A/N: Hi! Umm, it's been ages, I know, and I'm not gonna try and justify it. Please just know that I'm incredibly sorry about that, and that I've certainly not forgotten this fic. It's always in a corner of my mind, I just have a hard time putting it out there. However I won't give this up without warning so don't worry about that! Also, I've already started working on next chapter, so that shouldn't be too long ;)
Disclaimer: Alas, this is still not mine, nor will it, I believe, ever be. Oh, well. Onwards!
Numb had succeeded to pain. It was like a law of nature, really. Turmoiling waves gave way to clear sand, blinding lights receded to soothing dark, and agony faded to emptiness.
A kindness, maybe. An ultimate mercy to those who could not live but would not die.
Or at least it had seemed that way. It had felt like, although he still couldn't breathe from the pain, he didn't have to suffocate from it anymore. Like he was allowed to hold his breath and wait, like he didn't have to be in pain all the time.
If he kept very very still, the pain left him be.
They were like two spirits in one body-his pain and him. There was Marcus, the third Volturi brother, polished and refined, less vindictive than Caius, more objective than Aro. He closed the triangle, held the Coven together, with a brush of his fingers against Aro's brittle hand. And he was in love. Ridiculously so. It made him smile like a madman and sigh in contentment. It tinted his days in a peaceful pink and painted his nights with a passionate indigo. It made him into a person that deserved, and wanted, to see another day.
Now he did neither. Now he was the new Marcus, a merger between that old, obscenely happy one and the pain that was now such a huge part of him. It filled his body up so much that the room left for the real him, for Marcus, was too small, and he lay shriveled up in a corner. Too far gone to stand again but not far enough that he couldn't feel his legs. Dying but not dead.
And it had stopped hurting somewhat. He could still feel it, pulsing next to him like some gruesome slimy beast, but if he kept still and did not move, it worked out. So he kept still.
But one day, he had walked in, the young one so much like him. He could see himself in those eyes, could feel the stirrings of his being in that strange reflection. This one knew. They stared into each other's eyes for a brief moment, and he knew what the child would ask for.
Make it stop.
He could hear himself in those words, and it was painful. Aro sent the child away.
But then he had been back, and he seemed like a different person. Cowering into his side, was the reason of it all - the reason of the terrifying pain, and of the all-consuming joy. The reason had big brown eyes, and it was dreadfully clumsy. It was also a fearsome weapon. Nothing could have destroyed the golden-eyed child as fast and easily as the frail, petrified weapon beside him- and nothing could have destroyed her as fast and easily as him. But they were together now, and so they were indestructible.
Again, Marcus looked into the eyes of the child, the one who had retraced his steps to hell and stumbled down there upon the key to his salvation, and he wondered. He wondered why some people get a second chance and some don't. Why some stay stuck in hell while some have a ticket home. And why one got so attached to the single most dangerous thing for one's soul.
A/N: So, that's out there. I've been wondering, am I too elusive, when I talk about someone, or is it easy to understand? Like, can you easily tell who I'm talking about?Also, Rosalie coming up next, unless I have a major change of mind I guess :D Thank you so much for reading!