Disclaimer: If it was mine, it wouldn't be here....
A/N: While I've been trying to get a few other things done, this just came to me when I was having a really angsty moment a few days ago. It was heavily inspired by two things, one being a movie I watched recently, and the other being the song Remember (Me) by Josh Groban. I'm very pleased with this, overall. So, enjoy, and don't forget to review!
Seconds ticked by. Minutes passed. The rhythm went on. A breath. A heartbeat. A tear slipping down a pale cheek.
Cold. Tired. Alone. Hated. There was no hope for day, for him.
Pain. Grief. Heartbreak. Darkness. There was no point in going on.
Hopeless. Torn. Broken. Numb. She hated him. She said he had no heart. She had told him to die. He wanted to die.
Betrayed. Hurt. Backstabbed. Lost. There was no home for him now, no hope. It didn't matter that he had not lost anything of value. He had lost what he had valued the most.
Destroyed. Blamed. Imperfect. Dying. He did not care to live anymore. The downward spiral would not stop. It was too late for it to be stopped now. He could feel himself dying by the second. It had all started out so simple. It was all wrong. It never should have happened. But it did. It did, and the spiral had begun. Nothing was worth it anymore. Nothing mattered.
It had been three weeks before. Rosto's Court had cleared out of the Dove, leaving the young Rogue to disappear up to his room and settle down for bed. He was tired. Long days were beginning to take their toll on Rosto the Piper. He felt stretched out, worn beyond his twenty-five years. He had only been the Rogue for three years, yet he had seen the Shadow Snake, the counterfeiters, and even the young prince taken all during his reign as Rogue.
Rosto looked in the mirror as he unbuttoned his shirt, glancing over the long white-blond hair that now had a few subtle grey threads in it. No one would notice but for those who knew him. He could see the tired lines that were beginning to etch themselves into his face. He looked tired. He looked as worn as he felt. With a sigh, he pulled off his boots, pulled his hair-tie out, and fell into bed, asleep almost before he reached the pillow.
Suddenly, he jerked awake at the sound of the slamming of the door to the Dancing Dove. There were no pounding footsteps on the stairs, nor even soft ones. Rosto forced his eyes to focus as he pulled himself out of bed. He thought to grab a shirt before he let himself out of his room. He slipped it on, not bothering to button it.
He softly padded to the stairwell and made his way down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he found the source of the noise. Silent sobs shook Beka Cooper's whole body. She did not look up as he approached.
"Beka?" he asked softly, his dark brown eyes never leaving her. She did not look up at him, instead ignoring him completely. "Beka, what's wrong?" he asked, kneeling next to the chair she sat in. She was crouched over the table, her arms shielding her face. He stood, then reached out and put his hand on her arm.
His action was instantly rewarded by Beka swatting his arm away, jerking back, and knocking his legs out from under him. He hit the ground with a thud. His back instantly began to smart from the impact.
"Don't touch me!" she shouted at him. Her blue eyes were full of pain and grief as she looked down at him with tears in her eyes. "Don't touch me," she repeated, her voice dropping to a whisper. She clasped her hands over the lower half of her face, closing her eyes and shaking with sobs.
"What's wrong, Beka? Please, tell me what is wrong. I don't understand…" Rosto said as he got to his feet.
"You don't understand. This is all your fault, you ordered it, and you don't understand?!?" she demanded, tears streaming down her cheeks. Rosto looked at her in disbelief. He had no idea what she was talking about.
"What is it – what happened, Beka?" he asked softly, stepping forward. Beka backed up three steps, unable to stay calm.
"You killed him! You had them kill Oliver!" Tears streamed down her face as she screamed it at Rosto. Oliver had been the young Dog she was in love with, who she was supposed to marry in only a few weeks.
"I did not order that, Beka. I would never do that and you know it," Rosto replied calmly. Beka glared at him, her ethereal gaze as cold as frost.
"The Rats who killed him confessed, Piper. They told us everything. They swore that it was you who ordered them to douse him. How could you?" She asked, her expression changing to one of heartbreak.
"I did not do it," he repeated. "You must know that."
"Liar! You did do it! I hate you, Rosto the Piper! You're a cruel, heartless coward who never takes the responsibility for the things he has done. I wish you would just leave me alone and die!" Her voice rose to peak and fell again before she reached the last word. Rosto stared at her. He felt as though he had been punched in the gut, both physically and mentally.
She hated him. She had no idea how much that hurt. He had loved her for years, but she hated him for something he had not done, for killing the man she loved.
Rosto's breath caught in his throat as he looked at her. He turned and fled, feeling like he was going to throw up. She hated him. He couldn't stand that thought. It made him hurt more than it should.
She hated him. For something he would never have done. She had to know that he never would have ordered that. He cared too much about her to have done that, no matter how jealous he was of the man who had won her heart.
He shut his door behind him, leaning back against it. No tears came. No tears ever would.
Three weeks later, Beka Cooper sat in her room, scribbling something in her journal before packing it up. She hadn't spoken to Rosto since the day she had yelled at him. She hadn't even seen him since then, though that hadn't been her choice. She didn't care, either way. Whatever happened to him didn't matter to her anymore – their friendship was over and done with.
In all honesty, she never wanted to see the man again after what he had done. Why had he denied it? She had already known the truth, so it didn't matter, but why had he lied to her? She just didn't understand it. She wasn't sure she wanted to either. All she knew was that she had to get out of there. If Rosto was willing to go to such lengths to make sure that there would only be two Dogs in his inn, there wasn't anything that would stop him from changing that number from two to one.
Pounce let out an unintelligible mrrt, stretching his ebony body out on her bed. Beka smiled softly at her cat. A knock on the door caught her attention. She rose and walked over, opening it to see Aniki standing there. She looked sad.
"Beka. You need to come," she said. Beka frowned at her, confused.
"What's going on?" she asked Aniki. The other woman bit her lip, looking away for a moment before meeting her gaze again.
"It's Rosto. He's dying." Beka's frown deepened slightly. Then she turned away.
"Why should I care?" she muttered darkly.
"He's dying, Beka. Rosto, our friend, who loves you, is dying, and you don't even care?" she asked disbelievingly. Hurt was plainly written on her face. She held out a piece of paper, then turned to go. Beka opened it, staring at Rosto's flowing handwriting for a moment.
Forgive me.
That was all it said. Beka burst into tears. What had she done?
She placed the paper on her desk and raced down the stairs. The door to Rosto's room was open. Only Aniki and Kora stood in there with him. Rosto himself was propped up in bed, his white-blond hair, held back in the customary horsetail, spilling over the pillow. His dark eyes were closed, his breathing labored, and his skin paler than usual. When she walked softly over to his bed, she heard two sets of footsteps fade when Kora and Aniki left the room as she knelt.
"Rosto?" she asked softly, reaching out to touch his hand. He let out a sigh, but didn't open his eyes. She touched his skin and almost instantly recoiled. It was ice cold. She watched his chest rise and fall for a few moments, unsure what she should do.
"You're not going to leave, are you?" The voice caught her off guard. She hadn't expected him to speak. She looked up to see that his obsidian gaze was locked on her. Beka shook her head. "Why can't you just let me die in peace?" he asked, turning his gaze away.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry," she replied in the same soft tone as she had spoken in just a moment ago.
"You're forgiven." He sighed again, closing his eyes for a moment.
"Why are you doing this to yourself, Rosto?" she asked. He didn't look at her, or even open his eyes. "Rosto, answer me." He opened his eyes and turned his stifling gaze on her again.
"It's too late to change it. It doesn't matter anymore."
"That is not the answer to the question," she said, giving him a pointed look. He responded with a blank look. His eyes were glassy.
"I don't know why, but I just hurt. Besides, it's not like anyone needs me. There's always another cove who can be as good a Rogue as I, if not better," he said softly. "Don't matter anymore. Too late," he added after a moment of silence.
His icy hand found hers, and his fingers threaded through hers a few seconds later. Rosto looked at her, the emotion in his eyes shocking her more than she ever would have thought. The light in his eyes was fading, too, and fast.
"Don't remember me for what I've done and what I haven't. Remember me for who I was. Love you, Beka," he whispered. A final sigh escaped his lips. His body went limp, the grip on her hand loosening slowly.
A single tear slipped down Beka Cooper's cheek. She cried for Rosto. For the things she had never let happen between them. For the things that never would. She cried for herself, and for the regrets she had.
Then, she went on. For her, the road went ever on, and she had to walk it, no matter how much it hurt. No matter how much she wished she could go back.
It was her curse to have lost so much, and still be forced to remember it. But that was her life. She remembered.