"O eloquent, just and mighty Death: whom non could advise thou hast persuaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done."
-Sir Walter Raleigh, History of the
World, V
Brevity
She fingered her throat. How could he think she enjoyed being the monster she was?
But, if she was to be what she was, she
would go along with the precedent they had set, go along with what they
expected. To be the evil thing that inside she was not, made her shudder, draw
away.
That was before. Now, she had been so
exposed to the evil, that it was quickly becoming a part of her. But there were
times that when she loathed it all.
This was her last chance. She couldn't
do it herself, so it was her last chance. She won, then she would devote
herself to becoming evil, to giving up the person she truly was. She lost, then
it wouldn't matter.
Nothing would matter.
"So what's up?" Darien asked, seeing
the disgusted look on Hobbes' face.
"Blowfish is back. Aren't you in for a
treat?"
Darien's smile stayed on his face
"C'mon, stop kidding. What's really happening?"
Hobbes now turned his disgusted look on
Darien. "I'm not kidding. She's back."
Darien's face fell. "Are you sure?"
Hobbes nodded.
Darien started for the door, muttering
curses to himself.
"Hey, where are you going, Fawkes?"
Darien turned around. "I'm going to go
shoot myself and save Firehose the trouble."
"So explain it to me again?"
The Official sighed. "Fawkes! If you'll
listen this time around…"
"I will, I will. Now go on."
"There's no reason for her to be in town
other than us…or you."
Darien sighed. "I'm so privileged."
Hobbes snickered. "Fun fun silly
willy…right?
"What?"
"It's from Pinky and the Brain."
"You watch…never mind." Darien
turned back to the Official. "So, in other words, I guess I should watch my
back?"
The Official harrumphed. "It's your
life. Do what you want."
Darien took on the patient voice used
to teach a toddler the letter A is A. "It may be my life, but it's your five
some-odd million dollar gland."
The Official just glared at him.
She watched from the shadows as he
left. She really did love him, but her primal instincts took over her when she
was near him, and then from there it just got evil. He hated her. She knew it.
And he had good reason to.
Well, he was her way out. And she would
forgive him for all his hatred toward her, if he would just open the door and
let her out.
Let her out…
Darien looked around at the wild
shadows cast by the light of the moon. He shivered. The dark reminded him of
her, of the Dark Woman. In Paradise Lost, there was a line that said, "No
light, only darkness visible." That described her soul almost perfectly. And he
didn't want anything to do with that tangible darkness she possessed.
He felt in his pocket. He had stolen a
gun from the Official, and was ready for anything.
Darien jumped as a drop of water hit
his head. He looked around wildly, hoping it wasn't her.
Another drop fell, then another, and
another, until the soft patter of rain filled his ears. He relaxed, and started
walking again.
She almost laughed when he jumped. So
he was waiting for her! Hopefully, he was ready.
She began following him, blending into
the shadows, muting her footsteps. He had no idea she was there, and that was
the way she'd like to keep it.
Darien unlocked his apartment and went
in. He left the door open, and went to put his jacket up. He came back and saw
the open door.
"Idiot…what are you trying to do, tempt
the Fates?" he muttered at himself as he shut the door.
He turned around and walked across the room
to his dresser. Putting his keys on top of it, he heard a sound behind him. He
whipped around…and there she was.
She looked at him, and took a step
closer, daring him to react.
Darien stared, then pulled himself
together. Where had he put that…?
He stood there, until it hit him. His
pocket! Darien reached for the gun and pulled it out, pointing it straight at
her.
"Come and get me…" she hissed, walking
outside into the rain.
Dazed, he followed her, wanting only
one thing: to get rid of her.
Darien had never felt anger this strong
before, and, to tell the truth, it scared him, the way he followed her simply
to kill her.
He stopped himself. No, he wouldn't
kill her out of pure hatred. If he shot, it would be out of self-defense, not
rage.
She stepped forward, and took him by
the hand to drag him into the rain. He stood there, dripping, as she began to
taunt him.
"Shoot…you know you want to," she said
in her sibilant accent.
When he didn't, only held the gun, she
spat at him. Advancing, she prepared to kill him.
The shot rang out, and Allianora fell.
Hitting the ground, she just laid there, saying something he couldn't hear.
Against his better instincts, he knelt
down, and leaned close to hear what she was saying. He picked her head up, and
listened.
She looked at him, but her look was not
filled with hatred as Darien expected. Instead, it was a look of thanks. She
whispered again, and this time he heard it.
"Thank you," the infamous Dark Woman
whispered. "Thank you."
He sat and held her in the rain,
understanding her pain and her thanks, and comforted her with his presence
while she took her last breath. He held a woman, no longer an enemy, but a
friend, one who he could have rescued from her pain long ago. As he sat there,
dripping in the rain, he forgave her, and sent her away from the earth with at
least one friend.
"Out
of the night that covers me,
Black
as the pit from pile to pile,
I
thank whatever gods may be
For
my unconquered soul.
………………………….
It
matters not how strait the gate,
How
charged with punishments the scroll,
I
am the master of my fate:
I
am the captain of my soul."
-W.E.
Henley, Invictus