nocturne.



He ran his fingers along the lines in the wall, feeling the the grooves of centuries gone. He wished he had something better to do, but there was nothing that would ever distract him long enough.

He had found the way back here easily enough, sadly. It was like the day he'd disappeared had never happened, that all his memories over there were nothing but dreams. Sometimes he found himself wondering if all it really was was a dream, but he'd only need to remember a green-blue pair of eyes to feel certain it had been real. But then again, what was real? Who was the dream, who was the dreamer?

His fingers caught a sharp rock, and he cursed when the small jolt of pain told him he was bleeding. He tightened his fingers around the cut in an effort to still the bleeding, and it slowed a bit. He'd remembered being told that, in a dream, you couldn't feel pain, but now he wasn't so sure. In the other place, he had felt guns shoot him, swords stab him, and words break him. That pain could not have been a dream.

Isn't it wonderful?

The words caught him, coming from seemingly nowhere. But he knew it, recognized the tune even though he'd only heard it in a dream. In an elsewhere. But he knew them.

Isn't it wonderful?

He kept walking, hoping to escape this strange melody. Didn't this dock ever end? He knew his house was around here... somewhere...

Isn't it wonderful?

Ah – there it was. About time, too. This had been his mother's house before his, but he couldn't bear to let her possessions go. Sure, memories were nice, but that was always what they were in the end, right?

Isn't it wonderful?

This time, the words came from above him, and he looked up. A music speaker. He might have known. He should have remembered installing it there himself, almost two years ago, but he didn't. Maybe those distant memories had been pushed out of his mind for more important ones.

Isn't it wonderful?

The CD must have frozen, or gotten stuck, or something. But he knew it hadn't. How could it be frozen, or stuck, or something, when there was no CD?

Isn't it wonderful?

She had said it too, looking out over the lake. Staring at the sunset. Holding his hand. There had been nothing there but them, and a lake, and six syllables, three words, four seconds. Four precious seconds left on a timer between her and death.

Or what was supposed to be her death. He hadn't known that she was a sent sacrifice until so much later.

But he had saved her. He had stopped that timer, destroyed it with the sword, and saved her and everyone else.

And now it was his death. His time, his return, his ending and his beginning. His hell. His heaven. His limbo.

But now he was home. Where was this? When did this happy medium come into the picture?

Though he wouldn't have called it happy for the world.

Isn't it wonderful?

He put his hands over his ears, trying to kill the memory as he had killed her death. But there was no sword now, just him and words and ghosts of people that might have been dreams.

Isn't it wonderful?

They couldn't have been dreams.

Isn't it wonderful?

Then it stopped. It all stopped, and all he felt was the sluggish bleeding of a tiny cut, staining his glove. He had forgotten the minor, insignificant pain. Forgotten everything but a kiss, and a pair of eyes, and three words.

Four seconds.

He dropped to his knees, hitting them hard against wooden flooring. He felt nothing, nothing but the pounding of three words, six syllables, four seconds, and a little cut caused by the wall that separated him from everything.

Isn't it wonderful?

AN: oh, come on. everyone likes a little jolt of angst to wake ya up, ne? the words "isn't it wonderful" is, though you all know this already, "suteki da ne" in english. "Nocturne" is generally a name used for a "night piece", or a composition that has a sort of nighttime mood to it. thanx to ParvisSira, Abigail Marie, and Blue Dragon X for the reviews. I shall try to remember their wise words in future installments of this "story". actually, in truth, I've already written the next chapter. it is the next few that are unwritten. wish me luck...