A/N: Alright, so there's a lot of symbolism in this... Or, at least, I made an effort to put some in there. XD Anyhow, this occurs over ten years post-Falling Up.
Love how all my ideas are currently coming from around there. -shot- POV of a fancharacter. Meager Christmas gift to the public...

Passion's Quiet Rage

I am not who I used to be. I've changed since the last time you turned my night to day.

I try to play it off like I don't care, like your dying meant nothing to me. Like my life didn't end with yours. Like a part of me didn't burn beside you, reduced to a mere cinder of what it used to be. Not that I went back for it... Not after seeing what they did to our cinder. Our beautiful baby girl... Extinguished just as you were.

I hope she didn't feel the pain that you did.

I hope she didn't linger long, didn't cry like you did in my arms, wasn't shattered, broken, bleeding on the living room floor, cream carpet stained crimson with so much blood... like you knew she was already gone. But she did... I felt it. And there was so much blood...

And I was too late.

I'm empty.

Walking alone through this bitter cold as I try to recall your face, I find myself halted at the brutal understanding that this was the time you had died. Christmas. God knows the sky was never grey when you set foot out on that snow. You loved winter. And in turn, so did I. We loved the burn of oxygen rushing into our lungs, the sting of our fingers circulation restarted, the nip of the wind at our ears. Pain was enjoyable, so long as it was with you. Now, I can barely find the will to endure the agony of loss, though it must have been years ago. It feels like days.

Within the timespace of literally a few moments, my life had slipped into eternal silence with the rest of my family's. All that I had created, gone, destroyed, smothered.

No doubt, music was gone too. Once free-flowing jazz no longer filled the air, for, though he was only of me, he stole just as much will from me as you did. I refused to hear the bells, remembering that I only listened as they tolled for others, when in reality, we were for whom the bells tolled. Now I didn't care when I left the world, didn't worry about the apocalypse, didn't bother resisting the punishment dealt with the left hand... wished my wrists were bleeding to negate the pain of the beatings.
I am alone now. And my wounds will heal even if I continuously longed to be dealt a fatal hand.

But, yours won't.

I remember a fire, a driving passion that gave me reason. It appears that said sun will not be burned back.

You were the only one to love me with ardor's calm storm.

The only thing I want, long for, despairingly desire this Christmas is the revival of that flame inside this hollow heart. The hope for tomorrow, though there is none left. The faith, though I never had enough to lift myself up. And the love...

You see, they set me up to fail this time. And though it was they that wielded the weapon, it was I who betrayed with a kiss, though God knows it was my intent to lead them away, they found you in my stead. With a final kiss, just as Judas had. If I would have gone willingly, you wouldn't be dead.

I look hazily up into the face of the statue they erected in your honour as the bitter wind forces the tears from my eyes. Sing me a love song again... Burn back the sun once more... Make me whole again.

A/N: Obviously, somebody's dead. You'll have to read the next sequal in the RAT series to find out who though. D: I ain't giving you that. But, I will give you this:
jazz- Jasper
cinder- Cynder
left hand- Azrael