-x-
Angel, take a breath now,
The ghost inside you hurts.
Don't wake up.
There was blood in the ice-cold water that had splashed out over the cold tiles of the floor and stained the tiles a light pink. A slender hand was draped over the edge of the iron bathtub, the skin a pale, almost translucent blue from the cold. The fingertips were stained red with blood.
As he stood in the doorway and took in the all too familiar scene in front of him, Cassian was shocked to realise that, this time, he felt nothing at all. Too many times he had entered this room to find blood staining the walls and floor. Too many times he had dragged the unconscious body from the ice-cold water. Too many times he had lain awake all night, too afraid to sleep for fear events would repeat themselves.
But he couldn't stay awake forever, and events would always repeat. It was impossible to predict, impossible to ignore and impossible to stop; Jizabel Disraeli was determined to stop living, and Cassian was unsure whether he had the strength to beat such determination.
For a few moments, he simply stared. Jizabel was sprawled in the large iron bathtub, wrapped in the white kimono he chose to wear when alone, although Cassian could hardly remember when it had truly been white – it's surface was now so stained with blood it appeared pink. Beside the bathtub lay a scalpel and an empty vial, with a few drops of liquid remaining in the bottom. Cassian sighed and took one hesitant step into the room.
The routine was always the same. It always seemed to start with the scalpel. Jizabel had become a master of self-mutilation, able to inflict maximum suffering with minimum blood loss, apparently not wanting to die while in pain. He would cut anywhere and everywhere that wasn't lethal, staining his clothes, hair and skin with blood. Once, Cassian had caught him at this stage and had been frightened beyond belief; standing in the bathroom, dyed red from head to toe, Jizabel had appeared more a monster than a man. Once he had satisfied himself, Jizabel would then methodically take one of the many vials of sleeping draught he kept in his room for sleepless nights, and drink as much as he could with his trembling hands. Cassian was sure he would have died by now, if the trump card hadn't been hiding all the extra vials so the doctor never had enough to fully end his life.
This time, Jizabel had fallen into unconsciousness and his head lay only just above the water of the bath, with his mouth already being covered. If Cassian did nothing, he would soon slip into the water and drown without ever waking up to realise. Which was exactly what the doctor wanted.
Cassian took another step into the room, treading carefully lest he lost his footing on the slippery floor. Once he reached the bath, he stood looking down, face void of emotion. He felt nothing. A strange feeling of calm spread through him and for a few minutes he simply watched as Jizabel slipped further under the water. As if in a dream, he wondered how long it would take for the doctor to drown and whether the amount of blood he had loss would quicken his passing.
He reached out a small hand and gently touched the silver hair that was matted and sticky. It was strange, really. Jizabel was smiling. After all the pain he must have been suffering, he was smiling as though it was the best feeling in the world. He never smiled like that when awake and Cassian wondered how twisted an individual must be to find this the greatest experience it was possible to have.
Rage began to build inside him then and Cassian fought the urge to simply grab the doctor's head and push him under the water.
"You're so stupid," he said angrily, glaring at those pale blue lips as though daring them to answer. "How can you possibly think this will change anything? Do you think you're the only boy in the world that was made to suffer?"
Without thinking, Cassian leaned over the bath and grabbed the doctor's shoulders, flinching from the shock of the cold water. He shook the younger man fiercely and now glared at the closed eyelids.
"You are not the only person in the world whose father mistreats them. You're not the only one to hate humanity. You're not the only person who has lost someone they loved, or been betrayed, or been lied to, or been hurt…" Cassian trailed off, shaking with suppressed rage. His voice grew louder and he continued shaking the defenceless body before him. "How can you be so selfish? After all the times I've tried to help you! You don't have to be alone in the world; you don't have to keep suffering like this! You're nothing but a stupid, spoiled, selfish child who thinks of no one but yourself, of nothing but your own misery! When are you going to grow up and actually take responsibility, Jizabel? Why do I keep taking it for you?"
Cassian let go of the doctor suddenly and his head fell back and collided with the rim of the tub with a dull crack. Cassian paid it no heed and instead grabbed the empty vial and threw it against the wall, where it exploded into tiny shards.
"You're not alone!" he yelled suddenly, slamming a fist against the wall and gritting his teeth. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Why can't you see that we're all suffering here?"
Cassian's mind was filled with the images of everyone he had ever met at Delilah. All of them undoubtedly bad people, all of them sinners, most of them murderers and all of them living in their own personal hell. The people in power, those of the Minor or Major Arcana had been there long enough to hide their pain but the trump cards Cassian had come to know…they were impossible to become attached to. Each would laugh when mocked, each had their eyes set on promotion but those eyes were always haunted. Those of lower ranks would join to escape the hells they had found in the outside world, only to discover that they were entering a lower circle, one ruled by the devil himself. Life on the streets had been preferable to this, life in the damn circus had been preferable to this and yet, Cassian could not leave. He would be killed if he did. Even on the days where he believed death would be a better alternative to staying, he found himself unable to leave because of fear. Fear for Jizabel.
It was all so stupid. The doctor plainly didn't know that Cassian cared at all, hadn't noticed the growing shadows under his eyes or the blood staining his clothes. He must have known someone was saving him each time, but probably convinced himself it was his father. Of course. It was always Alexis. Always.
Turning back to the bathtub, Cassian felt his anger fade away. Alexis. This wasn't Jizabel's fault. The boy was sick, had been twisted by the hands of a father that he perceived to be loving from as early as he could really remember. It was true that Jizabel wasn't the only one who was suffering but Cassian couldn't stay angry for long. The doctor had a fragile if brilliant mind, a mind that would slip off the line between genius and insanity at regular intervals. How could Cassian hold any of this against him?
He stood by the side of the bath again and gazed down at the pale skin, the beatific smile that graced the doctor's lips. Cassandra had been right when he said that Jizabel was beautiful, he was as beautiful and intangible as an angel. Beneath the blood, beneath the years of torment…Cassian wondered if anything remained of Jizabel's innocence. There must have been something in his heart besides evil and madness to cause that smile.
Cassian was suddenly overcome with sadness. It now felt to him as though he had committed a crime when saving Jizabel all those other times. How awful must it feel to have fallen asleep prepared for the soft, velvet embrace of oblivion, only to awake to cold and pain? Kneeling by the bath, Cassian raised a hand to Jizabel's head and stroked his hair gently. He looked so peaceful like this. Who was Cassian to take this away from him? Even speaking seemed some kind of sacrilege now but Cassian whispered gently.
"You must hurt so much inside. Are you comfortable now?"
It seemed as though Jizabel twitched slightly, one corner of his mouth tilting up in agreement. Cassian nodded and increased the pressure of his hand until Jizabel began sliding under the water. It was a crime, to be doing this. It was wrong…but Cassian could not stand to see Jizabel go through the terrible routine again. And surely this was what Jizabel wanted? As he continued pushing slowly, Cassian prayed silently that whichever entity came to take Jizabel's soul would take his too. Cassian no longer wanted to live in a world where everyday was a struggle, where fate was constantly working against him…in a world where helping a twenty-six year old man to die was the moral action to take, not the evil one.
Jizabel's chin and mouth slipped slowly below the water again and Cassian smiled sadly.
"Don't wake up," he whispered. "This world is too painful for someone as vulnerable as you. It's better this way. Don't wake up..."
As the words left his lips, Jizabel twitched again and his mouth opened. As the cold water rushed into his mouth and down his throat, the doctor's eyelids fluttered. His nose slipped under the water and he began moving his head slowly as though it was difficult.
With a gasp, Cassian sprang to his feet. He had misread. Jizabel hadn't been smiling in answer, how stupid he had been to think that! It was a poetic notion, a ridiculous idea…Jizabel had moved because the draught was wearing off. There had only been one bottle after all.
As the doctor began to slowly move his arms and legs, his eyes fluttered open. Cassian quickly reached into the water and pulled the light frame over the edge of the bath, covering himself in blood-stained water. They fell to the tiles below, Jizabel unable to move properly but able to lock gazes with Cassian who found himself having to look away.
The disappointment in Jizabel's eyes was crushing.
He tried not to think as he carried the doctor out of the bathroom with difficulty and went through the familiar routine of drying him off and laying him in bed. His hands shook as he did so and Jizabel's eyes remained riveted on Cassian's face, although his voice remained silent. Once these things were done, Cassian left the room silently and headed straight for his rooms, heart sick with guilt. He had saved Jizabel so many nights…saved him? No. Denied him the only kind of freedom either of them could ever attain.
Cassian knew he hadn't taken a life that night but as he returned to his rooms he felt like a murderer.
-x-
Night fell over the city of London. The building that housed the organisation Delilah was silent as the twisted and broken beings that dwelt there slept.
Except for one. Jizabel walked silently down the corridors on unsteady legs, body wrapped in the damp and bloodstained kimono. He reached the door to a small room and pushed it open quietly, so as not to wake the occupant. He padded across to the narrow bed and crouched beside the sleeper.
Cassian lay on his side, one arm outstretched in sleep, wrist facing upwards. His other hand grasped a knife tightly, the blade resting gently against the exposed and unblemished skin of his other arm. Jizabel shook his head sadly and gently removed the knife from Cassian's unresisting hand, laying it on the bedside table. He then laid a hand gently on Cassian's shoulder.
"That wouldn't help you," he whispered softly. "You're not like me."
He moved to sit gently on the edge of the bed, watching the sleeping Cassian carefully. In sleep, Cassian's lips were smiling peacefully, making him look more like a child than ever. Jizabel moved his hand to gently stroke Cassian's dark hair.
"Don't wake up," he whispered, "This world is too cruel for someone as kind-hearted as you. Don't wake up…"
Take my hand and let's set ourselves on fire.
Angel, sweet angel, don't wake up.
-x-
Lyrics from the beautiful song 'Don't Wake Up' by I Am Ghost. Youtube it. Please review and let me know how you thought it went, even if it means telling me to stick to cutesy yaoi.
Next up for a darkfic….Jizabel. It's planned. There will be no Cassian…and boy, compared to this, it's gonna be dark XD
See you soon, lovies.