(A/N: Once again, another snippet than entered my head when I was just cruising around. I feel so horrible, but I couldn't shake it...I wanted to draw out the ending cutscene of Starcraft II. I know it's three minutes long, but I felt that it carried the finality of so many things and was so beautifully underlined with the beginnings of several others that I had to do my own rendition of it. So here it it, ladies and germs! For your reading entertainment!)

Damn Shame

The place stunk of death. Not like the death that had visited the zerg swarm outside the hive cluster, over which Raynor, Tychus and three Dominion marines had crunched their way. Rather, more like the stench of death hanging off someone who was fighting to stay alive. Something, or someone, that had cut away the cancer, but was battling the just as lethal cure.

Both Horner and Warfield had objected to Jim going in with such a light team. There was no doubt that Tychus was an expert at inflicting pain, especially after the events in the caverns under Char's surface to destroy the Nydus network, and Raynor himself was no slouch as a veteran of three wars now, but the fact remained that, although the swarming attacks on Warfield's forward base had ended and the zerg lay dead in a literal carpet of bodies, there was no assurance that the artifact's cleansing light had truly stripped Kerrigan of the cruel and murderous nature her transformation had given her. Jim Raynor, however, would not hear anything of an overwhelming army being deployed. Knowing there was no way to move the man in black power armor, both the renegade captain and the celebrated war hero had relented on the grounds that he take a small team with him. Even now, a dropship was waiting outside to carry him back to friendly lines the moment the enemy so much as twitched, and several squads of marines, rebel and Dominion both, were securing the surrounding area. One squad of Banshees and Vikings each flew air cover overhead, and two Siege Tanks were waiting on the next hill, watching carefully with their thumbs on the firing studs. Not really 'small' in any conventional sense of the word, but Jim Raynor had to admit that the zerg were definitely a slippery race of varmints in the meanest sense of the word.

"It's dark," said one of the marines, a private by the single stripe on the shoulder pad. Though Tychus was on point, the three Dominion soldiers were on the flanks, scanning everywhere. The man (kid, really. Jim didn't want to even think of kidding himself) made an audible wet sound, licking his dry licks as his voice shook. Nerves getting the best of him, probably. After all, he'd just faced down the largest documented zerg horde ever seen in history, save for the one that had wiped out the UED, protoss and Dominion attacks.

"Turn on ya lights, 'en." Tychus growled lowly, his accented even more pronounced by the cigar he still smoked, even behind his visor, a habit the large man had picked up in the Marine Corps as well back during the Guild Wars. All four men snapped on the flashlights set into their armor, and activated the targeting lasers set into their C-14 "Impaler" Gauss rifles, locked and loaded to fire on a moment's notice. Though the battle had drained much of the invasion force's ammunition reserves, there were still enough bullets left for them to be carrying six of the fully loaded two-hundred round magazines, easily enough to cover them in the event evacuation was necessary. Jim Raynor, however, had left his own rifle back at base, preferring to go mostly unarmed save for his trusty revolver, holstered at his side.

Abruptly, Tychus held up a hand, a signal for "hold." The squad halted, guns swiveling forward before the man in blue brought his hand down in a chop, the signal to move up. Jim pushed up behind Tychus, careful not to get into the heat trail created by the armor's power plant, and peered over a large blue shoulder. What he saw made his breath hitch in his throat.

Sarah Kerrigan had been a moderately tanned woman when he'd first met her, a result of the endless hours spent out in the field first for the Confederacy, then the Sons of Korhal. Now, the lights and targeting lasers that danced over her prone form showed that the years spent in an exoskeleton of hard carapace had drained her skin of all color, rendering it a milky white. She groaned as the light touched her, a hand up in the air and clenched in a claw as if in pain.

The squad stopped, and all the marines shouldered their rifles. Quick to stop any shooting, Jim pushed Tychus' weapon down, and the others silently obeyed the order to hold fire. Tychus himself simply stepped aside to let Raynor through. The former marshal paused for a second, as if debating the decision he was about to make, before stepping forward, descending to one knee and popping the seal on his faceplate, letting the skull-decorated visor retract into his helmet.

Without pause, but not without care, Jim leaned forward, cradling her frail body in his plated arms. He suddenly wished the CMC armor was gone so he could feel her skin again on his own, but knew now was neither the time nor the place. He controlled himself from glancing down at her nude form, instead concentrating on her face as he supported her into a half-sitting position.

Her eyes fluttered, and he knew she was aware of his presence. "Sarah…" he whispered, his face still blank. Her eyes blinked, rapidly, as her head turned, focusing on his own face. Interestingly, her hair was still the bony, dreadlock-styled aberration she'd had as the Queen of Blades, and Jim wondered briefly if her mutation had caused her regular hair to stop growing. Or would her red tresses return if the current occupants were removed?

Abruptly, however, he returned to the task at hand as she finally cleared her vision, and took a breath, gulping to try and speak. However, no words would come. She was still too weak. He felt a shaky breath escape from his lungs as he looked into her eyes, however, and found no glowing orbs. Only the mismatched irises he'd come to know and love, and the iron wall of his face shattered as he let out a small sigh of relief.

It had worked.

Tychus looked upon the united couple with something akin to pity. According to his sensors, the Queen of Blades was human again. Only the hair was left, which decreased a little from her overall attractiveness. Aside from that, however, she looked just like the picture Jimmy had of her. Smooth face, slim body…he paused to admire that body for a second, taking the last luxury he knew he'd have.

And then he was back to business. He popped the seal on his helmet, letting the faceplate slide up, releasing a cloud of smoke as he pulled another tug on the cigar perched between his lips. Leaning his head over carefully so he wouldn't be heard, he muttered into the secure comm-link stretching all the way back to Emperor Arcturus Mengsk. As well as being able to liquefy his organs, the powerful transmitter in his armor was also capable of reaching directly to Korhal and straight to Mengsk's personal comm-device. In other words, instant and exclusive access to the man who could either take his life or spare it with the push of a button.

Before he spoke, he considered the couple one last time, his eyes not leaving the tearful reunion. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way…

"You reading all this?" he muttered, knowing Arcturus was watching through his armor's tactical mini-camera. Maybe, if there was no threat of the Queen of Blades returning, Kerrigan could live, Jimmy would get his girl back and Tychus would go free without the need to run from the Raiders as well.

Alas, it was not to be. It was only a second before the Emperor calmly replied "You have your orders Mister Findlay. Carry them out." The vitals signs on display in his helmet's HUD went from blue to red and began flashing. WARNING: SIGNAL INCOMING. PROMETHUES PROTOCOL ACTIVATED. READY TO EXECUTE.

Nothing else for it, then. Tychus spat the cigar from his mouth, blowing the last of the smoke from his lungs so he could steady himself. He'd probably only have once chance, and he needed to deliver the killshot as accurately as possible.

The moment was interrupted as a bright blue targeting laser drifted up Kerrigan's body to her forehead. She'd closed her eyes for a second, trying to recover from some kind of lingering pain, and suddenly the dot was right between her eyes, then up over her skull. She groaned at the light, flinching slightly. Raynor knew exactly what angle the laser was coming from, and had all three Dominion marines in his peripheral vision. That just left…

"Tychus…what have you done?" he asked slowly, knowing that any sudden movement would make his life-long friend squeeze the trigger and end Sarah's life. He turned his head, knowing Tychus couldn't see that, trying to peer back at the big man.

Tychus paused, taking in a fortifying breath. Jimmy had saved his life so many times, and vice versa. They'd served through two wars and a hell of a good spree as outlaws. Still, he reminded himself, that didn't matter when his life was at stake. And there was nothing Raynor could do about that, so there was no other option.

"I made a deal with the devil, Jimmy," he finally admitted, feeling a small rush of relief cushion the adrenaline racing through his veins and mixing with the remnants of the stim-packs he'd been using during the battle. It felt good to get the truth out, he decided. Better than he'd admit out loud. "She dies…I go free."

Jim looked back down at Sarah, feeling the sweat drip down off his beard as a cold chill ran down his spine. Here it was, at last, the secret to everything surrounding Tychus' strange activities. How he'd been released from New Folsom, where the transmitter in his armor had come from…why he'd been so fascinated in Sarah. He'd become Mengsk's hitman to earn his freedom, and whatever self-doubt the ex-convict was currently feeling obviously wasn't enough to completely sway him.

Sarah locked eyes with him, an unspoken acknowledgement; make your choice. Your friend of almost two decades, or the woman you fought through hell to get. With barely a pause, and without removing his eyes from hers, Jim said "We all got our choices to make."

But she saw that Jim Raynor had already made his choice. Now he would just have to try and live with the consequences. His gaze finally left hers, focusing on some point in the wall as his right hand slowly, unbeknownst to Tychus, undid the strap on his holster.

Tychus felt a small spike of regret course through him, and he briefly considered backing out. Let Jimmy try and disable the transmitter, save them all. But the rational part of him knew that when Mengsk saw him put down that rifle, he wouldn't hesitate to end his life.

"Damn shame," he muttered, adjusting the rifle so he was squinting down the sights at Kerrigan's head. His finger slowly settled on the trigger, squeezing it further, further, further…

Time seemed to almost hang there. Jim, his hand on the butt of his revolver. Tychus, about to kill his best friends' lover. The three marines on the side, unsure of what to do but not about to interfere in the conflict.

And then Tychus fired. At the exact same moment that Jim moved.

An 8mm rifle round, flung out of the barrel by both powder in the charge and rail accelerators along the length of the gun, ricocheted off a black shoulder pad that hadn't been there a heartbeat ago. Moving with startling speed despite the bulk of the armor, Jim Raynor spun around, revolver in hand and his face a mask of grim determination. Not anger, not sorrow. Just the will to do what needed to be done. The black barrel of the gun filled the ex-convict's vision.

Tychus had time to curse to himself before Jim Raynor pulled the trigger. There was a bright flash, a sense of pain…and then blackness.

The corpse of Jim's best friend, ex-partner and war buddy fell backwards, collapsing to the ground with a clatter of armor and a thud. Blood pooled inside the helmet, leaking from the hole between Tychus' fury-filled eyes, as if he was enraged that he hadn't been able to stop his death.

"He died like he lived," Jim muttered, holstering the revolver slowly. "Defying everything thrown against him."

He wasted another few seconds uselessly lamenting and regretting before he turned to Sarah, gently cradled her in his arms again, and effortlessly lifted her up, pulling her body close to his armor. Once more, he felt the desire to have his own skin touch hers, but he stifled it. Not as strictly as before, but with more of a 'wait til later' feeling.

"Uh…sir?" asked one of the marines as Jim made for the exit. He didn't even stop as he called back "Leave him. He wouldn't want to have been buried in a goddamn graveyard."

She felt cold metal touch her skin, chilling her already freezing body. She couldn't tell what it was, but the surface was contoured, with patterns and small pieces that said it wasn't just some kind of wall or floor.

She remembered seeing his face, seeing his choice…Sarah remembered the one man she knew would have gotten her out of this nightmare.

"Jim…" she whispered, surprised she was able to speak at all. Still, why had she said it? It wasn't as if he was-

"It's okay," his easygoing accent echoed, as if from down a tunnel. She became aware of rhythmic, heavy footsteps and the light whine of a power plant. The metal holding her shifted slightly, repositioning her in its grasp. "I gotcha."

Warmth and light suddenly hit her face, and she flinched, turning away from it as it swallowed her whole body. She forced her eyes to squint open, glancing up. At first, all she saw was black, and she wondered if her eyelids might have defied her orders and remained closed. But then she saw a lens, a curve, a shiny reflective surface…her eyes fully opened now, despite the pinpricks of pain from the light.

Jim Raynor held her in his arms, slowly striding out into the sunlight. He glanced down at her, smiling lightly to reassure her, before glancing back up. She continued to watch him for a few more seconds before the pull of sleep tugged at her brain once more, and she set her head down on his arm, smiling lightly before she slowly nodded off once more into the first sleep without nightmare she'd had in years.

Jim continued to move, heading towards the dropship. By now the Marines had secured the area and were milling about the perimeter, patrolling the area. Many of them snapped their gazes over at Raynor as he emerged once more, and several popped their helmet seals in shock to make sure of what they were seeing. The Dominion marines could be heard striding out behind him as well, following out of sheer instinct, unsure of what had happened back there. A triangle of Vikings flew overhead, bisecting a Banshee patrol going perpendicular below them. Jim looked up at the aircraft, noticing how the groups were made of both Raider and Dominion units, before he noticed something even better. The banks of polluted, ash-laden clouds had parted on the horizon, exposing the first sunrise to shine down on the battlefield in days. With it, you could see the Dominion fleet overhead, with the Hyperion at its head, deploying even more troops to secure the zerg stronghold.

Despite himself, and the billions of lives that had been lost and the atrocities committed to reach this moment, Jim Raynor couldn't help but think of this as a truly beautiful victory.