"Would It Have Changed" . . . "Dana," he said softly -- the use of her first name, rare and wonderful on his lips. Perhaps too rare . . . he glanced away from her, back down to the documents on the desk before continuing, "if, uhm, early in the four years we've been working together, an event occured that suggested or somebody told you," he looked back up at her standing so real and solidly by his side as usual, "that we'd been friends together in other lifetimes, always, would it change some of the ways we looked at one another?"

     She spoke automatically, not thinking, just going by instinct. "Even if I knew for certain, I wouldn't change a day."

     A slight smile curved his lips and their eyes were warm as they continued to hold. She at last turned away and headed to the door, pausing as an imp of humor invaded her. She hoped it would help lighten his mood. "Well, maybe that flukeman thing. I could've lived without that just fine."

     She walked out and as she had hoped, the smile, much fuller, spread across his face and carried into his eyes.