Part xiv:

When Ian arrives out of the night for the second time, smelling of stardust and frozen pavement, Oliver accepts his offered hand without hesitation, and allows Ian to lead him blindly away into the darkness. Ian leads him down many twisted streets, to a large house nestled among a forest of stunted oaks. The door is open and music and light spill out in an intoxicating jumble of bass beat and color, creating a path down the concrete walk that Ian guides Oliver down with a hand on his back. Inside, is a different world.

For a while Oliver feels more alive than he has ever felt before, immersed in the pounding beat pumping from the speakers, the feel of sweat and glitter and skin and hair closing in protectively around him. Then Ian hands him something in a red plastic cup. He knows that he shouldn't drink it, knows what it was by the way it smells and burns all the way down his throat. Ian hands him another one, but when Oliver shakes his head in refusal, Ian hangs his head and looks up at Oliver through his dark lashes before turning around and slowly walking away. He doesn't come back for a long while, and despite the lights and the glitter and hundreds of bodies, Oliver feels lost and alone. So when Ian appears again, with another plastic cup in hand, Oliver takes it and gladly drinks it in along with Ian's heart-breakingly beautiful smile. He drinks the next, just to see the smile again. And the next, and the next, and another one just because the room has begun to spin around him in a slightly alarming way. He doesn't even protest when Ian takes hold of his hand and pulls him out the back door.

In the backyard, sitting against a large black oak tree, Ian strokes Oliver's hair gently as Oliver rests with his head pillowed in Ian's lap. Behind them the sounds of the party are far away and surreal against the backdrop of Oliver's pounding head. He lies feverishly in Ian's arms, as Ian murmurs co-mingled endearments and nightmares in his ear.

'Darling, lie still. Just a while love, and then it'll all be over, the pounding will be gone and then we will see the moon, see it shining just for us. Remember how you danced tonight?'

Oliver frets at this, rolling from side to side as a small groan escapes his lips. A girl, there was a tall girl, with glitter and sequins in her hair, just like Charity, but then she wanted him to touch her, all over, all the places he wasn't supposed to, and then he did, and all he could think about was what if it were really Charity? He begins to sweat and shiver then, and then he calls out her name.

'Charity! Charity!' he calls, only it is slurred and broken and he forgets the most important part. (I wish you were here.)

Ian frowns, and then his lip curls in disgust. Oliver is not allowed greater intervention, there will be no guardian angels tonight, not ever again, Ian thinks. Oliver has lost his right to redemption.

'Dearheart, you would not call out her name if you knew what I knew.' Ian whispers into his ear. 'I know things, all things, because of what I am (I am nothing, an end to everything) and what I know is this: she is as false as water. Have you seen her, darling, the way she holds his hand? Everyday- and sometimes she kisses his cheek and then he kisses her back, and holds her against him. Do you know what name she cries out in the night, lover? 'Cass!' she cries, 'Oh Cass, I cannot bear to live without you, you are my everything!''

Oliver shudders, and lets out one agonized shout of anguish before his eyes roll into the back of his head and the blackness overtakes him. Ian's smile outshines the moon as he gently kisses Oliver's fevered brow and runs his thumbs over Oliver's frigid palms.

((author blurt)): I don't own "as false as water," that's one by the great Shake 'n' Bake, in reference to the real Desdemona ( so I thought it was highly appropriate, along with being gorgeously poetic). Oh, and Oliver's blackout too. Freya : There are no more ways in which I feel I can properly express my undying gratitude to you for reading and reviewing this. Well, besides getting my act together and reading through all of your Shakey fic. Which will happen eventually, promise.