Number three: Light.

Pairing: Larten Crepsley/Arra Sails. (Larten's POV)

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

This couldn't be happening: first Gavner, now Arra. I didn't understand why this was happening; I just knew there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

Medics came and went again until they finally gave up, going to work on more hopeful causes. I cursed them for it but deep down I knew that they were doing the right thing: Arra wasn't going to live; I knew that, it just pained me to admit it.

"Do you think . . . . it'll be light?" I looked up; Arra's gaze was on the ceiling, not me. I knew she was trying to hold all emotion back; trying to act like this wasn't a big deal; that everything was okay, and she was only acting this way for me; to keep me from breaking down like I so badly wanted to.

I sighed, "Will what be light?" My voice was strained with the effort of trying to stay strong.

Her gaze flickered to me for a split second before returning to the ceiling, "Death. Or whatever . . . . comes after life."

"You are not going to die." I didn't know why I was still denying it. I clenched my jaw and tightened my grip on her hand, locking our fingers together securely. Arra ignored my contradiction, shaking her head ever-so slightly, "I think it . . . . will be. I hope it is."

I didn't reply, I couldn't reply: hearing her talk about her own death so calmly frightened me. I pinned my eyes on ours hands, refusing to look up; refusing to acknowledge the horrible truth. I heard Arra sigh – slight annoyance tainting it – but she didn't say any more. We fell into a painful silence, both of us too stubborn to do anything about the situation. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, and after quite a while I opened them again: the room was still dim, I was still desperately clutching Arra's hand and she was still dying.

Taking another deep, shaking breath I tore my gaze from our hands and looked up, "Arra."

"Larten." She had her eyes closed, and her voice was weak, but my favourite crooked smile was there and somehow that seemed to make things a little easier. I smiled and laughed softly, shaking my head, "How do you feel?"

"Okay." I knew straight away that that was a lie: she wasn't okay at all; she was fidgeting, a sign that she was uncomfortable. I sighed, "Arra."

She didn't answer straight away – she seemed not to hear me – and only when I shook her shoulder gently did she reply, "How do . . . . you feel?"

"Terrible," she opened her eyes and I held her gaze, "I do not want you to die."

She smiled, "I'm not . . . . so crazy . . . . about that . . . . myself . . . . "

"You cannot leave me, not now." I sounded childish, but I couldn't help it.

"I don't . . . . really have . . . . a choice . . . . "

"Please," I almost shouted, finally loosing my composure, "you can't! You can't go, I won't let you." Tears were falling down my face and I bowed my head, my shoulders shaking. I had finally broken down.

Arra let go of my hand and pushed herself up, even though it must have caused her a lot of pain. She leant against me and I wrapped my arm around her tightly: I was still crying and tried to hide that by burying my head against her shoulder. She sighed and weakly rubbed my arm, trying to comfort me.

"Larten?" I didn't look up or answer, but she continued anyway, "I'm sorry . . . . but you'll . . . . be okay . . . . I promise . . . . " Her voice trailed off and I lifted my head away from her shoulder, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

We met each others gaze – I tried for a small smile but Arra managed a more convincing one – and said at exactly the same time, "I love you." I laughed sadly, and Arra half grinned.

And then her light went out. Leaving me alone in the dark.