This is my submission for the July Writing Challenge at the Tamora Pierce Writing Experiment forum, and it's a sample of my productivity during a *study* line ;) It's a quick fic. – I wanted to just write something for the challenge before I changed my mind again about which scene to use :S The challenge was to "write a familiar canon scene from a different point of view. This can be from any book and include any characters."

I decided to experiment by writing in a different style to that which I'm used to. One line in particular feels like massive overkill ("They were merely a grotesque extension of the failed carrier of his soul." – where the heck did THAT come from? Well, hopefully someone out there finds it beautiful :P). And maybe the study vibes infiltrated my brain, because I think I even tried to put in symbolism…O_o So I'm not sure if this fic. worked out so well at all…but would love to hear what you think :)

I re-wrote Thom's death scene, from his point of view. This scene is so sad :(

Thom lay on his bedchamber floor. When had breathing become difficult? In, out, in, out. The room was spinning all out of control, but the clock on his wall was still ticking. Tick, tock, tick, tock…he could never outlast the clock. Why couldn't he sit up? In, out, tick, tock, in, out, in out in-out-in-out-out-out…

He was jolted back to reality by the presence of his sister probing at his conscience. Purple fire –

"Don't!" He was still there. He was losing faith in his voice but Alanna seemed to have heard him. The clammy hands gripping those of Alanna no longer felt like they belonged to him. They were merely a grotesque extension of the failed carrier of his soul.

"I'm bound to him. He'll drain you through me." He felt sorry for his hands. They'd done nothing wrong; their actions had simply been orchestrated.

"Roger?" Alanna's voice. Oh, sweet sister; where had it all gone wrong? He nodded, his heart heavy.

Alanna suddenly began to cast about desperately. "Faithful, go for –"

"No time!" Thom snapped. Tick, tock, tick, tock. "Listen!" His ears had filled with buzzing, and yet the ticking was not alleviated. He gripped his sister's hands as if they were a lifeline. "His Gift – attached to sorcerer resurrecting him." He was having trouble even hearing himself. Alanna leant in, and Thom glimpsed his pale face reflected in her beautiful violet eyes. He realised absently that she would be the last person he would ever see. But Roger – must tell her about Roger.

His Gift. "It got – stronger – as he did." Thom coaxed a smile from the mask that was his face. "Never as strong as mine."

Alanna was wiping at her cheeks. Tears, thought Thom. It was really happening.

"Who cares if your Gift's bigger!"

Thom ignored her.

"He can only – drain – one at a time. You – you're bound to me." Just thinking was becoming harder; his leaden body was ready to sleep. He had wanted to sleep for a very long time. But he had to tell her. "You have some – my Gift – some of his too. He needs – more, to finish – what he began. Don't let him get it. Don't use – Gift. Leeching spells -" He broke off with a gasp, perilously little air returning to his lungs. "He'll take – all. Leave nothing." He tried to laugh, but his throat felt raw. "He didn't – get – all mine. You have part -" He was falling, but his sister would not let him go. He still had one last thing to say; the most important thing. "Love you. Always have. Always will."

He drifted, floating, vaguely aware of his sister getting further and further away.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"Never – know how – he did it…"

Floating on a breath of air…

Out…

Silence.