A/N: Angsty, un-betaed oneshot with blood. I think I just like hurting Parm. :P Not sure if this is any good or not. I'm hopeless at judging my own stuff, it seems. Reviews appreciated.
Disclaimer: Own nothing but the story itself. Won't be making any money.
In the middle of a Down City street, lying in a rapidly growing pool of his own blood, Parmon Sean, the Earth Booster, lay waiting. Waiting for what, he didn't know, but even as the life flowed out of him and dribbled into the gutter, he felt like he could wait forever. His oldest friend, the dragon Cyrano, was a dark, lifeless hulk just to the side of his vision, and for that Parm was sad. But like death, sadness felt distant. He continued to wait, for seconds, minutes, perhaps hours, although some part of his brain that had once been important told him that was impossible. But time didn't matter anymore, neither did the beeping sound that told him he was being tracked, nor the other, higher pitched noise letting him know he was hurt. Parmon Sean had never been so calm.
He knew what he'd been waiting for when she finally arrived, jumping into his sight and ripping off her helmet, throwing it aside as she screamed something. His name, perhaps? Her dragon had seen Cyrano and gone to him, and soon her roars of anguish joined with the ever increasing noises from Parm's suit to deafen him. But Kitt seemed not to hear, taking everything in with a quick glance before lifting her eyes to his face. Her expression was enough to confirm what Parm already knew. She was talking to him, yelling, but Parm heard nothing over the noise. It doesn't hurt, he tried to say, but his mouth was full of blood, and it spilled over, running warm down his chin. She was crying now, and covered in blood, his blood. It left a dark smear through her hair as she pushed it aside. She was beautiful. Always beautiful, but different now. It was hard to remain the same with a 3,000 year old prophecy on your shoulders and voice in your head. He wondered if he'd be the voice in some kid's head 3,000 years from now. It didn't matter.
She grabbed his hand and held it against her, and all of a sudden the noise stopped and he could hear her.
" . . be okay it'll be okay Professor just hold on just don't leave me it'll be okay you hear! It will it will I promise--!"
A sob choked her off, and she pressed her face against his neck. He tried to comfort her, but he couldn't speak, couldn't move. He wanted to hold her, warm her, stop her shivering. He wanted to tell her . . . tell her . . . .
I love you.