Yes, I am still alive! -throws confetti- and once again I have taken a few months to update any of my stories! Instead of apologizing over and over like I normally do, I'm just going to say that I really am sorry, because I don't think you want to read a huge paragraph of me saying sorry-sorry-sorry a gazillion times. But there was something called school. And winter break is the nicest thing that could happen. ^^ So I actually get to update! I hope no one ran away from this story because of me not posting...

Anyway...

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS FOR LONG SHADOWS!

I just finished it, and I actually really liked it. It was way better than they rest of the Po3, even though I was mad at the Hunters for being so unoriginal with the traitor part. So, for those who didn't know and don't want to know, don't read any farther. But it's not really that hard to figure out. Yes, it's kinda clear where I stand on the Ashfur debate, on the forum and in my profile... Personally, I don't think he should have been the traitor. But yeah. I'm not writing Warriors.

So, I get to write a chapter about his death, because I had a sudden inspiration for it, which has not happened for a long time, as you can see from my non-updating-ness. I was originally going to create a oneshot fic about it, but then I realized that I needed to upddate Last Chance, and where better place to put it? Of course, none of this is mentioned in Long Shadows, so everything I write here will probably be proven completely wrong when Sunrise comes out, like most my other chapters have. Hoorah! ^^

And on to the story...

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Pain again.

He was always amazed at how completely the pain could renew itself, gathering up of remaining shreds of his broken spirit and forging it into something new, a finely balanced weight that fell at a glance or word and brush of fur, reminding him of everything he had lost. It was as though his past had returned to haunt him, making a moment of everyday life become a fresh new reason for him to be torn apart. Even now, the setting sun shone golden in the sky, all too close to the ginger-gold of her pelt. The green forest was the green of eyes, watching him, staring through him and egging on the pure torture that filled his body.

The lake was cooling with the coming of night, and small waves lapped over his paws. Long shadows were thrown across the pebbled shore, drenching his huddled gray form in darkness. Sharp stones cut into his pads, but he did nothing to stop them from digging in deeper. As the water rushed up, then washed back, thin trickles of scarlet ran with it, a tribute of blood to his pain. The wounds were nothing - mere scratches. Not even the most lethal of battle wounds could come close to being compared to the agony inside. His entire being was cut open, sliced thinner with every breath. Every time he spoke to her, or her father, or her kits, he felt himself growing weaker inside. Ripped up, that's what he was. No physical pain would ever feel this horrible. So he let his blood spill. There was no point in keeping it.

Oh, he had been good at hiding. He wore a continuous mask of nonchalance, pretending that life was normal. His façade had become a natural thing, and for a few moons, it seemed as though, just maybe, he would be able to forget about his pain and move on with life. Then she had had kits, and the old wounds were reopened, though they had never really healed. His heart was bleeding more than he had thought possible. It became necessary then, for him to have complete control over his emotions, to never let any cat see how tortured he was until he had caused just as much pain as he felt. It was only in the middle of the night that he let the disguise drop, and he snuck out of camp up the grassy cliff trail that was hidden behind the brambles to return to this spot, and feel the rocks slash open his paws. He would never bother to lick the blood from his fur, yet no cat ever noticed it, even when he was right beside them in the warriors' den, with matted paws that were a sickly brown instead of gray. So unobservant, they were. Even when he had lost himself and tried to kill Lionblaze that time during battle training, no cat thought twice about his ferocity. They just figured that he was over the pain, and that he was trying extra hard to make his apprentice into a great warrior.

What had Firestar been thinking, giving Lionblaze to him? Not just her kit, but the one that looked most like her. All golden and ginger fur, a flame colored pelt. Like Firestar. Great StarClan, was every single cat meant to remind him of his misery? The leader, the deputy, the medicine cat. Even his own apprentice. All of them mocking him.

An icy wind whistled through the trees, cutting into his wet pelt and returning a spark of life into his glazed eyes. Slowly, he wrenched his gaze away from some unseen spot in the distance. Involuntarily he shuddered at the cold, then cursed himself for shying away when the cold was irrelevant. Scorching or freezing, comfortable or uneasy, it wouldn't matter when it came down to what mattered. And what mattered was that he was in far deeper pain then claws could cut.

He had given his entire being to her, and she had laughed in his face and torn him to shreds.

He stared into the water, which was stained red and orange with the dying sun. Slight ripples of wind and fish flittered across the glassy surface, splashing gently onto land. It seemed almost peaceful, a serenity which he could not understand. How could the world be so uncaring, so unfeeling? Even his own reflection was calm, a shimmering picture of a gray cat, gazing back from the shallow lakeshore. Only his eyes, as frigid as the wind, brimming with barely restrained agony, showed who he truly was. The rest of him was shrouded within his masquerade.

For the briefest heartbeat, he saw the cat he might have been if he had not been destroyed – happy, naïve, carefree, a loyal ThunderClan warrior. Never meaning anything. Never standing out. Just another miniscule part in the massive scheme of life. Then she had come, and he had changed, wanted to please her, to show that fox-hearted Brambleclaw for the idiot that he was. And, for a while, she had accepted him. But Brambleclaw decided to love her too, and he was the powerful one who was spoken to by StarClan and was the Clan deputy, and then who cared about the unimpressive, average gray-furred warrior who had nothing to show for himself except loyalty for his Clan and for the she-cat he loved?

That showed what loving someone got you.

It seemed unfeasible that she had never noticed how much pain she caused him. Therefore, she did it on purpose, to rub it in his face and show him how weak his was. She even spoke to him, like she would any cat, pretending that all the damage was gone, and all was well between them. But he knew it was not.

A flicker of memory rose within him like flame, a time many moons before. Before the pain had become something he lived and ate and breathed. When it was fresh and new, and twisted him without snapping him in two, wrenching him around to do whatever it took to make her notice him. It had only just started to consume him, but that day had made him realize that he needed to do whatever it took to cause her pain.

He was walking through the forest, blue eyes filled with hopelessness as he remembered what she had said to him. "I'm sorry. Can't we just be friends?" Didn't she understand that that wasn't enough? He had offered her everything, he had exposed his heart for the first time, and he had been scorned. 'Just friends' couldn't come close to what he felt for her, but she didn't realize it. She thought that he wasn't serious, that he would get over it and find another cat. Why couldn't she just love him back?

Tall grass brushed against him as he padded through the undergrowth, towards ShadowClan territory. The rank scent of those dark warriors was the only thing that made him angry enough to dull the ache in his spirit. Had they been crossing the border again? If they did, he'd rip their pelts off. He unsheathed his claws and sank them into the earth, telling himself that the fury was only fury at the enemy Clan, not her.

"Angry?"

The meow was calm, confident, and unfamiliar. The gray tom spun around, fur bristling,and for a moment he bared his teeth in rage. "Brambleclaw!" He was about to spring at the tom, when he smelled the fishy, musky odor of RiverClan.

"Brambleclaw?" The intruder smiled. "I suppose we do look alike." It was an understatement – both were dark brown tabbies, heavyset and well-muscled, with a silent strength. The only difference were the eyes; Brambleclaw's were a rich amber, while this tom's were ice blue. Just like his. "Well," the intruder meowed after a moment. "We do share a father." Not seeing any recognition, the tom continued. "I'm Hawkfrost."

"Tigerstar's-" He cut himself off hastily, but the RiverClan warrior only looked amused .

"Yes, that's right. Tigerstar, who washed the forest in blood." A sarcastic smirked crossed the tabby's face. "You know, not all accusations are necessarily true." He studied a claw casually. "And you are…?"

"Get off ThunderClan territory!" the gray warrior growled. "Don't tell me stories about Tigerstar! He killed my mother, and don't you dare try to tell me that was all false!"

Unconcerned, Hawkfrost glanced up. "Oh, you're Ashfur, aren't you? I remember you from the old forest." Sighing, he flicked his tail. "Tigerstar did some things that are… regrettable. But that does not change the fact that he is the most powerful warrior who has ever existed." Before Ashfur could protest again, he added, "And he knows things. Like right now, he has told me why you are so angry. It really is a shame, isn't it? Brambleclaw just doesn't understand things such as power. I really don't know how Squirrelflight fell for him."

Ashfur winced at the mention of her name, shock spreading through his mind. "H-how did you…?"

Hawkfrost purred. "Oh yes, I know about the pain she's caused you. And you try so hard to make her see you. But it's not working, is it?" His blue eyes glittered with knowledge and ambition as he leaned forward excitedly. "Want to know something, Ashfur? It will never work."

The gray tom stared back, fear and pain washing over him. "What do you mean?"

"She will never love you back."

Ashfur wailed, his claws digging ruts into the dirt. "She will! I'll make her! I'll show her what a pile of mouse-dung that Brambleclaw is! I'll-"

"It won't matter." Hawkfrost straightened up with a leer, then his expression morphed into one of sympathy. "She means so much to you, doesn't she? But she hates you. Why else would she leave you, after you have cared for her and shown her how you felt? She hurts you on purpose."

The ThunderClan warrior felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. "But…"

"You have to hurt her back, show her just how much pain she's created. Cause her just as much agony as you have ever felt." Hawkfrost's voice was persuasive, and Ashfur felt the first crack in his soul that would eventually lead to the pain and grief which would shatter him.

"W-what… can I do?"

Another smile. "Actually, I already have a plan…"

"Ashfur?"

He jerked up, his eyes snapping open at the voice which was not in his memory, but instead a few tail lengths away. His paws trembled in the water as he saw her, standing there, her ginger fur truly appearing on fire in the glow of the setting sun. Her green eyes surveyed him cautiously, but he saw only concern, not hate or anger, within her gaze. The gray warrior's heart twisted, and he stood up slowly, feeling his paws grind against the pebbles, painfully, but not painful enough.

"Go away." He barely choked the words out. He loved her, and now he hated the fact that he loved her. "Nothing you can say will stop me."

"Ashfur…" She sounded so sad. But he knew it was all a ploy to keep him from revealing her terrible secret. She was so selfish, only doing this to help herself. "Think, Ashfur. What will happen to the Clan if you tell everyone? It will just separate every cat more. That pain, it won't hurt me, it will hurt every living being around the lake."

"So?" Ashfur spat, unsheathing his claws. "As long as you're hurt, the rest of the Clans can go to the Dark Forest. I want you to know just what I feel – what I felt from the day you rejected me and broke me apart." Gathering his pain into anger, power that moved through his limbs, he put a paw forward, not noticing as the raw pads began staining the shore scarlet. "You know nothing of pain, Squirrelflight. It's time you did."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," the she-cat murmured. "I promise, I didn't. But I can't love you, Ashfur. I love Brambleclaw. I'm sorry that you are so hurt, but you have to understand."

"Understand?" the tom yowled, icy eyes sparkling with rage. "How am I the one who doesn't understand? You know nothing about what I've been through! You cut me open every single day! Do you know what it's like to see you with that fool Brambleclaw every moment, when I was the one who helped you and was a friend to you? Do you know what I've done, because of you?" He took another step, and with furious satisfaction he saw Squirrelflight edge back. "Look!" He held up a forepaw, dripping with blood and water. "I'm bleeding, Squirrelflight. And I don't feel it, I can't feel the pain. It's not enough, it's never enough, because there's always something worse inside. It burns me, and you're the reason." The warrior stalked forward, and for the first time he saw fear in the ginger she-cat's eyes. "You need to know what it's like, you need to know what you've done to me."

"Y-you're not well, Ashfur," Squirrelflight stammered, taking a step back. "I think – I have to go. I-" She tried to move away, but stumbled over a tree root and fell. Mud from the still-wet earth splattered her fiery pelt as she struggled to rise.

Teeth bared, Ashfur loomed over her, his eyes glowing bright blue. "You need to feel pain," he hissed. "When the sun is gone, ThunderClan leaves for the Gathering, and I go with them. You will finally understand what I have been through. There's nothing you can say that will stop me telling every single cat what you have done."

Suddenly the fear in Squirrelflight's gaze vanished, and Ashfur narrowed his eyes in confusion. Defiance washed across the she-cat's face, and she "Maybe not anything I can say, but something I can do!" she snarled. Before Ashfur could react, she coiled back and leaped, paws outstretched for his muzzle.

Ashfur reeled away in shock as claws grazed his face, and in an instant he was tumbling across the shore in a knot of ginger and gray fur. He felt paws grasp his flank, and, furious, he sank his teeth into Squirrelflight's ear, biting down with all the force he could muster. Dampness sank into his fur as they splashed into the darkening water, screeching. All the anger, all the pain he had felt over the moons since the she-cat had rejected him had built up, lending strength to his stone-battered body. He felt as though he had more power than StarClan. With a caterwaul of triumph, he pinned Squirrelflight down onto the sandy shallows of the lake, trying to keeping her writhing form underneath the surface of the water.

i feel so much pain you dont understand you need to understand i have to do it

Ashfur stared down at her, his sides heaving as he panted for breath. "You have to feel…" he growled, eyes wild. "You have to…"

The she-cat thrashed in his grip, and a wave broke over her muzzle. She gasped for air, struggling to get out of the cold clutch of the lake. She was sucked back underwater, her ginger fur turned dark brown from the wetness. Bubbles emerged from her mouth as she tried to speak.

The gray tom lashed his tail, feeling Squirrelflight's struggles begin to slow. Her face was distorted by the muddied water, but Ashfur could see her eyes flutter weakly. Victorious, he lifted his head, daring to meet her gaze one final time.

i win i win you will understand what you did to me i will make you feel pain

Green.

Blue.

She looked up so calmly, as though death meant nothing to her. As though she felt no pain. Ashfur's eyes widened; this was not what was supposed to happen. Confused, he loosened his grasp, and felt the she-cat pulled away by the waves. She blinked, and moved. Then, suddenly, she was above water, and charging towards him furiously. Ashfur stumbled back, not understanding what had just happened. "Squir-?"

"Traitor!" the ginger warrior yowled, her eyes blazing with fury – all the fury that had just ebbed from Ashfur. The tom was bowled over as she slammed into him, her claws ripping into his pelt. "Black-hearted pile of fox dung!"

He could feel blood welling up in his fur, washed instantly away by the water. Ashfur gasped. "It hurts, it hurts…" He could feel each slash, edged in fire. His pads stung, no longer dulled by the pain inside of him. For the first time in moons, he was not drowned in agony.

Squirrelflight was above him now, pushing him down, her claws searching for a hold on his throat. Ashfur felt the cold sharpness press against his neck and he jolted, finally realizing what was happening. "Squirrelflight, don't-" His protest was cut off as skin broke, and his words became a scream.

Red, everywhere. Blocking even the water that was threatening to flood his mouth and nose. The tom writhed as it began to flow in a steady tide, his blue eyes widening in fear. "It hu-"

A ginger shape was standing over him, both regret and relief in the emerald gaze. Ashfur choked, his breath coming out as a thin gurgle as blood bubbled from the rip in his throat.

You cant where am i whats happening...?

Even his thoughts were blurry now. The pain in his expression started to clear, and his vision was already dulling, becoming darker. The lake tugged him out, and he hung, motionless, in its clasp. Its frigid paws gripped his body.

A pair of green eyes, watching.

"Squirrelflight… it hurts…"