I have…. I…

I have never… I have never been so….

I have never been so afraid to breathe.

My body screams against my will. I need air!

But I am so afraid to breathe!

I am frozen against the iron grip of my suppressor. It curls around my neck like a child to a plaything – awkward, slipping, not completely in control against my squirming body – so it tightens itself around my neck.

Tighter, tighter.

I kick and claw, short nails raking against the slimy surface of the tentacle.

I… I… I need to breathe! I force my mouth open, trying to inhale as deeply as possible, but the instant I do the tentacle tightens its death-grip on me.

Oh my god

Oh my god

Oh my god

This was… this wasn't our plan.

We were gonna win…

I… I was gonna live, we… we were gonna win.

My essence howls, I can physically feel my strength being sucked dry.

My eyes, my pleading eyes, my desperate eyes, fall on Archer. He is a million miles away and yet close enough I can hear his steady heartbeat. He draws in air like a beast of burden, his body rising and collapsing with each intake. Finally, his eyes fall on me, and his face collapses.

"Oh my crimson warrior! Must you carry on with this ordddddeal of yours? Accept the Holy Grail as your savior, accept me as your leader, and peace will fall upon this accursed land!" Caster wails as he prances forward, a spring in his step like a child on a playground. "This world will become my garden, so blessed by God himself! My garden, where my creatures will blossom beside my love for my lovely Jeanne!" He marches right over to Archer, who tries to stand up but collapses on his knees. Only now do I notice the violent gash on his left leg, but I can't do a damn thing to help him.

I want to command Caster to leave Archer alone, but my body still roars for oxygen. I can't keep my legs kicking, and my sense of feeling in my hands ebbs away.

Oh my god, I'm going to die.

Archer stares up at Caster, rage in his sharp eyes. Finally, he looks down, a smile on his lips as he huffs a slight laugh. Caster cocks his head to the side, his budging eyes trying to focus on the warrior collapsed before him. "Do you not honor my goal, my divinnnnne wish? I am-!"

"If you truly knew women," Archer growls, "Then you'd know no woman in heaven or hell is worth all this effort."

Despite my oh-my-freaking-god-I'm-going-to-die-of-suffocation situation, I frown at him.

Bullshit, Archer: you're really gonna sass him now, of all the times you could have chosen to be a total ass? God, it'd be great if I could punch him right now, that sexist pig.

My arms fall loosely to my side as my cells scream in desperation. My skin crawls with explosive fire, icey hot like a white knife tickling me into submission. The pain beating away in my head is going to make my head explode. I can feel my eyes rolling up…

Oh my god.

Please.

Please, someone….

Please someone, help him. Help me. Please, someone….

Any….anyone…

Help us.

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I'm not a religious girl; I never was and probably never will be, given that magic's a real dick and has probably been manipulating history throughout all of mankind's time on the rock in space, but whatever. I've never dipped my head to a divine power – probably never will.

But for a split second, the blinding light was strong enough to make me believe.

I could see someone just out of reach, someone who, if I stretched far enough into the desert's oasis of light in this darkest of days, I could pull them close to me once more. I can see his nerdy silhouette - lanky body, glasses and all – even now. I must have forgotten what he looked like, because at first all I could do was stare. Then my face stretched in realization, and I leaned down into the light. I leaned down, yet I stretched up.

On the tips of my toes, the tip of my reality, I stretch to pull him back with me.

It is nothing more than a shadow, a ghostly figure of a kid who was going to save the world. I can't see his face. I forgot what it looked like.

But I'm sure he smiled, right then and there. I'm sure that was a smile I saw.

I must have been screaming, as I was forced to take in an awful sharp gasp of air. I try to scream again, my brother just out of my hand's reach.

But he smiled, I'm sure of it. He smiled and walked away, a shadow falling into the light of yesterday, tomorrow, and the present.

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.

I'm forced to inhale crisp air, blistering knives that pierce my lungs. My eyes fly open, and the light is, again, painfully luminescent. A handsome outline lingers above me. It could be an angel. It could be Takao.

No, wait. Takao smiles, and angels are supposed to be… pleasant company, right? I squint stupidly against the light as my eyes adjust to my new surroundings.

"You fool," Archer hisses, "stay down!"

"Why the hell-" I cough violently, my body heaving as oxygen floods me. "Wh-why would I do tha-"

"Don't question it!" He growls, pushing my head gently against the ground. All at once my sensations come back to me, and I quickly realize that Archer has me straddled against the ground, his body bleeding on top of mine as he protects me from flying tentacle debris. His sharp eyes watch intently as the light bounces around us, gleaming and glistening in all of its glory. I roll over so I'm not looking at him, chin in the dirt, and as I steady my breathing, I momentarily have my breath taken away.

A man clad in gold sweeps the darkness, dark hair tussling in the calamity, deep eyes cool, ancient smile radiant.

Caster bellows in the darkness somewhere in front of me, the masses of madness coiling with his words. "What heaven would call forth a poooooor soul such as this?! What beast would darrrrre trample over my Eden of joy, my place of birth for my precious Jeanne d'Arc?

His beautiful eyes meet mine, and his smile stretches wider across his face. "Nice of you to rejoin us, commoner-girl!" He shouts over the screeching of tentacles in angst. He swings his staff (which I now see is surprisingly sharp) and cuts another wiggling demon in half.

But something lashes out from behind, and Rider is forced to refocus on the problem at hand. "Now if you would, ahmar racham-"

Archer looks down at me from his paternal state. "Stay down and breath slowly as best you can" He commands as he heaves himself up. The gash on his left leg still bleeds heavily, and his first step is somewhat unsteady; however, he regains his composure and calls forward two familiar swords. Ramses destroys a beast and lands sideways beside Archer, his natural aura still lighting up the vile darkness. I try to follow his instructions, but I pause as I absorb the men before me.

One, a king, an emperor of a kingdom the world has forgotten: the other, an unnamed guardian time has forgotten. The stand beside each other as equals, clothe and silk blowing behind them, their royal capes of a reality no one could have pieced together. Red and white, the eagle-owl of the pyramids and the silent wolf on the mountainside.

I can't tell you what they stand for, or if they've ever stood beside each other in decades past. I can't tell you that they're perfect or that they care about humanity in general, but here they stand.

Something is shared between them, a parting comment, perhaps. Archer beckons back to me, and Rider smiles down at me. "Sorry I'm late, commonergirl, but I had to reawaken a dear friend of mine."

"Yeah right," I half-shout back over the furious wind and baying monsters. "Whatever your excuse is, I'm glad you're here!" The Radiant son of Ra smiles and dashes once more into action, Archer instantly off as well; but this time? This time I can see their every movements, their every rib rising and falling as they fight for the continued right to breathe.

What am I doing? I shudder, suddenly cold, as I try to stand up. I fall forward, scraping up my face and palms in the process, just to rise again.

I have no right to be lying around. Not after everything that's happened. Not after what's happening right now.

As I heave upward again, my sixth-sense goes haywire. I glance up, a million years to slow to react to the slimy tentacle that curls around my waist.

Oh God, not again!

But that ancient, radiant face sweeps my view as I'm taken off my feet. Did that thing catch me? Or did he beat it to me? Doesn't matter now – I'm off again in the arms of a beautiful, dark-skinned man. This air is too cold, his body too warm.

I want him to hold me forever.

Wait.

No I don't.

I push against his chest as his feet touch the land – I don't know where we are or how long we were flying for – but it's not a cold, mushy earth beneath my feet: it's a metallic spaceship, an airborne craft fit only for royalty. My hands fly out at my sides as my legs spread a little bit as Archer's does a million times over so I can keep my balance. The air is still too cold up here.

And he stands behind me, his chest against my back. My head makes contact with the pendant around his neck, and I can feel his eagle-like eyes watching me like little knives. The air is too cold up here, and he is too warm. I shake despite my confident stature, still wildly deprived of oxygen.

"What is this?"

"My extension, a gift from my father. Sit."

I want to sit down, I want to lay down and kick back and catch up on my sleep. I want to go home and cry and scream and fight someone.

But it's not what I want. It's what I should do.

Rider seems to read my mind. A chair rises from the metallic surface of his golden flying device, and he seats me in it. "You have no obligations here, commonergirl. We will continue on to somewhere where you will be safe."

"Like hell," I mumble, clenching my fists in dire frustration. God, I could leave this all behind! I'd be safe!

I…. I don't….

I don't want to die.

"Excuse me?" He accusational and wry, tempting me to banter with him.

But I'm not here to banter.

"I'm here to help. I don't need to run away somewhere safe!" I stand up and almost fall over, amazed by the speed to which we fly through the air. My loose black hair flies in my face as I turn around to face the Egyptian king. His beautiful eyes soften as he clenches his jaw. "You haven't the strength to fight."

"Hell yes I do!" I grip the golden sidebars of his ancient treasure fiercely. He stands quietly, flaxen linens whipping in the wind behind him as the air courses through his rich dark hair. He won't speak – probably because a fool like me has no business with a king… but still.

"Wait." He continues to watch me silently as I fight to find my words through continued sharp inhales. "Why… why did you come?"
His eyes dance in the darkness as we shoot past trees and buildings. The ship slows down slightly as he turns on his heel to sit in the thrown at the base of the airship.

"You mentioned that I was anchored here, common girl." He reasons, his back to me as he walks away. "I sought out what it was tying me to this era."

He is silent again as he stands just in front of his thrown. I didn't notice it before, but his staff sits beside it, held up by invisible hands. I comb some hair back behind my ear.

"What was-?"

"They interfered with my beloved's tomb," he shouts above the sound of whistling air. "That is unforgiveable."

He sits down, spinning so he once again faces me. He leans slightly sideways, propping up a fist to hold up his head as he folds a leg over the other. We watch each other in silence, and I'm reminded of how hard it is to breathe after being resurrected.

But I grip the chair and tighten my jaw.

"I appreciate you helping me. I really, really do, as in, like… like there are no words for it." I stand up straight (it takes a moment and a wobbly step) and bow to him deeper than I have ever bowed before. I hold myself at a rigid ninety degrees, fists tight by my sides. "But I need to go back there. I cannot live in a constant state of fear. Please, I'm begging you-" I shut my eyes violently, praying that my voice keeps from shaking. "Please take me back."

The airship slowly comes to a halt. As the wind stops tearing at my ears, I'm finally aware of the sound of explosions in the distance – its somewhere in the direction of where I'm bowing. It's in front of me.

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Oh lawd, finding translations is hard. "Ahmar" is Arabic for "red" while "Racham" is the biblical term for the Egyptian Vulture in Hebrew; it can also translate into "compassionate" or "have mercy" in the traditional sense in the Bible. Fitting, to say the very least.

Happy New Year