Note: This story is a What If? What if Rosiel, in his divine insanity, didn't give Katan the pill to save his life? Not likely, mind you, but still.. I have only seen the anime and read about the manga, so bear with me if there are any mistakes. The characters belong to the wonderfully talented Kaori Yuki.





Life Ebbs Away



"You can't die. You can't leave me, Katan," Rosiel murmured quietly, standing next to the injured body of his favorite man-servant.

Tears welled in Katan's one good eye. "Ro- Rosiel-sama," he gasped through parched lips, forcing the words past his damaged vocal cords.

Rosiel dropped down to straddle the prone figure. "I won't let you leave me, Katan." In his hand, a glowing feather appeared and soon condensed into a pill that Katan easily recognized, even in his weakened state.

"N- No.," he moaned, struggling to turn his head to the side, away from Rosiel.

"Take it, and stay by my side forever, Katan," Rosiel urged, pushing the pill against Katan's tightly sealed lips.

After attempting to force it down Katan's throat for several minutes, he stopped and merely stared at him. "Why won't you take it?"

"I- I serve you, because I lo- love you, Rosiel-sama," Katan rasped. "I don-don't wish to remain a-alive so that I can see the ho-horrible, twisted mon-monster you have become. Just let me d-die before I damn myself further by following y-your orders."

This time it was Rosiel who had tears in his eyes. "Katan, do you really think that I've become that awful? Have I really damned you?"

In too much pain to speak again, Katan merely mouthed the word, "Yes."

Rosiel sat, dwelling on his tortured private thoughts as Katan faded to unconsciousness. Finally he reached a decision and stood up. Still unsure of why he was bothering, he picked up the ravaged body. "I suppose I'll just have to heal you the conventional way, then."

He flew carefully back to their current residence, careful not to jostle Katan unnecessarily. After setting Katan down on the plush carpet, he began running a bath. As the tub filled, Rosiel stripped the remaining rags off of Katan, and then placed him in the warm water. Gently he began cleaning the gaping wounds, delicately picking out the rubble and debris.

Katan's skin felt too cold, and Rosiel scowled before turning the knob to make the water hotter. He didn't want his little cherub getting sick. He just wished Katan would open his lovely eyes soon.

Eventually he deemed him clean enough, and emptied the filthy water, pulling Katan out of the tub and gingerly drying him off. Then he found some bandages and began binding the wounds, clucking his tongue all the while. Silly, irresponsible cherub! Interfering where he wasn't needed! This really was all his fault! Why wouldn't he just wake up and admit it?

With all tenderness, Rosiel placed him on the bed and covered him with blankets. Then he stood back and watched him. Katan was so lovely when he was asleep.

Katan merely lay there, the last sparks of life in him ebbing away. Rosiel pretended not to notice.

For the next three days, Rosiel bathed Katan, changed his bandages, and put him in bed. Each time he bathed him, he got the water as hot as it would go. Katan's flesh was too cold. Too cold to touch. Too cold to hold. Too cold to be alive.

On the fourth day, Rosiel acknowledged the fact that Katan was gone, and all he had left in his arms was the empty shell of an angel he had only realized he had needed when it was too late.

Rosiel set fire to the body and watched until the fire burned down to nothing and the wind came to scatter the ashes. Damp marks on his cheeks were stained gray as the wind blew the ashes into his face, almost as if Katan wished to kiss the tears away. The rest was lost to the wind.