Disclaimer: I own nothing of the characters/places I write about.

A/N: I had written two chapters of this story under the same title, and a oneshot chapter of another story. But in writing another chapter, I've found a way to combine the two stories. So I've taken the others off and merged them into this. And... I switched the tense of the longer one. This story is written backwards. So the next chapter will end somewhere before this one begins. But then, I guess they'll all sort of link into eachother. I don't know, I'm experimenting. I'm trying to explore Lupin's part in his relationship with Tonks, and his views on it both consciously and subconsciously. I'm hoping that with each passing chapter, you'll better understand the one before it. So no flames please, I'm not all that new to this whole writing thing, just to... letting people read it...

Into his life, she has stumbled. The walking disaster. The accident waiting to happen. But a glimpse of Heaven in the ever suffocating Hell that was his life. Yet their relationship is unstable. And like all things unstable, it is destined to come crumbling down on both of them.

He calls out to her through the darkness.

Her eyes shoot open. Now hazel, then blue, then amber like his. They stare up at him, questioning and unblinking. Bending low, he gently strokes the side of her pale face. So smooth. So perfect. So unlike his own.

She lifts her head to meet him in a kiss. His own lips are icy cold, but hers are warm, radiating heat. A passionate vibration circles between them, as his tongue passes into her.

And then there is no war going on outside of them. There is no great evil smothering the world. The suicide mission of feral werewolves and Fenrir Greyback is dissolving like some terrible nightmare. The endless nothing has dissipated, and somehow they are safe. The warmth is somehow saving them. In equilibrium the pieces have fallen into place, completing them both like a jigsaw puzzle.

He pulls back slowly, a melancholy expression crosses his face. He can't meet her eyes. Those two deep grey pools reflecting his own inner sorrow. Cold tears push their way out, threatening to spill over and cover the world with their misery. Her mouth hangs open slightly, and her bottom lip trembles. Pulling her close, he lets his right cheek rest just above her delicate ear. Her long hair falls into his, matching it's colour completely.

He can't let this work. Her presence has always filled him with a sense of worthlessness he can never rise above. He is fractured. He is torn at the seams, and ripping. He is partial and incomplete. He is utterly undeserving, for she is everything he is not. But mostly, he truly does not believe that he will survive his ongoing mission underground. It will kill him. And he knows it.

He won't see her tied down to a broken corpse. He will never do that to the woman he loves. To the only woman who has ever loved him.

She does not understand the full implications of the war, and her innocence is heartbreaking. But it is destroying them both, and he has to end it.

But there is another reason, he himself is too afraid to confront, too ashamed to ever admit. He shakes his head, clearing his mind.

A sense of finality fills the air, and the eternal chill seeps slowly back into the room.

She presses her forehead against his shoulder. Her words are choked with tears that wet his frayed and tattered coat.

"But… I feel it." she whispers. Her heart sounds in his ears.

"Just because you feel it, doesn't mean it's there." he lies softly, releasing her.

She sinks back into darkness, when he lets her go.

She craves an inner light in him, that has been out for years. One he truly does not think could be reignited. And though a small part of him fully wants to try, the sheer immensity of the emptiness is too overwhelming. He won't give either of them false hope. His inevitable emissary death will be easier on her once she hates him. She will move on with her beautiful life, so that as always, his own crushing despair will gradually fade into blessed nothingness. He repeats this again in his head, because the more he tries to convince himself, the more real it becomes.