I. The Magic

The shadowed figures of a young couple were almost swallowed by their surroundings. The stormy gray sea, illuminated by occasional shafts of sunlight piercing the thick & heavy clouds overhead, was an eye-catching backdrop. A heron, surrounded by flocks of smaller sea birds, stood in majestic silhouette against a blood red sun, which was slowly sinking below the horizon. Pine trees humbly offered a profusion of needles to the unforgiving sky. The roar of the waves and the vicious crack! as they slapped the shore obscured any noises the pair might have ventured to make, the wind sighing mournfully in perfect counterpoint.

The two strolled down the smooth stretch of wet sand hand-in-hand. The atmosphere did not appear to bother either of them. Their footprints- matched in step, of course- stretched unbroken behind them for what seemed miles through the dramatic Gothic landscape.

The woman tucked a strand of dark, wind-blown hair behind her ear. The young man gazed ahead past the curling tendrils of gray mist that tickled the edges of one's vision. Then, his face brightening with mischief, he bent to tickle his companion lightly. The wind tore her startled exclamation from her lips and whisked it away as she danced backwards from him, eyes full of laughing reproval. The heron rose into the air with a cry, followed by his small dun-colored acolytes as the young woman took to her heels, running parallel to the line of the foaming surf.

Her friend caught her up just as the sun's fire was quenched in the restless ocean, leaving clouds stained red and orange in its wake. "I've got you now, Eve!" he laughed.

Eve backed slowly towards the sea. "Please don't tickle me!" she cried in mock-fear.

Pausing to consider the plea, he left himself open to attack. Eve tickled him back before darting away again. By the time he rallied and turned, still gasping for breath, she had vanished into the waving reeds lining a tiny tributary stream.

"Oh, Eve...," he coaxed. She trembled with the effort not to laugh. The saintly appearance produced by the halo of moonlight in his soft ebon hair was at odds with his expression.

With a mischievous look he abandoned the search and strolled nonchalantly back towards the wide strip of ivory sand.

The letters that he scratched into the ground, so near the line of the rising tide, spelled his name: K...h...a...l...i...d. At last he stood and called out, "Better add your name before it washes away, Eve." Grains of sand rained from his long, elegant fingers as he dusted them off.

The lengthening shadows masked and protected her as she moved cautiously towards him, hands held defensively before her. He raised one dark eyebrow in silent inquiry. She dropped her wary posture. "Sure you're not going to tickle me, Khalid?"

"Positive," he smiled. Now the moonlight spilling across everything lent the scene a magical air.

In a few minutes the words marring the surface of the beach would be washed away; and yet, they looked enduring there- forever immortalized by the mystic surroundings. When Eve and Khalid left, the tops of the words "Khalid/Eve: 2039" remained as a testament to their brief presence.

Eve was reluctant to have to uncurl from the armchair when she heard the doorbell; the striped afghan effectively protected her from the chilly bite in the air and she was loathe to relinquish its warmth.

With a sigh she set a slim paperbound book on the nearby table and climbed to her feet. "Hello, Khalid. I was reading a book," she said a bit wistfully.

His answering smile brushed away the significance of that. "So was I."

Eve flipped the hall lights on as she passed. "Come pet the kitties," she called, stepping into the cozily warm kitchen.

"It's hot in here," Khalid complained, obediently holding out his hands for the gray tabby kitten she deposited there.

As usual the radio was on. Eve recognized NPR's All Things Considered, and with a shrug left it on.

"Today's headlines in the news," the announcer said seriously. "The National Aeronautics and Space Administration has completed their survey ship. They are asking for volunteers between the ages of 19 and 30 to go on an exploration expedition in search of a new world. There is no current estimate for the amount of time involved. Contact Marcia Freeman at hololink xmp.12 for more information."

A horrifying though struck Eve and she turned to face Khalid. "Don't even think it," she said, sounding very certain, though her eyes were pleading. His attention was fixed on the radio, and his fingers lay frozen on the kitten's fur.

"Khalid," she whispered. "Khalid, look at me! No. Don't." His eyes slowly focused on her. They brimmed with doubt and a terrible internal war.

"Don't go," she tried one last time, knowing she had lost. "Please."

He shook his head mutely. "Eve, this is... what I've always wanted! But- you can come too!"

She glared at Khalid with rising anger. How dare he leave her?

"I," she said icily, "am not between the ages of 19 and 30!" Her accusatory manner thawed at his pained look.

"Oh, Eve... how can I choose?" She gazed deeply into his eyes and sighed in defeat at what she saw there. "You already have."

"You're leaving when?" Eve shrieked.

Khalid sighed wearily, though he personally agreed with her sentiment. "The 1st of November."

Her eyes were wide with shock. "Khalid, that's-- before our wedding!"

"I am well aware of that fact!"

Eve was immediately sorry. "Well, then," she said evenly, "what shall we do?" Her fiance rubbed his temples. "Well, the most obvious solution would be to move the wedding up." Eve agreed with reluctance. "I hate to rush things, but of course you're right."

Silence reigned for several minutes before Khalid said abruptly, "Well, when shall we do it?"

Eve frowned in surprise. "We've got a month- ouch. That's not very long. As soon as possible, I suppose."

The companionable atmosphere as they worked side-by-side to move the wedding forward by six months was almost enough to banish the thoughts of Khalid's imminent departure which hung over their heads.

There was still an interminable three months before the fateful birthday which would have allowed Eve to accompany Khalid to the stars. Of course, she thought bitterly, it will be a moot point when he's gone. She couldn't bring herself to comment aloud on the situation, though; Khalid was distressed enough as it was. He searched anxiously for the pain that must be hidden in every smile she ventured. She bore their last few days together with a kind of forced, determined cheer; he was perhaps slightly less disturbed by the obviously false attitude than he would have been if she'd acted the way she felt.

Khalid winced whenever he passed through the kitchen, hearing the mournful music Eve was constantly playing there, and finally took to avoiding the room. For her part, Eve couldn't bear to hear anything remotely cheerful, especially their mutual favorite, Queen's Seaside Rendezvous. She was restless and listless; her favorite books no longer interested her. Though she spent every available second with Khalid, the silences between them were growing longer and more strained.

The day of the departure dawned beautifully. The sky was a gorgeous sunlit blue, dotted with cotton-puff clouds. Eve felt a peculiar relief that at least she would be relinquishing Khalid to a picturesque universe.

The twenty volunteers stood next to a sleek silver ship, surrounded by the subdued crowd of friends and relatives.

NASA had not allowed media coverage of the event- that, at least, was a blessing. It seemed anticlimactic to speak now, so Eve did nothing more than squeeze Khalid's hand as he stepped into the ship that was to convey him away from her. The image of sunlight glinting off the ship as it vanished into the clouds would remain etched in her memory for years to come.

The media grasped at the voyage with delight. The papers' headlines for weeks all enthused on the same lines: `COURAGEOUS HEROES RISK ALL'. It made Eve feel sick. The worst was when someone published a list of the volunteers' names. `BRAVE SOULS FACE THE FUTURE WITH CHEER', read a headline in USA Today. "No looking back for these 20 youths, America's 7-day wonders."

He must be looking back, Eve told herself. How could he forget? She spent most nights gazing wistfully at the stars.

Khalid sat with Eve on the sandy, moonlit beach where they'd spent so many evenings together. Their names had not quite been washed away, and the year (2039) was still clearly visible. From far away, strains of their favorite song, Seaside Rendezvous, were audible, though a bit incongruous with the landscape. When he at last turned to look at Eve, she was much older than he. The stormy gray eyes were exactly as he remembered them, though- except for a deep-set pain he hadn't seen before he left.

"We are coming back," he whispered.

Eve awoke from the same dream she'd had for fifty years now, always on the anniversary of the day Khalid walked out of her life. As always, it left her trembling. He was still the same as he'd been the last night they spent together on their beach, just before they discovered he was leaving- just the same as the day he left, though his deep, dark eyes carried a peculiar haunted quality.

In her mind she could still hear the last bars of Seaside Rendezvous, a song she hadn't listened to since before Khalid left. Consistently in this dream, the song just finished when it ended. Identical, really, to all the others. So what seemed so different? At the end he had made her a whispered promise: "We are coming back."

Too late, Eve thought. Too late.

Once Earth was sighted, no one in the ship could stay still. The air crackled with an intense desire to escape the confines of the silver walls. A year could- and would- stretch into eternity out in the endless depths of space.

The survey mission would return as heroes, with news of a newly-born world perfect for their needs. However, no one on the ship cared for that; they all wanted to see their families again after so long. All Khalid could think of was Eve's expression when he appeared.

NASA air traffic control brought their vessel in safely. The crew members stumbled over each other to get out and gulp convulsively at the fresh air.

The meticulously groomed official who'd greeted them hovered nervously until everyone regarded his every movement with suspicion.

Finally the eldest of them, Moira Cummins (now 31) spoke with great irritation to the man. "Will you tell us what's on your mind?!"

He cleared his throat apprehensively. "Um, gentlemen, ladies- due to the inherent flaws of faster-than-light travel--"

"Yes?" Moira demanded.

"While you spent only a year in space... the Earth has aged a great deal more. One hundred years, to be exact."

Expressions of horror and desperate hope flitted across faces in the mad rush for the door.

Khalid stood at the door to Eve's home just minutes later. It was answered by a young woman who bore his beloved a remarkable resemblance.

"I've seen you before," she said. The puzzled stormy-gray eyes were heartstoppingly familiar and dear to him. "I'm Khalid," he said.

The girl frowned briefly. "Oh -- That's my grandfather's name!"

The blood drained from his face. "I suppose I am -- at that. Eve?" Now those familiar eyes brimmed with a sympathy more eloquent than words.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

The cemetery was peaceful and picturesque, as befitted a final resting place for so many people. The grave stones were modest rounded markers crouched in neat rows in the manicured grass. They were adorned with offerings ranging from a single silk daffodil (on a baby's grave), to a thick bundle of wildflowers, to a dozen blood red roses.

Perhaps the strangest offering was the worn, dog-eared paper. The title read Seaside Rendezvous: Mercury. It was gray now from old dust and dirt. The tearstains, however, were new. Khalid angrily brushed the treacherous droplets away. "I'm so sorry, Eve," he whispered through the haze of pain. "I should have waited for you." He was acutely aware of all that was left unsaid. The wind keening as it teased the droopy branches of a nearby willow, perhaps, came closest to expressing them.