Fallen Angels

When angels falls from grace, they do not simply die.

At some point throughout his travels along the six paths of Hell – though exactly which one, he was not entirely sure, as his sense of time had been skewed during this period – he vaguely remembered some faceless, nameless voice whispering those words in his ear. Lost and alone in that timeless, chaotic world, the younger him had clung to that voice as if it was the only thing anchoring him to his sanity. Looking back, perhaps it had been.

You see, immortal beings do not have the same concept of death as one such as you.

Mukuro hadn't dared to look for the source of this calming presence, fearing that it would disappear should he try to grasp onto it. Terrified by the thought of falling deeper into this timeless abyss, he had wisely chosen to keep his mouth shut and eyes closed, knowing that should he loose this, his only tie to reality, he would never be able to find his way back to the world of the living.

Cast out of heaven, a disgraced angel will be doomed to burn in the fires of Hell for eternity.

"Why…" he recalled asking in a hoarse voice, cracked and near unintelligible from disuse. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

For a moment, there had been no response. When one finally did come, it carried with it a strange heaviness, weighed down by a myriad of complex emotions.

You are young still, and do not yet understand how this will affect you: this I know.

He had thought he felt a gentle hand card its way through his hair at that moment, but it disappeared too soon for him to truly register its presence.

But I will tell you now, and pray that you heed my words. When the time comes, you will understand.

"Understand what?"

That a fallen angel has no hope for salvation.

~X~

"You don't have the Vongola ring, so I have no interest in you. It's time for you to receive a true death."

Byakuran stated all of this in a sickeningly sweet voice, undeterred by the broken, charred chaos that was all that was left of his office. He lifted a single hand, sky-blue Mare ring glinting sinisterly on one finger, to point at his weakened adversary. His smile was as cheerful and self-assured as always, if not a bit smug, but his violet eyes, for once exposed to the world outside, shone with cruel triumph.

Mukuro gritted his teeth, glare only growing in strength as the seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness.

The Millefiore boss' smile widened fractionally at the defiant look.

"Bye-bye," he practically sang, launching his final attack.

Even as the blow hit, however, Byakuran knew that this would not be the end of Rokudo Mukuro. The illusionist was simply too powerful and too precocious to even consider not having a dozen back-up plans at his disposal. Not to mention that the person which he had just ruthlessly attacked wasn't even the other's real body, but that of a host.

He was saddened slightly that their game of cat and mouse had had to be cut short so soon, but such was the way of life. He had known all along that they could not play forever, and perhaps it was best that this annoyance had been taken care of now, when the threat was still minimal.

Regardless, he told himself easily, it mattered little. This defeat would take a long time to recover from, even for one as cunning as the Vongola Mist Guardian. And by the time that happened, Byakuran's plan would be in full swing, and not even Mukuro would be able to do anything to stop him.

With that thought foremost in his mind, he was quick to relax, content to simply stand there, eyes closing slowly as he basked in the ensuing spray of blood. A few drops of the crimson liquid landed on his tattooed cheek, marring the young man's otherwise spotless countenance.

Slowly, he reached up to dab two fingers in the life-giving essence. He drew them away with equal care, eyes trained on the patches of scarlet with something akin to fascination. The corners of his lips curved up unconsciously, forming a deranged grin.

With an almost reverent deliberateness, Byakuran brought the appendages up to his lips and began to lick the blood off. His gaze switched languidly from his pale hand to the scarlet stain now forming on the carpeted floor as the blood flowed, unchecked, from the corpse, demonic smirk only widening at the sight.

And all at once, he just couldn't contain himself any longer.

His now-clean fingers dropped, forgotten, to hang at his side as the young man threw back his head and laughed.

The laugh of a conqueror.

The laugh of the insane.

The laugh of one who has fallen past any hope of redemption, and takes immense pride in it.

~X~

The blast, when it came, was powerful enough to blow him completely off his feet, angelic white wings flapping uselessly in the face of this violent burst of flames. His attack had been…engulfed by the Vongola boy's, Byakuran realized, rendering he himself defenseless to the incoming X-Burner.

As the fire moved to swallow him as well, the young man reacted accordingly; he fought back. But his limbs were moving too sluggishly, drained as they were by the previous battle. Frantically, his gaze flickered around, hoping to make eye contact with someone, anyone.

Anyone except him.

And of course, due to Fate's cruel, ironic nature, the first one he saw was that man.

Byakuran supposed that his sudden strong aversion to the illusionist was because of their personalities. They were so similar – manipulative, power-hungry, confident to the point of arrogance – and yet so, so different.

So perhaps that was why he was avoiding the other's gaze. Because he knew that only one look into those mismatched eyes, glittering with a mixture of sadistic amusement and cold triumph, would tell him all he would ever need to know, and so much more that he never wanted to.

I…have been defeated.

The realization was numbing at best. At worst, it was a bitter conglomeration of pain and loss and grief and anger, the likes of which he had never known, that clawed its way down from his brain to his heart, weaving its way through his bloodstream until all he could feel was that sinister chill.

The fire surrounding him continued to blaze, burning away at his very soul, but he was already too far gone and too cold to even register its heat, even as it seared away what was left of his broken body.

It took a great deal of effort to finally tear his eyes away from those of the illusionist, his gaze instead choosing to meet that of the young Vongola Tenth. Twin pools of hardened copper glared back, as if daring him to try and escape his fate.

A baseless challenge, and one that Byakuran had no intention of rising to. Even he knew when it was time to give up.

I'm not saying that I dislike human beings, he mused to himself distantly, eyes still locked with those of his rival. I never knew that other people had the ability to tickle your heart, or make it twinge… It's not that I'm giving up… I'm good at finding amusement in things, and when it comes to having fun, I put everything I have into it. But…somehow this world just doesn't feel right.

I'm sure you'll understand… Doesn't it feel wrong?

Tsunayoshi's cold stare did not waver, his own form of answer to the unsaid question. Despite himself, Byakuran cracked a small, bitter smile.

Those eyes tell me you don't agree in the least…

His final thoughts surprised even himself. Some detached part of his mind took a sort of morbid amusement in those words; a hopeless, feeble attempt to gain the redemption which would never be granted. As if in mockery of this almost delusional hope for salvation, the flames seemed to grow stronger at that moment, their light soon becoming unbearable for his tired eyes.

It's so blinding…

I've lost to you.

Whether this last admission was directed towards the Vongola boy who had led to his demise or the illusionist on the sidelines, eyeing this whole scene with that frigid, deceiving gaze of his, would never be known. The inferno roared, and Byakuran closed his eyes for the final time.

For a moment, the world was bathed in blinding, impossibly bright white. And then…

Nothing.

~X~

Mukuro was not entirely sure how to feel as he watched the Millefiore leader burn to nothing in young Tsunayoshi's flames. A part of him was, of course, triumphant – elated even – at having bested possibly the most interesting man he had ever known in this game known as 'life.'

Another, much smaller part, however, felt…lost? Empty? He couldn't quite identify this foreign feeling, the one that made it seem as though his heart was being ripped into a million pieces while at the same time freezing over in a block of numbing ice. He had never experienced such a thing, and couldn't for the life of him deduce what the cause of it was.

No, he corrected himself as the roaring orange flames finally began to die and dissipate, leaving nothing but memories of what had been in their wake. I know exactly why.

He just wouldn't admit it to himself.

And after all, what did it really matter? He was Rokudo Mukuro, master illusionist, able to bring even the most hardened of fighters to their knees on a whim. Why, then, should he himself be an exception in this carefully crafted web of lies? If the truth behind this hollowing, icy feeling was indeed hidden somewhere deep in his thoughts, then he would just have to obscure it in the thick, impenetrable mist that constantly swirled throughout his head, a reminder of his true calling in the world.

In the end, Mukuro mused, he really hadn't had much to do with Byakuran's death at all. Yes, the plan would have been impossible without him, but the Vongola were smart; they could have figured something else out, and the outcome would have been the same. Ultimately, the other man had no one to blame for his demise other than himself, and perhaps Tsunayoshi Sawada, who had dealt the finishing blow.

Logically, none of this was his fault.

So then why would this unbearable feeling of guilt not go away? Guilt, and half-remembered words, partially lost to the abyss of time.

A fallen angel has no hope for salvation.

I...am not quite sure how I feel about this fic. I honestly don't really know what I was going for, and it kind of ended up confusing due to this. Still, I suppose I don't hate it, and am proud of certain parts. ^^ Written for DiorCrystal's Angst Contest, with the pairing being 10069 (can you see it? It's pretty light, if it exists at all :p). The prompt was facade, which kind of was ignored until Mukuro's last bit. But it's still there! Also, a lot of Byakuran's dialogue comes from the actual manga. You know: gotta stick to canon and all. And as for the voice from Hell...I leave that up to your imagination (read: I don't really know, but it seemed to fit so I went with it).

Reviews are wonderful things, don't you agree? ^^