I Tried

A/n: I'm in a particularly dark mood and that's never a good thing. Also I'm into dark romance at the moment so…Dark Benlie, run away kiddies.

He walked determinedly through the graveyard. He was hardly noteworthy; brown hair, green eyes, soft yet sharp features; green jacket, watch, blue jeans, tennis shoes. In his hands he carried a bag, a backpack. Black. And a bouquet of lilies. With a scary single-mindedness he walked silently to a grave. It was the newest, a salt and pepper granite headstone that gleamed even in the weak moonlight.
He knelt before it, placing the flowers on the short grass that had started growing on her grave. There was an oval picture of her, smiling and laughing, set into the stone. He fingered it, with a soft smile of his own. "Soon." Was all he whispered to her, his voice a breeze in a tree.

He went to the tree behind her grave. He set down his bag, kicked off his shoes and settled down against the bark. It was an old holly tree. He pulled from his pack a plastic supermarket and he set his shoes in it before undressing almost completely. He only left his underwear and the watch in place. He placed his clothes into the plastic bag and also added a note. He pulled from the bag a mahogany box and a silver dagger. He stared at the knife.

This was his end. It was over. He had nothing to live for. The Highbreed were gone, defeated and it had cost him personally. His beautiful Julie had died for their victory.

He had tried, tried to move on.

The doctors assured him that the pain would eventually leave; that the medicine would help.

They lied.

It felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest and the wound had become infected. Every morning a new throng of pain was awaiting him.

That first night was the hardest, he had climbed to the highest peak on earth and they had cried to the moon their anguish. They, in this case at least, being him and the 1,000,999 aliens whose DNA was encoded in the watch. Their cry, his own with 1,000,999 echoes behind it, surrounded the globe literally. Animals all over Earth heard, adding their own mournful tunes. Mother Earth herself had joined him, flooding the deserts such as Death Valley of California and the Sahara of Africa. Tornados ripped through the Midwest in a devastating hurry; earthquakes went through every fault in the earth, hurricanes hit the east. The polar caps began melting raising the ocean levels. Yet Bellwood remained untouched through this apocalypse. He had hailed the four horsemen and their steeds.

He had come staggering home after a week, dying all but physically.

And even when he realized that the hurt would never leave he had tried. Tried to go about a normal routine. Tried to get help. It was a futile battle. And all the while earth was still apocalypse now. He knew it would only end if he ended it himself.

So there he was, having left his farewell letter on his desk at home, preparing himself. He opened the mahogany box, raised the dagger, and sliced off his watch wrist and hand, settling it into the box. He shut the box and it glowed, sealing itself.

He raised the dagger to his heart, and plunged it in. He chuckled, the life blood leaving his form with each beat, "O, happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rest, and let me die." He recited lowly. He was going into shock, his limbs becoming numb. And then she was there with him.

"That's it," she said softly, brushing his bangs from his forehead. She looked just as she had when she was alive; except for the silvery silhouette at surround her, "it's alright. Just let go."

It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe; his head began to swim and his vision to spin so he shut his eyes. There was a slight sensation of weightlessness before he opened his eyes and looked down at his own still form. He felt a hand upon his ghostly shoulder and turned around to see Julie. They embraced, kissing as a blinding white light surrounded them. It blinked and they were gone.

His body would be discovered the next day and his death would be ruled a suicide, the only things that would puzzle the police were the missing hand and the unopenable box. The box containing his hand and the watch would be given to his comrades to protect. They would bury it in their own backyard. His mortal form would be buried next to hers, the tombstone quoting a line from the end of Romeo and Juliet;

"Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

His parents never recovered, his mother died two years later. Most say of a broken heart while his father followed soon after her.

Earth herself calmed, the horsemen being banished back to brimstone and lava.

Now, ten years later, as it was Devlin Levin, aged 10, was digging in his backyard even though he wasn't supposed to. His shovel hit cement and he, curious, used his inherent power to rip it up. He found a mahogany box and opened it. Inside was skeletal human hand with an odd watch. When he reached in to pick up the watch it jumped and latched onto his wrist.

It begins again…