Notes: Based on the scene between Rath and Kai-Stern in the back of book 8. But it would be helpful to have at least read through the Sea of Souls in book 17 for a better understanding of where Rath's coming from. Oh, and you need to have read far enough to know that Rath seems to trap certain souls of those he kills inside himself. (Posted with Sarehptar's permission, because we both wrote very similar pieces unknowingly, and when I saw hers, I didn't want to copy her lovely writing) Even if nobody cares about it, I've been wanting to get this off my computer for ages though…
Never Again
Never again…
It had been too close this time. Kai-Stern closed his eyes in weary contemplation and tried not to wince when Rath's deft hands wrapped bandages too tight. Yes, way too close. If it hadn't been for the mercy of the one-eyed demon, he might not be here now. He knew it. And he knew Rath knew it. Rath just… said it in different ways.
Kai-Stern flinched as Rath jerked one of the bandages particularly tight. Definitely different ways.
"You know, if you're mad, you can just say it."
"Why would I be mad? What do I care if you get yourself killed?" It was muttered threateningly through the cloth of a bandage Rath'd momentarily gripped with his teeth.
"Dispassionate as—Ow! —ever." Rath reached out to start on Kai-Stern's chest, but stopped with a small hiss. The roll of bandages dropped from his out-stretched hand, forgotten. Kai-Stern glanced down, wondering what Rath had seen, but it just looked like another set of gashes to him, albeit one in which the claw marks were particularly distinguishable. He was so cut up, it all seemed the same. But Rath stared at his own hand—at fingers that lined up perfectly with the claw marks—in something Kai-Stern could only call horror. Finally Kai-Stern remembered where he'd seen a mark like that before… Ruwalk.
It's not just a hand to you, is it? Kai-Stern thought. Rath's eyes met his wildly.
"I didn't…!"
"No… Never." But Rath was staring at his own splayed fingers again, as though he were the only one in the room. Kai-Stern's words reflected off a shuttered gaze. He reached out and placed one severely bandaged hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm still here, Rath."
"For how much longer?" Rath's eyes met his finally, and they smoldered with fear. And something behind it—something Kai-Stern had never seen before. Something he didn't like. Desperation? Resolve? He faltered.
"That's just the way things are."
"No. It's not. It doesn't have to be. I can…" Rath glanced away for a second, but then his gaze returned full force. "Look at me."
Kai-Stern laughed shakily. Look at him? He couldn't look away from him. And Rath's expression never wavered. At first, Kai-Stern didn't realize anything had changed. Rath just suddenly seemed so much more intent. And he seemed… closer—that burning gaze he couldn't seem to shy away from. With eyes as passionless as steel and desperate as death and the color of the blood that was welling up into Kai-Stern's mouth.
And that's when he looked down.
Rath's arm hadn't moved from his chest, but… somehow… it had disappeared from the wrist down. It just… wasn't… there…
Darn, he thought. If only it wasn't so hard to think. Distantly, agonizingly slowly, he started to make sense of what he was seeing. Rath's hand wasn't gone—it was buried to the wrist in his chest, canine claws curled convulsively, carefully, around his heart. And mechanically slow—slower—his gaze followed the arm back to the stiff shoulders and rose to the pale face—finally jerked to those pitiless eyes.
"I'm not sorry." The voice was just as passionless—just as flat. Kai-Stern tried to chuckle and started choking instead. He couldn't swallow past the blood.
"Lying to me now?" He tried to make it sound light-hearted, but it came out faint and cold. But it gave him what he wanted to see—the slight flickering of something behind Rath's eyes—perhaps of that merciless resolve. Yes, you are lying.
But rather than reply, Rath pulled his hand free. Kai-Stern felt himself crumple and collapse forward, only to fall into Rath's outstretched arms. They closed around him, bracing him, clutching his dying body so tightly Kai-Stern knew they'd never let go. Not completely. Nor would they ever be just hands anymore.
No, Rath. My blood's all over you. You don't want my blood all over you. With bloody lips, he tried to force out the words that would make Rath understand what he was doing. Not yet. He struggled to stay conscious. But he was silenced by the light caress of claws against his cheek—the brush of slender fingers in a hushing motion across his lips, along his jaw, leaving ghostly blood prints of hands that dried and crackled on his skin.
"Don't fight it, Kai-Stern. It… hurts when you fight." Encircling arms welcomed him gently into the darkness. He already knew what his choice was... He let Rath keep him.
…
Rath threw his head back, basking in the horror of it—the exquisite bliss. His little secret. I'm not going to risk losing you again. And when he was done, there was nothing physically left of Kai-Stern. Except, strangely, his blood, which continued to drip rain-like from Rath's curled hands—always disappearing before it hit the floor. And the words seemed distant, far away… meaningless.
Never again…
Author Note: I believe in letting readers make their own assumptions, but I think my friend nailed the blood at the end when she said, "Guilt is sticky like that." My greatest worry though is that this fic is confusing and doesn't make sense. Sometimes my metaphors and allusions are vague and difficult to understand. I'm really sorry if you have trouble...