FicWad

Pain. All consuming pain. It finds its way through his body like water always finds a way to the ocean. It cannot be stopped, cannot be denied, can never be forgotten.

In pain he finds punishment for sins beyond imagination, finds solace in the black void that is supposed to be his mind. When bones crack and blood flows, when skin burns and games are played, he is sure of his cause. Knows the reason why, if not how. Knows and yearns to forget. But allowed to follow that path he is not. Won't ever be if it were only him.

Pathetic, he calls himself. Screams at the darkness within his soul. Pleads for forgiveness. And still knows with such clarity that forgiven he can never be. Forgiven can only be those who truly repent. But regret seems like the sun, always close though never his to take. Never his to take.

And such he cries. Cries with all his heart and lets tears of crimson fall to the forbidding earth. Gives his broken heart one last chance of freedom before he takes his price. And a price it will be. Maybe not for him - for him it is a promise of judgement, of payment that changes hands as it changes lives - but for those who deserve it.

To give her what she deserves. That were his words. That is his wish.

May the Darkness have mercy with us all...

~ ~ ~ * ~

The sounds of battle have led her to this forlorn place. Have kindled in her a flame she told herself no longer existed. Brought her to find her way to a memory that is no allowed to remain.

She stands between stones and moss grown deathbeds of the rich, beautiful palaces only built to house mouldering bones, and watches a deadly dance in its perfection. Never before has she seen the likes of this ethereal elegance. Never before did it go through her mind that yes, he truly is a fighter.

Never before, two small words that can destroy all meaning. Two words that have the power to change it all. And thus she keeps her silent vigil, watches him kill. Watches him smile in true happiness because this, the bloodshed and violence are what makes him what he is.

To live one has to bleed, he once told her. At the time she couldn't find much wisdom in his words, but now she understands. Sees his act around the others as what it was intended to be, namely an act, a face to show so that others may not be repulsed by the truth. But she was never repulsed by him, by his deeds and his nonexistent remorse over it. No, never. If she were asked what her thoughts were about him, her only answer would be and can always be the one. He is beautiful when he fights. That is the truth, the one certainty in a world so full of chaos.

That is the reason why she waits till he is finished, till the last drop of blood has kissed the earth and wind carries away the ashes of the fallen. This is why only now she allows herself to run to his side, throw herself in his arms and just hold him. Hold him till most humans would gasp for breath. Hold him so tight that most would find it painful. Hold him to make sure that he is really here, really back for good and won't ever leave her again.

~ ~ ~ * ~

He touches her face, feels the tears that cover his fingers and has to suppress a sigh. What a mess, he thinks. What a terrible mess did you leave for me to repair? The question echoes through his mind, waits for an answer, an explanation as to why, why in the name of all thirteen Sith hells he is punished in this way.

But of course, there is no answer, no voice of wisdom to quell his doubts. And so he holds this sobbing bundle otherwise recognizable as a dark haired girl. Hopes that nobody who knows his face will see him act in such out of character a way and whispers words of nonsense and comfort in her ear. To show her he cares. Even if it is all an act.