Author's Note:
Never done a songfic before (probably never do one again – this was a pain in the ass to write), but I was listening to this song a couple of weeks ago, and a scenario began to unfold in my mind – one that I couldn't really bring myself to inflict on Jessime, but one that wouldn't go away. Thought I'd see what y'all thought of it.
"It Just Won't Quit" by Meat Loaf
The storm broke.
Lightning flared across the sky, in and out of the darkly boiling clouds, accompanied by thunder that ranged from the almost constant rumbles to the periodic cataclysmic detonations that sounded as though the heavens had been split asunder. Bright tongues occasionally flickered from the sky to lick the ground hungrily, seeking to start a conflagration on the earth to match the one in the skies, but the rain suffocated any blazes almost before they began.
It was no gentle spring shower. The rain fell from the heavens in great sheets, driven by howling winds that would have snapped the masts of the strongest sailing ship like twigs. The rain and wind combined to bend smaller trees almost to the ground, tearing the leaves from the branches of the larger trees. Placid creeks swelled within minutes to raging torrents, tearing great chunks from the soil of their banks, pulling the trees that normally shaded them down into the churning, muddy waters, gnarled roots reaching skyward like the desperate hands of the drowning.
Through the midst of the deluge, Corbin ran, trying to escape his nightmares made real.
And I never really sleep anymore
And I always get those dangerous dreams
And I never get a minute of peace
And I gotta wonder what it means…I gotta wonder what it means.
Though it seemed that the dreams had always been with him, in reality, they had not begun until he had left Candlekeep.
Until Gorion had died.
As though the mage – who had been the only father Corbin had ever known – had provided him with some unseen protection, the dreams had begun immediately after his death. At first they had been sinister, but not particularly alarming, a threatening yet seductive unseen presence seeking to awaken in him the desire for power, but they had rapidly progressed to terrifying images: endless slaughter, screams of terror, and himself at the center, drenched in the blood of the innocents he had killed, his own cries of horror waking him – and usually everyone else in camp.
And then, at some point, he stopped screaming.
At some point, the nightly slaughter went from terrifying to fascinating.
And at the same time, his powers in the waking world were growing.
Maybe it's nothing and I'm under the weather
Maybe it's just one of those bugs going round
Maybe I'm under a spell and it's magic
Maybe there's a witch doctor with an office in town
As he ran, he was all but blinded by the rain that poured down his face, washing away the tears, and the ground beneath his feet alternated between calf-deep puddles and slick mud, but he never stumbled – or even slowed. From his earliest years, Corbin had been stronger, faster, more agile than the other children his age, and after Gorion's death, the disparities had become even more pronounced…and other differences had begun to manifest.
He had never trained in the use of magic, yet now he found himself able to heal himself and others, to reverse the effects of poisons, and to call upon a power that made him nearly invincible in battle. Despite the fact that he had no idea where these new powers had come from, despite their obvious association with the dark dreams, it had been all too easy to use them to keep himself and his companions safe on the trail of the Iron Throne and Gorion's murderer.
But each time he used them, he had unknowingly strengthened their hold upon him.
Oh is this a blessing or is it a curse?
Does it get any better? Can it get any worse?
Will it go on forever or is it over tonight?
Does it come with the darkness? Does it bring out the light?
Is it richer than diamonds or just a little cheaper than spit?
I don't know what it is but it just won't quit
By the time they confronted Sarevok, Corbin had discovered the truth about himself, about his past. The knowledge that he was the child of the God of Murder had frightened him…but exhilarated him, as well. They had accomplished much good in their quest to bring down the Iron Throne, and it was almost too easy for him to dismiss the dual motives that existed within him each time he wielded a blade in battle. Those he fought had been evil, he reasoned, so it didn't really matter that he gloried in the blood he shed, that he found himself playing with his outmatched opponents, drawing out their deaths as long as he could to savor their desperation and suffering.
It didn't even really matter that, when he killed Sarevok, he had not even been thinking about avenging Gorion's death. He had seen only the opportunity to vanquish a powerful opponent, and when Sarevok had finally fallen, Corbin's triumphant bellow had sounded barely human.
Yes, it had been all too easy to dismiss his motivations in the light of his accomplishments. He had told himself that he was capable of harnessing the powers of Bhaal for doing good, of controlling the taint, rather than being controlled by it. And – the gods help him – he had actually believed it, and convinced his companions of it, as well.
Then had come Irenicus…and Imoen…and everything had fallen apart.
And there used to be such an easy way of living
And there used to be every hope in the world
And I used to get everything that I went after
But there never used to be this girl. No, there never used to be this girl.
Imoen had been his closest friend. When she had been taken by the Cowled Wizards following their escape from Irenicus' dungeons in Athkatla, Corbin had vowed to do whatever was necessary to get her back…and he had…
He stumbled at last, falling facedown into the mud, but he was up almost instantly, running again, trying to escape the memory of the ranger he had delivered to the Cowled Wizards. Valygar Corlatha had been his name, and he had been the first innocent that Corbin had sacrificed, though at the time, he had justified it by telling himself that it was the only way to get Imoen back…He hadn't even asked why they wanted him; a part of him had known that whatever excuse they offered would be lies – but he had done it, anyway.
They had rescued Imoen, but not before Irenicus had escaped the confines of Spellhold and stolen the souls of both Corbin and his sister. His sister, for Imoen was also a child of Bhaal, as Irenicus had revealed to him during his brief second period of captivity. She had never before shown even the slightest hint of the taint, but now…
As he ran, Corbin began to hear an eerie keening over the howl of the wind. At first, he thought that it must be a grievously wounded animal; it was not until the sound had dogged his steps for several minutes that he realized that he was its source.
Maybe I'm crazy and I'm losing my senses
Maybe I'm possessed by a spirit or such
Maybe I'm desperate and I've got no defenses
Can you get me a prescription for that one perfect touch?
As they pursued Irenicus through the Underdark, Corbin realized with horror that Imoen was being seduced by the taint in much the same way that he had been so many months ago, recognized the fascination, the same rationalizations that he had used.
But it was not until he attempted to draw her away from the edge of the pit that he realized just how deeply into it he himself had fallen.
Oh is this a blessing or is it a curse?
Does it get any better? Can it get any worse?
Will it go on forever or is it over tonight?
Does it come with the darkness? Does it bring out the light?
It's a stairway to heaven or a subway going down to the pits.
(Is it some kind of love?)
I don't know what it is but it just won't quit.
He had been running blindly, but now he staggered to a halt, staring before him in horror. He had come full circle.
I don't know what it is but it just won't quit.
The storm had been brewing when they stopped for the night, so they had chosen their camp with care, in the lee of a high hill, beneath a heavy canopy of trees. Some rain had penetrated the leaves, but for the most part the slaughter in the grove remained undisturbed. It had happened so quickly that none of them had time to don their armor.
Corbin moved forward on feet of lead, one part of his mind screaming, the other part savoring the sight of each broken body.
I don't know what it is but it just won't quit.
Minsc – the first to attack, the first to die; even his great strength was no match for the Slayer. He lay on his back, his throat torn out in a single merciless bite, his eyes staring sightlessly up at the branches overhead. Corbin wondered briefly where Boo was, but could not bring himself to search the ranger's body.
I don't know what it is but it just won't quit.
Jaheira. She had tried to reason with him all along, to make him see how dangerous it was to allow the taint any hold over him, but he had refused to listen. She had remained by his side anyway, and had paid with her life, the horrendous gashes that covered her proof of how hard she had fought against one who had been her trusted companion.
I don't know what it is but it just won't quit.
Keldorn. The aging paladin had left his family once again to fight evil, and had finally lost, brought down by an evil much nearer to him than Irenicus. His hand still gripped the hilt of his sword firmly…even though the arm lay several feet away from the rest of his mangled body.
I don't know what it is but it just won't quit.
Viconia. She alone had entirely approved of the changes in him, drawn to his growing power and displaying it in the manner for which drow females were notorious. Her seductions had seemed at the time to be harmless pleasure, but he realized now that they had only served to strengthen the hold of the taint on him. He could not fault her for following her nature, however, particularly since she had paid the ultimate price for her association with him. Her dark skin was even darker now, almost every inch obscured with blood that was still slightly wet, her beautiful face no longer recognizable; her skull had been crushed by a series of devastating blows from an iron-clawed hand.
I don't know what it is but it just won't quit.
Corbin kept walking past the bodies of his companions, until he stopped beside the motionless form of the one who had killed them.
The one he had killed.
I don't know what it is but it just won't quit.
Imoen had returned to her own form in death; she huddled on her side, looking impossibly small. Corbin dropped to his knees beside her, lifting her limp body in his arms and cradling her close to him, rocking back and forth while the sorrowful keening gave way to full-throated howls of grief that overwhelmed even the wind and the thunder.
What had the argument been? So minor that Corbin could not even remember the cause, it had nonetheless given the taint enough of an opening to take control of Imoen. Her transformation into the Slayer had caught them all off guard; the others had fallen almost before they had a chance to fight, and Corbin –
He shook his head violently, trying to push the memory away. Because the slaughter had inflamed him to the point that he had lost control, become the Slayer himself. He had attacked the Imoen-Slayer, not because it had killed his companions, but because it had been another Bhaalspawn, and a threat to his power. The trees of the grove bore the scars of the battle, great gouges ripped from their bark by deadly claws that had missed their intended target. He had killed the other Bhaalspawn at last, feeling his wounds healing even as his hated rival fell, but his roar of victory had died in his throat as the transformation reversed for both of them, leaving him standing, unsteady and wild-eyed at the edge of the grove with Imoen lying dead at his feet.
He had killed his sister…and she had killed everyone else that he cared about, because he had failed her, had given the taint so much of a foothold in himself that he had been unable to keep it from taking her.
Still choking on his sobs, he laid her back down, gently smoothing her hair away from her face and kissing her cheek. He drew his dagger, and quickly - before the taint within him could divine the purpose of what remained of his sanity – drove the blade into his chest. He knew well where the heart was – his blade had found it in enough foes – and he did not miss.
He fell beside Imoen, his hand releasing its grip on the hilt of the dagger to reach out and draw his sister close to him. As his life faded from him, his last thought was the fervent wish that there be no dreams in this sleep.
There was a time when nothing ever really mattered
There was a time when there was nothing I didn't know
There was a time when I knew just what I was living for
There was a time and the time was so long ago
There was a time and the time was so long ago...
And I never really sleep anymore.