A/N: Okay, so this is a dumb idea that came to me late at night when I was bored, and I thought I'd follow it up and post it, just to get started posting stuff. It's a series of oneshots. First one's Kratos…hooray! It is pretty angsty, though. And just so you know, these are not my personal opinions of Kratos; they're his own of himself. Tell me what you think, if it's too weird, or stuff like that. Usually I'll try to have some kind of hope at the end, but not in this one. I'm too lazy this time around. Anyways, review please?

Something stabbed at Kratos' heart; a mixture of relief, joy, and excruciating pain.

There it was. There she was. Which meant Lloyd…

Relief.

Lloyd, his son, was alive...

Joy.

And then Kratos heard the voices.

Pain. Excruciating, undeniable pain.

Kratos heard the voices, all of them, and could no longer make out which ones were there, at that dwarf's house, and which ones weren't.

A woman lecturing, her brother giddy and playing. A woman screaming, a child crying out in fear. A girl laughing, a man with an odd accent reiterating some nonsense. A cold laugh among many screams. A young man's voice closer than expected, coming closer and closer, addressing him…

Lloyd.

Kratos put a wall inside his mind to barricade the voices from the sane and rational thoughts He dulled all his senses, and once again became numb to his own thoughts and feelings. His body seemed to work without his mind yet again as he asked nonchalantly about the grave…Anna's grave…and his son confirmed what he had already known before returning to his friends with an awkward glance. Some time passed, during which Kratos was vaguely aware of people making attempts at talking to him, but moving on when he showed no response, and then finally going inside.

When Kratos found himself alone, standing outside the house in which his lost son had been raised by a dwarf, looking down at his beloved's grave, the wall in his mind keeping the voices at bay broke. The voices crashed through his entire body, shaking him down to his very core.

And Kratos fell.

He was on the ground now, kneeling before Anna, willing it all to end. Time passed without coherent thought. The agony was too much to bear. He, too, should have died. His life should have ended long ago.

Kratos...

And those voices! Those voices were torturing him!

Those voices, Kratos? There is only one, and you know it.

"Go away. I have not the strength."

Yes you do. By acknowledging me you have already decided against suicide. You know how I react when you have thoughts of "the end".

"You know nothing. You are of no help or use. Leave me. Now."

You know that's a lie. I always help. You don't actually want me to leave; you only want to think that you want me to leave. It's easier for you that way. I understand that. And since you and I are one, that means you understand that as well.

"You're trying to manipulate me."

What can I say? You are the Master of Manipulation.

"I am not you. Your efforts are in vain. I will do as I please, and I will join her tonight."

And what about Lloyd? Now that you've finally found him, you've decided to cack right on his mother's grave. Great plan.

"Lloyd will never know me."

So? You're going to abandon him again? Just because he can't love you? I suppose that makes sense. Parent's unconditional love, my ass.

"Damn it, leave me alone!" Kratos yelled into the dark. He was unsure whether or not he had spoken his other thoughts, but he was sure he had shouted this in quite a desperate tone. He saw and vaguely comprehended that he had frightened Noishe out of his slumber, but Kratos couldn't care less. In all honesty, he was desperate. When the voice became sarcastic, that was always the turning point. He had been trying to avoid the turning point, and yet here it was. He would be humiliated again, lose all respect for himself again, lose the battle for his own free will yet again.

If only he could get through this night, this seemingly endless night…What time was it? How many hours were there until he had to be in Iselia again? Four? Five maybe? Five hours. 4,000 years. Eternity. What did it matter? If only he could see the sun again…dawn was bearable; night was not. Night was...night was... terrible.

Thinking about living again, are we? Fantastic.

"Please, stop," Kratos begged of himself. His eyes were closed as tightly as was possible, and he was still in that kneeling position, hovering over Anna's final resting place.

Final resting place…At the thought of those words, Kratos wanted, more than anything else, more than death, more than judgment, more than retribution, anything, to cry. He wanted to weep openly. He longed with all his might to sob uncontrollably for the rest of his pathetic life.

Now, now. What would tears do?

"Help me regain my humanity," was his only answer, and in his opinion, which was the only one that mattered (since it was the only one that existed, really) it was a good one.

You wouldn't be feeling this kind of pain if you weren't human.

"Tears would honor her, tears would cleanse me, tears would prove that I am sorry, that I'm not a monster," he choked out, once again trying desperately to prove himself to himself. He searched within himself for all the reasons he wanted to cry, trying to find the right answer.

She knows. We all know. Well, except for Lloyd, but that will change with time. No, Kratos, you are a pathetic, miserable thing. The deepest, darkest circle of hell is reserved for you and you alone.

Kratos nodded. He knew.

But even so, you are above tears. You are a cold-hearted selfish bastard who destroys everything in the way and out of it. Your very existence is a sin. Tears are for the weak and self-absorbed who can't see beyond their own selves. Your pain, however, your pain and self-misery is so much more intense. You are above tears. You are undeserving of them. You are a monster. You do not have the luxury of expressing emotions, of being sorry. You must suffer.

And so he did. Kratos opened his eyes and forced himself to look at her grave. Anna. Anna Anna Anna Anna Anna…. Her name was all that ran through Kratos' thoughts, but he continued to speak aloud.

"Anna, Anna. Oh Anna…please." His own self-loathing was unbearable. "Anna, forgive me, Anna."

Her voice as it begged for death and Lloyd's distant cries dominated all of his hearing. They grew so loud inside his mind Kratos thought it might implode. In fact, he hoped it would. Visions of her blood swam before his eyes. He could feel it again on his hands, the sickly warm stickiness he had felt so long ago...He saw her deformed body in his mind's eye and again heard that cold, nasally laugh. Kvar...

He was going to kill Kvar. Now. He would fly to Asgard now, at this very moment, take down as many Desians as possible, and slaughter Kvar. How satisfying it would be to feel Kvar's blood on his hands, almost as satisfying as feeling his own…he could just slaughter himself while he was at it...it would be so easy, and it would be blamed on the Desians...

NO KRATOS.

"I don't need your permission."

You do. I say no.

"I will have revenge. Do not take it away from me!"

No Kratos. You don't deserve revenge. You are broken. They have broken you. Anna fixed you, but they won again. You killed her. And now they have broken you again. You are broken and undeserving of being fixed.

"You-"

NO KRATOS.

"Damn you! Damn you to the deepest and cruelest layer of hell!" he shouted into the night, but he stopped there when he realized he was damning himself, and he was already damned. "Leave me be! Let me have my fantasies and my wishes! Let me live in silence, please!"

No. Go inside, Kratos. Prepare for the Journey of Regeneration. You will do what you have been told, as always. You will remain loyal to those you took everything away from you. You are a follower. If you have it in you, though, you could do something for your son. How you will, though, is beyond me, which means it is beyond you as well. So it is impossible. Go inside. Prepare for the continuation of your miserable existence and obedience. Go inside.

So Kratos went inside. It wasn't until much later, however, after much time was spent with Lloyd Irving, that the voices stopped and it was silent.