494 takes a walk

by Mirajane Scarlet

Before Alec was Alec, he was 494. He was a soldier. He was only a soldier. Only. A. Soldier. Or was he? Like he said, they have ways of making you forget...they have ways of making you not care.

494 Takes A Walk

He walks down the street. Toting his gun on his shoulder. Macabre smile spread wide on his hollow cheeks. Tonight is the night. Tonight.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

The smell of her hair is not burned into 494's memory. 494 does not remember exactly what type of shampoo she used.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He sneaks into the building. He slips through the darkness.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

The memory of her smile does not make 494's stomach sink into the pavement in crashing waves of agony. The thought that 494 will never see her smile again does not either.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He walks through the house, sure of his destination. Feet silent on the fancy hardwood floor. Unseen. Unheard. He sticks to the shadows. For now.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

The feel of her lips are not tattooed onto 494's. 494 does not miss her.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He cocks and aims his gun. Kills the man in front of him. He ascends the stairs. Silence rules all.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

The scent of her perfume is not marked onto 494's brain like a brand he can't wash away. The way her soft, sweet skin tasted is not permanently marked into 494's mind either.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He slips into the room. He stares at the machines. Watches the deathly sick glow the screens cast. Hears nothing in the room but the whir and the click. And the beep. The always constant, slow, steady, beep. All sounds are mechanic. All.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 does not feel the hot, salty tears that slip down his cheeks each and every night in memory of her. Of what he's done. To her.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He stares at the girl. The one connected to the machines. He fights the urge to pick her up and run. Take her away from all this. Start a life together. He can't. She should be his. She isn't. He has nothing. Is nothing. Is no one.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 does not have a name. He is a number. He is a soldier. He is only a soldier. Only. A. Soldier.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He steps closer, hands reaching out. But not touching. Never touching. Until now. He knows now. She is here. She is real. She is dying.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 does not whisper her name at night. Does not whisper stolen apologies to the stars whenever he sees them.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He knows now. He knows. It is all his fault.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 does not think it's all his fault. He does not blame or curse himself.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He walks closer, ever closer. He sighs. Love. Her. He knows he does. He does.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 does not wish to trade his life for hers.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He's at the edge of the bed now. Reaching out to touch her. Her hair. Her lips. Her skin. Her. All of her.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 is not in love. 494 does not love. 494 cannot love.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He falters. Hands shaking. He can't do it. She's already gone. He's already killed her.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 does not feel his heart stop in his chest.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

Her. His love. He killed his love. He knows. He cannot forget. He has tried. He cannot.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 is not constantly looking over his shoulder. 494 is not expecting to be hunted. 494 does not want to be hunted. 494 does not think he should be punished with his life for taking hers. 494 does not feel a heavy, constant, leaden weight on his shoulders.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He has broken her. He breaks.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 is not Simon Lehane.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

Simon grips her pale, cold, near lifeless hand. Kisses it. Simon cries. Tears streaming. "I'm so sorry." Simon whispers. Then. Still. Quiet. All he hears is the Beep. Click. Beep. She can't answer. Again. Simon cries.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 does not have a heart. Broken or otherwise.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

Simon gets to his feet. Rushes the guard at the door. Kills him. No shots. Bare hands. Blood. Hers? No. The guard's. No. The same. Hers. The same. Hers. All blood spilled is hers. And it is all his fault. Always. Always.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 is not in love. 494 does not love.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

Simon leaves the room, the house, the life. Simon blocks himself off. Simon forgets. Her. Himself. His supposed name. His supposed profession. Everything. He forgets. Everything.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 is not constantly looking over his shoulder. Expecting to see her.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

Simon is gone. Simon is not real. She is not real.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 is not disappointed when she does not show up.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

But... he cares. He remembers. Everything. His fault. All of it. His. He cares. She is real. He remembers. He cares. He did it. Himself. She is going. Going. Gone. But he can't forget. Can't ever forget. Her. Name. Face. Eyes. Lips. Skin. Smell. Taste. Her. Everything.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 is not haunted day and night by classical piano melodies. Or longings for her warmth and kindness. Or her love. Or her smile. Or her.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

He is broken. He is weak. He is gone.

494 does not remember. 494 does not care.

494 does not feel tears streaming down his face.

494 is a soldier. 494 is strong.

494 is all that is left.