A/N: Thats right people, I'm finally back D=
For those of you looking for my Hellboy fanfiction, I have some bad news. I'm working off a new PC, so all my old stuff if gone. I WILL be re-writing it though!(:

Just give me time ;)

Okay, this is one of those things with lots of one-shots. They won't be written on a regular basesis, becasue I can only write then when insperation hits me. (They also won't all be this emo!) This took about half an hour to write... It's short and... sweet? I don't know if I'd pu it like that, but enjoy!

It was one of those simple complex things.

She had no time really, just a few seconds, but she hoped that would be enough. She prayed he'd understand that quickly.

The rain was torrential and beautiful, warding away all the people. Haggard looked like a ghost town. She liked this kind of weather, grew attached to it as the years went by. It helped her think.

He was where he always was, waiting for her by the pear. The sun was setting and the scean was perfect for a moment like this. Maybe that's why she felt so nervous. All in all, she was the perfect picture of calmness, striding towards the tall figure of a dead man, but she was awfully good at lying. She'd been doing it to herself for the last six years exceedingly well.

He turned, the eyes of his facade sparkling in question.

"Your wet," he said as she approached. Stating the obvious was one of his many talents. She came to a halt about a meter away from him, lips set in a thin line of silence. He closed the gap she had purposefully left between them, reaching out a hand to her face and tilting it upwards.

"You've been crying," now his voice was hesitant. He didn't know what to do with a crying Valkyrie. She looked away from him, full of shame. She didn't like putting him in situations like this. Seeing Skulduggery confused was one of the most heartbreaking sights she had ever witnessed, because he only ever got confused about her.

He was silent then, waiting for her to say something. Her seconds were ticking by. She wasn't sure how long she could hold back the anger, the hate, the anything.

"Fletcher's dead," she said, her tone flat. The skeleton made a twitch of movement, but said nothing. His none existent eyes were just looking at her, watching, asking her to tell him what to do. She hadn't loved the teleporter for so long now, he knew that. But she never left his side because she was his world.

"It's your fault," she carried on. This time he took a step back, just a small one. He didn't understand. "It's you, it always has been! You gave me everything I've loved, you've showed me how amazing everything could be, you gave me this taste of power. But nothing ever stays!" She hit him then, right across the face. He didn't move an inch. She looked at him in horror, then down at her stinging hand, before she began to sob, all over again.

It wasn't losing Fletcher. It was realising that losing him didn't affect her like she should. The only thought that ran through her mind when she was holding him in her arms was –

What if this was Skulduggery?

I'd kill myself too.

How selfish of her.

She'd lost herself. She was empty, frightened and the only thing she had in the world was a talking skeleton.

Still standing there, just looking.

It drove her mad, and she wanted to hit him again and she knew he'd just take it, because that's who he was for her. The person that took all her problems, the person that fixed everything for her. The person that was going to make her end the world.

"It's your fault," she mumbled again, falling to her knees. "They're all going to die, and it's your fault..."

Then he got it. He'd known for so long, but only really acknowledged it then. So he knelt in front of her.

Valkyrie looked up at the man stroking her bedraggled hair with his skeletal fingers. His facade was down. The real Skulduggery smiled down at her.

"I'm sorry," he said, putting his forehead to hers. "If I could have never have met you..."

"Don't say that!" she screeched, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him into an awkward hug. "Don't you ever say that!"

"But I'm right," he said, and he always was. His hands found her waist and he held her, so close it almost hurt.

"But I... I love you," her heart froze as the words spilled from her mouth in an uncontrollable flood. But it felt right, she liked the sound of it, swimming around in the air around her. She closed her eyes. "Please don't wish that away so easily."

The skeleton didn't react, but she didn't care. She moved slightly, so she could see his face. Of course, not a scrap of emotion was laced across the skull. It's just grinned at her, and she smiled right back.

She felt the gun before she saw it.

Barrel pressed into the soft flesh of her stomach. For a moment she looked confused, shocked and terrified.

Then she just let the metal sit there. She didn't try to get away, or convince him otherwise. She looked at him, her features soft and beautiful in the downpour.

"Do it," she whispered.

The hammer of the gun clicked back. The noise repeated itself over and over in her head.

He squeezed the trigger slightly. Her eyes shut.

He threw the gun away.

He stood up.

"I can't," was all he said, offering her a hand. She took it, her body shaking all over.

They embraced, for moments of forever.

"This is not what I do," he said, his magnetic voice heavy and cracked. "I might as well destroy the world myself."

She stared at him.

"I love you," she said again.

"So I've been told."

She kissed him, his cold wet teeth a complete contradiction to her young soft lips. He held her like he couldn't live without it.

How selfish, the thought harassed them both.

They ignored it.