Have You Ever Seen the Sun Rise at Midnight?

A moment

"They're going to kill you." She insisted quietly through the bars. Her hand still clutching yours as best it could, face and body pressed against them as if she could squeeze through them and keep you safe if she just tried hard enough. She looked torn between anger and tears, the former being the one thing holding back the other.

You smiled back, pressing her warm fingers against the side of your face. "They're going to try."

You would savor this last moment together as best you could and do your best not to worry about what tomorrow would bring for you. You could just barely see him, a standing shadow leaning at the end of the dungeon corridor if you looked closely, and you knew; she would be safe.

"But they won't be able to kill the movement. You can't tamper down belief, hope, forever. And you may try to break the bonds between people, but they will do what they think is right regardless. They will help each other, protect each other. I... if I can just have one selfish wish... it's that you will be safe and happy..." you hesitated you could see the tears forming, you could feel your own, "and that you won't forget me, as I was, as I am. I don't mind how you remember me, just so long as you at least let me belief you'll spare me a thought or two of yours while you grow old."

Your voice had broken.

"That's more than one." Her voice did too now as she swallowed back those desperate tears. "But I will, oh I'll think of you often. I won't ever forget you."

She didn't offer to join you. You both knew it wasn't possible- and the thought would not bring you any joy either. She wouldn't be allowed. In this she was just as much a captive as you were. But she was doomed to live on, to be driven from your side and grow old under those careful, watching eyes. A shell of who she was, who she had become, she had lamented when you had bade she return. She hadn't listened then, she wasn't given an opportunity now. Even this, this precious moment, was at their mercy.

"Then I die happily." You smiled, "And-"

"It's time." He interrupted, his voice low and cautious but cut clearly through the quiet, dark. "We need to go now."

"No... no, please!" She begged, clinging to your hand desperately.

But you pulled back. Retreating to the very back of the small cell and out of her reach.

"Please, please! You can save them!" She begged, "Please, if you have ever loved me, please-"

He didn't say anything to her desperate cries, his worn hands, those of a soldier, prying her fingers free from the bars with surprising care and pulling her away, held tight in his arms.

"Don't." You shook your head, "Live happily for me, don't shed tears, for this will not be the end; and in that way I'll live on beside you until it's your time to join me. And we'll go together. Live happily, for a long, long while. You know even waiting is only filled with joyful anticipation for me, if it's for you."

She sobbed desperately as she was pulled away, but her eyes never left yours and her hands never stopped reaching.

You replayed that moment in your head for hours instead of sleeping. Memorizing her face so that it, rather than the screaming crowds. When dawn came, there was already noise filtering down from the streets.

Shouts and cries of anger and victory, calls for order. The stamping of horses' hooves, the clanging of shields.

But your ears only had space for the memory of her laughter, of her words, of her thoughts.

You were led out, the sun warm against your face like her hands had been as they clung desperately to your hand.

A coin was pressed into your bound hands, a last request, you placed it in your mouth, the bitter tang of metal oddly reminiscent of the first berry pie she had made. You had eaten it together both fighting to not make faces as you did so.

It was a pleasant memory, the day of the spring festival, the wind still cold and biting like it was today, the smell of freshly baked goods carried on the wind.

You were forced down upon your knees, head upon the bloodied block, the crowd pressing and screaming, demanding you be let speak, to answer for your crimes or to rally forth the next wave, or for some simply because. It would make for more of a spectacle if they would allow it, which was why they usually did. You ignored the cries and pressing thing and instead called forth that last, priceless memory. Her face etched into your mind as you saw her more clearly than anything else.

Deep down, in somewhere even more intimate than the depths of your heart, you knew; you would see her again.

The blade was freshly sharpened and came down upon your neck with a wet thunk sending the world spinning around you in some many blurry colors. And oh how it hurt! Worse than when you had broken your arm, or even when you had been shot.

All the same, as everything faded into darkness; there was a smile on your face. A content one, because what was there to fear? What was there to damn?

It was not all that you had hoped, there was still so much she had wanted to see and accomplish; but you were happy.