbone. That was a hell of a fight. You need some help?"

"No."

"Okay, but I see you like this again, I'm calling someone, got it?"

"Got it."

"I've seen it before kid. They don't do much to help children in this world. They only just started about 50 years ago, It hasn't taken in too many cities yet. Animals get more protection in some places still. But you come to me next time. I'll give you a safe place for a few days until we can get you set up. Okay?"

He nodded but she knew. Most kids adopted a 'better the devil you know' attitude. She sighed and held his eye open. "Now, look up...No, up. You're looking down...Now, to the right...No, that's left... Laussane, this child has no sense of direction. Don't go running off with him. He'll just get you lost."

They heard a light chuckle from the girl.

"The eye looks good and I don't see any fracture around the socket. Pupils are normal, so concussion. You dodged a bullet this time. Just remember, the cops won't come to help you unless you go to them. Go to them if you feel in danger. Or come here and let me know." She knew from the look on his face that was not likely to happen. She left the room with a heavy heart

The two children sat in silence for a while. Wyatt's voice, soft and hesitant, afraid, cut the quiet room.

"I can't leave. What if he hurts her. He has, in the past." She heard the resignation in his voice. "I just wish sometimes that the booze will finally kill him. or he has an accident before he comes home. Or he stumbles off an overpass somewhere. Then I feel bad I even think like that. It's awful there. It never stops. It hurts, hearing what they say, how much he hates me. Why? All I did was get born. I didn't do anything else but get born. Is that a sin or something?"

He stood and walked to the window. "It's so cold and ugly out there. But then people, like Amy and Mr. Weinstein at the building I live in, show you not everyone is mean and hateful. But mostly, it's just cold and ugly on those streets. I am only happy when I come to see you. You make me think I am worthy of something. I don't know if that is good or bad. I'm just a kid off the streets. Not worth crap."

She interrupted, quietly but firmly. "You are-----worthy of-----everything, Wyatt-----You saved me----- from giving up----- You make me -----see that life----- can be good. You make----- me happy, to.----- I could not----- stand this----- if you weren't -----coming to----- see me. -----You are----- my best friend. The only person----- who makes----- me happy."

He wiped his eyes before he turned back around. "You mean that?" He sounded astonished.

"Yes."

"Then can I come by every day? I can do that. I want to."

"Every day?"

"Yep. Everyday means every day."

Lausanne's heart swelled. Those words, those precious words. "It's a deal." She whispered.

Part Four

Wyatt arrived every day at 3:30 in the afternoon. He hadn't hung around with the old gang after school for a month. His whole life had become his daily visits to Lausanne.

Not yet 12, he was growing increasingly afraid to go home, but he could not leave his mother there by herself. She was no match for the old man's brute strength. And today would be worse. It was payday. He'd bring some sort of rotgut home and all hell would break loose. The squalor was so pervasive at home; the tension was soul-crushing. It was only by Lausanne's side that he saw the beauty and worth in life. He needed someone to remind him that there was good in the world.

Lausanne, as well, could not do without Wyatt. His irrepressible humor, the way he brought the vitality of the outside world into her sterile and lusterless life, was better than any medicine, therapy, or tomb designed to force air in and out of unwilling lungs. And the awareness of who he was, the excitement of being near him, (even if he was once more, as clueless as could be, this time around), kept her interested in being alive a bit longer. She knew her own time was very limited. She accepted that. She would be content with him by her side until he grew a little older, wiser, and found a path without her. Maybe with a lovely girl, who could go swimming with him, plan a wedding, and have babies together. Until then, she would love him while she could, for as long as she was allowed.

The most terrifying part of this lifetime was realizing that she could not protect him this time. It had always been her job, her duty, her desire and now she was being forced to watch him leave her side and walk away without her having his back. It was more than she could stand, this standing by.

She snapped out of her dark thoughts as the door opened and she heard his cherry "Hey!" echo through the room.

Somehow, he had been designated as the person to brush her hair. He would draw this task out as long as he could. It soothed his mind, and he loved the silky softness of it, the easy rhythm of the brush, the way the hair wrapped around his fingers. He found new ways to tie it up. He wanted her to feel as pretty as possible, because she was, to him, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Today, though, Wyatt felt a sudden pull to do more. Impulsively he spoke, his voice shaky and nervous.

"Laussane. I want to ask a favor."

"What is-----it, Wyatt?"

I, uhm, I..."

"What?"

His voice was a hushed whisper that fully expected rejection.

"May I kiss you? I have never kissed a girl before. I'd like my first kiss to be with you."

Her eyes, closed while he brushed her hair, flew open in astonishment. The golden gaze fixed on him, disbelieving what she heard.

Instantly contrite, he stammered an apology, but she stopped him with her smile.

"Don't be silly. I think that I would like that."

She closed her eyes again and waìted, her heart racing. A kiss. A kiss from her Wyatt, his Wei Ying.

When it came it was tentative, it was inexpert, it was shy.

It was perfect.

As innocent and pure as only 11-year-olds could do it. Tender and unsure. Sweet and spontaneous. He slowly drew away and opened frightened eyes. Only to see nothing to fear, just a little girl, face full of wonder and joy that mirrored his own feelings exactly. They were two children who simply loved.

He could not hold her hand, so Wyatt wrapped a tendril of blond hair around his forefinger.

"Lausanne. Do you believe in anything? You know, like God or something?"

"Why?"

" You are so perfect and sweet. You seem so smart and calm. You never act angry or upset. I think you believe in Something. I don't know if I do."

"Why, I'm not -----all of those -----things. I get so-----angry and frustrated-----. I want to---- run and play----- I want to----- feel the sun on----- my face. I wanted to----- hug a boy----- when he gave -----me my----- first kiss.-----You have no----- idea of how----- much I want----- to scream----- and never stop----- Bang my hands----- on this thing----- until they break----- and bleed."

His eyes widened in horror at her words. She was finally able to let go, and he was hearing it pour out, openly.

She waited a short time as she tried to snatch back control, then continued.

"I believe---'' in you. I -----believe we -----have met----- for a reason----- I believe -----we have known----- each other forever. -----I believe----- I love you."

I love you. Did she say I love you? He could not remember hearing those words in his life. Never until today. Someone, and someone so special, had just told him she loved him.

He sat motionlessly, his eyes glazed over for a moment and when he turned them back to her, filled with amazement and tears, they gleamed silver under the lights.

"I love you, too." It sounded like a prayer.

They talked for hours. Eyes locked together. Their hopes and dreams. Her's, realistic, his pie-in-the-sky.

His fingers stroked her pale cheeks, the tip of her nose, her forehead, and gently caressed her temples. She luxuriated in those touches. They were light as feathers, an intimacy she had never felt. They were all that they could do, yet it was enough.

...Until the Visiting Hours announcement came over the intercom...

They suddenly came back to reality with a start, eyes sad and not ready to say goodbye. Wyatt bent and kissed her again, this one with more confidence. She returned it, surprised at how natural it felt.

" I'll run right back when school is out tomorrow." He carefully turned her head toward the door so she could watch him leave.

"Bring more kisses?"

He leaned cockily against the door and blew one her way.

"As many as you want."

And she watched him leave the room.

Part Five

Wyatt walked slowly. He liked to stretch the walk at night out as long as he could. He never wanted to tarnish his time with Lausanne. He felt washed when he was in her presence, cleansed of the filth and disgust he felt every time he came back to his parents.

What was it about her? He felt something like there was more below her surface. He wanted to carefully chip it free and longed to discover what he felt she knew. She fascinated him.

He sat on a curb and let his mind fly back to their kiss. He felt his ears go red with delight. How had he found the nerve? He shivered, remembering the golden eyes blazing back at him. Like she was waiting for ...something else from him. He would need more time and she would open up to him.

Sometimes he could feel her walking beside him. He even knew when she was thinking about him at times. It made him feel good...no...it made him feel loved. He had to get used to the idea, because, finally, someone did.

He got back to his heavy and hesitant feet and started the dreadful, hated walk back to the tenement. He no longer called it home. Home lay behind him in the hospital. Hell was his destination right now.

He heard them screaming at each other all the way to the end of the block. At it already. His ears hurt from it and his stomach turned. An old man on the stoop stopped him.

" Better go up the fire escape, kid. They have been at it a while. Let it play out if you can."

"Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Weinstein."

The old man shook his head as Wyatt walked to the side of the (building and hoisted himself up to start the climb to the third floor.

"Poor, fucking kid," he muttered.

Wyatt dragged his tired body through the window.

Same old argument.

"We'd still be happy if we didn't have that kid around."

"Yeah? Well, that kid wouldn't be here if you hadn't got me drunk and sweet-talked me into the sack."

" I can't stand the fucking brat."

"Why? 'Cos he's not a piece of useless crap like you?"

"Shut your mouth."

"Why don't you try and shut it for me?"

Wyatt was trembling now. 'Don't Mom. Don't egg him on!' he screamed in his mind.

"Come on big shot..."

The old man roared, and Wyatt heard his mother scream. This time she sounded different.

"Put that down. Put it down."

Wyatt burst from his room, and the tableau in front of him stopped him in his tracks. His father advanced towards his mother with a knife in his hand.

"No Dad. No!"

He ran forward, and his father heard him  and instinctively whirled to face his oncoming son. Wyatt tried to stop, but his footing slipped, and he slid forward. The knife entered his lean stomach to the hilt. The eyes of the two met for one second, his father's enraged, Wyatt's wide with shock. Then the boy sank soundlessly to the floor, the knife unsheathing as the father held it, still gripped in his hand. His mother crouched paralyzed with fear as Wyatt clutched his abdomen trying to stop the gushing river of dark red. It pumped steadily in a remorseless rhythm, and the boy knew an artery had been severed. He knew he was going to die in this place. And he cried out, not for his mother but for Lausanne

She woke in a panic. Her mind sought him out. And he heard her voice.

"Wyatt. Where are you?"

" Lausanne. I ...am afraid. It hurts. I think am dying."

How to help? Too late, she knew, by the finality of his words. So, stay calm. Help by easing him on.

"Wyatt. I love you. I love you. You must listen. You are dying but do not be afraid. Two others will come to you. Do you see them? Do not be afraid. They will ease you to the other side. Do you see them?"

Suddenly he was calm as two tall, beautiful men stood before him.

"Yes. Who are they?"

" Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. They are our oldest forms. Our core souls."

And suddenly it was clear to him, and he relaxed. The shorter of the two bent down and touched his head.

"Wei. Ying...Wei Ying...me."

Immediately, there was no pain.

He gazed upward to the other stunning man with calm golden eyes.

"Lan Zhan... Lausanne."

"Yes, my Wyatt. You see...now."

"Lausanne? I must go with them?"

"They will care for you until I arrive. I will walk to you. So watch for me."

"No, no, do not follow me. Live."

"My Wyatt. I am not destined to. This body will not last long. I have no desire to continue. I have no fear. Nature will take her course."

The two core souls each took an arm and helped Wyatt to his feet.

"I think we are leaving now. Goodbye, my sweet Lausanne. "

The soul dressed in red spoke.

"He will meet you on the single planked bridge, lovely girl." He smiled knowingly at his partner, who smiled gently back. Then the three went their way.

Lausanne lay there, the tears soaking her hair.

It only took 2 days. Her heart was a strong little organ, and even though it shattered that night, it took a while to finally give up. The other organs followed and shut down quickly as well. She was never alone, as two beautiful men blended with the shadows, murmured encouragement and radiated love to her. And one day Lausanne took a deep breath, and her soul took her first steps toward freedom.

She found herself on strong legs, at the end of a quaint bridge. Dappled sunlight fell on her beautiful face and she began to walk its long length. As she progressed, a form came into view. A bright and happy boy leaning over the rail, staring into the flowing water, looked up and a smile wreathed his handsome face. He waved but also refrained, letting her run straight into his arms. He lifted her, twirling her in circles. His heart pounded as she heard her laughing freely.

He set her down and kissed her, nestled his face in her neck.

"What now?" Lausanne whispered.

Wyatt pointed to the two men standing at the other end of the bridge.

"They will ask you what we learned this time. "

"What did you say?"

"That I have to accept that I am worthy of your love and the love of others. That I am basically a good soul. What will you tell them?"

She thought for a long minute. "That I cannot always save you. That I may not always be where I can protect your back. To lay self- blame aside and trust in Karma."

They smiled lovingly at one another.

"They say we are to go to them and I become one with Wei Ying and you become one with Lan Zhan. Then we move on."

"Any way we can sneak off on an adventure?"

Wei Ying looked up at Lan Zhan. "I believe the littles are plotting something."

"The young ones always do, don't they?"

"Ah, to be young again."

"We will be, once more, next lifetime. Now let's go round the children up."

" Yes, my love."