Note & a bit of a warning: This is the third and final story in my "Nowhere Man" trilogy. The others: (1) Nowhere Man, and (2) Betrayal are posted here on ff.net. You can also read them on my website, if you prefer. Just e-mail me, and I'd be happy to send you the link.
There is a very ... very ... off-center and crazy Schuldich ahead. OK, so more off-center and "crazy" than usual. I wrote him that way on purpose ... so, please bear with it. There was a good reason for it, honest! At least, I felt like it was a good reason ... ~Tex-chan.
Floating, drifting aimlessly through an endless sea of darkness. Darkness above, darkness below, darkness all around. Everywhere he looked, each direction he turned there was only black --- cold, hard, merciless blackness grabbing at him with icy talons. It was him his body, and, yet, it wasn't. He felt detached, as if he was just an uninvolved, impartial observer, even though he could feel himself sinking lower and lower into the creeping, all-consuming dark. It was heavy, and pushed against his body like a living beast, wrapping him in its arms and crushing life and breath right out of him. Breathing was hard --- a painful torture that hardly seemed worth the effort --- and, the deeper he sank, the more the black drank him in, the harder it became. He thought he could see a surface to the darkness, and he struggled to reach it. But, it was too hard, almost impossible, when the beast refused to release him from its icy grip. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn't get free; it wouldn't let him go, and he couldn't reach the surface. Finally, he cried out, begging for help, for someone to save him. But, there was no answer. He was alone. No one was coming for him; no one was going to help him; no one was going to save him. He felt despair and fear close in on him, adding their weight to that of the black beast crushing in on him.
"What did you expect?" his mind whispered. "You never let them in. They wanted nothing from you, other than friendship, and you couldn't even grant that. All you cared for was revenge, all you lived for was hate. Cold and ruthless, until you destroyed everything with the cold fire of hate. Everything that had made you human --- gone. Now, you're nothing just a murderer. No one cares for you; no one will come. You deserve nothing."
"Shut up!" he screamed, desperate to silence the insidious voice. He wanted to scream it, he thought he screamed it but, perhaps, the beast had crushed so much breath from him he lacked the strength.
"Why?" the voice purred, undaunted, smug, and self-assured. "It's the truth. Give up. Let go. Everyone will be happier that way. Everyone will be safer."
"No!" he protested, but he could feel his conviction faltering, failing, along with his strength. "No," he repeated, his voice hesitant and wavering. He knew the protest was nothing more than a token --- more to convince himself than anything else. The hateful voice in his head wouldn't listen to him. It never did.
"Give up," the voice whispered back. "Just let go."
He didn't want to listen. As always, when told which course to take, his first reaction was to want to do the opposite. But, the voice was so sure, so smug. It sounded like a good idea, perhaps his only option at this point. He was tired of fighting. He felt like he'd been fighting for so long without ever gaining anything. All he'd managed to do was destroy anything that had been left of his soul, until everything was lost, everything was gone --- dead and buried, like his parents, like his dreams the way, in his heart, he knew even Aya-chan would be. Now, he was tired. He was so tired of it all. He wanted it to end, and, if he let go, he could finally rest.
"Give up," the voice whispered again. "Stop fighting. Let go."
"Yes," he whispered back. "I'm tired. Just make it stop. End it."
"Stop fighting," the voice purred, "Let go."
He released everything in response to the voice's silky-soft, whispered command --- all of the sadness, all of the regret, all of the anger, all of the hatred, all of the pain ---everything he'd been carrying for so long. He felt it flowing from him, and his body drifted further and further down into the deep blackness beckoning to him, cradled and welcomed by the beast. It was good. It was right. It was a relief to know everything would stop now, to know he could finally be free. As he sank down, deeper and deeper into nothingness, he finally felt free. This was right.
"AYA! AYA! You're not leaving me here alone, you asshole. You are not going to fucking die on me now!"
The voice cut through the darkness surrounding him, like a rope tossed to a drowning man. It pierced the black and drove the beast away. He was enveloped by soft, warm light. It was filled with caring, worry, fear, and, maybe, even love --- all of these things for him. It offered safety --- another way out besides that presented by the beast, a way in which he wouldn't be alone. He paused, looking toward the place from which he thought the voice came.
'Who?' he wondered. 'Who is that? Yohji? Would Yohji come for me? But he sounds terrified. It can't be; he's never scared of anything.' Still, he wanted to believe it. He listened harder, hoping against hope he'd hear the voice again, praying the light wouldn't leave him, but the new voice was stilled, and the light faded.
He resumed his descent into the pit, responding to the beast, following the little voice in his mind that assured him he was doing the right thing. It whispered to him, reassuring him: this was right; he should let go. And, he wanted to. He wanted nothing more than to do what it asked, to finally release it all --- everything he was, everything he could have been, everything he had become. But, again, the new voice the one with the light called out to him, compelling him to listen, begging him to turn his back on the beast.
"Aya! Aya, can you hear me? I said you're not going to fucking die on me, bastard. Aya, please!"
He couldn't ignore it. It was too strong, too compelling. He had to answer. He had no choice but to respond to the longing, pain, fear, and despair he heard in that voice --- mirror images for the feelings that threatened to shatter his soul. Aya turned toward it and the warm, comforting light embraced him, holding him safe and shattering the black trying to devour him.