A/N:

Sorry for the long wait again! XD

So Izzy's on the brink of insanity thanks to that voice, and Nny has a choice to make. But will he help her after being called the 'W' word? Read on to find out.

Nny had contemplated his actions carefully. In his past experience, he could tell when someone was creating fiction in order to save their own lives. Through all the shouting and tears and begging, there was always a glimmer of deceit in their eyes that always gave them away. A spark if you will. Yes, he figured, that was an accurate way of putting it. A spark as the last traces of hope rose to the surface as they actually believe that their lies will work. It's actually pretty amusing watching it drown in its own blood… But he digressed. He was aware of the signs. And it sickened him that as Izzy dug her nails into his shoulders and stared at him desperately, a rarity that was a stream of tears pouring down her cheeks… he didn't see it. In fact her eyes were practically dead. And as far as he was aware, the dead didn't have the energy to lie.

"Please Nny…" Izzy rasped.

Johnny kept his weapon aimed at her, anger still boiling under his skin, "On one condition. And answer me honestly, Izzy." He warned darkly, "Just how many times did you say… that word?"

"I-I didn't mean it, you know I didn't I -"

His arms jolted upwards, snatching her hands away from him and falling limp at her side, "I'm not fishing for apologies, now answer the fucking question. How. Many. Times?"

Her eyes darted in thought, voice trembling so much she could barely get her words across, "T-twice, I think. Yes, two, but I didn't mean it, Nny, I promise you! Agh!"

Izzy's pupils dilated in shock as she felt the icy metal sink into her collar, scraping jaggedly against the shoulder blade. A cry of agony raked against her throat as he yanked the stained weapon back out into the open, "One." He snarled.

"Nny… please… Please!"

At her final yell of desperation, another slash was delivered to her side, ripping savagely through her flesh, "Two." He finished, grabbing her hair to force her to look at him, "And don't call me Nny. Don't call me anything anymore."

The blade was twisted cruelly before being removed. Izzy felt her knee's give out as she sunk to the ground, curling in on herself as the scarlet pools clogged at her clothes. Nny panted for air as the adrenalin rushed through him. He'd angered her, and now they were even. There was no reason to stay. The voices she was hearing were her own problem now. As she reached pleadingly for him, he turned on his heel and left the ally way.

Her sobbing could be heard form the sidewalk, but he didn't stop. Clearly the voices were not going to be at ease, so why feed them with his presence? And as far as he was concerned, Izzy could handle herself. There was no need to act so infantile and desperate. He'd managed for far longer than she; she had no right to panic so. But this voice was something new. And new things fascinated him considering how predictable people were on a regular basis. Yet his choice was made. But still…

"Hey kid." He called, getting the attention of a young girl who looked barely past middle school, "You might want to give someone a helping hand back there."

The girl tilted her head, "Why don't you help, mister?"

"Help?" He smirked and carried on walking, taking note of the girl's curiosity getting the better of her as she peered around the corner and shrieked. Johnny let out a slow breath, "I just did."

He'd stabbed her. He'd asked her how many times she'd called him wacky as stabbed her the matched amount as payback. The pain had numbed at this point by some unknown attribute, but she still didn't hate him for it. Yes there was resentment, anger even, getting hurt in such a way was not a reasonable punishment for calling him a name. Yes, she understood that it upset him on such a deep level that she doubted she'd ever understand, but was turning the blade on her the way to go about it?

But this was Johnny she was referring to here. But, she needed his help. That voice was mocking her, taking over her. Deep down Izzy understood that there was nothing he could have done for her and begging like that wouldn't have helped. But… she wished it would. She wished that he'd been there for her. It was an internal battle she was struggling with. Half understanding his actions and half hating him for it. Had he killed her? She wasn't sure. Where am I? she thought.

Wake up, Izzy, you'll never believe where we are. Wake up!

Izzy gasped as she snapped her eyes open, taking note of the softness beneath her. A gut-wrenchingly familiar sound echoed around her, beeping rhythmically. She shivered from the unease as the closed off room, machinery linked up into her skin, came into focus. Recognition stirred inside her. Hospital? She was in hospital?

"W-what happened?" she stammered.

He left you bleeding in the dirt. Are you honestly surprised? You're lucky that someone found you in time.

Izzy ran a hand over the stitching and bandage that wrapped around her shoulder and waist, a twinge of pain under the pressure. Flinching away, yet noting that it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He'd gone easy on her.

"He didn't want to kill me."

Are you so sure of that? You obviously don't remember how someone interrupted him before he could finish the job. Like I said, you were lucky.

"Stop lying!"

Why would I lie to you, Izzy? Haven't I done nothing but be honest with you? And all you've done is fear me. I'm just the part of your subconscious that's trying to help you unleash what's holding you back. Just think how much better you'll be if you let it out. The last time you really let the anger control you, didn't things turn out so much better?

"When was that exactly?" she snapped.

The day you shot the Doughboys, don't you remember?

"That wasn't anger!"

Call it what you want, Izzy. We know the truth.

"Why are you so obsessed with anger? What've you got to gain from it?"

Gain? I'll tell you. You see when a person gets angry, they open themselves up for a darker influence. Not just you personally, let's not flatter yourself. It happens to everyone on this planet. It just so happens that your mind has been damaged before, a perfect place for me to settle.

"Get the fuck out of my head!"

And that's not the best part. I still haven't told you what I gain from this. I gain… a life.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, a burning sensation starting to creep through her spine and to the back of her head.

It means… Ad the burning increased, making the heart monitor beside Izzy cry out in panic. Suddenly, Izzy felt her lips move, but the voice was not hers. It was that things… "It means, goodbye Izzy."

Johnny sipped his coffee in the corner of the diner, not really thinking about much in particular but just enjoying the quiet for now. No guilt or worries plagued him, Izzy had been driven off and she would most likely get sorted out there. They had medication for internal voices right? There was no telling with today's technology and medication, but it amused him to think that there was. He didn't deny that she could hear something; it was more than possible for something of her own creation or even someone else's to slip in her mind from past damage just as easily possible as it was to get inside his. But he felt that there was no sense in thinking about it for long. It was done now, not his problem.

"How was Trent's funeral?" someone asked another from the table behind him, "That came out of nowhere. I'm so sorry, Devi."

He felt his ears prick at the topic of conversation. And at the familiar female voice that replied, "Don't be, it was a nice service and all, all things considered."

"You miss him?"

"Honestly? No. I can't put my finger on it but there was just something off about him. Anyway, I could see it lasting much longer."

"Fair enough." Her friend replied, clearly not one for empathy or reading social situations, "But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You. How are you and stuff?"

There was a pause. But then, as Devi spoke once again, Nny could sense the honesty in her voice, "Yeah, I guess I'm okay. I mean sure, the past few years have been shit but at the end of the day, I'm doing really well."

At that, Johnny stood up and left the building, going unnoticed by all. It was a strange twist of emotions that were coursing through him at that moment. Irritation at how she can be so passive and completely ignore his existence so easily. But also… contentment that she was happy. Strong and wilful, she wasn't letting past actions rule her. He admired it, and knowing that she was doing well seemed to put something to rest in his mind. For once he hadn't completely screwed up someone's life. And he took enjoyment at that.

But… There was someone whose life he had screwed up. Not intentionally of course but when is that ever truly the case? Fuck this, he thought to himself, fists clenching in frustration. So, he mused, is this the part of my story where I change my mind and go and right the wrongs that are only partially my fault and save the day? Huh, I distinctly remember saying that I'm not a hero. And I stand by that. To prove his point, he stopped suddenly, allowing a man who was walking close behind him so collide forcefully into him.

"Watch where you're going!" the stranger demanded.

"Excuse me." He replied with a mixture of politeness and warning.

"Whatever, fag."

Nny smirked, lunging and gripping the insulter in a surprisingly firm headlock, single-handedly producing a blade from his bag and plunging it into the man's chest. As the blood pooled to the ground accompanied with a strangled groan of agony, Nny sighed. He'd proved his point. He was no hero. And yet, that kill did nothing for him. Shoving the writhing body from him, he carried on his way in time to hear the shocked cries of passers by, completely ignoring his presence.

"Such a disappointment…" he grumbled, kicking a stone down the street, "Maybe… Maybe I'm just killing the wrong thing this time…"

A/N:

So the voice is taking over, and Nny is on the rampage, let's see where this going next time!