The war is over, but there are still lives to save. Songfic. (Warning: Attempted suicide.)
Fade in, start the scene
Enter beautiful girl
But things are not what they seem
As we stand at the edge of the world
It's a cold, quiet night, the sort that's impossible in London. Remus is closer to the stars than he's been in ages, and his body still bears the scars of the moon.
He turns at the sound of footsteps, and sees a girl with wide eyes and a trembling hands.
She would be pretty, if not for the pallor of her skin and the shadows beneath her eyes; tattered robes hang off her like a dark shroud.
She runs her fingers convulsively through dark hair, catching on tangles and making her wince. When she speaks, her soft voice is almost swallowed by the wind.
"Excuse me, sir,
But I have plans to die tonight
Oh, and you are directly in my way
And I bet you're gonna say it's not right."
He tilts his head, slightly, and offers an apologetic smile, but he doesn't move, even when she strides towards him with a grim determination in her step. It's the stride of the warrior and the victim, of fierce desperation.
He can smell the dried tears, the old blood, the wolf in the lamb.
"Excuse me, miss
But do you have the slightest clue
Of exactly what you just said to me
And exactly who you're talking to?"
It would draw laughter from his cracked lips if he had any left. Of course she wouldn't know that he's a spy of their kind, a poster child for the dangers of werewolves, the last
She said, "I don't care, you don't even know me."
I said, "I know but I'd like to change that soon, hopefully."
Her eyes – green, just like – narrow, darken; there is a cold, tired wariness within them that no one so young should bear.
She doubts his sincerity, his motives, but that's all right, everyone does. Even
He speaks gently, earnestly as he walks to meet her, leaving the edge behind.
"Yeah, we all flirt with the tiniest notion
Of self conclusion in one simplified motion
You see the trick is that you're never supposed to act on it
No matter how unbearable this misery gets."
Her features soften, just slightly, but she shakes her head, steeling herself. Stubborn, stubborn as they always
"You make it sound so easy to be alive
But tell me, how am I supposed to seize this day
When everything inside me has died?"
The words make him flinch, because of course he's asked himself the same question over and over again. They're gone, after all, leaving him alone to face a world that doesn't want him, doesn't even need him anymore.
But he shakes his head, steeling himself, because perhaps it does.
"Trust me, girl
I know your legs are pleading to leap
But I offer you this easy choice –
Instead of dying, living with me."
Shock makes her look younger still, and his heart aches for her; for something other than ghosts and traitors.
She said, "Are you crazy? You don't even know me."
I said, "I know, but I'd like to change that soon, hopefully."
Still, she doubts. She thinks he doesn't understand. What can he say to her that will make a difference?
He doesn't know, but he speaks anyway. He was always so good with words, they always said
"I would be lying if I said that things would never get rough
And all this cliché motivation, it could never be enough
I could stand here all night trying to convince you
But what good would that do?
My offer stands, and you must choose."
She begins to shiver, her eyes filling with tears. Her warning is hoarse and tremulous.
"All right, you win, but I only give you one night
To prove yourself to be better than my attempt at flight
I swear to god if you hurt me I will leap
I will toss myself from these very cliffs
And you'll never see it coming."
In one swift motion he pulls her close and embraces her, ignoring the strain of his tired muscles, the burn of his stretching wounds. She remains rigid in his embrace, but she doesn't pull away.
"Settle, precious, I know what you're going through
Just ten minutes before you got here I was gonna jump too."