Author's Note's: To be honest with the few of you who read this, some of these drabbles I enjoy writing and some are just a pain in the ass. This one however, I particularity like, and I have no bloody idea as to why. On a side note, the identity of the narrator of this one might not be as clear as some of the other drabbles…and this one is even shorter than the other two already posted.

As usually, thanks to all of those that have commented in some form.

Disclaimer: I spent all my money on a Kyo (vocalist of Dir en Grey) costume, and there certainly isn't anymore coming in, so I most definitely do not own any of the licensed, trademarked, or whatnot that could get me in trouble.

Title: It All Falls Down
Chapter: Hands Clean
Rating: PG-13By: Singe

We're leaving here tonight, no matter what the cost. No one could live here for long, but if we stay we'll die even sooner than most. After all in the end, it all comes down to one simple, oh-so-painfully simple fact: they want us dead. Now. Not later. Not eventually. Now. And if we don't leave soon, I just might save them the trouble of hunting us down, of taunting us, of torturing us. Yeah, I might just finish it myself.

So we're leaving. That is, as soon as I find you. Are you even here anymore? Am I too late? Have you already been killed, captured, taken? Are they letting you speak, to dream to share your final wish or dream with anyone? Are they even allowing you to breathe?

Maybe I'm the one who is dead. Maybe my wraith is all that remains, trying to enact a futile escape plan that no one else will be able to take part in. A plan that would have been useless, hopeless in life, the poorest subterfuge imaginable, but in death…I wonder. Could it work? If I were dead, could I still try to save her? And…why am I so cold?

You would laugh at the irony of it, if I asked you. If I can ask you.

Where are you, my dear? What has happened now? There is so much noise, so many people flooding these crowded street-hallways. In this place, the shadows are continually moving, striking out, searching for a savior.

A sword in my hand.

Someone is laughing, by the sound of it, a man most likely. The noise is loud, cruel, and sounds highly amused. I know that voice, but not that laugh. He never laughs: not since she died. But then again, I can't remember him ever doing so when she was still here, trapped just like you and I and so many others ensnarled in the spider's web. No…he's not a spider…he is…a serpent.

There's blood on my hands. It coats the blade as well, a translucent red sheen destroying what ever light could be reflected, refracted by the blade. And by the hands you have always said you love, despite everything.

Where are you, my heart?

We're leaving here tonight, together, aren't we? You'll come with me, right? Once I find you, once I free you? But I'm cold, so cold now. I can no longer move. That voice, that damn voice, forbids it. He leaves me no choice, has never given me a choice. But that's okay, my dear.

Because now…it is silent.