Once Upon A Chance

Chapter Seven~ Anya

I knew French. I knew Dutch. German, Italian, Spanish... I knew tons and tons of history ranging from the Renaissance to modern times, but only from one person's point of view.

How?

I woke on a bed with black satin sheets, the room so dark I couldn't even see my hands in front of me. My breathing sped up, leading to near hyperventilation.

"Anya, baby, calm down," I heard, and immediately recognized the voice as Olivier's.

My breathing slowed to normal, but my panicking never ceased. "Where the hell am I? What did you do to me?"

His smile was audible as he spoke. "You're fine, love... What do you remember?"

"Remember?"

"Er... What do you know? About the past?"

I paused, thinking it over. "The story."

"The story?" he asked, his voice breathy and hopeful.

Nodding, I swallowed. "The story. The one about Mary... And Eliza. But... There's also things a little closer to the present. Things set in the seventeen and eighteen hundreds..."

Olivier paused, giving me time to elaborate. When I didn't, he spoke. "Can you see?"

I huffed out a humorless laugh. "I can see the darkness, but no. No objects."

"Godverdomme!" he shouted, and I felt the bed move as he stood to punch the wall, a loud crack echoing in the room. "It should've worked... Why didn't it work?"

In my state of confusion, I brought my knees to my chest and curled up into a ball, whimpering. I was so sure he couldn't hear it, but he sucked in a sharp breath and ran back over.

"No," he breathed, cupping my face and pressing his forehead to mine. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, Anya. I just..."

My breathing sped up again. "Oli, what's going on?"

Pausing again, he laughed. "You call me that every time. I've missed that. How old are you, Anya?"

Stuttering, I whimpered out, "N-ninteen..."

"Damn. I've missed that much?"

"Olivier, what the fuck is going on?" I nearly yelled.

He shushed me. "Anya, please calm down. I love you. You know I'd never hurt you-"

"You don't know me, Oli-!"

He grabbed my face and kissed me hard, his tongue snaking in to silence my frightened protests. His hands moved down to my arms to keep me from pounding his chest any longer, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

Having no other choice but to surrender to his kiss, I let him take control, sighing as he slowed his pace and slid his hands the rest of the way down to my hips. Pulling me closer, he growled and kissed down my neck. "Christ, Anya," he breathed, gliding his tongue across my collar bone. "Why can't you remember?"

I was pretty sure he was taking more to himself than to me, but I still responded. "I... It's not just history, is it?"

Olivier froze, his mouth still searing my skin. "What?"

"It's memories," I said, thinking out loud as I pieced it all together. "Of you and Mary. And Eliza. In different lives. Isn't it?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and kissing me one more time. "It's not just Mary and I. It's Mary, Celest, Allyson, June, and so many other people and I. But, Anya..." He met my gaze and cupped my face in his hands. "They were all you," he breathed.

I shuddered, realization hitting me hard. One girl. I was one girl. I had been the same person in all of those lives, just with a different name. Nothing else ever changed. My style, my personality, my looks... I was me. But I didn't know who I was anymore.

Suddenly the thought became overwhelming, and I started to hyperventilate again. "What are you?" I whimpered, realizing Olivier had always been just that. Olivier. Never changing in any way.

His shoulders slumped, making him look like a toddler who didn't get his way. "Anya..." he groaned.

My expression never wavered though. I stuck to my ground and stared him down, pushing my fear back into the dark recesses of my mind.

"Alright," he sighed, "fine. I'm..."