Author's P.o.v.

Bringing back the come back of this abandoned fan fiction is a twist. From retirement to back on the stand of writing, I do hope my fans are still alive. No spoilers here so go on and read you lazy bums!

The Destination

'Every story has its beginning.'

So we tell ourselves.

'It is up to the beholder to decide when it is to end. Just like every flying leap of fate, my story is shyly drawing to its closure.

---

'For now however, it is far from over. In fact, this may be considered the start of my tale. I can not begin to describe the outcome of my own befallen nature, but… it began something like this, those some odd years ago.'

Hope was just beyond my limitations. There was no promise of success and still I carried on hopeful angel wings. Caressed in the sweet nurturing desires that raged on for months, the impossible structures that once seemed to be overbearing walls once had came plummeting downwards to the earth's soil, making what dreams I had come true. As I stood speechless knee deep in the sands, all I could manage was to gawk in hope. Posses the memories of hope… and the chance of finally feeling at home. Has he returned to me, or was this a boyish fantasy? Perhaps another mirage forcing the last bit of my sanity to run dry.

Heavily the ached pain bit deep away at my abdomen, like a bull defeating a rival carrying a red spear to victory. The shameful defeat was a small token to pay to catch that one glimpse. It was enough to say to make me feel fulfilled for the first time in a long time. Failed by my own body, I curled into the patterns of blood that had begun to stain the promising sands that aided my journey so many times before. Soothing warmth compared to chills that crept across my spine lulled me to another state… of shock.

"And here I was to think that you would be impossible to find. You have proved me wrong again, have you not? Yet, there won't be much time for you to gloat within your victory this time. Pray for yourself, you are going to pay for what you have done to me."

A spiral of dust caught into the air, blinding the predator before they may strike. Slinking away with an aggressive struggle bent over survival, Jet passed his way down the mound of dust to freedom. Not far off from the surroundings was the false sense of security. As said, it was better than none. Leading fast upon his trail followed the stray bullets and explosions. Each barely being evaded, but thanks to his own personal skill and the built in system he had been blessed with, he continued on with minimum damage. Short of the single wound inflicted by the first bounding shot.

"You can not run forever… Although you may try." Hoisting the heavy artillery over his shoulder, carefully he took aim. A precise shot could bring down his prey simply… and yet, it changed to overcome above the youth's head. 'Coward…. Why do you not face him? What do you fear, rejection? If you insist on like that… we will take his life. It would be so easy. Would it not? Let's do it now.'

To much has been lost over a short period of time, and it began to affect him. There were limits to every expectation that one could pass by. Even for the advances of technology, one little wound could become a troublesome pain if and when left alone. Above hailed the scorching son, but no such sweat brought to his body; and so the heat collected as a burden.

Swaggering his way behind the cool shelter provided by recent disasters, Jet positioned inside the abandoned train booth. Turned over and left with so many untouched treasures, it would be a gold mind to many wanders across the desert lands. Countless bodies had been left to rest, the riches still connected to their rotted flesh. Once, the glitter would be satisfying enough to find… but in pursuit of a familiar, what little did matter? Bound to the years left in tack, Jet was well aware of his endless future to come. There would be one day he alone would watch the world end and it could not be here. It was those days in mind would be in question…

Patiently, Jet concealed himself in the rows of seats, after adjusting the bodies to help his cover. The wound left unattended in the hours of spare time had grown calm, much like the peaceful state he had began to encounter. Night had arisen setting him into the deep slumber he had longed for. The worries breezed over his silver locks, and the violet eyes sealed shut.

--

Casually, he brushed the snow from his shoulders.

"This was least expected." Mocked by his smile as he inspected the sky. Lazily the glasses slipped downward from his nose, but… an inspiring site that has yet to be seen could not keep him from much care. It was a shame he was to do so alone. Resting his weapon against the arch of metal, quietly he crept his way inward of the metal shaft graveyard.

'Finish him off.'

Removing the clutter from the cart, he made his way to the boy shifting his body some to rest in his arms. He was careful not to stir him from his well needed rest. This moment, the hunter had dreamed about for so long on his search… but nothing as it had been. Just as he remembered, he was soft and warm. So sweet to hold between his arms again, but it could not last forever. "I can not look after you for so long. I wish I could, but there is too much to risk. If you woke up now I wouldn't want to ever let you go again but…"

"What are you waiting for! You are a warrior! Slaughter him now!"

Closing his eyes, Clive rested his chin on the boy's head. Green messy bangs hung over his face, unkept for sometime now. Tighter his arms wrapped around the limp body in his arms, fearing that if he did let go, he would lose him again.

'He holds you back! Have you gone mad? Kill him!"

But, Clive could not contain the motives that persisted inside his mind. There was worse to fear in this world than losing this young boy. Sprung up to his feet, he clutched his own head in denial trying again to surpass the constant annoyance plaguing him. Within this self inward war, so far he had been on the ties of the loosing side… and it would seem it would continue onward until his own end.

"I can't do it!" He hissed in pain.

Pained to escape from the eased sleep, Jet's eyes had pulled back… to find the hunter; he had been forced to seek shelter from, to be right at his feet but… "Clive." He fearfully asked. Not knowing exactly had afflicted the hunter into suffering. Driving his weary state into dormancy for the time being, he raced to the man's side in worry. Had he been hurt, or was he ill? "Clive!" He nearly sang out again, to see in all glory that the man thought to be dead was standing before him living and breathing. Flung back by an angry fist, the boy's head smacked against the window bringing him back down.

"Stay away from me!" Had cried the strong man, now drawn weak in horror. "Leave me alone! I don't want to hurt you!"

'Kill him now! Everything you have done has been waiting for this opportunity! Do it!'

"It's… not you, is it?" Jet watched the former man struggle with the inner torment. "What happened to you? You are not who I remember, are you even him? Clive…. I…" Pacing in his own anguish, Jet had risen from his seat… "Please… don't." He begged as he approached again. Clive swung out again, but missed. Given the chance Jet caught him in his arms, tightly holding him.

"Let go of me you asshole! I'll kill you!"

"…"

"I'll rip you apart limb from limb!"

No matter how hard he struggled to free himself, Jet refused to let go.

He slid down against the wall with the man he so feared, holding him tightly as if to never let go. Seizing the moment, Jet grew back into the calm state as before. Each touch, violent shake and push, reopened the dark wound.

"I'm hurting you…. Make me stop!"

In the dull dark, Jet drew a smile down at his friend of so long ago. His grip loosened from exhaustion, not fearing what was to come. Cold nipped to his finger tips; his feet and hands growing quickly numb. But, even in the greatest slowing moments of pain there was peace set around him in this dingy dungeon.

Silence broke through.

Clive had quieted himself and lay weeping against the youth's shoulder. Words were short from his tongue, forming an unknown language that he could not speak. Frightful of his own destruction he had caused, Clive coward away against the boy's weak arms.

"Forgive me…."

:To be Continuted: