Moonlight lancing down, pierces blind windows to fall upon the unmarked floor. Catching -- silver dust- motes hung in time within the windless unechoed walls -- a swirling eddy of air cavorts in his wake, a pitiful parody of the dancer's erotic movement.

One minute, light -- then sinister shadow -- no substance, only dream as he dances alone -- expressing the futility of life...the endless search for that one other for whom he was begotten, created, came into being -- formed from darkness and moonbeam, and deep old desires... Longing leads him onward through his days, needing... but not finding. Loneliness fills his nights -- solitary figure -- beautiful in tragedy... He dances alone, expressing his frustration --surely there IS one -- there MUST BE someone -- to share with, or trust, to love above all -- his dance is eloquent, wordless speech -- moonlight mute-witness to all the beauty, all the power, grace... a heart in waiting, searching -- longing for its mate.

Sinister stalking shadow sees moon-silvered angel as he dances to his heartsong. Desire inflamed, he pauses at the edge of eternity, enthralled by innocent majesty...silently he weaves himself into the fabric of the night, darker than the depths where no moonbeam falls -- dares to touch, to hold, caught in the spell, spinning as the world turns, all blue and silver, and love-black...

The sweet brush of a hand, the gentle gliding of skin against smooth bare flesh, the wordless tender affirmation of a kiss as lips meet in the secret conspiring night...

---

Bodie rolled over, blinking in the darkness. A fair head on the pillow beside him. One slender arm thrown possessively across his body, a drowsy voice whispering his name.

"What's wrong, love?"

He smiled, kissed the pale forehead.

"Nothing, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."

The woman crowded close, buried her face at his shoulder and obeyed. In the silence of his room, Bodie watched the shadow-dance on his ceiling... This was not the one, his heart told him, who had shared his night. This was not the one who danced for him alone... He closed his eyes, his memory turned away and he was there, at the warehouse, eyes following every movement of the one who was born for him alone...

Across the midnight city, gazing at the silver path of the moonlight on the river, Doyle lifted his head to the sky and made his own wish....

-- THE END --