I should probably put trigger warnings for death...

Several years ago...

"Daddy...it hurts…"

"I know son, here drink this."

He leaned over his son, his hand shaking as he gave the child a drink of cool water. His brow twisted in worry and in pain that only a parent with a suffering child could feel. The little boy whimpered, shivering with cold.

"Daddy, I'm cold," the little boy's teeth chattered.

Quickly, the man grabbed the blankets and pulled them over his son. The chattering at last died down. The boy moaned, his eyes squeezing shut in pain. Stroking his son's sweaty forehead, the man sung softly, trying to turn the boy's mind away from the agony.

I see the moon, the moon sees me
shining through the leaves of the old oak tree
Oh, let the light that shines on me
shine on the one I love.

Over the mountain, over the sea,
back where my heart is longing to be
Oh, let the light that shines on me
shine on the one I love.

I hear the lark, the lark hears me
singing from the leaves of the old oak tree
Oh, let the lark that sings to me
sing to the one I love,

Over the mountains, over the sea
back where my heart is longing to be
Oh, let the lark that sings to me
sing to the one I love.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"If I fall asleep...will I see mommy again?"

Terror leapt into the man's eyes and he caressed his son's cheek. Tears filled his eyes as he fought to steady his voice.

"You won't have to fall asleep that way, my little one," he took a shaky breath. "You'll get better...I promise."

"You never break your promises," the little boy smiled a little.

"I never do," the man shook his head.

The man squeezed his son's hand, worry filling his eyes as he noticed that the boy's face was paler and more drawn with pain. He got up briefly to mix medicine into a bowl of broth. Taking it over to the invalid's bed, he spoon fed half of the broth, before the boy turned away.

"You need to eat this," the man begged.

"It...hurts," his son whimpered.

"But it helps," the man offered another spoon. "Please...for me?"

The boy ate the rest of the broth obediently. Afterwards, his head flopped weakly onto the pillow. His father stroked his wet hair, singing another lullaby.

"Daddy!"

"What?" the man jumped.

"It hurts...so bad," his son struggled to breath, his eyes unfocusing. "Daddy…"

"No, no, no," the man begged as he looked helplessly around. "Stay with me. Look at me, son!"

The boy convulsed, pain lighting up every feature as he struggled in the grip of death. His father picked him up, holding him close as the last breath whispered from the frail body. Sobbing, the man rocked back and forth, clinging to the lifeless body of his son.

"No, no," he wept. "You're too young. Too young, just like your mother. Please don't leave me….please don't leave me."

The man laid the lifeless boy back on his bed, straightening his limbs and closing his staring eyes. Sobs wracked his chest as he bent over the still, white form.

"Please don't leave me…."

A fresh grave. Another marker. The man stared at the graves of his family. His wife, the girl he had loved since childhood, dead. The boy he had loved so much, especially after his mother's passing, gone.

He couldn't weep anymore. A dull ache settled in his chest. He stared at the sky, wondering what he had done to deserve this. What they had done to deserve this.

Anger built up in him. There was one man who could have fixed this. One man who could have saved them both, but he refused. Incurable, the man had cried.

He gritted his teeth and threw the shovel against the house. It wasn't a long trip into the town. A few yard and he was there. Yanking the door open he stormed inside.

"Where are you!" he screamed.

A woman at the front desk stared at him as he barged into the doctor's office. The doctor leapt to his feet, staring at the man.

"Mr. Coquelicot!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

The man moved his hand and the desk the doctor was sitting behind rose up and pinned him against the wall.

"You killed them!" the man shouted. "You wouldn't heal them! They died because of you!"

The doctor gasped for breath, staring into the eyes of a lunatic. Fear flashed in his eyes and he held his hands up.

"Geppetto, listen to me. There is no cure. Not here, not in the big cities with the fancy hospitals. Its incurable, most likely a genetic disease," the doctor reasoned.

"They were the only things I loved in my life!" Geppetto Coquelicot pressed the desk harder, without moving a step. "You took them away! You killed them! He was only a little boy! Do you know how much pain he was in when he died?!"

"I'm so sorry Geppetto…" the doctor coughed.

"You'll know pain," Geppetto's eyes lit with an unholy fire. "You'll know death. Unfortunately, you will never know what it's like to have your loved ones dying and you are helpless because the man with the cure refuses to help."

"There is no cure!" the doctor wheezed.

"Enough of your lies!" Geppetto shouted.

The desk pressed harder and harder, and the doctor began to turn blue. Flicking a finger, the man watched as a scalpel from the doctor's kit danced across the room, landing on the desk in front of the doctor's face. The next moment, it had imbedded itself into the doctor's head.

Geppetto stood there, releasing the table. His breaths came short and he looked a bit tired. But the fire remained in his eyes. Satisfied he watched the blood dripping down the doctor, from where he stood, pinned to the wall by the knife. Something in that made the ache in his chest fade a bit.

Turning, he ran from the doctor's office, passing the screaming woman at the front desk. He ran out onto the street, then bolted for the woods. The madness in his eyes didn't die, nor would it ever.

Gosh...I was not prepared for Geppetto's backstory...btw...do you guys know who Geppetto is? He is, like the RWBY Universe, based off a fictional character in our world.