So yeah, I said I was going to start releasing these on Sundays but I already finished it and, well, it is technically Sunday here, though most would still consider it Saturday night. Whatever, it's after midnight and it's going up.

Just to note: the large italicized section is on purpose. It's actually a dream scene I've had written for quite a while, so I hope you like it! I love writing dreams. :)

Also, I think I figured out what I was so insecure about last time. I wasn't confident of my portrayal of Caine at all. But all of you seemed to like it so maybe I was just begin paranoid. Either way, I like him better in this go round.

After writing this chapter, I'm beginning to wonder if I should switch this to the "angst" genre...

Talk to you guys at the end of this! I've got another AN for you...

Chapter Ten

Caine was frozen, just staring at Diana. His mind replayed the words she'd just said, trying to make sense them, trying to deny that his Diana had just said them.

I don't want you to do anything, Caine…Because I don't love you and I never will. I just can't trust you. But I can trust him, and there's no trick or anything you can do to change that. And that's why I like Drake.

...She could…trust Drake, but she couldn't trust him. And she…she liked Drake yet she didn't…she didn't love him. Didn't even like him. What…What was going on here?

Caine blinked, both incredulity and anger shaking through his system. But there was something else too, something beneath it all. Pain. Diana would never love him, never had. All his plans, his dreams of them getting older, finally getting married, having a house, and just living peacefully together…none of that was going to happen. She…didn't want him.

He bit back that pain though, focusing instead on what she did want. A sadist. A sadist who had tried to kill her. Multiple times!

"I…" he began, not even sure what to say. How does one react to that? What was he supposed to do in this situation? Just walk out the door with a smile? Maybe wave and wish her luck with her sadist? Or throw a tantrum like a child? Break everything he could reach? Break her? But no, he couldn't do that. He couldn't…he couldn't hurt Diana. Never. No matter what she did. She was…she would always be his Diana. He couldn't…

"Diana," he tried instead, pleading. Please don't do this to me. Don't…please. Diana, he thought desperately, trying to get her to change her mind.

"I'm sorry, Caine, but I'm choosing to go with Drake," she spoke evenly, slowly. She was watching him carefully, like he might attack her suddenly. Did she…really think so little of him? Even if he was mad, even if it felt like she was jabbing her hand into his chest and ripping his heart out…he'd never hurt her. He'd spent so long protecting her that even the thought almost made him laugh. Like he'd ever hurt Diana!

But then…Drake was another matter, wasn't he?

He frowned, releasing her hand and standing stiffly, mind already whirling with plans.

"I think I'm going to go now," he spoke evenly, carefully, letting nothing of his inner turmoil out as he moved to grab his phone from the table. "Goodbye…Diana," he spoke, looking towards her one last time, seeing her surprised eyes and nearly breaking down right there. She really had…She'd really expected him to hurt her. He wanted to both cry and yell at her. What had he ever done to make her think he would ever hurt her? Protect her? Put her life above everything else? Save her life? What?! He wasn't like that monster, dammit! So why was she picking Drake and not him?! Why was this even an issue?

He turned and walked out the door, phone at his ear and mechanically calling a taxi to meet him a few blocks down. Then he just tried to process everything that had just happened. He went through everything reflexively, getting into the cab, telling him where to go, paying him afterwards, moving to his room. In fact, nothing seemed to hit him until his hotel room's door shut behind him with a soft click.

Pain. Pain and anger. It was all he could feel. He yelled out suddenly, kicking at the chair seated under the little table and sending it across the room. He huffed, eyes wildly taking in everything in the room. He wished he still had his power. He could demolish this place, make everyone hear and know his pain, his anger.

"Drake," he growled lowly, limbs shaking in anger. Drake. He was going to make him pay. He was going to make him regret ever speaking to his Diana…

…if she was happy with you she wouldn't have kissed me…

Caine roared again, this time kicking the bedside table and knocking over the lamp that was on it. It didn't shatter like he wanted, sadly, so he stepped on it instead, hearing the crack of the light bulb and the crunching on the metal bending out of shape.

She kissed him. She kissed him. She kissed him. He repeated, getting angrier and angrier. Why the hell would she kiss him? Had she ever in their entire time together kissed him without him first initiating it? Maybe if she thought she could get something from him. He scoffed, trying to ignore the way his breath caught in his throat. She preached about him using her but she'd been using him from the very beginning, all because of his power. And he'd known that, but still, he'd thought…

His eyes jerked to his hand at the feeling of something wet landing on it. He looked at the single drop of water oddly before wiping his fingers across his cheek, finding more wetness there. He suddenly found his throat closing up, his breath getting harder to control as his body trembled slightly.

Why, he thought, falling to his knees and burying his face into the side of the bed, hiding his pain from the world. Why him? Why are you leaving me alone now? Diana…please. Don't leave me for him.

-break-

Diana was still just sitting on the couch when her mother came home. She took one look at her daughter's despondent face, the tears trailing down her cheeks, noted the lack of Caine and immediately rushed to her side, hugging her daughter tightly.

"Oh honey," she cooed, feeling her daughter finally react as she returned the embrace.

"Mom," Diana spoke, sadly.

"What happened?" she murmured, pulling away to look into her daughter's eyes.

"I…I broke up with him," she spoke quietly, looking down at her hands. Her mother's eyes widened. She had thought it was the other way around, with how Diana had looked. "And I…" Diana continued, hesitantly. "I don't know if I made the right choice," she finally finished lowly.

"Tell me everything that happened," her mother spoke gently.

"I…" Could she really tell her mother about everything? About Caine, Drake, the FAYZ…Panda? She hadn't really discussed any of it with anyone other than her therapist and even that had been limited to mostly the things that were going to cause her to lose her mind right then. But…she needed to tell someone. Anyone. And her mom of one of the people she trusted the most.

So she began. She started before the FAYZ, talking about when they'd sent her to the FAYZ. About meeting Drake and then Caine and how all that had gone. About the power and dating Caine so he'd protect her. She talked about when the FAYZ first started, all the horrible things she, Caine, and Drake had done. She was crying as she spoke, but she couldn't stop. She had to get it all out. Her mother listening silently, eyes widening in shock in times or covering her mouth in horror occasionally, but she never let go of her daughter's hand in disgust, never rejected her, never judged her. Diana finally paused when she got to Panda, voice choking.

"And then, there was this boy still following Caine. His name was Panda. He…I guess he couldn't stand it anymore, the constant hunger and thirst. And he…he drove himself off the cliff. Killed himself," she explained, sobbing. "And the others. They…they got Caine and…and he…drug him back up the cliff with his power and they…they took him and…oh God, mom, and they…poor Panda," she cried, shaking. "And then they came and…and gave me…and I…I was so hungry, mom, so hungry, and it smelled…Panda smelled so…I…I...I'm…"

Diana just started sobbing, her mother wrapping her up in her arms as tears fell from her own eyes. She'd done so much just to survive, had broken herself this much. And she'd been holding all of it in, refusing to let anyone else know, let anyone else help.

"It's alright, honey," she cooed into her daughter's ear, rocking her back and forth in her arms. "It's okay. Other people have done the same thing. You did what you had to to survive. I don't think any less of you. It's okay," she repeated, just holding her. Diana cried harder, clinging onto her mother and never wanting to let go.

Finally, after a while, Diana sniffed, pulling away an wiping at her eyes. Then she began to continue, moving onto the island and then the bugs and Caine's power trip. The wall falling and therapy and everything. Then she paused, biting her lip.

"You've been through so much," her mother spoke softly, sadly.

"That's not what any of this was about though," Diana added quietly. "Not really. I broke up with Caine because of…of what's happened in the past few weeks." Her mother stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue. "Remember how my psychology class goes to the asylum every Friday?" Diana asked.

"Yes. Didn't something happen where you didn't have to go anymore?" her mother asked.

Diana nodded. "The patient I was studying for my assignment…he yelled at me and Mr. Leon gave me an alternate assignment," she explained simply.

"What does this have to do with you and Caine?" she asked quietly.

"The patient I was working with…was Drake," she admitted hesitantly. Her mother's eyes widened, mind whirling as she remembered everything Diana had just told her about all that boy—that monster—had done to her. She shook with rage, moving to stand. She had no idea he was still around, that he could still hurt her daughter. She'd go and give him a piece of her mind. She'd—

"Mom, wait!" Diana cried, latching on her arm. "Please…wait," she tried, looking up with tears in her eyes. "Let me…tell you everything first." She sat back down reluctantly, waiting. She didn't understand why her daughter didn't want her to go meet with this Drake. Did she think he would be able to hurt her?

"Drake…Drake's different now," she spoke quietly. "He's…changing. He's not like he was during the FAYZ or even really what he was like before." Trying to describe Drake, she decided, was difficult. "He's…he's the reason I broke up with Caine," she admitted finally.

Her mother just stared at her for a moment, speechless. Then she leaned back on the couch, sighing. "Maybe you'd better explain what's happened since the beginning of this assignment," she suggested tiredly. She was going to be exhausted at work tomorrow but she wasn't even going to think about asking Diana to wait until tomorrow to tell her the rest.

So Diana did. She began with them playing cards, then them playing basketball. The way Drake had revealed more about himself, the easy conversations they'd had, how he'd never hurt her. She mentioned the doctor's revelations, which had shocked her mother definitely, and then she mentioned the fight and why she'd stopped going. Her mother had looked furious, but Diana had grabbed her hand, keeping her there as she continued on into the past couple weeks. How she missed spending time with him and all the thoughts she'd had, the connections she'd made. Finally, she began talking about Caine and how he played into all of this. Then the phone call that had ultimately led to her crashing as she was trying to go see Drake and apologize was brought up.

"And just now, I just…I realized something, you know? That I've been with Caine for years but I've never felt anything real for him. But I miss Drake. I like hanging out with this version of him—the real him—and I really think he can get better. I trust that he won't hurt me anymore. He makes everything easier to handle and pushes me to move past things and I just…I like being around him. I like being with him. I…I like him," she admitted for the second time. "And that's why I broke up with Caine. Because he loves me, and I just don't think I can do that. I thought about giving up on Drake and just staying with Caine, but the idea of just leaving Drake all alone again…He doesn't have anyone else, mom. He's always been alone and now he's finally trusting someone—me—and I can't just throw that back in his face. He'd never get better and he'd just be in that asylum forever and I just…I can't. I can't do that to him." She looked up to her mom, revealing the tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

"He helped me get passed something that I didn't think I'd ever be able to get passed. I would have never been able to tell you about Panda if it wasn't for him. He helped me and I want to help him because I know that he's worth helping. He's not just some worthless, pathetic monster like I and everyone else had thought. He's a person. And he's lonely."

-break-

"Drake."

He turned at the voice, easily spotting the smiling girl who'd called him. She reached forward to brush his arm gently, looking up at him with her beautiful dark eyes and her equally dark hair down.

"Diana," he breathed, feeling his own lips return a smirk. He lifted his right hand, mind not finding its presence odd in the least as he brushed his fingers across her cheek before moving back to tangle his fingers in her hair. His left hand slipped around her waist, pulling her pliant body closer as he pressed her against him, mouth automatically moving to claim hers.

"Drake," another voice called, making him pull away from Diana to look over his shoulder. Only, Diana was no longer in his arms. Instead, she was in front of him, standing behind a smirking Caine.

"Caine," Drake hissed angrily, visage morphing into one of old, a snarl crossing his features.

Caine laughed at him then, the sound superior and mocking. "Does the little baby dream of kissing my Diana?" he taunted. Suddenly, his laugh cut off as the boy stepped closer, eyes boring into Drake's. "Does he think he can beat his superiors now?" Caine asked threateningly.

"I'm not afraid of you," Drake spat, glaring at him.

"Then why didn't you ever try to take her back, hm? If you wanted her so much, why'd you just give up?" Caine taunted. "Admit it: you know you don't deserve her. She's too good for a pathetic, sadistic, unfeeling monster."

"I'm going to get better," Drake claimed angrily.

"It doesn't matter what you do," Caine hissed suddenly, stepping even closer until he was practically spitting the words into Drake's ear. "It doesn't matter because I will always be the better choice for her. She's mine, not yours. I protected her, you tried to kill her. I love her. What do you do? Think you might like her?" Caine scoffed, pulling away and sneering at him in disgust. "She'll always be mine."

Then, Diana walked forwards giving them both glares.

"I can't watch this pissing match anymore," she claimed, flicking her long hair over her shoulder. Drake tried to focus on her and ignore the fact that he wanted nothing more than to punch Caine in the face right now.

"Diana," Caine called, lifting one hand into Drake's view. The boy growled and if looks could kill, Caine's hand would be burning just as Drake's hand had not too long ago.

"Caine," Diana responded, smirking coyly at him, reaching for his hand. Caine was smirking in triumph.

"Diana," Drake called desperately, trying to get his feet to move, only they wouldn't. He reached forward as Diana moved further away from him, towards Caine. "Diana, I…I…I'm…sorry," he choked out. She didn't even look. "P…Please," he begged, watching hopelessly as she took Caine's hand. The dark-haired boy threw a smirk over Diana's shoulder before turning and leading her further away from Drake. Diana never even looked back.

Drake had fallen to his knees, staring at the ground beneath him. Why? Why him? Was it because of the power? Was that why? Or was it because he didn't do things for her? Did she want someone who would cater to her? Worship her? But Drake couldn't do that; he just couldn't!

"Diana," he whispered. "Why him? Why not me?"

Drake's eyes focused on the sudden damp spot right below his face. Rain? Was it raining? Was he even outside? He just shut his eyes, not really caring.

"Please," he murmured again. "I'm sorry," he spoke once more, this time the words coming easier. When was the last time he'd said those words to anyone? He couldn't remember if he ever had.

"I'm sorry," he breathed again, before his forehead hit the ground as he collapsed, finally feeling the sobs wracking through his body as the tears kept coming.

"I don't want to be alone. I'm sorry. Please, anyone…don't leave me alone," he cried lowly, feeling the crushing emptiness of the space around him.

Suddenly, he jerked up as he heard the shuffling of people, eyes wide as he saw that he was surrounded by people. Not just any people, but people he knew. Sam, Astrid, Dekka, Brianna, Jack. His mother, his father, the kids from his old school. Some other kids from Coates. And right in front of him…Caine and Diana.

All of them were looking at him disgustedly.

"Why should we pity you?" Diana sneered hatefully.

"No, not pity," Drake pleaded, only looking at her, ignoring the others. "I don't want pity."

"You asked for this," Astrid spoke up, drawing his attention.

"You didn't want our help," Brianna added.

Drake was bombarded suddenly as all of them started talking, throwing their accusations, none of them really lies. He tried to cover his ears but the voices still came.

"You killed me," a voice spoke. He looked up to see a little girl standing right in front of him, glasses on her nose and braces on her teeth. "You killed my brother and you killed me."

Drake honestly wasn't sure who this was, but she probably wasn't lying.

"You're a demon," she accused, reaching forward to brush through his hair in a mockery of a caress. When her hand came back, it was covered in mud. "A vile demon who deserves to be miserable and alone."

"No," Drake tried to speak. "I don't want to be alone."

The girl grinned nastily as her skin seemed to melt away, her body growing inches as she became more masculine in features. Drake's eyes widened, watching as the girl in front of him turned into himself, only this one had his whip hand.

"Pathetic," the new Drake mocked, grinning toothily. The whip at his side unfurled, waving tauntingly in the air before it sliced down too quick for him to follow, leaving a small stinging cut on his cheek as a mini-sonic boom echoed in the space. The rest of the voices grew silent, watching with cold eyes.

The whip hand Drake leaned down until he was right in Drake's face. "Run, you pathetic piece of shit," he hissed, his whip cracking in the air once more.

Drake was quick on his feet, running away from the monster. Running away from himself. He could hear the whip cracking in the air, slicing into his back. He cried out in the pain, trying to run faster, trying to get away from the pain.

"That's right," Diana's voice spoke from his side. "Run, little lab rat."

Drake opened his eyes to see himself running in a large wheel, Diana watching him with a cold glare from his right. He cried out when he felt a sudden pain in his arm, looking down in horror to see his right arm's flesh burning right before his eyes. He watched as his whip slithered from the ashes, cracking in the air loudly without him ordering it to. Then, he watched with dread as the whip suddenly curled in on itself, withering before it fell off just above his elbow, leaving him limbless.

"I just don't know what to do with him."

Drake stopped in his running, looking to his left. His mother stood before him, looking down at him. He looked at himself to see that he wasn't a teenager anymore. In fact, he was probably close to three-years-old.

"He just gets so violent sometimes," she was speaking about him as if he wasn't right there, wasn't being studied by her harsh eyes. He watched as his father stepped from behind her, also looking down at him.

"He's just a little high-strung," his father defended, setting a hand on his mother's shoulder.

"Perhaps something's wrong with him," she answered instead, nose scrunching in disgust like he had some kind of contagious disease.

"Mommy," he spoke, reaching up towards her, wanting her to pick him up. She ignored him, turning and walking a bit away. He pouted. "Up," he spoke again, trying to get his message known. His father's sympathetic eyes—no, his father's pitying eyes—leaned down as the man slipped his hands under Drake's, lifting the toddler into his arms.

"Mommy's busy right now, son," he explained. "But daddy can play with you."

"Mommy," he sulked.

"Daddy's here," his father said instead, drawing him close and giving his unhappy son a hug. "Mommy's busy."

Mommy's busy…

Mom's always busy, Drake thought angrily.

"You deal with him," his mother's voice said. A five-year-old Drake peeked out from behind his door, slipping into the hall and to the top of the stairs to hear his parents talk. He was supposed to be asleep but he'd been playing video games under the covers until he'd heard his parents arguing.

"But Sharon," his father responded pleadingly. "He just wants to spend some time with you. You're his mother; you can't just avoid him for the rest of your life."

"Well forgive me for not wanting something to do with that mistake. He's completely out of control. He's only in kindergarten and they've already talked about expelling him. It'd be one thing if he was a good kid, then maybe I wouldn't regret it, but now?" She sighed. "Sometimes I wish I had just gotten that ab—"

"Drake!" his father cut her off, smiling nervously as he spotted his son standing at the bottom the stairs. He was watching his mother eerily, seemingly both hurt and angry.

"A…mistake?" he spoke quietly. His mother's eyes widened before she sighed.

"I didn't mean that, Drake. I was just talking grown-up things with your father."

"I was a mistake?" he asked again, ignoring her answer. He was waiting her like a hawk, his eyes boring coldly into her. She fought back a shiver.

"Isn't it past your bedtime, Drake?" his father asked, cutting in.

Drake was quiet for a moment, before he turned and walked up the stairs slowly, shutting his door quietly.

"Here, boy." Drake blinked, looking over his shoulder, realizing he was in his back yard. His mother stood on the porch, holding a squirming puppy in her arms. "Take this," she instructed him, dumping the wriggling mass into his seven-year-old arms.

"What's this?" Drake asked, looking up at his mother confusedly.

"It's a puppy," she told him like he was stupid. "Now go play and stop bothering me," she told him, waving him away as she went back into the house.

Drake looked down at the puppy. The small thing yapped once, tongue lolling from its mouth lazily. Drake looked from it, then to the door his mother had disappeared.

"You know," he began, speaking to the puppy. "I think she got you to keep me occupied so she doesn't have to deal with me," he thought aloud. Then he glared down at the puppy in his arms, stepping into the house and walking towards the kitchen malevolently

"Son," Drake's father was talking to him. He was now around nine. "Why do you keep frightening away the baby sitters?"

"I don't need a baby sitter," Drake claimed.

His father sighed, brushing his hands through his graying hair. "What if I stayed home this Friday instead of a sitter? Would that make you happy?" he asked.

Drake's eyes widened before he grinned. "Mom too?" he asked eagerly.

His father sighed again, sounding incredibly tired. "I don't know. Your mother might have something planned," he avoided answering. Drake scowled. In other words, 'no'. His mother was always busy. Too busy to be with her 'sick' and 'wrong' son. Her mistake.

"And," his father continued, as he noticed his son's angry look. "If you behave, I might take you to the shooting range Saturday."

Drake perked up at that, looking up at his dad. "Really?" he said excitedly.

His father smiled, finally able to find something his son seemed excited about. "Sure."

"Yes!" Drake cheered, rushing up the stairs to his room.

And now Drake was ten, looking at the gun in his hands and standing in his parents' room. He walked to the door with a cold, empty expression on his face.

"Derek," he called as he walked down the stairs. A larger boy came from the living room, a smirk on his face.

"So where is it?" the boy asked.

Drake didn't respond. He just raised his right hand and pulled the trigger.

Drake gasped, waking up abruptly with the sound of a gunshot echoing in his head. He panted slightly, wiping at the sweat that had collected on his brow and shuffling back in the bed until he could lean against the wall behind him.

A dream…just a dream… he told himself, trying to get control of his breathing.

Still having nightmares, Drake? What happened? Did someone give you a hug? Was it a teddy bear? Cute little kittens?

He flinched as the Diana in his mind mocked him.

"I don't dream," Drake spoke into the empty room, voice roughly cracking. He'd said that once before…hadn't he?

Ever?

"Never," Drake answered, sounding desperate. He didn't want to dream anymore. He never wanted to dream. Subconsciously, he curled into himself, pulling his legs close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He hid his face in the hollow of his knees, biting his cheek angrily.

Mistake…

Pathetic…

Monster…

Unfeeling…

Sadist…

He shivered, trying to block out that word, the accusations. "Drake," he croaked his name weakly. "I'm Drake." Not a mistake…not pathetic…not a monster or unfeeling or a sadist. I'm just Drake.

The boy flinched at the feeling of something touching his shoulder. His head jerked up, eyes widening at the sight of Diana standing before him. She frowned, gently brushing his face with one hand. He felt her smearing something wet there—tears, his mind supplied—before he reacted. Without really questioning why she was here or how she'd gotten in without the door opening, he reached for her, pulling her into his lap and hiding his face.

Not alone, he tried to tell himself, shivering. He felt her brushing his hair with her fingers gently, just as she had one time before. He bit his lip. Would she disappear again, like that time? Could it…could this really be…

"Diana?" he spoke, lifting his head back to try and meet her eyes. Try to see that he wasn't insane. That she was really here. Only, she was already gone, having disappeared from his hold.

His eyes widened, the crushing silence of the room echoing in his ears. He trembled, hand shaking in the air as he tried to process her disappearance. No…I am alone. So alone my mind has to make up people, he thought spitefully, mournfully. He clenched his eyes shut, jerking his head back so hard it slammed into the wall. He focused on the pain. Pain was real. Pain meant he was still here. Still Drake.

Diana, he thought desolately. He'd screwed up, badly. He missed her so much. Why did he have to be so stupid? Of course she was going to be upset at what he'd done to Jamal. He was a monster. So why did he have to bring up Panda? She already hated herself enough for that without him bringing it up. She hated him. Had to. And now he was…he wouldn't ever get to see her again. She wasn't going to give him another chance. His last hope had abandoned him.

What was so special about her though? He tried to shake himself out of this stupor, this depression. So what if Ladris wasn't going to come see him anymore. Like he needed her. Like he needed anybody! He was Drake Merwin! He was Whip Hand! He was a sadist! A controller! A ruler!

He was…lonely

He shivered again. Was it cold in here? He wasn't sure. He couldn't seem to stop shivering though.

He hated that word. Lonely. Like he was lonely. He didn't need anybody! He didn't! He trembled. Dammit, he did not need anyone!

"Fuck," he spat brokenly, running his hand down his face, wiping harshly at the tear tracks, feeling only more take their place. He tugged at his hair, tangling his fingers in the too-long longs and yanking, trying to focus on that pain. It was so much easier to focus on that, the physical pain. Don't think about Diana. Don't think about anything. Just quit thinking.

His nails bit into his skin, trails of blood running down his face to join the tracks of tears. He dug them in further, scratching down his forehead, trying to stop his minding from reminding him of everything. He stopped above his left eye, which was blinded by blood, as he just sat there, trembling and holding his head.

I'm sorry, he thought over and over again, mouth forming the words though no sound was coming.

I'm sorry.

I think I'm going to call this the "Crying Chapter." Cause seriously, even I was crying. Probably going to try to lighten up the next chapter a bit. But yeah, lot's of people learning things and having epiphanies. I'm going to try to add more action in the next one, since this chapter is mostly just thinking and talking. Hopefully still enjoyable though. Maybe I took the hate off of Caine a bit? Though I wonder what he's planning on doing to retaliate towards Drake? Hm...