Chapter 9: The Fall.
The pain.
The pain was so immense that his very spine quivered with fear; fear of what the man was going to do to him next. He had already hacked off his silver right hand without mercy - blood was still pouring from where the blade had met between silver and flesh. He knew why the man was doing this, of course. He had heard about him: the monster after blood.
Pure blood.
The homicidal werewolf.
Not that this werewolf was an exception though, he thought. They were all as ruthless and blood thirsty as each other, deep down. They were scum; unworthy of the Wizarding community.
'You know why I'm doing this, Peter?' Moony asked, one of his hands was in his pocket and appeared to be grasping something tightly that the Death Eater had yet to see. As for his answer, Peter had some idea as to why the man was after him. After all, a lot of people would want him dead if they knew who he really was. Peter had played his part well these past few years; wearing his façade and spilling the Order's secrets to his dark lord.
He knew that this man was dangerous, maybe if he continued to play his weak role, he might just have a chance of survival.
'Please, don't hurt me! I didn't mean to!' He cried pathetically, water edging into his mouth when he made the mistake of twisting his head to the side in an attempt to shake his head while performing his melodramatic act. He spluttered and coughed as a result, causing the man to snort derogatively.
Now, the reason as to why Peter had just given himself a mouthful of water (the type of water that really should not go in one's mouth if one cares about their health): it was simply because he had been dragged down one of London's sewer drains by a very unpredictable and intimidating man, who had then proceeded to bind him to the floor 'with the other rats and scum'. The stench of piss and mucky water had originally made Peter gag, but he now held his breath, even as the sewage ran through his hair and stained his clothes and skin.
'You expect me to believe that, Wormtail?' Moony asked, eyebrow raised in sardonic amusement. This response shocked Peter so much that his jaw dropped.
'How do you know my-'
'Your nickname?' Moony finished, chuckling without mirth. 'Oh, I know of that all right; you're the rat, are you not? The nickname is very fitting though, I must say. I wonder how long it took them to come up with that one.' Whatever confidence Peter had before vanished, and instead he squirmed – all dignity lost.
'What are you going to do to me?' He stammered.
Moony smiled in a deranged way.
'Spoilers!' He sang in reply, before a serious countenance consumed him once more. 'Whatever it is though, Wormtail, it will most certainly be painful. I can confirm that.' He removed his hand from his coat pocket. Cradled in his fist was a large brown rodent. Peter squeaked. 'Do you know how rats respond when they find themselves trapped, Peter?' The werewolf asked.
'N- No...' Peter stuttered, fear in his eyes. Moony tutted.
'Well then, I think we will need a little demonstration to enlighten you.' When the rat in his hand began to struggle under his grip, Moony reached out a long finger and scratched it on its bony, hideous head to calm it. Only when it had fully relaxed in his hand did Moony continue. 'Allow me to explain this little procedure for you so that you understand. Hopefully you'll get it because it really is quite simple: when the rat finds itself encased in some small space that it wishes to escape from, it often burrows its way out in order to be free - no matter the medium. Understand?'
Peter nodded, but had yet to comprehend what extent this knowledge would play a part in with his current predicament. Sensing his confusion, Moony stepped forward and ripped Peter's cloak and jumper to expose his portly torso. 'And now for the demonstration.' He announced before then proceeding to gently place the tranquil rat on the Death Eater's stomach. When it had settled itself peacefully, Moony used Peter's wand to conjure up a small glass prison, shaped like a cube, around the rodent – making sure the glass stuck to Peter's flesh to successfully trap it.
The rodent instantly fell into a state of immense panic when it realized that it had been confined. Its pupils dilated and its head moved rapidly to look for the non-existent exit. The two men observed the rat in its actions for some time – one in pleasant expectance; the other in anticipated horror.
Finding no escape, the rat looked through the glass and at Peter (whose sweat had drenched his brow profusely), mouth open as it breathed erratically and beady black pupils large.
'Understand now, Wormtail?' Moony wondered, cradling his chin with his fingers, as if in deep thought. Upon hearing the lycanthrope, the rat turned it's head to look at Moony instead. The two held eye contact for several moments. It was shattered though, when the rat dove down to commence its burrowing into Peter's stomach; it tore mercilessly, until its scratches punctured the skin. Peter cried out in pain, but the rodent was ignorant to his screams – it was solely focused on its escape only. Moony watched this process for a while, lips turned upwards in a satisfied smirk.
Finally, he was free and able to thrive and kill once more.
Moony had hated being locked up in the white room, but the lycanthrope knew (even when he was being captured) that he had to go. He had to go to prove to them all – to Sirius – of what he was capable of. It was simple enough. Lock him up; torture him; drive him further into the pit of insanity with 'rehabilitation', but Moony would inevitably escape this therapy - which he had proved successfully (although it came with a short price). But he was in control now, all he would need to do is snap his fingers, and he could walk into the Ministry itself, and probably change a law if he really wanted to. He had an entire army at his command and one of the most powerful men in the country at his mercy.
His only problem now was Remus...
His time in confinement had unhinged his righteous host to the point of instability.
As this thought passed through his mind though, suddenly, a shot of pain burst through him, causing Moony to fall to his knees beside the sobbing Death Eater. His vision blurred and his smirk had vanished. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as if fighting off a headache.
'Oh, no you don't, Rem!' He rasped out through gritted teeth. With every excruciating wail from Peter, there came another shiver of pain through him.
'Stop this, Moony.' The lycanthrope pleaded in a strange voice; a different voice.
Remus's voice.
'You do not control me!' The gritted voice was back. The werewolf clasped his head in his hands. Moony abhorred being weak; hated Remus gaining control over him. He was the strong one, not Remus! Even through this battle though, he could feel every inch of his body numbing. If he did not get away soon, Remus would dominate them and save Peter from his fate – and Moony simply could not allow that to happen.
The Death Eater whimpered when Moony (using all his strength) gathered himself to address him. 'Sorry, Wormtail, something's come up... Bad day to die...' The resignation in his voice caused Peter's eyes to widen as he looked back at the werewolf in hope, albeit it did not last long, for the rat had just ripped through his intestine, causing him to emit a strangled cry.
The lycanthrope did not miss the hopeful look however, and explained, 'Oh no, not you, Wormtail; it's a very good day for you to die. I meant me.' Moony then broke off and groaned, as Remus continued to fight back. 'Good bye, Wormtail.'
And those were the last coherent words Peter Pettigrew heard before the pounding in his ears deafened him. He was vaguely aware of his murderer leaving, but his vision had begun to bleach of all colour and definition. He let out a scream, but this time it was gargled, for blood was now flowing from his mouth.
The irony was painful. Moony had tormented him and killed him using the rat as a metaphor for both his greatest evil and his greatest hamartia: deception and cowardice.
5th January - 2AM
'What do you mean he escaped, Regulus!' Sirius shrieked, as his brother hung his head in shame and remorse. 'You were supposed to look after him! One job! How did he escape?'
'I don't know, Sirius.' He whispered. 'The last time he was seen, by any of us, was over twelve hours ago - when it was lights out.'
'Well, that's not fucking good enough!' Sirius retaliated. 'Do you have any idea how much danger this puts us in; puts Remus in?'
'Sirius, I'm sorry!'
'Sorry for what, Regs? Sorry for allowing Moony to escape or sorry for the fact that this little blunder will cause a full scale inquiry at the Ministry?' Sirius spat.
'I didn't allow him to escape!'
'You haven't given me any reason to think otherwise!'
'Sirius, just listen to me, please!' Regulus pleaded. Sirius faltered in what he was about to say and stared at his brother, a look of cold bitterness upon his face. The young Black flinched at his brother's look and took a deep breath before he continued. 'A man came here earlier.' He looked intently at Sirius, contented with the fact that this bit of information had indeed perked his interest. 'He dropped off a parcel. No one was to open it, for it was addressed to you, and to you only.'
He took out his wand and summoned the aforementioned. Sirius took it from him harshly and ripped open the wrapping, scoffing. James, who was watching the exchange from the side was looking at Sirius with nervous anxiety – he could not remember the last time he had ever seen Sirius so angry (and by the looks of it, neither could Regulus).
The consulting Auror pulled out a very old and a very battered book, and – after shooting a glance from Regulus to James - he examined it in interest. James' eyebrows knitted together and he pursed his lips as he tried to read the title. He only managed to achieve this task when Sirius actually opened the book to look in the inside cover though.
The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, it read.
One look at the inside and Sirius's eyes widened; he hastily slammed the book shut. It did not even register that he dropped the novella until it landed on the ground with a painful thud.
'What is it, Siri?' James asked. Regulus avoided all eye contact. Sirius bit his lip and shook his head.
'I have to go.' He spoke, earnestly, as he rubbed the back of his neck in anticipation.
Sparing no questions, he dashed off. James' jaw dropped at the sudden chain of events and, gobsmacked, he stared at the remaining Black - James did not bother running after Sirius, when the Auror was as stubborn and determined as this, there was no point in trying to reason with him anyway. After a prolonged silence, in which James hoped Regulus would actually speak to him but was thus disappointed, he jerked as if to say "What the hell was that about?"
'I don't know where he's gone, Dr Potter.' Regulus supplied, when his silence had begun to irritate the animagus. 'I should think that Sirius would not be happy, should I endeavour in this case further anyway. If you should wish to know where he is going though, then I would suggest you take a look at that book; it will undoubtedly contain the answer that you are looking for.'
Taking the honest - albeit simplistic - advice of Regulus Black, James walked over to the spot wherein the book had fallen. Helpfully, it was open to show the very inside cover in which Sirius had observed with particular interest. When his eyes fell upon the cursive written on the inside, James knew where his friend would be. His breathing quickened and – with a final glance at Regulus, who looked so forlorn and tired – he sprinted from the room to follow his friend.
When he had gone, the young Black glanced across the room to focus on the book which laid upon the floor - he had to admit, his curiosity had aroused from the surprise at James' hastiness in solving whatever riddle the lycanthrope had sent. When he read the writing though, this surprise evaporated, for it was not substantially problematic.
'Everything has its time; a time to die. Death: the last problem to solve. The final problem. I could try to run from it, but I could never hyde forever.'
'Hyde Park...' He murmured regrettably.
5th January – 04.00AM
Hyde park was always such a beautiful place for Remus. He remembered coming here once, as a child, during those countless years of running...
Before life got in the way; before Voldemort. Before Moony.
He chose to return to it now, because at the denouement of one's life, we often think of the beginning – back when the world was pure and prepossessing. He sat on the bridge of Serpentine lake, just like he did when he was eleven. His feet dangled off the edge, swinging absent-mindedly. Remus twirled the instrument he intended to do the deed with in his shaking but determined hands.
'I knew you'd find me here.' He sighed contently when Sirius unexpectedly sat down next to him.
'How did you know I would come looking?' The animagus asked, pretending as though he did not have the answer to that already. The lycanthrope chuckled.
'You're Sirius Black.' He whispered, as if the response was a satisfactory answer – and in a way, it was. 'You came because I asked you to.'
Sirius, it seems, was unable to contradict that.
'Why did you send for me then?' He questioned instead.
'Because I needed you to understand that I am going to end this war. The war between you and Moony; and the one that I constantly fight everyday.' He faced away from the tranquil current and at Sirius instead, who turned to meet that gaze. 'And I'm also going to help you destroy the darkest wizard of all time.'
'You know what you are then.' Sirius remarked coldly, although something else was hidden in his voice that was not quite placeable.
'I have known for a while, Mr Black.' He nodded in confirmation. 'I could not destroy Moony sooner because of my lack of control. I have dominated him now though, and I choose to use that to my advantage wisely.'
'How did you subdue him then?' Sirius wondered. The werewolf smiled again, this time though, it was legitimate.
'Sentiment.'
Sirius scrunched his nose up at the word; disdain written in the frown lines that had now appeared on his face.
'I do not believe in sentiment.' He stated.
'I am not convinced.' Remus countered quickly, much to Sirius's surprise. 'You feel sentiment, Mr Black, you are just indifferent to it.' He theorized. The animagus fidgeted uncomfortably, a movement that did not go unnoticed by the lycanthrope. 'You know I'm right, just as much as I'm right in thinking that you wish I wouldn't address you by your last name, Mr Black.'
The Auror stilled.
'I don't know what you mean.' Remus leant closer and placed his lips to Sirius's ear.
'I think you do, Sirius.' He whispered. The aforementioned shivered. 'Sentiment,' He stated a little louder, 'Though you may fail to acknowledge just how much you possess it, caused you to feel forlorn at the way I addressed you - with our past, to speak to you again, as if strangers, gave you great discomfort.' Sirius turned away ever so slightly. Remus leaned back, putting more space between them. 'Sentiment gave me the strength to fight back, for I had to see you - my only friend - one last time.'
Sirius looked at Remus with a bitter-sweet expression, which hastily transformed into one of alarm, when he finally took in the Basilisk fang that Remus had been holding in his hand for the duration of the conversation. Should he not have observed such an important aspect of Remus's countenance sooner?
Sentiment. His mind answered for him.
Sirius growled.
'I promised that I would save you.' He spoke, harshly.
'You did save me in a way, Sirius, and you can still do so now.'
'How?'
After the question had rolled off his tongue, the scene was silent. Sirius watched intently as Remus appeared to be contemplating how to answer the question. He looked back at the animagus as he thought, but he never pulled down any of his walls for Sirius to deduce the answer for himself. When the atmosphere became uncomfortable, Remus pulled his eyes away and stared out over the lake once more.
'Do you know what it's like, Sirius?' He spoke, deliberately choosing not to answer Sirius's question. When the Auror looked at him, urging him to elaborate further despite his irritation at not having his question answered, Remus continued, 'To feel so different, to the point at which, you wonder whether there's something wrong with you – that there's a reason you think and feel different to the others?'
Sirius shrugged in response, causing the lycanthrope to scoff. 'And here I thought you would admit to it; I was under the impression that Sirius Black took pride in being different from the others.'
'Why ask the question if you already knew the answer, then?' Sirius bit back. Remus's lip twitched upwards, omnisciently.
'Because as much as you believe it, and as much as everyone else believes it too, you have never actually said those words out loud yourself: "I am different, and with that I am alone, despite my company". You have never confessed to anyone – not even your best friend – that you thought that maybe there was something wrong with you – a reason you act differently and interpret emotions differently.'
'I do not need to acknowledge the fact verbally.' Sirius defended. 'As I have continuously said, actions and appearance speak louder than words.'
'But could you acknowledge it now? To me, could you?'
'Yes, I could say it whenever I choose to do so.'
'Go on then.'
'Fine. There is something wrong with me, and I don't know why – possibly something within the frontal lobe of my brain prevents me from handling emotions the same way everyone else does, I don't know – but just because I have a problem doesn't mean I want it fixing.' The words flowed out fluently from him now, 'All the time I feel it, Remus; feel like this enigma, but I have learnt to embrace it and endure my abnormalities. I shape my differences from others, and use them to my advantage.'
The animagus paused when he realized that he had fallen into the werewolf's trap; this man in front of him had, indeed, made him voice the truth that he had never had the ability to say out loud before. Remus, for what it was worth, seemed impressed by his answer though, although the look in his eyes appeared all too forlorn and hopeless to make Sirius feel reassured or complacent about it.
'I have a problem too, Sirius, but unlike you: I know why.' He took a resigned breath and continued, finally answering the question Sirius had originally asked. 'You can help me. You can help me get rid of my problem; you can help me end it. Sirius Black can help bring peace to wizard kind – unorthodox social differences discarded from the picture.'
'And how would I go about that?' Sirius drawled out, raising a sardonic eyebrow.
'Don't play dumb with me, Mr Black.' Remus warned, the ghost of the wolf flashing in his eyes. When Sirius's cold look dropped, and instead he looked at the lycanthrope in pity, Remus growled.
'Kill me.' He stated earnestly. Sirius – who already suspected that would be the answer – scoffed, before looking into those shining emeralds and seeing the sincerity within their depths.
'No.' His answer was barely audible, yet so clearly spoken that his tone was non-negotiable. Remus sighed, disappointed, but did not press further.
'I figured as much... But it would've made things so much easier.' He then went to get up from where he was sat and stood on the railing of the bridge instead. He continued to look out over the water, wind blowing through his hair dramatically – like in Muggle movies; ones where the protagonist would then proceed to save the character in danger, and everyone would live happily ever after.
But this was not a cliché Muggle movie...
This was reality.
Sirius also got up, albeit he was clumsier than the werewolf in his actions. He stared up at Remus, his eyes wide.
'Get the fuck down from there, you great tosser!' He exclaimed, worriedly.
Remus chuckled, while Sirius continued to look horrified.
'I've always thought this place was beautiful, wouldn't you agree, Sirius?' He spoke, as if he was casually talking about the weather.
'It doesn't have to be this way, Remus. I promised I would save you.' Sirius almost pleaded. Remus cast his eyes away from the water and searched Sirius's face.
'You might not know it, Sirius, but I promised to save you too.' He sighed and looked away. 'This is the only way.'
'It's not-'
'Do not be irrational.'
'But-'
'No! Stop it.' As he could clearly see Remus was becoming even more agitated, Sirius reluctantly gave up. Satisfied, the werewolf continued, 'I'm setting the packs free. If I die, then there will be no leader to take my place – seen as you appeared reluctant.'
'Dumbledore will be thrilled.' Sirius mumbled. They both smiled, almost mischievously.
'Promise me something, Sirius?' Remus wondered as the serious atmosphere returned. He squinted from the brightness of the sun as it commenced to rise from the horizon; the dawn of a new day.
'What, Remus?'
'If Moony comes back, and I am gone, finish the job for me.'
Sirius shook his head.
'No-'
'Please, Sirius!' He practically begged. 'It has to be done, and if I am gone then there would be nothing left for you to lose from it anyway!' He could have elaborated on his words and their inner meanings further, but he suspected Sirius would not take kindly to it. At his silence, the animagus begrudgingly nodded.
'Fine.' He spat.
Remus reached a hand out towards him; no contact ensued, but Sirius felt touched all the same.
'This isn't over.' The lycanthrope remarked after a tense period of silence. He let his hand drop. 'The war will continue. But with me gone, Voldemort will hopefully be mortal once more. You need to murder him, Sirius. Only you.'
Disregarding Remus's use of Voldemort's name, Sirius looked at him in wonder.
'Why me?'
'Because only a person with determination – not catalysed by emotion – can destroy a demon, whom caused so much loss and suffering. Emotion often blinds us, but you, Sirius Black, are an exception. You are an oxymoron; an enigma as you choose to call yourself. You are unfeeling to all emotion - besides that of where your true family is in regard. Because of this, you are therefore capable of channelling your grief into rational power over Voldemort, as opposed to an emotional fool, who is likely to make mistakes. Learn from my death, Sirius, and instead of trying to prevent it, thrive from it.'
'But Dumbledore-'
'Dumbledore cannot do it. Do not question me, you know it is true.' He interrupted. Sirius knew he was right, but did not acknowledge it.
'Please don't do this, Remus...' He repeated, forlornly.
'You're clever enough to know that there is no other way out of this.' His words were true, but they still vexed Sirius, who could now only watch as Remus raised the fang and held it high; horizontal to his chest. The lycanthrope took a deep breath and brought the fang towards him.
Closer and closer.
Inches away from his heart, his whole body trembled, as though electricity had shot through him, again and again. This was not supposed to happen. Sirius – torn between relief over the fact that the instrument had yet to pierce Remus's skin, and worry over these uncontrollable spasms – stepped forward hesitantly, as if mentally deciding whether to help the man out or not.
But when those soft emeralds hardened and his posture stiffened, the urge to assist was gone, and Sirius was very glad that he had not gotten too close, because now he was in immediate danger.
Remus was gone.
This was not good, Sirius thought, as his gaze was met by Moony, whose head turned in an almost robotic way to lock onto Sirius. His lip curled upwards into a grin and he bared his teeth menacingly exposing his internal amusement towards something.
'Well, that was close, wasn't it?' He stated, truthfully. 'He nearly had it; nearly let Wormtail escape, but I guess he had other priorities to attend to.'
'What?' Sirius asked, exasperatedly. One hand on his hips and the other massaging his temples, he shook his head as he looked around; a whirlwind of different thoughts filling his mind.
'It would seem that I'm doing your job for you, Padfoot.' Moony answered, mysteriously – disregarding the fact Remus had come close to killing him. Sirius looked at him, befuddled.
'What do you mean?' The lycanthrope tipped his head back and laughed in an almost cruel manner.
'It means that I wouldn't bother looking for the spy within the Order anymore if I were you, Siri. I've taken care of him, if you know what I mean.' He winked, mockingly.
Sirius reflexively took a cautious step back that did not go unnoticed by the werewolf. 'What's wrong?' He asked, patronisingly. 'Disappointed that I got to little Peter Pettigrew before you?'
Sirius looked at him in loathing, and grit down all his suppressed emotion.
'No, you're what's wrong.' He spat. 'What proof did you have of his true loyalty?' Moony tutted.
'I have my contacts, although it was easy – in the end – all the evidence was there. The timid façade; the avoidance of eye contact; reluctance to trust, yet so eager to attend a Potter family party..'
'I would've noticed it!'
'Unless (much like Remus) you just had bigger priorities to attend to...'
Sirius realized that as much as he hated this man, he was undoubtedly right – it was so obvious that Peter was the spy that Sirius internally kicked himself for disregarding something so obvious. Instead of admitting defeat though, he countered swiftly, raising an eyebrow,
'Bigger priorities? Like what, destroying you?' Sirius's demeanour, as well as being catalysed by anger, changed as he steadily grew more confident with every syllable - and all due to Moony's blasé mention of Remus.
'Remus made me promise to get rid of you.' He continued. The lycanthrope scoffed in response, but Sirius stood his ground. 'You should know by now, Moony, that I never give up on a case. And seen as you killed the spy, it would seem that you are the only case left for me to-'
'Pity.' Moony interrupted, gazing out over the lake in a far off way. 'I warned you once before; threatened you before, but you haven't stopped.'
'You think setting your minions on me will make me abandon what I think is right?' Sirius questioned.
'No, I suppose not.' He confirmed. 'Thus, leaves me no choice.' He contemplated the weapon in his hand, weighing it. He then looked at Sirius – like a wolf would their prey. 'To spite Remus, I think I'll use this – although I wonder how he came about such a rare object in the first place?'
Without moving, his eyes flashed dangerously and Sirius felt his body stiffen. What was happening to him? It felt as though someone had put a Petrificus Totalus on him – maybe Moony had... Wandless magic was his forte, after all.
Focusing on his target, Moony held the fang, like one would when throwing a dagger. He paused only to say, 'It's been an honour, but in the end, you turned out just as boring - just as ordinary - as the rest. And so I'll say Goodbye now, Mr Sirius Black.'
But just as he loosened his grip on the weapon, what could be considered a miracle happened.
'AVADA KADAVA!'
A flash of green light shot out of nowhere and hit Moony from behind. A look of realization was painted upon the werewolf's countenance and he exhaled heavily, before toppling over the edge of the bridge and falling, falling into his watery grave, to be taken up by the seemingly smooth current.
Sirius gasped as the Basilisk fang missed him by mere centimetres – aim corrupted by the spell. When a loud splash ensued, the spell lifted, and he was able to look upon his saviour, who had been standing behind Moony, for the first time.
Unruly black hair, tanned; hazel eyes – filled with fear – hidden behind square, thick rimmed glasses, as tears escaped from his orbs.
Prongs.
'James, what did you do?!' Sirius cried. The animagus seemed not to know, himself, what he had done. His eyes were the size of knuts, and he looked down at his shaking hand, which was holding his wand, in shock and betrayal – as if it was his hand's fault he had just committed murder.
'He- He tried...' He shook his head and swallowed a few times, frown lines evident on his young face. 'I heard him; I saw him. He was going to kill you, Sirius.' He bowed his head as Sirius ran towards him. 'I couldn't let him, Sirius, I'm sorry... You, Remus...'
The Auror embraced his best friend as he broke down, trembling. James had never killed anyone before. As a doctor, he was supposed to save lives, not end them – Sirius understood this purpose that James had thrived for since Fabian Prewitt's unpleasant death, and so he also knew that it was his brother that needed comfort at that moment, more than anything else.
Sirius Black may not fully understand the concept of emotions, but he would inevitably do anything to prevent his best friend shedding more tears of realization and grief.
'It's fine, Jamie. You did save me, and while in the process, you also got rid of a terrible person. You showed true courage; I'm so proud of you!' He reassured. His words sounded forced, but James paid them no mind as he buried his face into Sirius's shoulder, trying to prevent the sobs that trembled through him.
Looking over his shoulder wistfully, Sirius gazed out over the railing of the bridge. The lake was undisturbed – besides the gentle rush of the current – and the body of Remus Lupin had long vanished into its depths for what should be forever more.
The lycanthrope had finally found his liberation, and Sirius should be happy that Remus's suffering had finally ceased.
Yet, why did he feel so empty inside?
A/N: Well... that escalated quickly...
HahaDon'tKillMe... Anyway, reviews muchly appreciated. Thank you all who have taken the time to read this so far. :)
