Arienne sucked in a huge gulp of air as she bolted straight up in bed. There were strands of her long dark hair stuck to the sides of her face and across her forehead. Her silk nightie felt clammy, like a second skin waiting to be shed. She ran shaky fingers through tangled hair and got out of bed.

She didn't stop to switch on any lights as she went straight to the bathroom and started the shower. Stripping her nightie over her head she stepped under the tepid spray, hoping to rinse away the sweat and the remnants of her nightmare.

This all seemed routine to her now. She'd been having the same dream off and on since she was a little girl, but it had been years ago that she had had it last - until two weeks ago when she had been to see that movie. "Damn," she thought. "I knew I shouldn't go see a horror film. I told them I hated those kinds of movies." She couldn't even recall the name or what the flick had been about; just that it had triggered the nightmares again.

Stepping out of the shower, she slipped into a cotton tank and a pair of baggy flannel pants that she had to tie at the waist to keep them from falling down. Scrubbing a towel against her hair to dry it, she sat on the edge of her bed. She knew she wouldn't sleep any more tonight. Without really even thinking about it, Arienne slipped on her Keds and ran a brush through her wet hair. She grabbed her keys, notebook, and purse and was out the door in a few minutes.

"I'll just have an au lait." Arienne paid the man behind the counter and sat down at one of the corner tables before opening her notebook to a blank page.

She scribbled the words "Misshapen chaos" across the first line then stopped. The phrase had been running through her mind since the dream. She remembered it was from Romeo and Juliet, and was pretty sure it was Romeo who had said it. But more importantly, she felt it described the state of her life at that moment.

"Here you go, Arienne, nice and hot. Just give me a yell if you need anything else."

"Thanks, Roger." Arienne took a sip of the brew that Roger had just set in front of her and then started making a few more notes.

The café was empty but for one other customer per usual for this time of night. Arienne recognized the man as the one that had hit on her last week when she had found herself at this very coffee shop for what seemed like the hundredth time in a few days. She tried to blend into her corner as inconspicuously as possible. She didn't even notice when the bell over the door rang and someone else came in.

She was just getting into the groove of the characters she was sketching when she saw the shape of someone standing next to her.

"Hey there, sweetheart, long time no see."

Arienne gave a mental sigh. She thought she had gotten rid of this guy the last time. "Look, I'm kind of busy here, do you mind?"

"Na, I don't mind at all." He moved a little closer and made to sit down.

Stopping him with a distinctly icy gaze, Arienne said "Let me put this in language you understand. I would like for you to get the hell away from me."

"Aw, now, you don't really - "

"Excuse me." The man was interrupted by a chilly, French accented voice. "I believe the lady asked you to leave her alone."

Arienne looked up at the man who had spoken in the beautiful voice, and felt like a cool breeze had just blown through her clothes. He was all in black and quite beautiful, but his eyes were still, almost lifeless in their pale green.

"All right, all right. I was just making conversation anyway." Said the uninvited suitor. He backed away with his hands in the air; evidently having the same disturbing feelings about the man in black as she did.

The man in black turned toward her, "I'm sorry for interfering. He seemed to be bothering you."

Arienne took a closer look at the eyes and saw that they weren't as they first appeared. It was almost as if there were a protective shield cast over the sea-foam color, but in the depths she could see something else - concern? Perhaps curiosity? She didn't know. Suddenly realizing that she was staring, Arienne said, "No...I mean yes, he was bothering me. Thank you for helping. Would you like to sit down? The least I could to is buy you a cup of coffee."

It looked as if he would say no, but then thought about it and said "Thank you." He slipped out of his black leather gloves and trench coat before taking the faded vinyl bench across from her.

"I'm Arienne."

He looked at her with a basically expressionless face and Roger came over to the table with an expectant look.

"Hello Roger, I'll just have an au lait." Roger nodded and walked away.

"So, you must be a regular."

"Yes."

"Uh, huh." He certainly wasn't much for small talk. Maybe she could shake something out of him - like his name.

"So, do you always save damsels in distress, take them up on a cup of coffee and then not tell them your name?" She said it as if she were making normal conversation, and covertly scratched the words "Fallen angel" into her notebook. When she looked up again, she was amazed at the small smile on his lips.

"It's Michael."

Arienne immediately put pen to paper again, writing "Archangel."

"What is it you write about?"

"Write about?

"I saw you working on it when I came in. And I think I saw you last week sitting in this same booth writing in that same notebook."

Arienne raised an eyebrow, "And do you notice everything?'

"Yes."

It was said as dead fact. There was no denying it.

"Oh." She didn't know what else to say.

"So, what do you write?"

"Oh, it's nothing really. Just some notes on characters I hope to use in future works." Arienne closed her notebook nervously and smoothed a shaky hand over the cover. He made her feel exposed, and fidgety.

"You like to write."

God that voice was playing havoc with her mind - flowing over her like warm honey. "Actually, I have to write."

"Why?"

"It pays the bills." There was that small smile again. "No, really, writing to me is like breathing - I just have to do it, know what I mean?"

"Yes."

Not knowing where to take the conversation from this point, Arienne took a sip of her au lait and was just about to set the cup down when there was a large crash of glass from the back room. Arienne sloshed coffee over the rim as she jumped in her chair at the sound. Her head whipped around and she remembered flashes from her dream.

"It's all right. Just someone dropping something." His eyes bore into hers almost willing her back to reality.

"Yeah."

"Is there something else wrong?"

"Nightmares," the word was out of her mouth before she could stop it

Michael leaned forward and covered one of Arienne's shaking hands with his own. It was warm and soft. He began rubbing the section between her thumb and index finger, and she stopped trembling almost immediately.

He looked up from her hand to her eyes and said, "Tell me."

She stared at him for some moments then looked away. "I've had it off and on since I was a little girl. I had almost forgotten about it until I went to see a movie a few weeks ago. It must have triggered something in my memory. It always starts out the same. I'm outside this old house that looks kind of like my childhood home, but not. For some reason I'm being very careful, like I don't want to be caught. I go up to one of the windows and look in. I see about six people..." Arienne cut off, she was breathing shallow, quick breaths and she felt a trickle of sweat between her shoulder blades. She swallowed. "My little brother is there, and there is a man screaming at him. Then the man hits him and then hits him again. I...I try to yell, but my voice makes no sound...so I pound on the window, harder and harder, until my fist goes through and the man turns - leaving my brother on the floor - and walks toward me. He reaches through the window and grabs my shirt. He yanks me toward him, into the glass...and...and then, I wake up."

Arienne grabbed her coffee with her free hand and took a sip. She wasn't sure if she was embarrassed or relieved by telling her darkest fears to this mysterious stranger. Taking a quick glance at him, she saw that he seemed to be lost in his own private thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laid this on you. I don't even know why I told you." She slipped her hand out of his and began twisting her napkin around her finger.

Seeming to come back into himself, Michael looked at Arienne across the table. "I used to have nightmares too." He wiped one hand down his face as if to clear away any emotion. "I guess I still have them sometimes, though they are not as bad now. I never remember anything specific anymore. There is only a lingering sadness."

"What are they about?" As soon as she saw his face she knew she shouldn't have asked. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"No, not at all. I'm the one who is sorry. I just don't talk about it much. They are about my son. He died. A long time ago."

She could still hear pain and sadness in his voice, perhaps even some anger at the fates. "I'm so sorry."

He said nothing, though his eyes smiled a little.

Arienne knew she should keep her mouth shut, and leave the poor man alone, but she couldn't stop the words from coming. "Why aren't they as vivid as they used to be? What made your nightmares easier to bare?"

Michael's soul left the shield of his eyes for a moment and she saw the answer there. He seemed to be trying to come to some conclusion about the reason behind his improved nightmares; Arienne could almost see him skip over the reason in his mind. Like some kind of protection mechanism.

Arienne leaned forward and grinned engagingly, "You are in love."

"No..." The response was too quick and completely transparent.

"Yes you are." She smiled and tilted her head to look in his eyes. "Well, it's not written all over your face, but I can tell anyway."

That made him smile. "I've become adept at turning off my emotions. It makes my life easier to live."

Arienne had the distinct feeling that she didn't want to know why. So she asked him a question she did want to know. "What's her name?"

"Whose?"

She chuckled, really enjoying herself now. "Don't give me that. Who is this woman that has taken your heart?"

He looked down at the table and was about to speak when his cell phone rang. Arienne watch a veil shade the life in his eyes. He stared through her as he answered the call.

"Yes? ...20 minutes...Thank you."

He clicked off his phone and stood up. Methodically he put on his coat and gloves. When he was ready to leave, he turned back to Arienne. Taking one of her hands he pulled it up to his lips and kissed the knuckles. "Thank you for the coffee and the talk. I hope your nightmares stop soon." He turned to leave, but stopped and looked over his shoulder and into Arienne's eyes. "Ni-ki-ta. Her name is Ni-ki-ta."

Arienne watched him walk out into the black night, blending in. "That," she breathed, "Is one lucky woman." Flipping open her notebook, Arienne began sketching a character profile of an enigmatic man in black.

END

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