This was hell on Filgaia, Catherine thought.

Clive had his back to her, facing the wall, as if he could somehow see his reflection within an invisible mirror. He hunched over a little, grunting softly, in quiet pain. Catherine got up and moved over to him, yet still kept her distance, afraid of provoking in him a dangerous action. "Clive?" She whispered, reaching one arm out to touch him, but pausing just in time before the contact was met. "Are you… are you okay?" It was a stupid question, of course he was not okay, any fool could see that. But still, she felt that she had to say at least something. The demon let out a sigh and shook his head, slowly dropping his hands to his sides. They looked so pale without proper human blood, so cold, so unreachable. His hands clenched slightly, painfully, like they were experiencing trouble doing so.

"I wonder… if I can go on like this…" He rasped softly, unmoving from his position and still facing the wall, his eyes down. Gradually, he could feel his body beginning to weaken, smiling sadly at the sensation. "I have no future. I am the only one left of my kind. The only one…" He thought upon this for a short moment, wondering what the other demons would have thought of him. A weakling, maybe? An equal? Who really knew? He would never know now. Clive just shrugged the bad thoughts away. "This does not bother me very much, because I am in agreement with the destruction of the demon race. We are-, I am deserving of that punishment. The closer I sink into this dank, dark pit, the less remorse I begin to feel as more death and hurt is distributed. One is exchanged for the other, fluidly, smoothly. I am numbed by it, it poisons, and is representative of my own soul. If I am to die…" He chuckled in mid-sentence, his consciousness becoming hazy from a draining weakness. "Then I wish to die with a human's heart. I will keep it to the very end. That is why… I choose this path." He turned around to face Catherine, his arms hanging limply. His eyes were blurred with tears. "I choose death." He said.

Clive had slashed both his wrists.

It was practically a perfect cut, horizontally across both wrists, and deep enough to have cut his wrists nearly in two. His veins ripped open, dark blood was pouring out of his wrists and oozing onto the floor at ungodly amounts, running down his hands, collecting and dripping at his fingertips. Clive had the sharp edge of his knife blade in his right hand, slicked with the blood, and it fell, clattering onto the floor. It had served it's ultimate purpose. The numbness was covering his body in it's warm embrace, he felt no pain, and what Ravendor had once told him seemed to be correct. Suicide was painless. Nothing hurt anymore, the pain had stopped, and he hoped fervently with all his soul that he just might be able to get enough blood out to expire, just enough before his healing factor could kick in and save him. It was his prayer, his salvation. This was his only way out.

His extra-sensitive hearing was dulled by his loss of blood, and hearing Catherine's cry of surprise made it sound like it was happening far away, her voice oddly distant. His smile was one of weak submission to a greater force, and he fell backwards as all the strength left his legs, now leaning against the stone wall. His hands felt even colder than the coldest ice, wet with blood, and turning slightly purplish at the cuts over his wrists. Suddenly, intense pressure was clamped upon each wound, a vice-like hold, cutting off his draining circulation. Catherine held his bleeding wrists in a grip of steel, her arms and shoulders shaking from emotion. "Is this it?!" She cried, trying her best not to dig her nails into his hands by all the hysteria she was expending. "Is this the way you choose to end everything?! You will leave us all behind?! Gods damn you, Clive Winslett! Stop running like a coward and face your fear! You've run from everything for far too long! Don't run from us as well! You are not alone, your friends and your family are here to help you!"

"Let me go!" Clive yelled, trying to tear himself away from Catherine's grip. Sheer force of will and Clive's weakened condition made it possible for Catherine to just hold on tight enough, the amount of pressure she placed upon his wrists able to keep all his leaking blood in. She had to hold down in this struggle, if she could do that long enough, then he could heal and be saved. She would not allow him to fall. "Let me die!" He attempted to shake his arms free feebly once more, lashing his tail around in agitation and gritting his teeth. "I deserve to die, just let it end! I killed three townspeople, and two merchants! Two more bandits are also dead! I injured a young boy and crippled another, and I wounded at least a dozen more! I nearly raped a fellow drifter! I am a horrible person! I deserve this, just let me die!" Tears were streaming down his face, and every exclaimed sentence was followed by him trying to rip Catherine away.

The demon was pressed against the wall when Catherine still refused to let go and used her weight to pin him there, taking advantage of his lack of strength. Though she knew she was not meant to touch him, she leaned into his chest, sobbing once and only once. Her anger had left, and now all she had was weariness. "Don't you know…" She whispered, her own hands going cold from continual contact with Clive's. "Don't you know that… the more times you run away… The worse things always get next time. Every flight is like a chain shackling you down, until you cannot fly anymore. We were all so scared to face what we feared… that we ran away from it, and the burden of the chains consumed us all…" She raised his hand so that she could press the back of it's bloodstained surface to her cheek. The past was their chains, the distant past. "Don't you know… who you sound like?" She finally finished, after some strain.

"Let me die, Clive… I'm so tired of everything. How can I go on living everyday with nothing to look forward to?"

His eyes widened and his body went completely limp, no longer resisting Catherine's grip. Without even knowing it, Clive had descended into a hell that his very own brother had already trodden, a bleak and horizonless hell that had no way out. No way out, except death. It was suffocating, but now he understood. The demon understood Ravendor's hell, a zone of silence with grief built like building blocks, heaped upon each other. His wish had become the same as Ravendor's, he just wanted to die.

The thought of them becoming so similar panicked him, and he tried to rip his arms away again, with twice as much force as what he should have held in his body, letting out a mad yell of frustration. Catherine barely held on, dead set on not letting him bleed to death. It was a wonder in itself that she still managed to hang on. "Gods damn it! Let me go, Catherine!" He roared, slowly beginning to feel her hands slipping on his wet blood. "Let me die! Damn you, woman! Don't touch me!" With a great burst of demonic strength, temporarily overriding Catherine's intense feelings, Clive hands slipped free and he was released, feeling a slight rush of dizziness consume him as the very last few drops of his spilt blood was released. Then, he did not bleed anymore. He looked at his hands, slicked with demon blood. The reason he did not bleed anymore was because the long cuts had healed. He was healed. He would not die. Clive was lost in the tumult of his own emotions, and pure rage overtook him with a white hot fire. Lowering his arms for a moment, they shook, and then acted.

He struck Catherine across the face. Hard.

It was almost as if she had expected it, going down to meet the floor without much of a fight at all. It was strange, though, she had braced herself for it nearly a second before it had happened, even thought Clive had never raised a hand against her in her life. His touches had always been kind, soft. Now all they did was distribute cold and pain. Catherine fell in a way that nearly made it seem like slow motion was present, strands of chestnut brown hair falling across her face as she landed quietly on her side. Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes, and they were wide with disbelief.

Clive was in silent shock. He sunk to his knees and looked once more at his hands. His right hand stung from when Clive had hit her. He wanted to cut it off. Instead, he hugged himself and doubled over in agony, burying his face in his arms and swearing softly yet fiercely. "I'm so sorry…" He said hoarsely, "I cannot help it… I just always… hurt people…" Slowly, he shuffled forward to Catherine and touched her shoulder, looking down upon her saddened face. She seemed to be withdrawn, vacant, tossed aside like an old doll. Her eyes streamed tears that ran down one side of her face, pressed against the dirt. Clive brushed obscuring strands of hair away and put an arm around her back, pulling her up into a sitting position. Her blank eyes stared up at him, and she mouthed out one word with no sound, simply asking; 'Why?'

"I don't know!" He wailed, not having the faintest idea on why the demon race chose to act in the way they did. "I wish I knew… Why am I… a demon?" Clive wasn't even sure if he was acting like a proper demon in the first place, except for the merciless killing part. How could he answer a question so close to the heart of demonkind? The only thing he could think of was, this was just the way things are. He hugged her, and she hugged back, both husband and wife embracing in the harsh reality that fate had chosen to impart upon them. They could push reality out of their minds for just that one moment.

Just for the moment, nothing else mattered.

xxx

"Clive… Why did you marry me?"

The metal demon raised his head slightly as he was unexpectedly asked a question. He and Catherine had been sitting in the darkness for a long time, leaning up against the side of the cavern, letting the silent flow of time go by. Catherine was sitting in his lap, arms around his back, with her face pressing against his neck. She had developed a light bruise from where Clive had hit her, but it did not matter to her in the slightest. He was unstable, she knew that, but she still loved him. But the silence was unbearable, and she just had to break it with a question, trying to unravel the chains of torment that were ensnaring her husband's mind. He seemed to be confused by the unusual question, but he was now much more calmer than he had been a while ago. He smiled. "Because I fell in love with you, of course."

This was not the answer she had been looking for, Clive must have misunderstood the content of the question. She shifted slightly in her place, where Clive had wrapped his tail around both her and himself. She was stroking it gently, it was very soft. Her body felt cold from his contact, but after a while, it became a little less difficult to tolerate, becoming accustomed to the absence of warmth. "No, that is not what I mean," She said, "How about this? Why did you fall in love with me?"

He had to think, closing his eyes. He knew the answer, but it was very hard to explain in words, and a little embarrassing in itself. He had to pick his wording carefully, then. "When I lost my eyesight," Clive began, looking out into the darkness before him, "I lost the last bit of value I had left in myself. I wanted to be a drifter, and I finally was one, but with no vision, there would be no chance that I could keep myself alive out there in the wastelands. The concept of a blind drifter was simply an impossible one. I was so poor, I didn't have a single gella, and it looked like I would eventually die." Silently, he raised a hand and looked at his wrist, where the cut had healed. The suicide attempt had been foolish, he had been so stupid.

"But then," He continued, "I knew that you, Catherine, had suffered far worse than I did. You were more than half-dead, and nobody was left to take care of you, except for your father and I. We didn't have any money, and we could barely afford a doctor for you, so I took over that job for myself. I was only nineteen at the time, but I think I did my best, well, the best that any blind doctor could have done." He nearly laughed at that distant memory. In the beginning, he had walked into an innumerable amount of doors and walls.

"You did well." She inputted, leaning into him. "I thought that any doctor that I could have been given would have ended up being a pervert, except for you, because you could not see anything anyway. However, seeing you with a syringe frightened the life out of me."

He nodded, understanding her fear. He had been a little afraid himself, in the chance that she could have easily died. "My point is," He pressed on, "Was that afterwards, when you became healthier, you took care of me, just the same. You were like a lifeline, and I didn't really need my sight at all to enjoy life. Nobody had ever… been so kind to me before. I never had a mother, so I didn't know how it was supposed to feel like, except for that on the day when I got my sight back, the first thing I saw was you, and I knew that I could love nobody else. I suppose your kindness crept into me, because I had never been loved so unconditionally like that, not even once."

"Then let me take care of you." Catherine said, reaching up to touch his cold cheek. His chin felt scratchy, he needed to shave again soon. Clive shook his head at her declaration, unwilling to let her stay with him. Doing that would only hurt her more. The ex-drifter sighed, she would have to try and get her point across even better. "Clive, do you remember my scars? Do you remember how I thought that I would never be the same, that I would be ugly to the outside word? How I feared that I would never be who I used to be?"

"You were never ugly," He began, "You were-"

"That isn't my point," She cut in, "My point is that whether I liked it or not, I changed. Both inside and outside. But Clive, even through that, did you love me? Did you continue to love me?" Catherine did not allow him to answer just yet. "You fear change. That is a natural emotion when faced with new obstacles to cross. You are a demon, yes, but will you let that stop you? Will you let that destroy you? If such change frightens you so much right now, then why didn't you kill yourself eleven years ago when you lost your sight?"

Clive was stumped. He didn't have an answer. Catherine was right. Before, she had been a different person, more forceful, more eager and sure of herself, but after the accident, she had grown to be meeker and far more frail. Still, he loved her, even if she became a shadow of her former self. She began to call her life after the accident her 'retirement', and after Kaitlyn was born, none of them looked back anymore. Yggdrasil probably had a hand in that too, but Clive finally saw the truth, and made a decision. He would let himself live. He was a fool, but even a fool can have his wise moments.

Strangely on cue, they both heard a voice. "Mama? Daddy?" Kaitlyn appeared from around the bend in the tunnel, dusty and dirty, but more importantly, still alive. Catherine got up on reflex and ran to her, grabbing the little girl in her arms. Clive did the same but much slower, feeling a weak case of pin-and-needles in his legs. Kaitlyn started to cry as she was hugged, overwhelmed by everything that had happened. Catherine joined in, thanking the Guardians over and over again that she was safe. The little girl looked around, rubbing at her eyes. "Wh-what's wrong with them?" She asked, pointing at the unconscious Maxwell Gang. "What happened?" They broke their three-way hug to look at the injured others, getting up and attending to the wounded. Even Kaitlyn tried her best to help.

Virginia stirred, moaning a little, because it felt like somebody had just beaten her head in with a large piece of wood. Her arms went cold as she opened her eyes, being propped up against the wall. Clive took her pulse, breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed to be regular, and caught the drifter leader staring at him with perplexity, making him smile slightly. Catherine was doing her best to resuscitate Gallows, despite the Baskar's apparent desire to remain asleep. Nobody had attended to Jet just yet, except for Kaitlyn who was quietly sitting by him and making sure that he continued to breathe, because they would need Gallows's healing powers to do so. Virginia covered her mouth with her hand and coughed for a bit, and Clive patted her on the back sympathetically. "I am here." He said, "I have returned. How do you feel?"

"My head is killing me," She replied, rubbing the side of her temple, "You hit me pretty hard." Then realisation suddenly struck her and she looked up at him, amazed. "Clive! You're yourself again! Catherine, did she- did it work?" Clive sat down in front of her, self conscious of the fact that he was splattered with so much blood. Most of it had dried except for his own. His wrists had healed, though they still bore a thin red line, a small pair of scars. For some reason, they refused to completely disappear.

"More or less." He smiled, adjusting his glasses. "More or less."

The female drifter stood up and wobbled precariously, trying to find her footing. Her balance was slightly off course, but Kaitlyn was suddenly there and helped her out, the little girl beaming with affection. Virginia looked around and saw Gallows climb shakily to his feet with Catherine helping him, reinforcing his lost energy with a heal spell. Now more sure of himself, both Virginia and the Baskar rushed over to Jet's sprawled body, lying deathly still. Gallows straightened the boy out and checked his arm, hanging limply at a gruesome angle. Knowing what he had to do, he wrenched the arm back into the socket as quickly as he possibly could. Jet awoke with a start as a reaction to the pain and groaned, his face as white as a ghost. Gallows folded Jet's arm across his stomach and cast a more powerful kind of heal spell, the greatest he could muster.

"How's that feel then, eh?" He asked, removing Jet's red and white bandanna from around his neck to be used as material for a sling. The android's eyes focussed on Clive who was standing a little ways nearby, blackening for a short while as the intended equivalent of 'You fucking bastard.' Then, they softened and Jet closed his eyes as Gallows worked, making sure his arm was set straight. He helped Jet up and the silver-haired youth clambered to his feet with seemingly no effort, looking down at his bound arm. How the hell was he supposed to use his airget-lamh now? Oh well, he'd eventually find a way. Now, they turned to Clive, seeking answers.

He could feel their eyes on him like a spotlight of interrogation, but they all remained silent, Kaitlyn sidling up to her father and slipping her hand in his. It still had blood on it, but nobody seemed to care. Clive looked down, and shrugged halfheartedly, once again adjusting his glasses as a means of procrastination. The dizziness he could associate with his suicide attempt was beginning to fade away, and he felt a little bit stronger for it. Now, he had to clear his head and think of what to do next. "Everyone. I am so sorry that I put you through all this… this…" He searched for a proper describing word, temporarily forgetting that Kaitlyn was right beside him. "This bullshit." The girl blinked, she had never heard that word before. She wondered what it meant. "I hurt everyone, and there is no apology that I can give that will make up for what I have committed…" What could he do now? They had gotten Kaitlyn back, and he was free from the full moon's curse. What more did they need to do? He sighed again. "But now, I think, it is all finally ove-"

Thud.

Thud.

The walls shook with a distant force, making small stones escape their position in the wall and fall down harmlessly around them. A steady rumble that bore the distinct quality of footsteps echoed throughout the ruin, making the Maxwell Gang and the Winslett family all look up and sense the disturbance. What on Filgaia could make a sound like that? Could anything that big fit into this place? Catherine and Clive shot each other a look of mutual confusion, and Kaitlyn held onto her father's hand even tighter. Jet picked up his dropped machine gun, slotting it into the space above his dislocated arm. It fit perfectly. Something was horribly wrong.

"Err…" Gallows mumbled, "Just how stable is this place? Really?" He remembered Catherine's tale and became a lot more uneasy, looking at the walls with mistrust. Virginia lost her balance and fell to her knees, where Jet promptly helped her back onto her feet with the only working arm he had left. They held onto each other for support, and it almost looked cute, had the situation been less dire. The sound was getting gradually louder, and the walls shook even more. Whatever they were hearing, it was definitely coming to get them.

Clive's mind worked unbelievably fast, knowing that they all couldn't stay her for long. This small place was like a trap, he would not allow them to stay here and be exposed like a line of sitting ducks. They had to move to a place with a greater area, more ground to cover. They had to move now. "Listen to me!" The demon commanded, and from the way he shouted, it would have made the Quarter Knights proud. "We must move out! There is a large chamber up ahead! I am not sure what that noise is, but it cannot be friendly! Move! Now!" He couldn't really remember consciously which way was the correct path to the large chamber, so he let instinct do the navigating for him, running at just the right speed so Kaitlyn could keep pace. The others followed him closely behind, not daring to argue. Clive had many problems to figure out, but now was certainly not the time.

All around them, the noise just got louder.