I know this is terribly OOC, but it was for the sake of experimenting with the characters in an extreme situation. What happened before now should be clear enough, originally Kitty was going to have a flashback sequence...but, it stole away from the main reason I kept the repeating phrases. Her utter insanity was what I wanted. Not her road to it.

Snow littered the ground, bitter frost killing the sparse grass that once grew there. Maybe it was because that place was stained with the scent of death. The odor clung to the air as thick as smoke, sour and revolting. It all made sense to her, though. Because only dead things were welcome here. Only dead things were welcome here...

Trees where whipped about by the snapping wind, scattering the dead leaves that littered that barren, frozen ground. Those same trees were stripped bare, even the bark wearing away at the ferocity of the weather. But some good came of that, she guessed. Air slithered through the branches of these trees, and created such a sad lullaby. Such a sad lullaby...

Little stones and statues of angels guarded this place. Wrought iron gates kept intruders away. But why guard what is lost and gone? She never did understand this. Large tombs littered some of the far off hills, a chapel just over a mile eastward. This place was large, she noticed. As she thought, the wind gave an unsteady falter. The eerie silence distilled in her ears. The eerie silence distilled in her ears...

Soon, she was saved. The wind began to cry again, more powerful than ever before. Hunched over the tombstone, she sat. Her hands gripped the sides of it so harshly that her fingernails cracked and bled. Her shoulders shook with her powerful sobs, her cries of pain and agony lost in the wailing, howling wind. The wailing wind that made such a sad tune. Such a sad tune...

She was faithful to him, she was. His body which was hidden beneath that stagnate, sterile ground, and she was faithful to it. She came here everyday, his voice ringing in her ears. And even when she left, he stayed by her side, just like before. Laying awake at night and hearing him, whispers that bounced off the walls of her bedroom loud enough for her to hear, but too soft to make out the words. And every night, not knowing what he was whispering made her snap even more, to the point of rocking back and forth with her hands pressed to her ears to try and drown out the sound. But it only made him louder, and her wails couldn't make him stop. Her wails couldn't make him stop...

He haunted her. Every step, every movement she made, she felt him. She remembered his embrace, and when she felt everything fall apart day by day, she could feel it again. She knew his touch, and when she cried every morning she woke up and realized he was gone, she felt it. She knew his voice, and every day when she was awake, she heard it. She knew he followed her. And everyone thought she was crazy, but she wasn't. They all thought she was too depressed, but she wasn't. She was perfectly sane, they just didn't know it. They just didn't know it…

Everywhere she saw him, everywhere she heard him, and everywhere she felt him. She tried, she really did, and she hoped he understood. But if he did, why did he keep terrorizing her so? Why did he stalk her like a shadow, and leave her to bawl her eyes out alone? Why did he break her heart in two every single time he talked against the white noise of her stereo? Why...? Why...? Maybe she was crazy, like all the others said when they thought she wasn't listening. Maybe she was crazy…

How could she be insane, though? She was a perfectly functioning and healthy cat, why should they think otherwise?

Because you cry constantly.
His voice pierced her brain as she thought, making her clench the tombstone harder, biting her lip until she felt the familiar metallic tang of blood on her tongue.
Because you hear me.
A whimper escaped her throat, and she furrowed her brow. He was right.
Because you can't forgive yourself.
And that's where she lost it. She completely gave up, then and there. With all that she had left in her body, she wept. Saying sorry for all she did, hoping they would forgive her when they found out. Hoping they would forgive her…

The sobs made her shoulders shiver; her body convulsing with the terrible pain that had been tearing her apart for an entire year. Her heart twisted in her chest, her hands gripping the granite slab tighter. She was broken, shattered, helpless. For as skilled as she had been, it wasn't enough to keep her from losing her mind. Somewhere in her subconscience, she knew she was insane. Her last grip to sanity was hoping time took away the pain...but time only made it worse. Time only made it worse...

So, he won. He, with one simple failure, managed to rip her entire life apart. Her tears warmed her face, the streams more fluent now. She was in pieces the day he died right up until now, but she knew no one saw it for what it really was. They thought she could be put back together. They thought duct tape and glue could repair her. They thought she was fixable. They thought she was fixable...

The truth, in all its agonized truth, was that she couldn't be repaired. She simply could not be fixed. Her entire entity was broken, splintered, some shards of her missing entirely. Those broken pieces built her as Kitty Katswell, the well known and best TUFF agent around. But now, as they lay in disarray throughout her split mind, they built her as she is now. Afraid, depressed, agonized, terrorized, lonely... Lonely...

One last glance...just one... She tore herself away from his tombstone, looking at the text so neatly carved into the dark gray mineral. Through her bleary eyes, almost nothing could be made out. But she knew the writing by heart. She knew the writing by heart...

R.I.P.

Dudley Puppy

May 15, 1988-December 25, 2009

May you find peace, through self sacrifice, you have been saved...

Self-sacrifice... The word made her slump over, her head tilted to see the dead grass beneath her knees, the thin sheet of snow forming around her. Just beneath her, he lay. She remembered what he looked like the day they had him on display... Fur lost of the same sheen it always had, his eyes shut in peaceful labor, his mouth flat... But he still had that bullet wound...and she knew where it was when no one else did. He died, because she wasn't fast enough... she couldn't stop him... She couldn't save him... He died because of her. She killed him. She killed him...

You didn't kill me. I saved you.

Her eyes widened, and she looked around, his voice ringing in her ears. But she had to explain herself before she joined him, to make sure he wouldn't be mad at her. So she shook her head, a delicate smile pulling at her lips.

"I killed you. I-I could have done something, anything, had I not dropped my gun..."

But I saved you. So you could live. You can't do this, Kitty. I can't see you do this...

Her brow furrowed, a full smile of insanity now resting upon her lips. The December chill made her hands numb, but she didn't care. She would never let go of this tombstone, not now, not ever... Not ever...

"You died, Dudley... You left me all alone. I tried, I really did...I tried so hard..."

I know you did. But keep pushing through, and you will find-

"No! Nothing's made me feel better, everyone's... called me crazy!" She looked hurt, her eyes showing her desperation for an escape from this grey world. "They all said I could get better...but I've only gotten worse."

But you need to live...you can't join me yet.

"Why..? I'm miserable here, I can't stand this...I've...I've nothing left to live for."

But I love you too much to let you die.

"I could have said the same, but it wouldn't have changed anything..." She whimpered back. She knew that would strike the chord of sympathy in him.

I... I'll be waiting for you, Kitty. I promise.

That one sentence made her mind up for her. He was waiting! She could see him again, and she would no longer feel her hair stand on end by his ghostly presence. She could hold him, like she always had. She could save herself from this insanity...she could make everything better...she could make herself whole. She could make herself whole...

She was prepared. With a shivering hand, she pulled a small bottle from her suit pocket. She looked at the orange-tinted bottle of white powder. They all want to call her crazy? So be it. She'll prove them right. With a skilled hand, she popped the lid off the bottle. She would be able to see him soon... It will only hurt for a second. It will only hurt for a second...

Lifting the bottle to her lips, she swiftly swallowed the fine powdered chemical. Immediately, she felt her oxygen being cut. Her body gasped for air, her stomach pushing against her. She coughed, blood splattering his tombstone, her head feeling light. She coughed more violently, full-formed clots falling onto the ground. Her head was spinning, chest tightening. She couldn't breathe anymore. She couldn't breathe anymore...

Her throat closed, and she let a single tear of fear escape her eyes. She was going to die... But she would see him again. That faint hope of being with him happily for all eternity took that little bit of fear away. If she was crazy and nothing awaited her but a long, long, sleep...she would dream of him instead. Dream of the life she could have lived. She gagged again, her chest feeling like it was being ripped apart. She felt blood vessels and capillaries burst, her aching brain starved of oxygen. Her eyes sagged, and she felt herself giving up. She felt herself giving up...

Collapsing against the upright-marker, she fought for air. She looked straight ahead, and she could see him... He was so close, and she smiled her first genuine smile in a long time. He grinned back, holding out a hand for her take. She lifted a weak arm with the last bit of energy she had, reaching towards him. "Dudley..." she whispered, her body finally giving in against the poison. Her arm fell suddenly, draped over the headstone. Blood still oozed from her mouth, and stained the snow and rock. But that was destined. Only dead things were welcome there. Only dead things were welcome there...

Didja like it? The repeating phrases, in case to some it is unclear, were in reference to Kitty's broken mind. The repetition of phrases is an identifier of some mental illnesses, so I used it. I think she developed a kind of paranoid schizophrenia, others can say Dudley's really a ghost. Take your pick.