Disclaimer: All characters mentioned except for Evelyn belong to J.K. Rowling.

In an unforeseen flash, everything stopped. Time stopped. The shadows enveloped Lord Voldemort; a darkness that wasn't black but it wasn't any other shade either. It was a void. There was no living, there was no dead, and there was no body or spirit. Then there was light, and with it his eyes focused. There was a train station, and it filled his vision with such bright light that it hurt. In his desperation to escape the light he closed his snake-like eyes and listened to the distant sounds of two men talking, neither of which he could interpret.

A stifled moan escaped his lips as indescribable pain struck him. It came so quickly that he didn't even feel pieces of himself splitting apart until bits of him were already gone. It left him completely mutilated and disgusting. Nothing remained but the smallest portion of him, the last remaining piece of his disfigured soul.

This part of his soul was buried so deep inside him; it was so obscure and left alone. Was it his humanity? 'Is this it?' Voldemort wondered, 'Is this the final piece of me?'

Splitting his soul into 6 pieces had been his choice, and he had never in his 70 years regretted the actions, but right now, in this small little world he felt a hint of regret, and a minuscule amount of longing to hold someone from his past that he had long forgotten about, along with this little piece of him.

Inside his mind, there was a scream, it was a distant, guttural noise, but it was there and it terrified him more than anything. He could hear his mind screaming at him and he couldn't even think, he couldn't focus on what he was hearing. He knew it was him, but it didn't even sound like him. It shook him to his very core, the deep sound that reverberated in his mind did not belong to him, and he recognized it as the childhood innocence, the last spark of his humanity.

These were the pieces of his soul that had been separated from its body.

It was the innocence; it was the boy who had never killed anyone and whose only dark deeds were reading books about the most twisted of magic and cursing mudbloods when they were not looking.

Another sudden twinge struck him in a large wave, making another loud moan escape his feeble lips. It sounded like a baby's cry, lonely and pathetic.

This was not Lord Voldemort, this small little piece of him was Tom Riddle, and it was holding on. It was holding onto whatever tiny pieces of humanity that remained in his torn and disfigured soul.

The little of his soul that remained began to pain him; he felt a physical tightness in his chest as a small image came to mind.

Her.

Once the realization of who it was came to him, he felt every nerve set on fire; he screamed out in agony, but once again it sounded like a disgusting wail. He remembered her, so well it physically hurt. She who died so many years ago, a muggle killed her, he remembered him too. He remembered the pathetic sounds he made as he tortured him; he remembered seeing her face over and over again through that filthy muggle's memory. The memory of how much pleasure he took in killing her. That single memory was what pushed Tom over the edge so long ago, he murdered the muggle, and with it he created his first horcrux. It was his most emotional kill, and with it; he buried something so deep inside him, he buried his love for her in that piece of his soul. The last piece.

Her eyes sparkled so brightly, especially when she cried that day he told her to never speak to him again. She had the most beautiful, wavy brown hair that framed her face perfectly; he remembered how messy it was in those many moments of bliss he had shared with her. She had the cutest nose; it was perfect for holding the small pool of tears that would flow from her beautiful peridot eyes. He remembered how his hand fit perfectly on her neck when he pulled her in for that last kiss. The way their bodies fit together when they were lost in a moment of ecstasy.

But those moments did not matter to the darker side of himself, he would make her cry and he would scream at her, causing her to curl up into a ball and tremble in fear, she would scream so beautifully when he cursed her.

His dark side, which eventually became Lord Voldemort would revel in her pain, bathe in her tears and smile in delight when she looked weak under his power. But there were moments Tom could remember, when she would make his chest tighten and cause his stomach to flutter from the happiness she gave him. Tingles in his toes and warmth that spread to every inch of his body, and the delight he would feel when he would catch that stunning smile she would give him when she was proud of him.

He remembered when he told her he would never kill another innocent, he sounded so sincere to her and her beautiful smile almost made him want to keep to his word. A horrible pain struck him once more when he realized he lied to her.

"Did you ever tell me the truth, Tom?" her voice echoed in his ears.

He opened his little mouth and weak words flowed out, "Once."

He heard a chuckle, and then light footsteps crossing the room towards him. They stopped, and Tom Riddle opened his eyes, revealing her.

She was as beautiful as always, her eyes still held the same sparkle, her lips curled into that crooked smile she was famous for, "Hello, Tom."

Her silk voice calmed Tom, he felt himself relived of the pain that was haunting him as he gazed into her peridot eyes.

"Evelyn," he said.

She smiled at him, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, "Do you know where we are?"

He tried to move his head, or what he thought was his head, but he found that any movement resulted in fresh stabbing pains, so he refrained. Gliding his eyes over his surroundings, he realized it was still a train station.

"A train station, but I'm beginning to think it is more than that. Perhaps a world between worlds, I do not feel dead."

A familiar smirk made its way onto her face, a smirk that he himself taught her when he was talking down to her, a little ripple of fury went through him.

"You're right, it is a train station," she leaned in closer to him, "And we are not anywhere but in your mind."

"I would think that in my mind, my own dream I would not be in so much pain, I would rather be in a body, I would not choose a train station either. Much too muggle for my taste," he frowned unattractively, ignoring the stabbing pains that resulted in such movement.

"Then change it Tom, if it is your mind, you can control it."

He shut his eyes again, trying to change his surroundings. But when he opened them again he found the peridot eyes once more, but they were farther away, and they looked disappointed.

"Then it's true, what he told me was true," she spoke to herself, raising a single finger to her bottom lip and pulling on it.

"What is true?"

She pulled her hand away and leant closer to him, "This, form you are in is a representation of your soul. It does not look pretty, but it looks more like you than that serpent-like body you have been trapped in for the past 50 years. And as for King's Cross… I believe that it is so important in your life that it cannot be changed in this realm. Remember Tom; this was the first time you truly believed you would leave the world you hated. You used to tell me how you thought Hogwarts was a cruel joke until the moment you laid eyes on the train. You were so innocent then," she looked away from him, tears building in her eyes. She continued to stare off into the distance when she resumed speaking, "You have a decision to make, Tom, and it won't be easy. At least I hope it won't," she looked away from him, crossing her arms and moving farther away, her eyes began to fill with pools of uncertainty.

"What do you mean?"

She smiled again, a small smile, but it disappeared as she spoke again, "Tom, you have to choose whether to go back to your mortal life, or stay here, in this dream world," she paused to wipe her eye with her right hand, "with me."

He wanted to tell her he was sorry, to tell her he wanted to stay with her forever, but Tom knew he couldn't stay. "Voldemort does not wish to remain here in this vile place with you."

She pursed her lips, "What does Tom want?"

"Tom does not want anything."

"Who are you right now?"

"Tom."

She nodded.

"So you choose to go back," a lone tear rolled down her cheek, "You wish to return to a world which is fighting against you, a world where no one understands who you truly are, a world filled with hatred and fear."

She turned again, looking him in the eye once more, "A world without me."

"Even if I stayed here with you," his small voice broke for a moment, "It would never be enough for me."

She nodded, "I thought as much. You never seemed to be satisfied, even when you were with me. You always wanted more power over me, you always wanted to try something new, but you never left me even though you were unsatisfied."

She crossed her arms, waiting for his answer.

A groan escaped Tom's lips again, his vile body aching.

"Why didn't you leave me?" she demanded.

"Was I supposed to?" he smirked.

Her eyes flashed; pain, sorrow and anger exploded across her vision all at once before she turned away from him again, looking at something in the distance, "Tom, I-" she inhaled deeply to prevent herself from crying, her face hardened again.

"I didn't love you, Evelyn."

"I already knew that, Tom." She replied stiffly, facing him again. He knew she was suppressing her emotions because of that faint wrinkle she had in-between her eyebrows that only appeared when she was holding back tears. But didn't that mean anything? Didn't that mean that part of Tom loved her, he still noticed those things, after half a century of being away from her he still remembered every different expression. He remembered everything about her, and he knew exactly what she was thinking through them. Wasn't that what love was? Knowing everything about a person?

Tom was confused, he had never felt so many emotions pass through him, he had never felt so many painful thoughts and memories fleet across his vision so quickly. Visions of her laughing, seeing himself in the mirror with a faint smile where a smirk usually lay.

"I still love you," she said quietly. Tom wasn't sure he heard her right, but her expression told it all. The suppressing line told him all he needed to know. She took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes again, "I love you with my entire bloody being, and all you did was hurt me," she swallowed loudly, suppressing her tears, "You still hurt me."

Tom froze, he felt that feeling again, that aching pain in his chest…complete, unequivocal pain snuck up on him and it tore apart at his fragile being, leaving him a motionless heap. As he clutched at the last remnants of himself, he came upon a single thought that would change the outcome of a once certain future.

He loved her.

The very thought caused a familiar warmth to rush across his body, a feeling that he had come to associate with being around her, but now he knew what it was. It was love. Love. The very idea of it was absurd, it was not meant to be, it could not exist for him. Love was supposedly something to die for, but would he? Would he really give up his life, give up all the power he had acquired just to ensure she was alright?

Life was too important to him, and death was something he would never want to endure, especially alone. So, would he?

In a small crevice in his darkened soul, in the farthest, most inner parts of him; he knew he would truly and completely give everything to ensure she would live, even if it sacrificed his own. But a thought like that would never come to the surface, no matter what.

He remembered one time, long ago when they were still innocent children she told him something he never forgot. It was the middle of the night, they had snuck out together to spend the evening in the astronomy tower to talk about their future, and she told him: "You cannot kill what never dies." And then he had thought the meaning was geared towards him and his horcruxes that he told her about, he knew he could never be killed because he could never die, but there was a small light that now burned inside of him when he realized what she had been referring to.

It was love.

Love can never be killed, because it can never die.

And he realized, looking up into her confused, teary peridot eyes that love was the reason she appeared to him in the train station. She appeared in limbo with him because her love stayed with him forever, even if it was in the smallest part of him.

He used to think that love was a weakness, and the one day she let 'I Love You' slip through her small, pink lips he felt a tight pain in his chest that made him gasp. He remembered how angry it made him, he remembered how he screamed at her, and hurt her.

He had allowed a darker side of him to take over that day; he let it take over because he was afraid. He was overwhelmed, and he couldn't admit he loved her back, so he let himself hurt her. He deeply regretted that now.

"Tom?" her soft voice poked through his muddied thoughts.

He gazed up at her through clearer eyes, why was everything clear? He turned his head instinctively and realized there was no pain. Nothing. He moved a hand in front of his face, and he saw the human form it was in.

"Something has happened," he whispered, his regular voice had returned to him.

She nodded, "Yes Tom, everything has changed."

He peered at her between his fingers, and stood up. His legs strong, like what they would have been 50 years ago if he had remained with his untainted body. He reached up a hand and felt soft, silky hair between his fingertips.

"Your body has returned to its former," she smiled.

He looked down at himself, impressed, "Yes, I suppose it has."

"You regretted something, what did you regret?" she asked gently.

His face scrunched up, regret? "What in the name of Salazar does regret have to do with anything?"

She took a few tentative steps towards him, stopping only a half-foot away. She raised her right hand and touched his chest, feeling his beating heart through his ribs and she smiled serenely. "Regret. It means you remembered something that you wish you had never done. Regret heals a soul. You are more whole now than before. A great deal more."

He blinked, "You cannot heal a soul."

She chuckled, "Oh Tom, you were never one to look up the cure to something like splitting your soul. I remember looking at that book after you; you had left it on your bedside table one night. Naturally I looked at it, found the page you marked, and there was a small bit about how the soul can only be pieced together again by regret."

"No more horcruxes?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. He never wanted to be mortal.

"You should know, never to depend on something. They tend to disappoint you," she moved her hand up his chest to his neck, lightly stroking his collarbone.

He shuddered under her fingertips, "I regretted hurting you."

Her fingers stopped moving, her eyes searching his for the truth. They didn't lie, for his were searching hers just as desperately. He didn't know what provoked him to say that, but he did and now he felt more vulnerable than ever. He hated feeling that way.

"That is why part of your soul returned? The last par-"

One finger of Tom's met her lips, silencing her. "I regretted letting the darkest part of me loose, I let it take over when you told me how you felt. I-" his finger dropped from her lips, and his hand remained on her shoulder, slowly sneaking its way onto her neck.

"Your soul is free."

He nodded in response, "I have to go now."

She shook her head, "No! Stay here with me, stay with me always, stay with me forever!" She trembled, his arms snuck around her shoulder reassuringly and he pulled her into his chest. "I don't want to lose you again!"

His chest muffled her voice, but he could feel hot tears dripping down his chest. His hold on her tightened, and he leaned his head closer to hers, inhaling her faint scent of spring that he missed more than anything.

"Tom, there's nothing for you there. You'll die. The moment you leave this place, you will forget it all, the darkness will take over, and it'll kill you." The last part was barely a whisper, but he heard and it felt like someone had just ripped out his heart; he didn't want to lose her again.

"Evelyn?"

"Yeah, Tom?"

He inhaled deeply, "I haven't been able to fall asleep without something in my arms since you died. There always has to be something there, or I feel so lonely, I feel like I truly lost you. And I think that I've always…loved you. In my own way, but I think it's as close to love as you can get."

She smiled through the tears, "We'll find each other again."

A long pause followed, and after a minute, Evelyn felt Tom's body stiffen. She pulled herself gently out of his deep embrace and looked up at his crimson eyes.

"I'm going to die aren't I?" his voice still held that calm façade, but it was softer, and more vulnerable like a child that was just told he was going to grow up.

"Yes, you will die."

He took a deep breath, and looked around him, his eyes focused on something in the distance for a moment before returning to her gaze, "Does it hurt?"

She felt her heart break; she could still see that young innocence in him, the little boy that sat alone on his first train ride to Hogwarts, the same little boy who sat at the Slytherin table and had students move away from him. It was the same boy who went to the library alone every night to look for a cure to his mortal life. He was still a little boy scared of death, and that was something he would never grow out of.

She knew he was hanging on every word she said, the only person he ever trusted.

"No, It doesn't hurt at all."

He nodded simply.

"Tom? Are you-" she took a huge breath, waiting a few moments before peering into his red eyes, "Are you going to go back to who you were once you return?"

A small flash of despair registered in his eyes, but he made no movements, he didn't stop holding onto her like a scared child with his teddy bear.

"There is so much more in this world than in yours. Death is a great adventure. You'll be okay," Evelyn said with a faint smile on her lips.

He slowly released her, fury in his eyes; how foolish of him to find regret, he was so foolish to heal his soul. He glared at her, hoping for just that moment that he was a basilisk, but he remembered she was already dead.

"I wish I could have taught you more, let you delve into the world of dark magic with me. Then we would not be at this point. You would not be dead."

He began to stroke her back with his long fingers, she leaned into him in response, closing her eyes and losing herself to the sensations.

He leant closer to her, nestling his face in her hair and inhaling, trying to remember for the last time what she smelled like. He smiled; he would miss this feeling, the feeling of peacefulness that always surrounded her like an aura. However much he enjoyed her presence, he knew he would have never been able to be with her through his life, she made him soft and he would have left her eventually.

For Lord Voldemort could not ever appear to be soft.

He opened his eyes and removed his head from her hair, looking around to check if anyone was watching. There was none.

"Evelyn," he whispered, his hand slowly trailing up her back to her neck.

She removed her tear-stained face from his chest and looked up at him fearfully. It hurt him to see her fear him, but he would never admit that to anyone.

He pulled up her chin with his unoccupied hand and looked her in the eye reassuringly, "I just want one last moment of bliss between us, I need to feel you."

She smiled faintly, but did not say a word.

His fingers gently caressed her chin, moving its way across her jaw to her ear. He moved downward to her neck and began to caress the skin there. She shuddered slightly, he could not tell if it was from fear or desire, but he carried on. His other hand began to massage the back of her neck, pressing into the tender spot he remembered and a small moan escaped her lips as her eyes closed.

He leant forward, his lips tenderly touching the corner of her mouth. He left tiny kisses there, and then moved onto her lips. He pressed his lips onto hers, softly at first, but then with an increasing fierceness as he felt his body melt away.

This was the end.

"This is it," he mumbled into her reddened lips.

"I'll see you on the other side, my love."

Then she was gone. Coldness enveloped his body as he felt the bitter air rush to meet the skin that was pressed against her only moments ago. He shivered. He missed the woman who was the glue that held his soul together.

Then the coldness disappeared and he felt something warm around him, scratching at his delicate skin. It was then that he vaguely recognized the scent of dirt, and the smell of the air after the killing curse.

He wondered vaguely if he was dead, but then it all came back to him.

Harry Potter.

Voices and hushed whispers filled his pounding ears, then a concerned voice came out of the air, "My lord… my lord… my lord…" she persisted.

Her voice, it was so tender like that of … someone else. Someone he felt he should remember…but it was fading.

There was nothing more devastating to him than the evanescent memory of King's Cross.