Well, I don't usually do song-fics, but song was really special and it kind of...I dunno, struck me with a lightening bolt of inspiration. So, here's something to cure my writer's block and to entertain you people while I work on my next chapter of 'The Gray Between'.

Song: 'Death And All His Friends" by Coldplay. I hope you can tell which words are lyrics and which words are not. Anything that's centered is NOT part of the song. Story inspired by Hermonthis' 'Crimson and Clover'.

Hey, you. Traitor-man. Play your guitar.

I want to drown in the music and drown in my cup.

I know your name, and you know mine, but we don't need names, not here.

I don't want to kill you. I don't have to kill you.

You don't have to kill me.

I can kill myself.

Play those strings. Do you remember me?

I remember you.

Cold red eyes and lively green.

We meet again.

I remember you.

(All winter, we got carried/Oh way over on the rooftops-)

Bitter cold and merciless wind pounded against the windowpane and rattled the glass. Eerie noises, distant screams, all carried by the tempest. Or created by it. Either way, it invaded imaginations and made the night seem that much darker.

They lay side by side on her bed, but fully clothed. Something had begun, but nothing had happened. She had just leaned back all of a sudden and begun to stare into the darkness. One of her pale hands rested on his shoulder. He kept on staring at it, as if just looking would make her realize he was tired and wanted to go to sleep, but did not want to abandon her either. She glanced at him and noticed his half shut eyes. She asked him a question, something simple, something like, What is the date? And he answered obediently. It is December. It is winter.

Stare out the window, watch the dark peaks of the distant terras loom like ghosts that would haunt them both. Stare and imagine you see Death in all his glory, sliding across the outside. But they are inside, and they are warm. She leans against him and sighs. She needs to feel safe.

They sky is not its usual red, but a dark and stormy gray. She points and he follows her finger with his eyes, tracing the line of her arm. See? Never a star in the sky. It's unfair.

Unfair.

Life is unfair.

He smiles at her and pushes her arm down. She scowls, but only for a moment. He just smirks all the wider and pulls her close. Listens to her heartbeat. Thump-thum, thump-thum, drum along with the wind outside, but the wind is moaning, screaming, as if in pain. What's hurting it? He begs to know. This is a memory, a beautiful memory of now.

He smells her scent, the thin and wavering odor of crystals and silk and something he doesn't know. He remembers her laugh, the dark hiss on a stormy night, and wonders why she'll never laugh her true laugh, not for him, not for anyone. She will force something out, just like everything else she does.

A week ago:

"You must hate me."

"I'll never hate you! Why would I hate you?"

"Because I'm never honest with you."

It was all not a lie, but it was not the truth either. A half truth, a half lie, half baked in a half cooked pie. He wrapped his hand around hers, but inside, he did it to steady himself. The sheets whispered whenever he moved. She sighed whenever he looked at her. Hair so black it was almost blue, and it shimmered a million other colors in the dim light. What is the date?

It is December. It is winter.

Moving too fast. Not enough time to slow down and enjoy romance. There is no room for love in the lives of a warrior and a queen. But they made room.

Love does not like to be squeezed back, nor does it like to be given little space in a heart. Love consumes everything it touches, it breaks the people who harbor it, and eats them up from the inside out. Like a parasite. And when it's done with you, it will move on, but always leaving a mark, a scar. He held her and stared out the window, paying more attention to the storm than to the girl in his arms. The wind was dying. Lessening. She gave a little cough. He started, then squeezed her to show that she was still in his thoughts. The storm was almost completely dimmed over. The sky was paling. The sun was starting to climb.

Silence.

It is so quiet. But still...no stars. She turned away as she said the words. The world always comes back.

He hurt too much inside to tell her something meaningful. Winters without snow, just storms. Love without comfort, just pain. Lies without truth, just deception. Incomplete, imperfect, breaking, snapping, this night would live in his memory for as long as he lived. Even after she was dead and gone, and he remained behind, half alive, half dead, sitting in a yellow bar with a black guitar on his knees, even after the war had faded away into half existence, he would conjure up that stormy night and recall the December things whipped by too fast.

Over the top, over the horizon, to where the sun died and the stars refused to show.

(-let's get married.)

(All summer we just hurried/so come over-)

"I think it looks like you."

"Does not! I'm not big and white and fluffy...right?"

She laughed and placed a hand on his belly to feel his laughter as well. He rolled over onto his stomach, causing her to pull back with a small squeal. Don't do that! she reprimanded. You'll break my fingers!

You calling me fat?

Laugh, laugh, she always laughed. Should they ever grow old together, he'd trace her laugh lines some day and ask her if she regretted smiling so much when she was young. Knowing her, she'd probably just beam all the wider. That was a question to ponder: Would they ever grow old? With each other? Would children ever cluster around his feet and beg to hear stories of the old days? Would he ever hold her hand and smile and say, "Back in the day..."

It seemed so distant and impossible.

He flipped over again. They lay in the grass and looked up towards the big blue sky. Her blue hair next to his red. She was dark, and even darker next to him. But her insides were as pure and golden as sunlight itself. And he loved her too much to think anything beyond that. He loved summer. Summer was beautiful. Summer was like her. She wrapped her thin fingers around his think ones and placed her head on his shoulder. She was no longer cloud watching, but he was. He was picking out subtle shapes and colors. They did this at night, too, only with stars.

He squeezed her hand and turned to look at her. Her eyes were closed.

She was far too good for him.

Shouldn't we be heading back? They'll be waiting.

He shrugged so that she would lift her head. We can stay for a little while longer. I like it here.

She tapped his nose with her free hand. Me too. Pause. Breathe. Something she wanted to tell him. He turned away from the sky completely and looked into her eyes. What is it? trickled off of his tongue and into the air. She looked away.

Shouldn't we tell the others about this?

He didn't say anything. His silence was answer enough. He did not want the others to know, because as soon as they did, it was no longer just his. Just hers. He didn't want things to move faster than they already were. He had lunged at the chance to be with her, to love her, to be able to openly declare his feelings for her. But open just meant open to her, not to the world. He wasn't ready for that yet. Maybe she was, but not him. For all his energetic motions and positive attitude, he was reserved when it came to what was inside his mind, his heart. She sighed steadily and kissed his cheek. Don't worry. Not yet.

What was going through her mind? She must be a little frustrated. Maybe she can't wait to be able to do the things normal couples do. But there was a war to fight. Every day was a blessing. Every day could be their last.

He felt the breeze wind through the grass and ripple it like golden green water. It brushed against his skin and made him itch. He knew she worried, worried about the concept of 'us' and the meaning of 'together'. So what if they were stepping out? It still had to be something private, something...reserved. He felt so sorry for her, knowing he shouldn't. It had been going on for a few months now. The thing about love is that it makes you look at people in a whole new light. And you have to learn about them all over again. She was a completely different person when they were alone, now. No longer the shy and flirty girl. She was open and whole and she smiled so much, he thought her face might fall apart.

Had he changed as well?

He looked at her and sighed. I have a question, too. And if you answer it...

Turns to face him and tilts her head to one side. Yeah?

If you answer it, we'll tell the others. Maybe.

She smiles even wider. Shoot.

He props himself up on one elbow and looks down at her. I know this may be a bit...fast...but...Gulp. Will you...Will you marry me?

It comes out all wrong, all wrong. But she doesn't seem to mind. She tosses her arms around his neck and pulls him back to the grass. Cuts off his half frown with a whole kiss. Yes. Yes.

He'll remember this day as long as he lives. Even after she's faded away, even after she was buried and he was alone, even after his friends all died and disappeared, even when he stood in a yellow bar with amber liquid the color of her eyes in a cup clenched in his hand, watching a man with raven hair play on a black guitar, even then, he'd remember the feel of the tall grass on his face. The way her face looked when she said yes.

(-just be patient, and don't worry.)

(So come over, just be patient, and don't worry.)

There, Storm Hawk. I've played you a stupid song.

Now go home.

I don't need you here.

What can you do for me, you drunken idiot?

We both broke apart a long time ago.

I remember you.

What's the point of this? Coincidence we met here?

I will no longer tempt fate.

Livid green against angry red.

Blazing crimson and raven black.

I remember you.

(So come over, just be patient, and don't worry.)

(And don't worry.)

Hold her in your arms. Don't let her go. She's dead, but not really. You'll say you were sorry. The battle rages. Will it end? Her empire has crumbled, and so has she. Blood everywhere. Hers or yours? Tears on her face. Hers or yours? Something breaking. Something snapping. Memories.

They don't know you. You don't know them. You didn't even know her.

She was a ghost to you.

Yet you swore you loved her.

(No I don't wanna battle from beginning to end;

I don't wanna cycle or recycle revenge;)

I don't wanna follow death and all his friends.

Hold her in your arms. Hold her tight. You know she's gone, but you don't believe it. You don't want to fight anymore. Your team is screaming at you. Get up, get up, there's still killing to be done. But it's done, it's over, she's gone, she will never smile at you again.

Not even time for a wedding. Can you imagine her in white? White is a good color. But all you see is red.

Pain, pain, your insides hurt. You never told her what it was like to love her. The burning inside turns to cold.

She was everything to you.

You swore you loved her.

You know it's true.

(No I don't wanna battle from beginning to end;

I don't wanna cycle or recycle revenge;)

I don't wanna follow death and all of his friends.

Two men in a bar in the middle of nowhere, savage beauty of a blue and red sky. War's over, but the dying is not.

And they both stare into each other's eyes and reclaim the past.

I remember you.

Do not forget the women.

I remember her.

Do not forget about love.

I remember you.

Two men on a terra in the middle of the sky, split by the years and joined by them as well. Who knew?

Who could've guessed?

Fly away, leave behind a feather. You don't love without paying a price.