Disclaimer: I don' wanna! :P

A/N: Ya know, I'm really running out of things to write here...and I'm a babbler! That's saying sumpin...not sure what...but sumpin...

Anywayz, yeah. Expect quite a few chapters in the future...I've had quite a bit of time on my hands.

Read. Review. Pretend I said something witty.

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Petrified Tears
chapter 40



The two brothers were downstairs in the living room, both fast asleep, one on the couch, the other curled up in the easy chair by the window.

Quietly easing the door shut behind him, he hiked her higher up on his back, feeling her arms tighten around his neck, her breath moving to lap against his ear in her sleepy, half-conscious state.

Sore and covered in her blood, the soldier labored up the stairs with his angelic companion nestled against his back, wishing his hands were clean so that he could drag himself forward using the railing.

Reaching the head of the stairs, he shifted the placement of her weight on his back, only to receive a muffled whimper.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, slipping into her room.

She mumbled something that he didn't catch, her mind almost as tired as her body.

Gingerly, he set her on the bed, not in the least surprised about the amount of blood she'd shed, suddenly aware of how much of his own she'd drawn. She whimpered as he removed her boots, her swollen ankles screaming in pain. Dropping the boot to the floor, he quickly and gently removed the other, proceeding to shift his position in a fluid motion so that he was leaning over her form, his body blocking the moonlight from touching her own.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, drawing a finger down the line of her jaw. Guilt and happiness played on his features as his bright blue eyes shone aqua in the childlike touch of the full moon. "I forgot my own strength. I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

Smirking up at him, she settled peacefully back into her pillow, eyes laughing at his sudden innocence, while her own were suddenly evil, tainted by his corruption.

"I'd have told you if it really hurt all that bad," she whispered playfully, earning herself a full-fledged and heartfelt smile from the soldier that had carried her home all this way.

Shaking his head, they murmured their goodnights, and he stood to leave.

She tensed as he tensed, pain and dizziness searing through his senses; the tiny fallen angel placed a hand in the small of his back as he stumbled and put his fingers to his temple. Groggily, the soldier sank back down onto her bed, waiting for the spell to pass. Hands gripped the edge of the mattress, bunched the comforter with soiled fingers, suddenly aware of the blood on it. Suddenly guilty about having done this to her, about having ruined this for her.

"You should stay here tonight," she told him, the worry in her voice drawing his attention back to her, her fingers drawing lines down his back along his spine. "My uncle never uses his room down stairs. I'm sure my father wouldn't mind..."

"Downstairs is a long ways away," he mumbled, rubbing his head, even his voice grimacing from the pain of the spell.

She sighed worriedly as he lay back, pillowing his head on her stomach.

"Yes. It is."

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A/N: I've been hearing a lot about muses lately...quite frankly, I'm feeling left out here. My muse has *yet* to show his/herself to me...*starts bawling*....

Oh well. Originally I had a quirky little bit about my Chibi Trunks action figure making a comment about being my muse right here, but I don't feel like joining this wagon. I'll watch it pass and just keep my muse to myself.

So strike a match, hope it lasts, here's to following your own lead.... (Less Than Jake, Faction)

-Panabelle ;P
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers