A/N: I have oneshotitus. Someone please provide a vaccine. Obviously influenced by the song 'Our Farewell' by Within Temptation. I was listening to it and realised I could relate it to Jizabel and Cassian (though I can relate practically anything to them if I try XD). So yes, in some places lyrics have been mutated and slotted in. I don't own the song or Godchild. Go figure.

Finally, a oneshot that is a decent length. This is my vision of the time in between Cassian's operation and the train station meeting. So spoilers for Vol 5 onwards. Not yaoi (but is if you squint) – tis pretty canon. And I tried writing without much dialogue…so…enjoy?

"How could you have been so careless?"

The unlucky trump card paled under Jizabel Disraeli's icy stare and started to babble excuses but the doctor had already turned and was leaving the room quickly, the image of an empty bed burned into his memory.

Cassian was missing. Barely a week after his transferral into Cassandra's body, the fool had gone and vanished completely. Jizabel was furious. He was in no condition to be gallivanting around and Jizabel knew the loss of the only survivor of a brain transplant would set Delilah's research back considerably…but of course, this wasn't the real reason behind Jizabel's anger.

The doctor reached his suite of rooms and firmly locked the door behind him. He stood facing the door for several moments, one trembling hand still resting on the key. His eyes were open but unseeing, his thoughts turned inwards on himself. After a while, he turned around and searched the room with his eyes, as though expecting to see something unusual. He sighed upon finding nothing and crossed to the window, which looked out over the grey rooftops of the city houses wreathed in billowing chimney smoke. The smoke drifted upwards and was lost against the cold grey sky. The view was bleak but Jizabel seemed to gather strength from simply looking, perhaps because the outside world was not so dreary when compared to the interior of this particular building, where insanity stalked the corridors hand in hand with fear.

He raised a pale hand and pressed it flat against the glass. It was cold to the touch.

"Cassian," he murmured, "Where are you?"

He tore his eyes away from the window suddenly as though the view pained him and screwed them shut, his other hand coming to rest upon the glass and his body leaning forwards until he was practically pressed against the window. His whole frame began to tremble although the chill in the room was not nearly cold enough to cause such a reaction. He would not cry. Crying was unthinkable. And yet…his eyes began to burn with the effort of holding back tears. He felt a keen sense of loss and misery as though all the warmth and colour in his world had been extinguished. And all for someone like Cassian.

It struck the doctor at that moment just how much Cassian had meant to him…still meant to him. He knew humans were all unworthy of care, but in a world where all faces were sneering, all eyes glaring and every heart cruel, Cassian had been different. Warm. The evils of the world beat against him and yet some core of morality had remained, and Jizabel fed off the light of his goodness as a parasite feeds off a host. Without Jizabel realising, Cassian had come to symbolise all the goodness left in the world and had almost caused Jizabel's heart of ice to begin beating again after so many years of coldness. And now he was gone and everything was cold and grey and silent. The world had died.

Jizabel pressed his forehead against the icy windowpane and sighed. He had known Cassian would leave, had known there was no possible way he would be willing to stay and yet had not mentioned it to him. Jizabel had spent virtually every waking moment at Cassian's bedside during his recovery or in the room next door and had never thought to ask him the when, where and how of his departure. And now it was too late and Jizabel had not even been left a note to say goodbye. It was his own fault surely…but Jizabel still felt betrayed and hated himself for ever becoming attached to another human being.

"You could have spoken to me," Jizabel whispered. "Is this to be the end of it all, Cassian? Is this to be our farewell?"

Is this all?

Cassian let the smouldering cigarette end fall from his fingers and land on the pile that was slowly growing by his side. Around him, the world was moving. The air was filled with the hissing of steam, the clatter of suitcases and the buzz of excited voices. Sitting on the floor and leaning against a wall, Cassian had not moved for hours, an island of stillness in a sea of activity.

It wasn't that he had nowhere to go; he had enough money to travel practically anywhere in England. And it wasn't that he had any reason to wait here either; in fact, waiting around in London could be very dangerous indeed. The fact was that he was waiting around because he couldn't bring himself to leave, not yet. Things felt unfinished, broken and Cassian had the feeling that leaving now would be the worst thing he could possibly do. He knew exactly why he felt this way, too.

Jizabel…

Cassian sighed and lit another cigarette absently, letting the chain-smoker override his common sense. He hadn't been intending to leave Delilah so soon and he certainly hadn't intended to leave without telling Jizabel first. There were so many things he wanted to say before he left and suspected that leaving without a word could cause the already emotionally fragile and paranoid doctor serious distress. Jizabel had never admitted anything, but Cassian was aware that Jizabel had come to depend on him, perhaps even care for him – the fact that he was alive now was testament to that. If it had been down to him, Cassian would have waited another week before leaving, but waking up to feel the barrel of a revolver pressed against his temple had convinced Cassian that he had no choice in the matter whatsoever.

He scowled at his own foolishness and almost crushed the cigarette between his fingers. Evidently, the Card Master had discovered Cassian's feelings towards him and decided he was a danger. Or perhaps he had realised that Cassian was attempting to tae away his favourite whipping boy. Either way, Cassian was sure he would have died if he didn't have such fast reflexes.

Although in no condition to fight and still unused to his new body – which seemed unbearably slow and heavy to him – Cassian had been able to knock his would-be assassin unconscious and flee the building in the early hours of the morning before anyone found out. Pleased to find his time with Delilah hadn't eroded his street skills, he had spent most of the morning pick pocketing, breaking into peoples houses and generally antagonising people until he had acquired enough money for a train fare along with several packs of cigarettes, some clothes, breakfast and a hat to partly conceal his face. He had then spent the early afternoon wandering the streets of London aimlessly, enjoying being able to smoke without 'kind' old ladies approaching him, revelling in being as tall as everyone else and hoping that rumours were spreading labelling Lord Gladstone as a shoplifter.

This had been amusing for a while but by late afternoon Cassian decided it was time to go. If he was caught by Delilah…he didn't want to imagine what they would do to him. So he had walked to the train station, and decided to lean against the wall and have a smoke while deciding where to go. Before long his mind had been assaulted by images of Jizabel, his heart invaded by feelings of guilt and soon he was sitting on the floor, lost in thought. The hours had flown by and he had not reached a decision of any kind.

He wanted to see Jizabel. That was true. But he needed to leave London, and soon. So why was he now lighting up another cigarette and moving slightly to make himself more comfortable?

Jizabel… he thought, closing his eyes and biting his lip in agitation. Are you hurting right now? Are you angry at me? Is this going to be the end?

Jizabel walked slowly, barely lifting his feet above the ground. He held his head high, appearing haughty as always, but anyone used to his normal demeanour would have realised something was wrong. Luckily, his new subordinate was not used to him and was also lacking somewhat in intelligence and so ambled along behind him happily, babbling like a child. The Card master had been quick to assign Jizabel a new subordinate. Too quick. Jizabel had a horrible suspicion that Cassian's disappearance had been planned and could only hope that he was alright…but part of him, a dark part of his mind that whispered in a hissing voice, insisted on telling him that Cassian had left entirely of his own accord, had wanted to leave as soon as possible and had decided to leave without consulting him. The more time that passed, the more Jizabel believed this theory.

His walking led him into a huge building with a vaulted dome for a roof, a building full of movement, happiness, life. Jizabel scowled at the crowd and then lowered his head to hide the sadness in his eyes. The arsonist's babble continued as they entered the train station and Jizabel didn't bother to quiet him. Let the world find out about Delilah, let the police come and lock them both up. Jizabel didn't care anymore.

It felt wrong to have someone at his side other than Cassian, who had followed like a shadow. The arsonist was anything but a shadow and his exuberance seemed somehow insulting. For a brief moment, Jizabel's heart truly ached and he bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything. No one must know how much Cassian had affected him, no one.

Trying to stop his mind from whispering, Jizabel continued walking as before, trying to focus entirely on their task but finding that he couldn't quite remember what it was. And still the arsonist chattered, a being of colour, noise, energy…and yet, for all his fire, lacking in the warmth that had made Cassian so different. Jizabel clenched his fists and wished the world would stop turning; it felt impossible that life should continue, now. He had never really had anything to live for, and now he did not even see the point in trying. His one glimmer of hope had been extinguished, his heart betrayed again….and yet, part of him was still hoping.

Cassian's eyes widened in surprise and the lit match he had been holding dropped to the floor.

Jizabel.

The crowd was constantly moving so it was hard to be sure but…surely no one else could have hair so silver or eyes so sad. The distant figure weaved among the crowd and Cassian stood up on impulse, not wanting to lose sight of it. The figure wore a long coat and a top hat yet he was sure it was the doctor. It had to be. It must be.

Abandoning all reason and logic, Cassian began advancing through the crowd, angling his approach so that he would meet Jizabel head on. As he got closer, all his doubts disappeared although he was distressed to realise that he had never seen Jizabel looking so distressed.

Cassian walked hesitantly, glad that Jizabel's steps were so slow. His mind was racing with things to say but he could settle on nothing. What could he possibly say? What would suffice?

It seemed to Cassian as though a gap opened in the crowd between them and he rushed forwards, colliding with Jizabel who had his eyes lowered to the ground and so had not seen his approach.

Jizabel stopped abruptly as he felt someone collide with him, knocking his hat to the floor. He waited without raising his eyes as the stranger retrieved that hat and handed it wordlessly to him.

"Thank you," Jizabel murmured quietly. The stranger didn't move. Annoyed, Jizabel raised his eyes to send the person running with a glare…and found himself unable to speak.

Cassian. Cassian was standing before him, his expression unreadable. Jizabel opened his mouth to speak but could find no words to say, unsure whether to berate him for leaving, ask about his health or simply allow himself to cry – for some reason, the tears threatened him more now than they had before.

The moment spun out between them and Jizabel found himself staring into eyes that had been Cassandra's but now shone with everything that was Cassian. His eyes were soft but with an edge that hinted towards sadness but not sadness for himself, sadness for the man before him. Warmth blossomed in Jizabel's chest and spread through him quickly, making him realise the warmth had never come from Cassian at all but originated within himself. He reached a hand hesitantly towards Cassian's on impulse, vaguely hoping that simple touch could convey everything he had been trying to hide throughout their time together.

Cassian felt as though his heart would burst when Jizabel began reaching out to him; as far as he had seen, Jizabel never touched anyone unless it was to threaten or hurt them. Did this mean he was forgiven? Did this mean…

Cassian's eyes were dragged away from Jizabel's amethyst stare by movement just behind the doctor. A young man wearing a flamboyant suit was approaching, talking loudly. Cassian's eyes widened in shock – he knew this man, had seen him around Delilah's headquarters.

The doctor had a new subordinate, and if he saw Cassian it would all be over.

Cassian stepped away from Jizabel smartly and turned away before breaking into a run. He raced towards the platforms and forced himself not to look behind him, knowing that one glance back would change his mind. He hated himself for running, knew he would cause Jizabel even more worry; the sheer relief in the doctors eyes had told him that. But if he stayed, he would be killed. And so Cassian ran, his eyes and throat burning with sorrow, until he had safely boarded a train that swiftly began to depart.

Jizabel had raced through the crowd after Cassian, mind unable to comprehend what was happening. He now stood on the platform, staring listlessly after the train unsure of what to think.

Cassian had left again. Why? Why had he said nothing? What did it all mean?

Jizabel clenched his hand hard enough for his nails to cut into the soft flesh of his palm and closed his eyes.

No more, he thought. I will no longer chase after something that does not exist for me. I will no longer make myself suffer in this way. No more.

The arsonist finally arrived beside hi, out of breath and confused. Jizabel ignored him and turned to leave, repeating his resolve like a mantra.

No more, no more, no more…

The end of the world was soon to come, if Alexis had his way and Jizabel was finally looking forward to that day. The world had nothing to offer him, now. As he walked away, Jizabel closed his eyes and breathed in the cold air, hoping to wrap the coldness around his heart so he would never have to feel again.

And yet…a glimmer of hope remained, a spark too bright to be put out. And so, the pain continued.

Cassian stood in the corridor of the train and leant his forehead against the panelled wood. He screwed his eyes shut and could no longer keep the tears from falling, a sound between a sob and a yell issuing from his throat. He brought a fist up to rest against the wall and bit his lip, forming a resolution in his mind.

He had hurt Jizabel, this he knew. But not for long, no, not for long at all.

I will return for you, Jizabel, he promised silently, I will come back and I will save you, whether you have forgiven me or not.

The train sped away from London, away from Delilah and away from the one person in the world for whom Cassian would lay down his life. Things were still unfinished, but he would finish them. Things could not end like this.

"Hold on, Jizabel," Cassian murmured. "Just hold on. This is not our farewell."

PLEASE review if you read it, whether you liked it, hated it or didn't even get to the end. I'll know to stop writing these kind of fics if you hate it, neh? Love to all.