A/N: Hello! I know it's been a while, I've been distracted by Minecraft, Sweeney Todd, Black Ops 2 Zombies...anyway, if you don't know already, I'm rewriting the sequel to my fic Guns, Diamonds, and Lights. It just seemed terrible to me compared to the original fic, so I'm starting it up again. Anyway, I own nothing but my OCs. As before, lyrics will be changed, references will be made, and when Anya is speaking with Vladmiri, it's in Russian.

Oh yeah, and I actually now HAVE a playlist for Guns, Diamonds, and Lights: /#!/playlist/Guns+Diamonds+And+Lights/82004630

ERIK POV

It has almost been a year. One day more.

I can barely believe it myself. Everything seemed to move along so slowly for the first 6 months. For the last 6...they seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. For the last 6, she only fleetingly crossed my mind-mostly at night.

I have escaped from Paris a long time ago. My adventures before she appeared are no more but a distant memory. THAT night, the one where she left for good, however, is still livid, although to her request, it is beginning to fuzz out and vanish. I think it began to go away when I found her pistol on the floor, walked to the Seine, and threw it in.

My new house is small and secluded. Enough to leave me alone with my thoughts. "Come...what...may..." I spin around like a fool, but just as expected and known, she is not here. The memories are fading, but her voice certainly is not. I would not be surprised if I heard "And love is a stranger, who'll beckon you on...don't think of the danger or the stranger is gone!" on my deathbed, when I can't even remember her face. I snort and turn back to my latest composition.

A few minutes later, I snap out of my trance and notice I was writing out One Day I'll Fly Away. I grumble under my breath, crumple up the paper, and throw it away. Looking out the window, I sigh. It's been a year. Just remember her. It could not cause as much pain as it had been said it would.

You were an angel with a shotgun, shotgun, shotgun
An angel with a shotgun, shotgun, shotgun

You got out your gun, the battle had begun
Were you and I saints or sinners?
If love was a fight, then you had died
With my heart on the trigger

They say before you start a war
You had better know what you're fighting for
Well, Anya, you were all that I adored
Love is what I needed, a soldier is what you were

You were my angel with a shotgun
Fighting so our war was almost won
You didn't care if heaven didn't take you back
You would throw away your faith, just to keep me safe
Don't you know you were everything I had?
And I wanted you to live, not survive, that night

Sometimes to win, you've got to sin
Doesn't mean I'm not a believer
And Christine and Raoul, they sing along
Yes, they still are hopeless dreamers

They say before you start a war
You had better know what you're fighting for
Well, Anya, you were all that I adored
Love is what I needed, a soldier is what you were

You were my angel with a shotgun
Fighting so our war was almost won
You didn't care if heaven didn't take you back
You would throw away your faith, just to keep me safe
Don't you know you were everything I had?
And I wanted you to live, not survive, that night

You were the angel with the shotgun
Fighting until the war was almost won
You don't care if heaven didn't take you back

They say before you start a war
You had better know what you're fighting for
Well, you were all that I adored
Love is what I needed, a soldier is what you were

You were my angel with a shotgun
Fighting until our war was almost won
You didn't care if heaven took you back
You would throw away your faith, just to keep me safe
Don't you know you were everything I had?
You're an angel with a shotgun
And I wanted you to live, not survive, that night
Live, not just survive

And you hid, you hid your wings that night

They say before you start a war
You had better know what you're fighting for
I didn't know I was all that you adored
Love is what I needed, a soldier is what you were

So I was wrong. It is as painful as I thought it would be, but it's a beautiful sort of pain, the memories of us before my foolishness at the masquerade, the foolishness that transformed her into something much more frightening than any trick I can ever make myself. A very strange enchanted girl.

Bitterly, I slam my pen down onto the table and lay down in my bed. It's getting late-far too late. Tell me, Anya Oyen, was I really worth, your accidental suicide? I suppose, I think as I drift off into dreamless sleep, I'll never know.

142 YEARS INTO THE FUTURE, A FEW MILES OUT OF SAINT PETERSBURG, RUSSIA
ANYA POV

The definition of a bad night is some catastrophe happening that shatters your life forever and drives you insane. Believe me, I would know, especially the insanity part. We are not going there ever again.

The definition of an ok night is either sitting at home watching good (or bad) movies with good food or spending the night on the internet. That's how I spent the first 6 months.

The definition of a good night is either riffing good/bad movies with your friends or going clubbing with those friends and let minor shit go down. That's how I spent the 6 months after that.

The definition of an amazing, off-the-wall, memorable night is going clubbing, doing all sorts of stuff shamelessly that you'd never talk about again, and ending it with carrying your best friend home, disheveled and with a black eye/aching jaw.

Right now?

I'm at pure friggin' ecstasy 'off-the wall' night. Yep. I'm carrying my best friend home with both a black eye and slightly swollen jaw, through the streets of Saint Petersburg suburbia in early June, where there's a warm breeze ruffling through your hair and you should be at home having pure, innocent fun. Ha, fat chance. If you're friends with Vladmiri Levin (as I am) you're not going to have pure, innocent fun on a Friday night.

Vladmiri Levin. My best Russian friend and ex-friend-with-benefits. Yep. I'm not sure why I said yes, or even whether or not I should be ashamed because...well. YOU know. Him. Even though tomorrow it'll be a year since I last portrayed Satine (on stage, the crap I do with my friends I'd rather not speak about), he still gnaws at my brain. And it interferes with every one of my days. Vlad helps with that. Right now, light blue eyes closed, wavy dark brown hair messy, arms hanging limply as I carry him down the streets-I hate to admit it, but he's really, really good-looking. He's one of the nicest boys you could ever meet. For fuck's sake, this guy is perfect! Yeah, he's got his flaws (i.e. getting into fights rather quickly, jumping to conclusions, and saying the wrong things), but he's just...wow. I can't blame myself for liking him when I first moved here to Russia.

I guess what you would want to know would be whether or not I still like him. Answer? Yes. I love him, because he's funny and brainy and one of the best friends I could ever have. You could tell your most incriminating secret to Vladmiri...like I did...and he'd never tell a soul. You could waterboard him, flog him, he would never tell. His loyalty-to me, his superiors in the army, his family and other friends-is legendary. And he never asks for anything in return. What a saint.

Muttered swears catch my attention, and I look down. Vladmiri pushes himself up slightly in my arms, his eyes flutter open, and I start walking slower. "What are you doing?" he murmurs. "Saving you." "From what?" "You got knocked out..." "Ohhhhhh..." he throws his arms around my neck, making carrying him easier. "I don't know, what you're talking about, but, thanks..." "You're welcome. Before you ask, I'm taking you to your house. I've got your keys." He starts giggling randomly and pulling himself up closer to me.

I have an odd sense of deja vu as he stops laughing and gasps into the side of my neck, "Give me a second, I, I need to get my story straight...Scaaaarlett and Rurik are in the club bathroom, getting, higher than the Empire State..." I laugh as his street comes into view. "Your lover, he's waiting for you-" I stiffen immediately and walk faster. "Jus' 'cross the bar, an' my seats been taken by some sunglasses, askin' about your scar an'-" Vlad picks up the chain around my neck and holds it up. "I know he gave this to you months ago...I know you tryin' to forget..." I take it out of his hand and start jogging to his house. "But 'tween tha' drinks, and subtle things, an' the holes in my apologies, you know, I'm tryin' hard to take em' back-" "So when the fight ends, and you're fallen down," I sing, slowing down,"I'll carry, you home..."

"TONIGHT!" We yell as his house comes into view. Then all the tension goes away as he puts his head on my shoulder. "TONIGHT! WE ARE YOUNG! SO LET'S SET THE WORLD ON FIRE! WE CAN BURN BRIGHTER, THAN THE SUUUUUN! TONIGHT! WE ARE YOUNG! SO LET'S SET THE WORLD ON FIRE! WE CAN BURN BRIGHTER, THAN THE SUUUUUN!" Vladmiri throws his head back and swings in my arms as he sings- "Now I know that, I'm noooot, all that, you goooot...I guess I, I just thought, maybe we could find new ways, to fall apart!" "But our friends'll be back! So let's raise a toast! 'Cause I found a soldier that'll carry me ho-ome!"

We can't go on and just dissolve into giggles as we step onto his porch. "Is Karenin home?" I question once I calm down. "Probably. KARENIN! Poluchitʹ tormoznoy zadnitsu syuda!" (KARENIN! GET YOUR NERDY ASS OUT HERE!) Karenin is Vladmiri's younger brother, age 18 and about 5''10. He's not the clubbing type like his brother, but he's a nice guy. A 'fuckin' goodfella', as a drunken Vlad proclaimed him as on New Year's Eve. A bit odd, but who out of my circle of friends isn't?

Karenin opens the door, wearing one of his navy scarves with a Homestuck t-shirt, jeans, and gray socks. He double-takes as he sees his brother in my arms, and aforementioned brother curls up and waves sweetly at him. "I...I don't want to know." "Could you maybe get him an ice pack or ginger ale or..." "Beer!" Vlad yells. Karenin rolls his eyes and vanishes to the kitchen as I carry Vlad into the living room and set him on the couch. "You carried me." Vladmiri states. "Yes." "You saved me." "Yes." "I owe you so much..." "No shit." "I love you."

I hear a crash! and turn to see Karenin standing there, shards of glass at his feet. "He was drinking," I say. He still just stands there awkwardly until Vlad punches me on the arm-and hard too, I might add. "Naaah, I love ya, but not like that. Heaven pity the man who ever really loves you." (GUESS THE REFERENCE!) Heaven pity him in the first place. "It's like, I wanna yell it from the rooftops, 'I love Anya, my best friend!'" Karenin gives him a ginger ale and quickly makes his exit. As Vlad drinks, I study him. "I-love you," I reply, just to hear my voice say those 3 words again, for the first time in 364 days. Well, that and the fact that my head is spinning and everything looks so much brighter and colorful. "I love you," I repeat. "I'm not-I'm not even embarrassed to say it, I just-I love you." "I'm not embarrassed." He holds out his hand for a shake. "Friends with benefits for when shit hits the fan?" I grin stupidly and shake his hand. "Love you, man."

We sit here in bliss for a bit. I check my phone for the time, and wince at how late it's getting. "Hey, if you really love me..."

7 MINUTES LATER

Tough, scarring beats in my ears, the hum of the air slipping through and past me, I feel light and free. Yes, I am riding Vlad's motorcycle like a boss, his leather jacket around me. I am unstoppable. The epiphany, the ectstasy of the after fight that I failed to feel because Vladmiri was passed out on the floor has finally come. I stand up a little and scream into the wind.I sit down and giggle as the wind messes up my hair.

Vladmiri lent me his motorcycle so I could get home, and I've been waiting for him to do that for just about forever. His motorcycle is amazing-dark red, an engine with the roar of a tiger, a pure vibe of awesome. Of course, tomorrow morning, when he sobers up and realizes I took his bike, I'm friggin' dead. Oh well, live it up, I always have his actions at my New Year's party to hold against him.

Nothing can piss me off. My word is law. I'm on top of the world. And if someone breaks the law, I really couldn't give less of a damn, because I'm Anya K. Oyen, queen of the world, someone who'll be gone by morning. I'm not alive anywhere like I am now. When everything is slightly blurry and swinging, when your jaw is almost numb and you can barely see out of your left eye. That's alive. It wasn't about winning against that boy at the club. Hell, I don't want to die like I did back then in 1872. I don't want to die with only one little scar, and earning that one while not in my right mind.

The moon is on my side
I have no reason to run
So will someone come and carry me home tonight?
The angels never arrived
But I can hear the choir
So will someone come and carry me home?

I take a breath. Once. Twice. Then I grin. I finally feel complete. Took long enough. My neighborhood comes into view, and I gun Vlad's bike down a shortcut I normally walk. I'll leave it with my car, I muss. I'm not exactly willing to let go of his coat though. It's comfy as hell. As I round the corner-

Screams-

A dark figure falling-

I scream and swerve-

Flying off the bike, I hit the ground on my back-

I arch for one moment off the ground, on my hands, a perfect backbend, hissing-

And then I can't see anything anymore.

A/N: How was that? Anyway, the next chapter is mostly done and I'll likely have it up sometime soon. Thanks for reading, and please review!