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Rex Glass was humming as he patched up my wound. It definitely wasn't unpleasant: his voice was deep, and yet soft. It was a song I had never heard before, with melodies and lyrics reminiscent of some faraway planet. What the hell. I had already asked about the cologne, might as well go for it. "You have a lovely voice."
He beamed. "Why, thank you, detective! Although, if you want me to stop, you only have to say the word."
I couldn't think of one single reason why I would want that. "No, keep going. It's very relaxing. Helps me keep my mind off the-" Disinfectant was poured on my stab wound, and I inhaled sharply. "- pain."
He chuckled, his strong hand holding my wrist as he worked at my wound. "You flatter me, Juno." He kept singing, and I closed my eyes.
§§§
That night had been the best of my life. My head was resting on Nureyev's bare chest, as he gently stroked my hair, singing softly to himself.
I could get used to it, the peace, intimacy, and his voice. God, his voice.
"You, uh, you really like that song, don't you?"
He stopped, and laughed quietly. "Nothing escapes your notice, hm? Yes, it is admittedly a favorite of mine. Do you like it?"
My hand rested on his torso. "I do, actually. It sounds like a lullaby."
"Perhaps it is. It's millennia old, its origins have been lost in time."
"Huh." I snuggled closer to him, praying we ourselves wouldn't become lost in time.
§§§
Feigning nonchalance was something Nureyev excelled at. Ignoring me... not so much. I could feel his eyes being reluctantly drawn to the low-cut of my dress, to my bare arms and exposed back.
It pained me to see him struggling so hard to maintain an aloof demeanor, as we scanned the room for Nova Zolotovna.
"So..." I began saying, when his expression quickly shut me up.
"We'll have time for small talk after our heist is done."
It hurt so much, but there was nothing I could do. Our fingers brushed against each other, and we both lingered into the touch, before he abruptly retracted his hand.
He casually picked up a flute of champagne, swirling its content with an elegant flick of the wrist. How could I focus on our mission?
Then he started humming, and nothing else mattered. I lost myself staring at him, wanting nothing more than to listen to him sing every single day of my life. Then, we split up and blended into the crowd, his voice fading and blending in with the mindless chatter of the guests.
§§§
I struggled to maintain consciousness. I was painfully aware of the blood leaving my body, and of Nureyev's arms wrapped around me. Some stupid part of my brain felt extremely bad, because I was sure I was irreparably staining his clothes. Then I realised I was dying, and that blood on his garments was hardly Nureyev's main concern.
"Hold on, Juno, please, the ship will be here any moment now."
I was light-headed, and my vision blacked out more often than I would have liked it to. A trail of blood trickled down my chin, as my eye tried to focus on Nureyev's perfect face.
"Sing for me..."
"What?"
"I..." My voice cracked. "I want to hear you sing one last time."
His eyes widened, tears rolling down his cheeks. "No, Juno, don't say that, you're not dying here, I..."
"Please, Nureyev." My weak hands clutched his wrists, and my pleading expression betrayed my anguish.
He swallowed. "Of course, my dear detective. Anything for you." He began singing. His voice was cracked, and soft sobs escaped his lips, but he sang. "Meet me by the river, where the elderberries grow. When stars are silver, no one has to know."
Staying awake was harder and harder, and I was seized by fear and distress.
I didn't want to die.
I wanted to watch dumb streams with Rita, and argue with Vespa for hours, and try to decypher Jet's cryptic advice, and hear Buddy say how proud she was of me, and kiss Nureyev until we lost our breath, and get married, and live happily ever after in our own house until we got old, and so much more. It wasn't fair. I spent so long finding reasons to love life, to want to live, and now a single blaster shot was taking my future away.
I looked at Nureyev, the man of my dreams, and all the opportunities I wasted in over 40 years came rushing in. Well, there was no use of regretting now.
My voice was barely a whisper when I joined Nureyev in singing. "Meet me by the river, by driftwood and stone." He sobbed, clutching me tighter, hands stained red. "I'll float down with her, no one has to know."
My vision went completely black, Nureyev's face was the last thing I would have seen in my life. All in all, it wasn't an unpleasant last view. My eye closed, as my thief began cradling my nearly unconscious body. "Juno? No, Juno, please, stay with me, don't leave me alone! I love you!"
'I love you too', I wanted to say, but I didn't have any strength left in me. I passed away in Nureyev's arms, his cries of anguish gently accompanying me into the afterlife. My hands fell limp, and I exhaled one final breath.
§§§
I woke up with a start, gasping so loudly, Nureyev shifted next to me.
"Juno...? Is everything alright?"
It took me a while to register where I was: in the Carte Blanche, in my room, on my bed. With Nureyev cuddling me. My hand immediately darted to my stomach, finding no gaping wound there. A nightmare.
"Y-yes, I just had a bad dream."
"Oh, poor baby..." He wrapped his arms around me, burying his face on my shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I pressed my face against his head, inhaling his cologne. "No."
We stayed quiet for a while, and I was afraid he'd fallen asleep. But I had to ask him. "Nureyev?"
"Hm?"
"Can you..." I swallowed. "Can you sing for me? Right now?"
He pulled out from my chest to stare at me in confusion. "What?"
"I..." God, why was I so nervous? I had shared so much with this man, why did this particular request make me falter? "I love it when you sing. It’s soothing and peaceful, and it makes me feel safe."
He smiled. Softly, lovingly. It was the kind of smile that warms your heart and makes you believe that you're the most special person in the whole Universe. "Of course, love."
He held me close and started singing. I could feel the vibrations of his chest, as his voice filled my ears and gently reminded me that everything was okay. That we belonged to each other; with each other.
"Meet me by the river..."
"Where the elderberries grow." I joined in, and he paused for a second, surprised. I'm usually just happy to passively listen, but this time... it felt right to sing with him.
I could hear the smile in his voice as we harmonised together. "When stars are silver, no one has to know."