Descending Ash, a wrestling fanfic

This my is first one shot and song fic. The song is "Paper Airplanes(Makeshift Wings)" and it is sung by AFI. I'm not sure who wrote it.

Disclaimer: I don't own any character in this, nor the song "Paper Airplanes(Makeshift Wings)" by AFI.

Warnings: deals with some abuse here and there is some violence. You have been warned.

Descending Ash

The demons were tearing at him.

They tore at him at night. He pushed them away whenever he could, but they came back always, sometimes in vivacious force. Sometimes he couldn't tear them away; he hated it so how at night it would break into his memory, a single tape played endlessly in his mind.

He'd watch them fall again. He'd see the colors disappear, vanish into the earth. The gray and white would trip up into the sky, melding into clouds. He'd hear the whispers from the mouths, heard the water splashing, and the gentle caress of wind upon an unseen body.

He hated it.

//Rise high

Monolithic statures,

So fragile as they fall//

"Shane, are you alright? You look dead."

Her comment was harsh and it flickered along his back like a softly skittered wing. For her benefit, he smiled. It was good to put her at ease; he hated to see the pain in her eyes when she saw something harmed in him. She had her own demons and she didn't need to go worrying about his as well.

"I'm fine, Stephanie. I appreciate your comment. It makes my day so lovely."

His sarcasm put a smile onto her face and the worry disappeared from her face. "I know it does, Shane. It's why I made it. Don't you understand that?" But as suddenly as the worry had disappeared, loathing and fear found their way onto her features. "Shane, are you . . . going today?"

He had his back to her and he stiffened at her question. "I don't know, Stephanie. Should I? Are you?"

She hesitated, and then said, "I'd rather not. But I'm going. Are you?"

"I don't think so."

"It's important."

"I'd rather not see him, Stephanie."

"You see him everyday."

"Not like today. And I plan on keeping it that way."

//I am ever enthralled

Gaze, lie and smirk in time

Your arrogance will suit you well

Till fashion is dispelled//

"Simba looks mightily glum today."

"Simba's about to eat the fat Pumbaa if you don't shut your mouth."

"Ah," whined Jeff Hardy from his side of the hallway. He was sitting on a box, a book in his hand, apparently resting, but when he saw Shane coming, he leapt up happily. "Simba is glum. And I am not as fat as Pumbaa."

"You're right," Shane said. "You're as skinny as Timon."

"I resent that. Timon's anorexic."

"You look like you are, Jeffrey. Don't underestimate yourself."

"You're talking about cartoon characters, you do realize that," said a voice from down the hall. Both Shane and Jeff stopped to look as Jim Ross came swaggering down the hallway. "If you talked like that in Texas, you'd be taken out back and whooped across the bottom."

"We don't live in Tejas, mighty Ross," said Jeff, grinning, but looking a little worn on his young face. "We come from Carolina."

"I don't," Shane said.

"Of course you don't, you wouldn't want to," JR said. He looked at Jeff long and hard. "We need to talk to you, Jeff. Come on."

The grin slipped off Jeff's face to be replaced with one of humbled anger. "Fine," he muttered. "See you later, Shane."

"Wait!" Shane held onto JR's shoulder before he could leave with Jeff. "With my father?"

"Yes," JR said, looking at Shane queerly. "Are you going to come?"

Jeff looked at Shane gloweringly over JR's shoulder.

"No, I'm not," Shane said, feeling a little sick. "But tell him I have to talk to him later. Tell him I'm coming later and that he better wait for me."

"Alright," JR said, looking confused. "I'll tell him, son, but you know he doesn't like being forced around."

"He's my father," Shane said, already turning away. "And it would do him good to remember that."

//As waves of plastic fame go out of fashion

You're going out, going out, forever unknown

These waves of plastic go out of fashion//

He continued ambling down the hallway, not actually watching where he was heading, only gazing sickly around, a clock ticking in his head. Tick, tock.

"Hello, Shane," Mark Callaway said humbly. "How are you today?"

Shane stopped out of respect. Mark was always the one to be treated with respect, as he had been in the business already a few years when Shane had started moving up. And Mark was too good of a man to be treated carelessly. If it hadn't been Mark, Shane would have just kept going.

"I'm fine, Mark, how are you?"

"I'm doing okay," Mark said in his huge rumbling voice. "How's your mother?" Mark had always had a liking to his mother, and if he had known the things Shane knew, then Mark would have liked her doubly.

"She's doing okay," Shane said, another rock dropping into the pit of his stomach. "She's here tonight."

Mark's eyes brightened. "That's good. I'll drop off to see her. Do you know where she is?"

Tick, tock. "She's with my dad. I think, anyway. She should still be here."

"That's good," repeated Mark. "I'll go see her. I haven't seen here in awhile, actually."

"That's good," Shane said, fervently wishing that Mark would leave already. "Nice to see you, Mark. But I have to go."

"I understand," Mark said and started walking. "Have a good night, Shane."

"Yeah, I sure will." He gazed around the empty hallway and muttered to himself, thinking that only he could hear, "They think she's a goddess. If they knew what I know about her, they'd hate her too."

He didn't notice Mark had stopped in his tracks upon hearing his comment and continued walking.

//These waves of plastic fame are drying up and I smile

You're going out, going out, forever unknown

Because you're dying to become forever unknown, forever unknown//

He met Stephanie a few moments later as she came out of her dressing room. The hallway was crowded with technicians and he grabbed her and pulled next to the hallway. Superstars passed them, but he paid them no heed. They said little greetings, always respectful to the First Family; they might have been the President's kids for all the respect they were paid.

"Mom's here, you know," Shane said quietly.

Stephanie didn't reply. She leaned against the wall and her head lowered. "I didn't know."

"It's probably good you didn't," he said bitterly. "I'm going to talk to Dad in a little while."

Stephanie's head shot up at the comment. "Why are you going to do that, Shane? I thought you said you weren't going to talk to him. Only I was."

"I don't care anymore." His voice lowered. "I don't care anymore. I can deal with them with business matters, but personal matters have always been a bad end. But I don't care anymore. I'm getting married, Stephanie, and maybe this is just what they need to come around."

She replied, to his flinching face, "Shane, when will you realize our parents will not come around? It's bad enough the way they are now."

"No hope is death," Shane said solemnly. "I've forgiven them."

"Have you?" The iciness in her voice caused Shane to look at her in surprise. "You've forgiven them? I haven't. I never will."

"Steph, please, they were-"

"They were what? Don't make excuses for them, Shane. Don't make excuses because there is no excuse. When will you realize that?"

"They're repenting," Shane said helplessly. "They're repenting everyday."

Stephanie's eyes were hard. "I don't see them begging forgiveness, Shane. And I don't see them showing remorse when you have shorts on."

Stephanie's comment, careless, made him cringe. "Scars fade," he said.

"Scars can be removed with lasers," Stephanie said. "And yet I don't see you running around to a doctor, Shane. Do you like looking at them or something?"

Anger flared inside him. "I have my scars," he said in a deathly quiet voice. "And I don't see you running around, either."

She didn't flinch and he felt disappointed. "I've got my own scars, Shane, and it's because I want to remember. I want to remember what happened."

"You never show your scars," he hissed loudly.

"My scars are ugly," she said. "They're not clean like yours."

"Oh yeah, I forgot," he said viciously, so that some Superstars did a double take. "They cut me with butcher knives, I remember now."

Stephanie looked at him solemnly. "Sure thing, Simba. Knives for you. Scars are good made with knives. Scars are bad when made with other things." She turned on her heel and walked away.

He watched her go, the emptiness inside him coming back, and the demons he had been able to fight off returning for a second battle.

//From above

A rain of ashes descends

Anathema I will remain

Forever will remain//

The show finished. He watched from the Gorilla Position the last match, not even bothering to realize who it was. It was something to keep his mind to; and the technicians would ask him questions, knowing who he was, and wanting to know if their job was going smoothly and to his pleasing. He replied positively to all questions and watched the match.

A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, twisting instinctively, his fists almost swinging up.

"Shane!" JR barked, backing up, tripping over his feet. "Shane, it's just me. Are you alright?"

"You scared me!" Shane shouted. "You surprised me!" His breath came out shallowly.

JR looked at him in shock.

He tried to get his breathing back in control; slowly he felt his heart slow, and his mind snaked back from the panic. He tried to smile at JR; all that came was a painful grimace. "I'm sorry, JR. I was watching the show . . . you just scared me, that's it. I'm sorry."

JR said, carefully, "No, I'm sorry, son. Some people are just jumpy." There was no rise from Shane. "Well, bucko, your dad wants you."

Shane's heart rose again. "What?"

"Well, I told him what you told me to tell him, son. And he wants you immediately." JR gauged his reaction. "He wants me to take you to him, so you won't get lost."

Shane looked at the small monitor broadcasting the match. "Why aren't you out there, JR?" he asked.

JR did a double take. "Come again?"

"Why aren't you commentating?"

"Son, this is hardly the time." JR looked uneasily around. "I'm not out there, that's all there is to it. Your father wants you, Shane. Your mother is with him. Stephanie's already going."

Shane's head, which had been examining the monitor, suddenly snapped up and glared at JR. "What?"

"Your father wanted Stephanie too. I directed her, she knew where it was; but Vince had specific instructions for me to take you to him." JR gave a barking laugh. "Lord knows why. But he asked me politely and he is a good fellow-"

Shane wanted to explode at the comment.

"- And I figured I should-"

"Just take me to him," Shane snapped, interrupting his friend's speech. "Hurry and take me."

JR stopped speaking and merely stared at him. "I've known you since you were a boy, Shane. You don't order me around, son."

Shane wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him; shake him until some sense came barreling into his mind and shook away the respites of darkness. However, he forced himself to speak calmly, and in apology, "I'm sorry, JR. I'm just really stressed out today. I have to ask my dad something . . . and I don't really think he'll approve."

JR looked at him keenly and with sudden brightness. "Shane, your father will support you if you do get married."

Shane looked at JR in sharp surprise. "What?"

Peals of laughter shook from his old friend JR. "It's all over you, son. I was as nervous as you when I asked my father about getting married." He looked at Shane fondly. "Known you since you were a boy, Shane . . . and getting married . . . reminds me of when I was your age." He smiled warmly at Shane. "You'll do fine, Shane. Who's the lucky gal?"

The world was spinning in Shane's eyes; he wanted to be sick. "No offense, JR, but I think I should probably discuss this with my father first." He thought JR would be angry; instead, another light went off in JR's eyes.

"Yes, such a good young man . . . respectful to the father, how wonderful." He smiled at Shane again. "Let's hurry, shall we?"

Shane wanted to scream; he looked out into the arena through a gap in the curtains and saw the crowd, cheering, shaking the arena, feet stamping and foam hands waving gleefully as the post-show continued.

He thought he saw a ghost; in his mind, he could see them falling.

//From below, in my seclusion

Look up to the sky

To see paper wings

And watch them burn//

"Shaners," Vince McMahon greeted when Shane walked into the room. His mother sat on a couch in the corner, smoke curling up slowly from her cigarette. Stephanie stood in the middle of the room, by a table littered with papers, clutching her elbows. She glared at him when he entered the room; it hurt him more than he had ever known.

"Hi," he said shortly and focused his eyes on the table. "Is there a reason you wanted to talk to us?"

He saw Stephanie's head go up in surprise; her eyes were hard and accusing.

"Actually, Shane, I thought you wanted to talk to me," said Vince in a loud voice. "It's very rude to make presumptions."

Anger bit Shane squarely; it took all his willpower to keep his gaze on the table. "Yes, but before this, you wanted to talk to us . . . and JR sent for us."

"JR's a good man," said Linda McMahon from her place on the couch. Shane was unable to help himself and looked up at her; her eyes glittered at her oldest child. "Unlike many men."

Shane took his gaze from his mother and returned it to the table.

"Is there something you want to tell us?" Vince asked in a booming voice. "You did arrange this meeting."

"I didn't," Shane said. "JR sent for us; we're here. What do you want?"

"Don't take that tone with me, you are still my son." Vince's voice was angry.

"You sure don't act like a father!" snarled Stephanie suddenly from her position. All in the room turned their gazes to her. "You sure don't act like one!"

//Without habitation

You'll never find a soul inside

No life

But nothing's died//

Vince's eyes looked at his daughter in an emotion Shane could describe at shock, if he knew his father had a heart inside to be shocked.

"I resent that," Vince said quietly. "I resent that very much, Stephanie."

"It's the truth!" Stephanie yelled, her voice swelling with passion. "It is the whole damn truth and you know it! You both know it."

Linda got up from her position on the couch; she crushed her cigarette in the ashtray. "We love you," she said. Her eyes twisted up the ceiling, not even resting on her daughter. "We do not need this kind of talk from you."

"You are both liars!" Stephanie's hands balled into fists at her sides and she glared at her parents. Shane winced at the pain in his sister's voice. "You are both liars, both cold-blooded liars who don't give a damn about their children!"

"We do care about you!" Vince cried. Shane snapped his head at his father. "And we have said over and over again that we are sorry for what did!"

"We have," Linda said quietly. "We've asked for your forgiveness and yet you cannot give it. The fault is not on us, the fault is-"

"Shut up, Linda." Vince put up a hand to silence his wife. "We both love you, that is the matter of it. And you cannot seem to get that through your head."

Linda stepped up to her daughter and touched Stephanie's cheek. Stephanie recoiled, and almost moved away, but Linda held her shoulder firmly. "We love you," she said, looking into her daughter's eyes. "We love you."

Shane wanted to beat his mother off his sister; he had seen this position many times before. He watched, unable to move, to breathe.

"Loving parents do not torture their children," Stephanie hissed.

Linda slapped her.

//No lights

But quite the show

Just as long as no one ever knows

All motion is pantomime//

Stephanie stepped back, shaking her mother away, touching her cheek in shock.

Shane leapt at his mother, not thinking.

Stephanie's in trouble, Stephanie's in trouble, she's-

He fell sideways, into the plant by the door, knocking it over; it broke with a loud crash.

Vince knocked him down, kicking his feet from under him. He fell to the floor, onto the pieces of the cracked vase. He felt edges cut into him, felt blood slip from the wounds; he lay where he had fallen, breathing heavily, staring up at his father, standing over him.

"You do not attack your mother," he said quietly.

Linda said, "He's the Devil Spawn, Vince, I told you he was the Devil Spawn, I told you he would-"

"Shut up!" Stephanie roared suddenly, charging her mother. "Shane, get up!" She rammed into her mother from the side, her momentum carrying them both into the couch.

"Stephanie, stop!" Panic flooded through Shane's body; he felt screams rise into his mouth. He could see his father, standing over him, his fists cocked; he looked numbly at his wife and daughter tussling on the couch.

"Stephanie, stop!" Shane struggled to move up, to help his sister.

Vince dropped to his knees besides his son, safely around the remains of the vase. He swiftly grabbed Shane around the torso, pinning his arms to sides and leaned back against the lower half of his son's body, pinning it to the floor, cutting deeper into the shattered remains of the vase. With one other hand, he covered Shane's mouth.

Terror streamed into Shane's mind. No, no, no, this wasn't happening again, this wasn't happening again, they'd killed it, they'd destroyed it- no, no, no, no.

He struggled against his father, kicking his legs, trying to bite off the hand that covered his mouth. He tried yelling, but his father relented nothing. He merely gazed into his son's terrified eyes and applied more pressure to his body.

Shane felt the edges of the vase cut into his skin; pain cut into his lower body. He felt blood surge from the lacerations. Screaming into his father's hand, he turned his eyes to the couch. Stephanie and Linda fought, tearing at each other silently, Stephanie's eyes an unreadable mask, her face screwed in tight concentration.

"This shouldn't have to be," Vince said heavily.

Shane bucked.

"Oh, stop struggling, Shane. It shouldn't have to be like this. Why do you both always have to force us to this?"

Linda kicked Stephanie in the gut; with the moment's respite, she grabbed the ashtray.

Shane screamed against his father's hand.

//As waves of plastic go out of fashion

You're going out, going out forever unknown

These waves of plastic fame go out of fashion//

"I wish it didn't have to come to this," Vince said. "I just wish it didn't have to come to this."

Linda held the ashtray high above her head; its heavy glass material sparkled in the harsh lights of the room.

Shane screamed.

"VINCE! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!"

The door pounded.

Stephanie's eyes found the ashtray.

Vince looked up.

Shane knocked his father off his body, kicked him in the face, and scrambled up.

Stephanie flung herself into her mother, knocking her into the coffee table, and the ashtray flew from her hands onto the floor, where it shattered.

"VINCE! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU NOW!"

Shane, blood leaking from his body, ran to his mother and sister, now punching each other brutally as they fought for the upper hand.

"Get off her!" Shane grabbed his mother around the stomach; forgetting all tenses of family, he flung her with all his strength into the wall. She hit with a loud thud. Her eyes glazed and she sank to the ground.

"No!"

Vince charged them both wildly, his eyes furious. "Devil children!"

"Damn you, you're the devil!"

Shane punched his father in the face; he fell to the floor, his feet scrambling.

Shoving Stephanie aside, Shane fell to the floor besides his father.

Ignoring his sister, he began to strike Vince across the face with his fists.

//These waves of plastic fame are drying up and I smile

You're going out, going out, forever unknown

Because you're dying to become forever unknown

Forever unknown//

"VINCE! VINCE!"

"They're not there, Jeff, let's go!"

"Shane, stop it!"

Shane ignored her; his fists knocked against his father's face again and again. Blood began to seep from his nose, his mouth, his eyes.

"Let's go, Jeff!"

"No, I heard-"

"Shane, stop, please! Shane, you're going to kill him!"

Hands pulled around his neck, on his arms-

NO. I'm going to kill him, I'm going to kill the bastard, just make it stop-

"Jeff, hurry up-"

"Shane, Shane, Shane!"

Hands, covering his eyes, his mouth-

NO, I'm going to kill him, I'm going to destroy him-

"COME ON, JEFF!"

"I'm going to murder him, I swear to-"

"Shane, Shane!"

Hands, on his arms, on his neck-

He punched the arm back.

Cries of pain, cries of sorrow.

"I'm going to kill him, I swear to God, I'm going to kill him-"

Stephanie.

Stephanie, Stephanie was crying, she was-

Oh dear God, I hit Stephanie-

Oh God, I'm killing my father.

//From above

A rain of ashes descends

Anathema I will remain

Forever will remain//

"Stephanie?"

He pulled up; his fists came back bloody. His eyes focused; he saw a crushed nose, eyes goggling, glazed. Blood seeped from the face.

He tore his gaze away. Stephanie stood, looking down at him, holding her arm, a massive red splotch forming on the upper flesh.

"Stephanie?"

"Shane?" she replied in a whisper, her voice trembling. "Shane?"

"I'm alright," he said. He gazed down at his father sickly. It was so different. Here his father was, lying in his own pool of blood . . . when it usually would have been him . . .

"Is he alive?" Stephanie's voice was fearful.

Shane looked down at his father. He lowered his fingers to his neck, past the blood and slack mouth; slowly, he felt a sluggish beat.

"He's alive," Shane said softly. "And God forgive me, I wish he wasn't."

Stephanie said nothing.

"Is she okay?" He pointed to their mother, still fallen in the place where Shane has thrown her against the wall.

"She'll live," Stephanie said. "She's just dazed."

For awhile, they both said nothing.

//From below, in my seclusion

Look up to the sky

To see paper wings

And watch them burn//

"We should go," Stephanie said softly.

Trembling, Shane stood from his father's body. "And just leave them here?"

"It's not like a wolf is going to eat them, Shane. They're safe."

"But they're . . ."

She suddenly went over to him. He stood motionless while she went behind him and hissed at his back.

"You're covered in blood and glass, I think."

"I'm fine," he said.

"You need a doctor."

"We need to get out of here!" He said it violently.

"Shane, are you-"

"I want to leave, Stephanie! I want to get out of here! Let's go!"

"But Shane-"

"I don't care!" He clutched his head, feeling pain and anger pour through him. "I don't care! I don't care! I just DO NOT CARE!"

"Shane-"

He felt sick. He wanted to run. He wanted to go.

"I don't care, Stephanie. Let's just go. Please, just let us go!"

She came to stand in front of him.

He buried his face in his hands and started to shake.

"I'm sorry, Shane. I'm sorry."

//Dancing in the rain

Of descending ash

Dancing on your grave

I'll see you all falling//

He fell into her arms, unable to stand. She cradled him to the ground, his blood marring her hands.

He sobbed onto her shoulder, his tears drenching her lacey blouse.

Instead of stroking his back, for fear of the glass, she stroked his hair.

He shook against her, unable to stop the tears from spilling out of his eyes, unable to stop the unrecognizable sobs of his own voice.

"It's alright, Shane," she said softly, her own voice trembling. "It's alright, Shane."

"No," he said in a muffled voice, wrenched. "It's not."

"We did what we had to do, Shane. It's alright."

"Are we better than them?"

"Shane?"

He brought his head up from his shoulder and peered at her, his eyes clouding. Tears dried on his face.

"How are we better than them, Stephanie? We did exactly what they did to us."

"And we did it out of self-preservation." She took his face and gently turned it so his eyes were level with hers. "We did it to save ourselves, like we should have done a long time ago."

"Did they want to kill us when they did it?" Shane's voice trembled. "Because I wanted to kill him."

//Dancing in the rain

Of descending ash

Dancing in your dust

I'll see you all falling//

Stephanie said nothing.

"I wanted him to die." Shane's head lowered and his voice rose. "I wanted him to die, for everything. For the torture, for the knives, for the nightmares- I wanted him to die for everything he made us go through. For sticking us with their needles-"

"Shane, stop."

"For trying to kill us, for starving us, for leaving us alone for weeks-"

"Shane, please."

"Mom, with her stupid religious stuff, thinking we were always the Spawn of the Devil, thinking-"

"Shane, please!"

"And Dad, thinking we took his wife away from him, trying to kill us, always trying-"

"Please, Shane, please!"

"And leaving us alone, leaving us in the forest that day, leaving us to die- do you remember the colors, Stephanie? Do you remember how cold we were?"

"Stop it, Shane!"

"Do you remember? I remember the cliff, Stephanie. Do you remember the cliff?"

"Shane, stop it!" She was shaking.

"They took us to the cliff, Stephanie, and then Dad tried to push us off of it, remember? Remember, he ran into Mom and they both fell off?"

"Shane!"

"And the Rangers came and we said it was an accident, and they almost drowned. I wanted them to die, then, too. I remember them falling, into the water, with a big splash. It was a big splash-"

"I'm warning you, stop-"

"And then Dad took us out back the next day, with the knives and his belt and the belt that had metal on it and he-"

She slapped him.

//I'd stop it

Had you a heart

I'd stop it

Had you a heart//

He stopped, freezing.

She stared at him, her eyes round and tear-filled.

Softly, he said, "I'm sorry, Stephanie. I'm so sorry."

She shook her head; her hair covered her face as she lowered it.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"We should go," Shane said.

Linda groaned. Vince remained motionless.

"Should we, Shaners?" Stephanie said softly.

"Yes." His voice shook. "Let's leave them here. They'll wake up soon enough. Let's go home."

"Home?"

He smiled and it came out weakly. "Somewhere, Steph. Somewhere from the memories."

He stood up and pulled her to her feet.

Linda's eyes opened. She groaned loudly. They both looked at her, saying nothing.

"Devil's spawn," she moaned. "My children, oh, my wicked, wicked children. God cursed me, oh God cursed me-"

"Let's go," Shane said softly.

"Oh, the Devil's children, the children of Satan- He cursed me, cursed me to have the children that would bring forth the Devil unto this world-"

Vince coughed.

"Oh, wicked, wicked children-"

"Let's go, Stephanie."

He took her hand and they went to the door.

//From above//

"Wicked children, Satan's children! The Devil will have his hand at the world, will kill thyself-"

"Mom," Shane said.

Linda's eyes, glazed, went to her son, who stood quietly by the door.

//A rain of ashes descends//

"Mom, I'm getting married," he said. "I'm getting married."

Linda groaned.

//Anathema I will remain//

Vince moaned and moved in his sleep.

Linda groaned loudly, a second time, and then her eyes closed.

"Did she hear?" Stephanie asked softly.

//Forever will remain//

"It doesn't matter," Shane said. "She wouldn't care anyway."

They opened the door.

//From below, in my seclusion//

They walked through the door, closed it quietly.

Technicians walked by in the hall, a few Superstars. They said their evening greetings, some a few concerns at seeing Shane's blood. They cast them their own greetings and their quiet deterrence from Shane's wounds. They waited until most of the hall had cleared, so many wouldn't see the blood covering both their bodies.

"Let's go," Shane said softly.

They walked down the hallway.

//Look up to the sky//

Entering the parking lot, JR stopped them.

"Hey, you know your parents were attacked?" He sounded deeply troubled.

"Were they?" Shane asked in mild concern and his grip tightened on Stephanie's hand. "I didn't know."

"Don't you want to go to them?" JR asked unbelievingly.

"No," Stephanie said. "Have a good night, JR."

He watched them through unbelieving eyes as they walked away.

//To see paper wings//

"Where should we go?" Shane asked when they got in the car.

"You said it, Shaners." She smiled at him. "Away from the memories."

He smiled thinly, put the car into drive, and pulled into traffic.

//And watch them burn//