Hello, people. This is a yaoi one-shot featuring Isley/Rigald pairing. Please read and review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Claymore ot any of it's characters. It belongs to Norihiro Yagi.

Never Enough

I had never given much though to how the two of us would be separated- the simple idea seemed so ridiculous that I had always dismissed it. But even if I had, I would have never imagined that it would hit me this hard. That it would bring me to my knees. That it would bring me to the point where I'm clutching to your old shirt, inhaling your addictive, vanilla scent that still lingers on it, pretending that it's really you I'm embracing. That you're still alive, not cut to pieces. That I never sent you on that damned mission to pieta, to your death. That I never said those horrible words to you on our last night together. And do you know what the funny thing is? (If you can consider anything in this situation funny) I don't even know why I care so much. I don't understand why I'm so...miserable now that you're not here anymore. After all, we were simply two people who tried to fill the holes in their own damaged souls by filling the holes in each other's perfect bodies. It's not like there was any emotional attachment.

It's not like we were lovers.

When we met each other, I had just been transformed to a hybrid while you were already a trainee of the organization- in fact, you were their golden boy. I remember on my first day my handler, who I believe was Ermita, was showing me around. After a complete tour of the headquarters, he pointed at you and said "you see that dark-haired boy training over there? That's Rigald. A word of advice: Don't mess around with him. There isn't a single trainee here who can beat him."

Even till now, I still curse Ermita for telling me that. I'm certain that if he hadn't specifically pointed you out, I wouldn't have given you that much attention and this whole mess would have been avoided. But unfortunately, with those few words, Ermita turned you into the center of my attention.

I looked at you intently for a few moments, taking in your appearance and memorizing it for later reference. Suddenly, as if you had felt me staring at you, you looked in my direction and our eyes were locked. I'm not even going to try to explain what I felt back then. My breath was caught in my throat, and my heart was beating so fast that I felt like it was going to jump out of my chest at any moment. Was it because of your absurdly handsome features or the expression on your face? At first, your face was completely blank and emotionless, then gradually, your dark eyes grew hard and every antagonistic emotion filled them. Before I knew it, you were glaring daggers at me, causing the expression "if looks could kill" to run through my mind. Then, as quickly as it had started, you turned away and released me from your hate-filled gaze. I quickly looked around to see if anybody else had noticed the electric moment between us, but it looked as if it had lasted for only a few seconds (even though it had felt like an eternity to me) for Ermita was still talking. "Just don't get on his bad side." He finally concluded. I wanted to say "I'm afraid it's a little late for that", but I only managed to nod weakly.

As we walked away from you (and after I had managed to slow down the beating of my heart and catch my breath), I felt anger fill every fiber of my being. What had I done to make you hate me so much already? Or was it simply something you did to scare all the new comers? I reasoned that the latter made more sense, considering the fact that I had only accomplished two tasks since I had entered the organization: take a walk with Ermita and look at you for less than five seconds- none of which were that offending.

At that moment I knew that we weren't going to get along. I disliked you from the very start, and I was more than suspicious that you felt the same way towards me.

Over the next few days, my suspicions were confirmed as your hate-filled glares continued – all of which I returned with basilisk stares of my own. The others had noticed our less-than-friendly attitude, but in their ignorant world there was a good reason behind it for my talent had ended up being equal to that of yours which turned me into your rival. But I knew that sharing the spot light wasn't the reason behind your hatred for me. You had started disliking me from the first second we met; at that time you couldn't have possibly known that I was to become your arch-rival in the near future. No. There was something else behind your animosity towards me and I had no clue what it was, but I was determined to figure it out.

Is that why you suddenly became so special? Why I started paying such close attention to you? Why I started noticing things that I wasn't supposed to notice? Like how graceful your movements were? Or how the arrogant smirk on your face whenever you had defeated somebody in training made you look even more handsome than usual? Or why I spent hours trying to imagine what you'd smell like? I'm not sure about the reason behind it, (fate is a sneaky, little bitch is the only thing I can come up with) but for some odd reason, you turned into the very kind of drug that I had never wanted yet needed more than anything else. Before I knew it, my body started lusting and aching for you so badly that I could hardly stand being around you. Those stupid emotions scared me since I had never felt that way about anyone else before. (Before you came along and complicated my existence, that is.) I tired to avoid you as much as possible, fearing I would do something that would give you the slightest glimpse to the terrible lust that you had awakened in me. I did manage to control myself quite well, though. Until, of course, that day...

Why the hell did you do it? Why in the world did you ask for a sparring match? And why did you have to ask it at night, when everybody else had gone to sleep and there was only the two of us? Were you trying to provoke me? Or was it that sneaky little bitch, fate, trying to be funny by playing that sick joke on me? Whatever the reasons, you asked for a sparring match and, of course, I accepted it. I had to accept it. There was absolutely no way that I would back down from a challenge.

Sometimes I wish I had refused.

The god damn sparring match is a complete blur to me. Not for a second could I focus on the fight. All I could think about was how graceful and predatory your moves were, like a lion. I kept trying to pull myself together, but it was no use. I'm still proud of Myself though. I wasn't the one who gave in to his desires first.

I don't know when it happened. I don't know how it happened. One second you were fighting me fiercely, the next you dropped your sword, as if you had given up, and growled out "I've had enough." Then you pushed me against the wall and slammed your lips against mine and that is when I felt my world turn upside-down. The man that I had lusted after for so long was kissing me, his hands roaming my body. You can't blame me for what I did. Anyone else would have done the same thing. I fisted my hands in your hair and kissed you back with all of my long-suppressed passion. Clinging to you desperately, I was finally able to smell your wonderful vanilla scent and cease my curiosity. I'm not going to go into details; you already know what happened. We screwed each other brainless, that's what happened. In the freakin corridor! Thank God everyone else was asleep.

After that you told me why you had hated me. You had wanted me from the second you had laid eyes on me. You hated me because you needed me and you didn't want to need anybody. I failed to mention how similar that sounded to my own situation. We parted that night in hopes of getting some sleep (Don't know about you but I didn't get any that night), knowing that things would never be the same between us again.

And it never was the same. Our hate-filled glaring contests still continued, but I didn't mind them much anymore for not only did I know the reason behind them, but I could see through them as well. I could see how you were trying to hide your lust and need behind murderous glares- the same technique that I was using.

Whenever we were even in the same damn room, the tension between us would be so high that we would fight at a drop of a hat. Then we would run from the crowd to "settle our differences." Yeah, right! We would run from the crowd to get a quickie. And when we had to stand next to each other in the same room! Pure hell! It always took every fiber of my being not to lash out at you and take you right there and then, and by your constant trembling beside me, I could tell that you had the same problem that I did. Our stolen kisses in the dark corridors of the head quarters were lust-filled, passionate and violent as if we were trying to defy time which makes sense; because, for us...there was never enough time. Never enough.

After about a year of secret passion, we grew closer and closer to the day of departure when we would officially start our work as "claymores." Our kisses grew more passionate and more violent by each ticking of the clock that counted down the days that we had together. On the last night, we said our goodbyes in form of passionate kisses, touches and a bodily union that was more like love making than our normal quickies.

The morning after, we parted ways and I never heard from you until seven years later.

I was quite busy as a claymore what with killing yomas, scaring people, getting money and arguing with Ermita; but every time I was alone I though about you and our dark, secret corridor. I didn't hear about you much; the only thing that I knew was that you'd come to be known as "the silver-eyed lion king" which I though was the most fitting title for you whom I had always compared to a lion in my mind. I think that Ermita knew about the true nature of our relationship. I asked him once whether you had gotten yourself killed yet (my way of asking whether my rival was still o.k. or not) He gave me a cold glance and said, "You sure did find a way to not get on Rigald's bad side. Isley, you guys were being trained to fight yoma not to stem the rose." I never even mentioned you in front of that sneaky bastard again.

And then, about five years after becoming a claymore, I awakened. I don't know how or when it happened. I just know that I was thinking about you, our secret corridor and our last night together. Next thing I knew, I could no longer control my powers and, just like that, I lost my remaining humanity. My first few years as an awakened being were torture. I traveled to the north and took control of my home land. I ate and I slept and there was nothing else that kept me busy which meant more time to think about you, more time to miss you and more time to ache for you.

Until that wonderful day when a lion-shaped awakened being challenged my authority of the northern lands. He was very strong, but I was stronger and managed to defeat him. He was lying on the ground, exhausted and wounded, waiting for me to deliver the final blow.

"Any last words?" I asked.

He took a pain-filled breath, and then in a voice that was barely above a whisper said, "I wish ...I could see...him again...one..last..time" and then out of pain or exhaustion, he reverted to his human form and I felt reality crash down on me.

It was you. It was you who had been fighting me all along. Except you didn't know you were fighting me. To you I was just a gigantic, centaur-looking monster and somebody to test your power against.

Just one look upon you, lying there naked, was enough to rekindle that old fire in me; and it was so much hotter, so much stronger as if you had added new pieces of log to it. My body was so hot that I felt like I was going to burn from inside out. The wind picked up and your addictive, vanilla scent hit me like a physical blow and I nearly staggered. I couldn't take it anymore. I knew that I had to take you right there and then or I would burn.

So I turned back to my human form and, under different circumstances, I would have laughed at that stupid expression on your face. Your dark eyes went so wide that it looked like they were going to jump out of their sockets at any second.

"I- Isley?" You stammered. And then, for some unknown reason, I whispered to you what my mother had used to call me when I had been a little kid.

"My darling"

And I took you that night, taking no notice to your wounds or the blood that was flowing freely from your body. I found myself thanking God that we were monsters at that point since the coldness of the ice and snow would have killed any normal human which is strange because I don't think I had ever felt more human before in my life. When we were finished, you went unconscious from blood loss and I took you to my home and tended to your health, hoping that it will convince you into staying with me. I don't think I could have made it if you had left again after giving me another taste of what I had ached for after seven years.

It was after about two days that you finally awoke, and I was the first thing that you saw when you opened your eyes. You smiled and said,

"I don't care if this is heaven or hell, I'll take it."

"You're not dead, idiot."

"Of course I am. That centaur-bastard was really strong. And I did ask to see you again before I died."

I was on the verge of giving you a good beating for calling me a "centaur-bastard" when you suddenly winced and said,

"Never mind. I'm definitely alive. My whole body hurts. You're supposed to have eternal peace and what not after death."

I smiled in victory.

"See. I told you that you're not dead."

"But you can't be real. That would be too nice to be reality. I must be dreaming."

My smile faded instantly.

"You're not dreaming either."

But you took no notice of that and continued,

"I've got to hand it to myself, though. This is pretty sophisticated and detailed for a dream. The scent, the voice, hell, even the glaring is all the same. Oh, yes. If I don't know anything about him, I would know his glares."

You were really starting to piss me off.

"Look. You're not dead and you're not dreaming either. This is reality. The centaur-looking awakened being that you were fighting was me. After you turned back to your human form I brought you here, to my home, and took care of your wounds. That's all there is to it." And to prove my point, I pinched you. (yes, I didn't mention the screwing part.)

You were quiet for awhile, and then you said in a low voice,

"Is it true?"

I managed to nod in response.

You looked at me intently for a few moments, and then you sighed and whispered,

"Seven years, eh? Damn!"

"Yeah." I replied. "It's been awhile, eh?"

You chuckled quietly and then in a low voice that barely reached my ears you said,

"Tell you what, Isley. The truth is...sometimes I missed you so damn much I could hardly stand it."

I wanted to scream at you how much I had missed you too, how much I had ached and lusted for you and how at peace I felt now that you were with me. But I kept quiet. I just took your hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

After that, everything changed. You healed quickly and we celebrated your health and our reunion (no matter how violent it had been) with erotic days spent in bed filled with passionate kisses and caresses. We spent our days hunting, talking and screwing and we enjoyed every second of it since we no longer needed to hide from anybody. We were in our home, living our lives and it was nobody's business but ours. And so for seventy-five generations our lives were a paradise in which time didn't mean anything. We thought that we had all of eternity to live that paradise together. But we were wrong.

The clock started ticking for us when we were both defeated by that monster-child, Priscilla (or little bitch as you called her), and I was forced to swear my loyalty to her in order to save our lives. Our first task was to conquer the south in order to find her "mama" and "papa", the task that eventually ended your life. You hated the fact that we had to serve somebody, saying- no, yelling- that we had awakened in order to be free and not have to serve the organization anymore. You said dying would be better than being somebody's servant.

The last night of your life, before I sent you to Pieta, You were furious at me for you'd realized that I had bedded Priscilla once or twice. I remember your exact words (I remember everything you said during all those years)

"We had a good life together, a fucking, real good life. You ruined it the second you brought her in. But I never thought that you would go this far and end up screwing her."

And I yelled right back at you,

"You say this as if there is supposed to be commitment between us. Commitment is for lovers, Rigald. We were never lovers. We just used each other."

And those were the last words I said to you. Sometimes I wonder whether it was those words that gave you a death wish when you entered Pieta. You know, I always thought that someday you'll end up being the death of me with your dark, lust filled eyes, but I never imagined that I will end up being the death of you with a few words. I said it before and I'll say it again: fate is a sneaky, little bitch.

And now here I am. You're dead and I'm miserable with you gone. I haven't bedded a single person since you left, even though I know that it's a bit late for that. It's as if I'm trying to be loyal to you now that you're long gone. And I don't understand why I'm even trying to be loyal to your memory or why I can perfectly understand what you meant when you said "sometimes Imiss you so damn much I can hardly stand it", because after all we weren't lovers. I mean, sure, we declared undying love for each other during our love makings- damn it! Screwing- but they were only in the heat of the moment. Surely we didn't really mean it. All those years, we only felt lust and need, no love. Right?

I don't know.

What I do know is that we could have had our eternity and it still wouldn't be enough. Because for us there was never enough time.

Never enough.

Author's Note: PLEASE READ! Thank you so much for reading and I hope that you enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun writing this. I was greatly inspired by the amazing movie Brokeback Mountain for this piece of writing. I'm semi-happy with how it turned out. Please REVIEW and tell me what you thought of it and how I can improve. Thank you SO much.

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