A.N: It's short. I'm sorry, but this was supposed to be a one shot, but I decided to add more out of a healthy desire not to be stuffed in a box with Roger. The subject of this chapter is a little side trip to a subject that has been on my mind of late.

The Fangirls

The fangirls were out for blood. Or something. There were three of them, and they cackled dementedly to the melodic sound of keystrokes as one of them worked furiously. She was typing, typing, typing…creating a symphony of sights, sounds and images. But this particular symphony had a twist, was written in a key filled with discordant sharps and flats.

A pause, and the typist glanced at the screen in front of her, and squealed in delight. Her two cohorts pounced, one glomping onto each of her shoulders. Seconds later, they too squealed.

"It's perfect," the blonde one whispered in awe.

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Fayt knew that death was near. He glanced down at his broken body, and made a sound akin to a whimper. None of them had seen it coming, until it was too late. They had successfully fought off the Marquis' first attack, and had nearly won the battle that followed.

"PALM OF DESTRUCTION!" Albel cried, as he attacked the mammoth beast. He struck true, and the dragon let out a bellow of pain. He turned, and glared evilly at the swordsman before his large knees gave out and he began to fall to the ground.

It happened in a split second. They had scattered, and all had seemed well, but then Fayt had heard a strangled cry. He turned and glanced behind him, only to see Albel standing rooted in his spot, unable to move, seemingly frozen in fear by the dragon's glare. "Dragons…no….daddy….arrrggghhhhh," whimpered Albel.

"ALBEL, LOOK OUT!" Fayt cried, barreling towards his comrade. Albel turned to look at him with blank eyes, as Fayt shoved Albel out of the path of the toppling dragon just in time to save the swordsman's life. However, it was too late for poor, dear Fayt. The rather large dragon crashed on top of the small, blue-haired boy, squishing him like a spider beneath the shoe of a frightened housewife.

When the others had convinced Crosell that, no, really, you should move now, and no, I don't think your back is broken, they found Fayt…still alive, but just barely.

Cliff looked down at his friend sadly. "Aww, hell," he swore. "If only we had access to the Diplo's medical facilities, we might be able to help him."

"Really?" asked Nel sadly.

"Naw," admitted Cliff. "I just said that to make Fayt feel better. He's toast either way."

"Th-thanks a-a lot," Fayt wheezed, and threw something that he hoped resembled a glare Cliff's way.

"Any time, pal," Cliff grinned. Fayt decided miserably that his face was too broken to be able to glare.

"FAYT!1!11!111!1111!" Albel screamed in tortured agony. He knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face, and cradled the teenager's head in his lap. "WHY?"

"Ow," said Fayt. Albel completely lost it, his whole body wracked with sobs. The swordsman buried his head in his fallen comrades chest, and listened to the faint beating of Fayt's broken heart.

"D-don't c-cry for me-e Ar-Albel," Fayt managed to choke out. "I d-did it (cough) be-because…" he trailed off, and took a few, rattling, raspy breaths. Suddenly, his eyes opened a little wider, and he said in a loud, clear voice, "Albel, I LOVE YOU!"

Everyone gasped. As collective gasps go, it was quite loud. The fact that they were in a cave helped, too. The gasp bounced off the walls, leaped and bounded around the chambers, skipped down the pathways, before becoming completely bushed and deciding to call it quits for the day.

Albel stared at Fayt with wide eyes, tears still streaming down his face, and an open mouth. Finally, he whimpered, "Oh, Fayt…I LOVE YOU TOO!"

Fayt smiled. "Then grant a dying man one final request. Kiss me."

Albel leaned forward, parting his lips slightly, and kissed the other man, softly, gently, hoping that this small gesture of love would somehow breathe life back into Fayt's body.

Alas. Fayt's eyes went cloudy, he gave one, last, raspy breath, before his body shuddered, then was still. Fayt lay there, cold and very much dead in Albel's arms.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" shrieked Albel.