((This is a horrible state in which to write. I'm hung over, depressed and dwelling on death. That's not even supposed to be remotely funny. But I figure, that's what stopped me from continuing last time. Maybe if I buck up and keep writing, the throbbing headache and stabbing heartache will dissipate.

I'm single, I now hate men (and women who are like that) in general, I'm NOT looking for anyone to "fill my emptiness" and I DON'T CARE HOW FUCKING FAT I GET, CHEESECAKE TASTES GODDAMN GOOD. Allow me to at least have that cake and eat it to. Eat it till my heart stops from cholesterol. FUCK DIETS, FUCK MEN AND FUCK SOCIETY! FUCK REPUBLICANS TOO!! YOU CAN ALL GO TO FUCKING HELL.

Ah. I feel better now.

No, no character comments, I have a headache.

Chapter 17- Death is Taxing

Nack woke with something of a start when his cell rang from the coffee table. He had literally passed out from exhaustion the night before in a cheap motel, nerves racked and body aching from the exertions of the day previous. The ringtone played again, the musical tone being "Rebel Yell," one of his old favorites.

He rubbed at his unshaven face for a moment, blinking with heavy eyes. He scrambled from the twisted sheets and answered the call.

"Hm?" he grunted sleepily.

"Hey, you sound dead. Should I call back?"

"Naw, I'm up. Hey, sis."

Nic chuckled on the other end.

"So, how's the brat? Not too much trouble I hope…?"

Nack slapped his forehead with anxiety, mouthing a curse, now fully awake.

"Oh, she's a handful! Reminds me of you, actually." He laughed nervously.

"Yeah, I know. Hey, pass the phone to her, would ya?"

"Um…uh….Why?"

"….because I want to talk to her. Is that alright?"

"Oh, uh, yeah…. She's um….she's still sleeping"

She sighed. "I bet she looks so cute… that's the only time I look at her and for a fleeting moment, I see an innocent little angel…"

Nack covered his mouth, wincing. Guilt stung at his gut.

"By all means, let her sleep. I'll call back in a couple days. I got a big job I'm pulling at the moment. You two keep safe, alright?"

"Yeah, sis, will do."

"Tell her Mommy misses her and all that good mushy business…" there was a pause, then a heavy sigh. "I just wish I could hold her… aw, I'll stop! Talk at ya later."

"Seeya." Nack felt like crying as he hastily hung up.

"Damn you, Nicole…. When I find you, I swear…"

-o-

They all sat in awkward silence. Sonic fidgeted, eyeing the stony Emris who stood beside the sofa, burly arms folded.

"So… it happened. Just as the prophecy said…" Mrs. Fairchild stated, delicate teacup poised over the saucer in her other hand. Her eyes were large behind her platinum-rimmed spectacles.

Lumina blinked at a servant as she was offered a tray of biscuits. Cerebus quickly shooed her away with annoyance.

"Well," he continued his thought, responding to the mutual inquiry from the deities, "I suppose I presumed that when the time, you two would know what to do." And then after a pause of staring at the large, green stranger for a moment longer, "Ye Gods, the Master Emerald! Unfathomable!"

He sat back, picking up his pipe and puffing nervously at it, gaze flicking from one unbelievable sight to the other. He chewed at the wood absently, thinking hard.

"The only thing I can propose is to visit the Temple of the Lumin at Ostax. Apparently the building- the land there itself holds some kind of power, so the tablets read. Whatever needs to be done may come to you there." He stood, and the others seated save Mrs. Fairchild stood after him. She just continued to sit there and stare at a veritable myth and fairytale made real.

((AN- neither of the elders ever saw Lumina- let alone Emris- in their physical form. It's like coming face-to-foot with a sasquatch. Sure, they had video and crap… and you told yourself it was probably real… but shit, there it is!))

-0-

Darkness was falling again. She didn't even bother to turn on a light anymore. She didn't need to see. Her eyes ached with the constant tears that didn't stop.

She sat where she had sat for two days, on a hotel couch, a glass of water before her on the coffee table. The soft tones of a song drifted from the other room. It had been set to play over and over, over and over. Some silly things mean so much… in times like this…

She clenched the handful of pills, a sigh softly escaped her lips.

Rosie, Come with me

Close your eyes and dream

Close your eyes and dream

The song drifted out to silence. Then the first few chords, strummed lovingly, signifying the beginning again. She slid a hand over her as-yet, still flat stomach, thinking of him.

Every memory was like a sweetly painful stab, making her smile tearfully as the emotional blood flowed. It was too late. Too late. She had no choice. She had backed herself into a corner she couldn't escape from. She couldn't live like this.

Where we all go can't be bad… can it?

Can it?

She shuddered a persistent sigh, her hand trembling as it met her mouth. The bitterness flooded her tastebuds, and she quickly followed the merciful tablets with cool, stale water.

Close your eyes…. And dream.

(( I'm stopping early… I had to get into character and now I need to… be alone. Art imitates life. I need a drink.))