PLEASE NOTE: This story contains major spoilers for Light. Please read at your own discretion!

They'd made it a museum.

Coates Academy, now a shell of brick and mortar and glassless windows, was a museum. The words "ad augusta, per angusta" still hung above the iron gate, but in the sixteen years since any lessons had taken place there, the letters had become discoloured and rusted, and at least four had fallen off. They'd decided that the dilapidated building would become a site left to preserve the memory of the Perdido Beach Anomaly, and remind all visitors of the horror and destruction the brave 'survivors' faced on a day-to-day basis. All of the rooms had been left untouched, exactly as they had been the day the Anomaly ended, to give guests a further indication of what went on.

Diana smirked to herself. As if they'd ever understand what had happened here. Fallout Alley wasn't just a world with no adults; it was a world akin to a nightmare.

She hadn't wanted to come. Fifteen years and the memories were still as fresh as they once were. She could still almost feel the sting of Drake's whip on her back, the terror of Penny's visions, the pain of giving birth to-

No. You're not going to think about that.

She blamed her therapist entirely for setting her up. Oh god, fifteen years and she still needed a therapist? Fourteen-year old Diana would have twitched her perfect round lips up in a smirk, made a shrewd and demeaning comment, and perhaps even laughed in her face if she saw what a mess she'd become.

But you're not a mess. You're getting better.

Or so they say.

The thing was, she had to go in and "face her fears" as Dr. Lawrence had described it. But she wasn't afraid. Of course not. She could walk right into that - school - and she could face it all. She was Diana Ladris. If anyone deserved to get back to normal after the FAYZ, then it was her.

But it wasn't just the therapist's fault. No, she blamed Sam too.

"Look, Diana, maybe Dr. Lawry or whatever is right. I mean, you've barely left the house for three weeks and I know it's because of it."

It. That was how they coined it in the Temple-Ellison-Ladris household. Not the FAYZ. Not the Anomaly. Not the "great poof." It. Somehow that single word seemed to convey all their feelings about that year-long blip in California: the confusion, the fear, the reluctance to admit it had ever happened.

"Di, he - Caine - was my brother. I miss him too, no matter how much trouble he caused me." A nervous laugh. "And, yeah, I wouldn't much like facing that place again after all that happened, but maybe it's time to move on. Grow up."

So she'd reluctantly agreed to go, booked the tickets, and here she was. Stood at the gate of what was once Perdido Beach's most formidable school for delinquents, rich kids, failing students. Staring at the crumbling walls and wondering where on earth it had all gone wrong.

Well, you already know the answer to that one. She smiled wryly.

Diana sighed to herself, a long, deep sigh that made her sound 1,000 years old instead of only 30. You have to do it. One step forwards. Through the gate. Another step. And another, and another, until she was stood at the ticket collection.

She followed the tour guides for a bit, until they started droning on so long that she could feel herself yawning. When it reached that point, she snuck away, grabbed a discarded audio guide and walked alone through the halls she knew so well. They still echoed, but she never remembered it being this cold. Though that could have just been the gaping hole in the wall.

She wasn't sure why she'd taken the audio guide. The idea of listening to someone else's account of the horrors of the- of it, it, it, it - was laughable. Currently the voice was garbling on about the architecture - "a late example of art deco, clearly accentuated with the large glass windows and-", a subject which had never done anything to interest Diana. She pressed the "off" button several times before it clicked off finally. She spun on her heel, hoping to move on to another room, maybe the dining hall-

"Diana? Diana Ladris?"

That voice. She knew it, she knew it. She turned.

A tall man, probably the same age as her, with a very familiar face, stood before her. Caine's voice suddenly swam through her head: " you've got your mojo working, but you're still just second best."

Got your mojo working... got your mojo working... The name clicked in her mind.

"Andrew." Diana started towards him. He was definitely taller and older than the last time she'd seen him, the night he turned 15 and he had taken the poof. He was wearing an official outfit just like the one of the tour guide, in the same horrible yellow and red combination that matched her old school uniform, and a tag on his chest read "Hi! My name is: ANDREW - feel free to ask for my assistance!"

"Oh, so it is you then, and I didn't just imagine it." he smiled, albeit a little nervously, but he was just meeting one of the survivors of the - of it, Diana, it! - again, someone he'd known previously. He looked at her, suddenly curious. "Why- why're you here? You lived through it, you'd know better than anyone in this whole building what it was like."

Diana smirked a little. "I blame my therapist. Believe me, I would never have come if I didn't have to." She studied him more intently. "Ah, so you're, what? A tour guide or something?" She laughed. "Weren't you aiming to be a doctor?"

Andrew stuffed his hands in his pockets, bounced on the balls of his feet and chuckled slightly. "Well, turns out, when your school gets razed to the ground and turned into a museum, it's hard to get the right grades."

Diana barked out a laugh, one she hadn't done since before- it. "So, you became a museum worker. I have to admit, I've seen better last resorts."

He looked at her, sceptically. She recognised that look. She remembered seeing it on countless nameless kids sizing her up, analysing her to see if she was a threat, if she could hurt them. Then they'd either point their baseball bat at her or lower it, depending on the kid. But this was different. Andrew had vacated early, he didn't understand the reality of what had happened there, what had killed so many of them. What reason would he have for looking at her like that?

He shook himself, and said, "You want a tour? If your therapist thinks you should do this, then maybe you could do with some company."

Diana considered his offer for a moment. She didn't want to appear weak - that was the golden rule of the- of IT. Never appear weak. But she didn't want to be rude and reject his offer; she and Caine and Drake had been so cruel to him in his 'last' moments, she figured she should make up for it now. "As long as you don't hold my hand and wet your pants again," she smirked.

The pair of them walked along the halls in companionable silence, occasionally stopping to stare at some of the old stained glass windows they recognised or to cut through a mass of people. They'd already passed the dining hall, and some spare rope had been found pushed to a corner of the room. Both of them shared a knowing glance; that was the rope they'd used to tie Andrew up before he vacated.

Since then, Diana's nerves had been building all day. A sick feeling grew in her stomach and she almost wanted to get out. But she'd promised herself she'd do this. She'd promised Sam, and Dr. Lawrence. She couldn't back out now.

Eventually Diana's feet brought her to one room that was small and clearly ransacked; she could recognise it almost merely by the strong clean smell of disinfectant that lingered still in there: Nurse Temple's office.

Diana shuddered before entering; Andrew seemed to notice, but didn't say a word. There were a number of tourists taking photos of the room, stood behind a red rope that cordoned off the room. It was just as they'd left it; random crushed pills of Prozac and Aspirin, a ragged white cloth saturated with dried black blood (Drake's, she thought, horrified), the drawers thrown open and the sterile white floor strewn with random papers and discarded files. All the tourists, Diana noted mockingly, seemed shocked at the haphazardness of it all. Perhaps the idea of mess and dirt seemed alien to them.

Well, when you lived here, there wasn't exactly much time for cleaning up.

"What happened there?" her companion asked, pointing to the bloody cloth.

Diana looked at Andrew, at all the other tourists, and said in a loud whisper, "You remember Drake, Andrew? Everyone's favourite sadist. You heard about Sam Temple? Caine's brother? How he could shoot light out of his hands? Well, one day we made 'light hands' a little angry, and he burned Drake's arm off." She spoke up louder, wanting everyone to hear. "All there was to use was a saw, Andrew. We didn't exactly have a burns unit handy. And I- I had the honours."

Several of the tourists turned away with horrified expressions. Andrew himself had turned a delicate shade of green.

"Well, little Drake-y, he didn't exactly like having one arm to use. I mean, you can't even hold a decent gun! Imagine! But there was something that offered him a new one, a new arm much, much better than the old one. Have you ever heard those crazy stories, Andrew, about the green monster in the cave and the boy with the red whip for an arm? Well, guess what, sometimes those crazy stories end up being the truth. Drake was a psychopath, but that thing, that monster, that Gaiaphage, it made him into something a whole lot worse. When it- when the FAYZ ended, I don't think Drake was even human anymore."

The whole crowd surrounding her and Andrew were in a state of shock. Most looked disgusted and terrified, some looked angry at her, but once or twice she saw a face full of pity. Fourteen year-old Diana would have hated that.

But you're not fourteen year-old Diana anymore, are you? You're weak. You're pathetic. You should have died, you should have let Pete take you, you should have... should have...

Something snapped. She pushed her way through the crowds of shocked faces, out into the corridor once more. How could she think this was a good idea? Why did she have to come?

She found her feet running without her mind commanding them. She fled past hundreds of people, young and old, she fled down stairs upon stairs, along winding corridors she only remembered in distant memories, past classrooms she'd once had lessons in, and rooms of old classmates. Eventually she stopped outside one door in particular, paused, and decided to jam her way in.

She knew she shouldn't have come in the moment her foot crossed the threshold. The room had a dank, musty smell to it that was similar to an old manor house. Perhaps the rope across the front of the entire wing should have been a clue that this area was closed off. But somehow she'd always known she'd end up back in here. The sheets were still dirty, rumpled and several were still scattered on the floor. The desk still had the same old assignments on them. The drawers were still open bare, with barely a sock left behind. They'd had to get away quickly, after all.

Caine's room.

Diana didn't care that she wasn't supposed to enter. She didn't care that this was now a preservation site. She didn't care that this was a great invasion on what was once Caine's privacy. She flopped down onto the bed with her head in her hands. She felt tears prick at her eyes.

He should never have died, she knew that. Pete should have taken her and she should have faced Gaia and she should be dead. It was all her fault, everything. If she hadn't been stupid enough to agree to sex with Caine then he would never be dead. Gaia would never have been born. The stupid Gaiaphage would never have had a body to possess.

Everything. Your fault.

But a part of her knew that wasn't true. She didn't create the FAYZ, she just got by in it by being... well, by being Diana. Caine had wanted her as much as she'd wanted him; their lovemaking was a two-way street. She hadn't given her baby to the Gaiaphage. She couldn't blame herself for everything.

Since when were you so self-deprecating, Diana?

She smirked. This wasn't who she was; a weak, snivelling girl sobbing because her boyfriend hadn't stuck around. She was Diana Ladris, a smart, confident, snarky witch who knew exactly what people expected of her and exactly how to manipulate them. She had come out of the FAYZ and she had won. She shouldn't be acting like this.

"Knew I'd find you eventually."

She looked up. Andrew. "How - how long have I been gone?" she asked, rubbing her eyes which were slightly swollen, and running a shaky hand through her luscious dark hair.

He looked at her sympathetically. "Well, I've been traipsing round this building for about an hour now trying to find you. You do know this part of Coates is shut off, don't you?"

"Yes. I don't care."

He laughed. "'Course you don't." He sat down lightly beside her, his hands clasped in his lap. "That's why you're Diana."

She considered what he said for a moment. He was friendlier than she remembered, back when they were fourteen. Perhaps the thought of what had happened here had knocked whatever bully was in him. A small tug at something inside liked that thought.

"You'd have thought they'd have made his room open to the public, wouldn't you? He was the King, after all." She added the final phrase with a light laugh.

Andrew replied, "They considered it, they really did. But I reckon sheets stained with crap aren't exactly something a paying tourist wants to see."

Diana looked at him, a little peeved. "That isn't the real reason, and you know it. They had no problem with showing that - office, with Drake's blood all over the floor. Why have they blocked Caine's room off, Andrew? And don't go bullshitting me about how 'it's disrespectful to his memory' or something stupid like that."

She didn't realise she'd stood up until she noticed him looking up at her, judging her. He looked as if he couldn't decide between running away, shouting angrily at her or telling her a deep secret. She wished he'd hurry up. Andrew considered her for a moment, then opened his mouth: "they found something in here. A very significant something."

Diana crossed her arms over her waist, and began to tap her foot impatiently. "Well, Andrew? Was it some cutting from a dirty magazine, a stupid little love note?"

He stood up. Looked at her. Stared long and hard. He didn't speak. He just moved to the banged up wooden wardrobe, and began to push it aside. She gasped.

On the wall was a giant picture, clearly done in permanent marker of varying shades, mostly green and red. The entire wall had been taken over by it, hasty scribbles and flying pen marks clearly drawn in Caine's frantic hand. It was the Gaiaphage. Layers upon layers of green crystals, which seemed to multiply as she watched, a large wide dark mouth, and green wisps of pen that seemed to reach out, as if to touch her. Next to it, where one of the tendrils was stretching forth, was a crudely drawn picture of a boy, or a man. His hands were red raw, his hair was a mess, but his eyes were haunted and dark. Caine.

Underneath the gigantic homage to the Gaiaphage were large words: 'HUNGRY IN THE DARK', and red lines that seemed to underline it.

She couldn't speak, couldn't think. She'd known it had reached into his mind, had affected him, but she couldn't think when he could have drawn this. Was it when he was trapped in limbo for months on end, after meeting it? Before they set out to De Sales? After he lost his kingship?

She'd known that it had affected Caine, but never this much.

"I don't think the tourists would really know what to say if they saw this, do you?" Andrew was leaning against the wall, next to the abomination, his arms crossed and a look of annoyance plastered over his face. He pushed himself off the wall, and stepped closer to Diana. "What was it, Diana? What was this - thing?"

She swallowed hard. Looked at him, and stood so they were level. "A monster. There aren't any words to describe it, unless you include 'green and sparkly'. You've heard the rumours, I take it. That I had a baby girl, but it was a monster. Well, that's all true. But it wasn't mine, not really."

He whispered the next part: "Whose was it? The girl?"

She looked back at the affectionate mural Caine had painted. "That thing's. It consumed her - my daughter. It took her over, all of her, swallowed her mind, took away whatever bit of human there was. You know what it was called? The Gaiaphage. World-devourer. Well, it started its little rampage with her. But Caine stepped in its way. You've seen the footage. Little Pete took him over, and killed it, killing himself and Caine in the process."

She slumped back on his bed, staring at the floor. She felt Andrew move towards her. The bed sank as he sat beside her. For a while neither of them said anything. Those pathetic tears pricked at her eyes again. Stupid Diana. Just tell him your whole life story.

When he next spoke, after what may have been five minutes or five years, it was in a small, constricted voice. "I'm sorry."

She looked up from the floor. "What on earth for? It's not your fault that all this happened."

He shrugged. "I just... sometimes, I feel guilty, you know, 'cuz I blinked out early. Nothing happened to the first of us who got out, but then that boy Francis... well, you saw what happened to him. I can't help but think that all this should have happened to me too. I was a member of this place, too."

Diana touched his arm. He looked up, and their eyes met. "Don't ever blame yourself, Andrew. Consider yourself lucky that you got out. Many of us didn't have the chance. None of this, none of the death, hunger, illness, should have happened to any of us. Including you. Remember that."

And be especially glad that you never had to eat human flesh to stay alive. Not like me. She suppressed a shudder at the memory.

He stared at her, and her heart skipped a beat slightly. "Maybe we should get back to the tour, you think? I mean, I could get fired if my boss figures out that I've gone missing."

She laughed. "Since when did you care about following authority, Andrew?" But she stood up anyway. As they began to walk out, he held her hand lightly for support. She didn't let go this time.

Closing time came around, and the thought struck Diana as slightly bittersweet. She was, of course, relishing the moment when she could go back home and say to Sam, "Well, you were wrong. I haven't grown up at all." But once she'd got over her 'little moment', she'd found herself actually enjoying spending time with Andrew, wandering the old corridors, and giving each other moral support in the face of unbearable memories. For the most part, she had held onto his hand, and had got used to the steady feeling of his palm in her own. But the moment she let go, the cold November air seemed to wash over her, and the sadness that usually threatened to consume her came back in waves like the sting of a wound.

"Do we really have to go? I was starting to feel better."

Andrew looked just as sad as she felt. "Well, I guess I'm glad I helped to make you feel better." He looked as though he was on the verge of saying something to her, but couldn't get the words out. "Maybe we should, you know, meet up again sometime." He corrected himself. "Just as friends, you know."

She appreciated that. Andrew had no doubt made her feel much more relaxed about reliving the darkest parts of her life, but fifteen years was not enough time to heal the wounds left from that final battle, from watching the body of a boy burn under the glare of Sam's light, whilst still forever firing back. From losing a boyfriend and a daughter in the same instant.

Diana looked at her toes, then back up. In the smallest voice she'd had in fifteen years, since she'd been invited to live with the Temple family, she asked, "Do you mean it?"

He shook his head once, only once, but it was enough. She made to turn away, to leave, but he suddenly touched her arm and faced her to him once more. "No, that's not what I meant." He studied her face intently, and spoke. "You know what, Diana? You know what you are?"

"What?"

"You're infallible. You will always survive. They said Caine called himself the King of the FAYZ, right? Well, you're a worthy queen. You'll conquer your feelings and you'll keep on going, because that's what you are. You're a survivor. I can see it when I look at you, I bet everyone can. You think you're stuck, trapped forever because of what's happened to you. You think you're worth nothing. But I can see it in you. You'll fight back. You'll win."

Defy and win. Wasn't that what Caine had said? Well, that's what she was trying to do. Win.

His hands rested back against his sides. "And you think I wouldn't want to stay in touch with you? Diana Ladris, Queen of the FAYZ, conqueror, survivor, winner? Well, you're wrong." He paused, and Diana didn't say a word. "Well, say something."

She shook herself. "I - I'd love to."

And that was that. Andrew and she laughed together nervously, lightly, both of them knowing they'd taken a huge step towards what could be a great friendship. They exchanged numbers, emails, anything they could think of, and Diana left with a promise that she'd see him soon.

As she walked out past the dilapidated half-wall that still stood, and through the towering iron gates that had seemed like a trap before, she couldn't help but think about what she'd say to Dr. Lawrence when her next appointment came round. Something along the lines of, "Hmm, well would you believe it, it was all exactly the same! And I only had a little emotional breakdown in there, the whole experience was just wonderful! Great! Amazing! Really good idea you had there, Doc, sending me back!"

Yeah, something like that.

It was only later that she wondered whether she was being sarcastic or not.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I spent quite a bit of time on it and I really hope it turned out well! In case you couldn't guess, Diana is absolutely one of my favourite characters in the Gone universe, and when this popped into my head I realised I just had to write it. I have other ideas for this series in my head, but as yet they haven't quite made it to paper. Fingers crossed I'll get to it soon!

If you enjoyed this story, then I'd really appreciate a review! Thank you!