Welcome to the End of the World

LOG; the wolves, my love, will come; Michael + Samail

endinmisery — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 20:07:51 GMT

who: Michael and Samail
where: The Dome of the Rock
what: J-town fainaru batteru!

Samail stood atop the flat portion of the roof of the Dome with his arms crossed in front of him. He hadn't needed to wait long for the Seals to arrive. There was debris scattered all over the Temple Mount now, and even the roof where he stood was littered with chunks of bloody stone. Surprisingly little of it was the remains of the guards and police who had been slaughtered when they'd first arrived; the vast majority of the blood and human parts had come from the body resting at his feet.

In death, Zareena looked frail, her position unnatural and splayed across the stone. The lights that marked the only parts of the city still standing were dim in the smoke and dust the final battle had stirred up, and Samail found himself turning over and over again in his head the words he'd planned.

Michael wasn't sure where the others had gotten to, and wasn't even particularly sure of where he was going or what he was intending to do. His feet were moving on their own, and he was dimly aware of the spear clenched tightly in his right hand. The thing had still never been used, even for every time he'd tried.

Samail had to be around here somewhere. It was the where that Michael was unsure of, but he kept going, knowing in the corner of his mind that he was headed the right way. The way Zareena had gone.

And there Samail was. With Zareena -- or what was left of her. Michael's stomach turned, and he tried to find something to say.

All he managed was a "why?" that came out more feeble and weak than he had intended. He cursed himself inwardly, driving his eyes away from the body.

Samail turned, an excited smile large on his face as he recognized who approached. It was a wholey innocent expression in it's joy, and out of place.

"I knew you'd come, Michael," Samail said quietly, trying to force his voice to a sort of malevolent purr that he couldn't quite manage.

As though the interruption made him abruptly aware of his surroundings, he seemed to suddenly notice the body at his feet. Samail frowned, and turned it over with one black boot.

"And then is heard no more: it is a tale, Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing." Samail pronounced, ruining the words with a sing-song tone that belied any gravity of the situation. His spear sat next to him, unbloodied by the battle thus far, though a few specks remained on the blade as though he'd cleaned it poorly at some prior date.

Michael gripped the spear in his hand tighter, feeling the cool metal bite into his palm. He forced his eyes away from Zareena yet again, letting his gaze wander over what little was left of Jerusalem and then back to Samail.

"She didn't even -- " he cut himself off before he could finish, unsure of if what he was saying was true. "She was only trying to protect this place," he settled on instead. "Like everyone else." The other Seals were all here somewhere, and Michael drove away the thought that perhaps Samail had killed them too.

"You didn't have to do this." It was becoming a futile mantra, but he found himself saying it again anyway. As he had every time they'd met for the last several months.

"No, Michael, I did." The mirth and the drama left Samail's face, and the expression that was left in their place was a tired one. He reached absently for his own spear.

"There was only one role I was born to play, only one thing destiny crafted me from the ether to do," He waved his free hand expansively at the horizon. "And this is it. This is the grand sum of my actions, the meaning behind my existence. I'd like to think I play the malfeasant well, but the truth is it's really all I can do."

His head should have felt light and foggy from the alchohol in his stomach; he'd comandeered someone's vodka, but it wasn't like it's owner might return alive from this battle, and that's what you got for leaving booze unattended in the Angel house. Instead he felt oddly clear-headed, and strangely sober, the absolute last things he'd wanted to feel tonight. He wondered if it would hurt much.

"But it seems you've forgotten your blocking. This would be the part where you attack." Samail brandished his spear aggressively, settling a fierce and mocking smile on his face. "Or are you going to just wait until I decide Zareena could use some company?"

Michael sank into the closest thing to a battle stance he had ever managed to learn, unsure of what he was doing or how he should move -- or why he had to do this. The moment of his choice replayed in crystal clarity in his mind. He had forced Samail into the role he had, and he knew that. Some part of him thought there was nothing he could do except die to make up for it.

Zareena was a crumpled, twisted body on the stone, and nothing more, and Samail stood there with his spear, ready to kill him. Michael tried to ignore the pain that thought brought along with it, shifting the spear in his hands.

"I'm not going to let you," he said. It came out weaker than he meant, so he tried again. "I'm not going to let you."

Samail laughed, and clapped his free hand against the one holding the spear.

"Oh, bravo! A little cliche, a little rough, but that'll have to do. It's not like I expected anything better, after all. You've spent this year letting me destroy everything of beauty and worth that humans have created in this fucking city." He spat.

Samail lunged forward with his lance, swinging it like a quarterstaff at Michael.

Michael brought his own spear up to block out of sheer instinct. The impact forced him a step back, and he held for a minute there before lunging himself once Samail stepped back. It was slightly halfhearted, but it was an attempt, and that was what he had to do.

"You didn't have to destroy any of it," he said. "You didn't have to, and you can stop saying you did. You had just as much of a choice as I did, even if you want to act like I forced you to do all of this. You could have stopped."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I was just having too damn much fun! You ought to try being evil sometime, it's a real rush." Sam laughed, deflecting Michael's blow with a shield of telekinesis, and then pushed the shield outwards at him as a wide blow.

"You wouldn't believe the things I've done to people. Would you like me to show you a few?"

Michael fell back another set of steps, throwing up his spear in hopes of blocking the blow. It worked, but he had to move back even more before it dispersed. The spear hummed in his hands.

"None of them deserved any of it. Zareena was never anything but kind to you. I -- " He cut that thought off before it could go further, and lunged again, more forcefully than he had before.

"That's why I killed her! That's why I killed -" Sam stuttered for a second, then resumed his diatribe. "That's why I killed all those people! And it's why I'm going to kill you. And when I'm done with you, I'm going to go find all of your little Seals and kill them too."

Samail scoffed, "Kindness is wasted on me. All I do is consume anyone who cares for me until there's nothing left, and then I take that too. I'm a cancer, and there's no chemotherapy for it."

He swung wildly at Michael's head with the haft of the weapon.

"I'd like to have saved you for last, but I figured you'd interrupt me if I did."

Michael ducked, again moving on instinct, bringing his own spear up as an extra safeguard, in case the direction of the swing changed.

"Then why kill all those people? You didn't know most of them! They probably weren't being kind to you, so why bother with them? Why bother with all of us? Why even keep me alive this long?" He moved quickly, springing to his feet and lunging half-blindly.

Samail spun away from Michael, pivoting on his toes. Canaan had shown him a little about fighting with a polearm, but he'd figured he'd rely on telekinesis if he had any need to do something fancier.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. But maybe there is something you can understand. You're a bright boy after all, aren't you, Michael? I'm the most evil thing you're ever gonna see. I'm gonna burn this hellhole down, and it's only a shame you won't be there to see the remains of the world." Samail laughed, and it was higher and tighter than he'd have liked, but the mad note to it came naturally.

A small explosion rocked one of the walls around the Temple Mount structure, filling the air with dust, and it looked like a portion of the walls sagged and crumpled. As the flash from the blast illuminated him from behind, Samail struck at Michael, aiming the ancient blade of the spear at Michael's arm.

Michael had turned to watch the explosion, eyes wide, hoping that no one else had died and that it wasn't enough to destroy the barrier -- and the city. He'd been able to see Samail moving out of the corner of his eye, but by the time he had turned, the spear had caught his arm.

He hissed in pain, jumping back and holding the wound with one hand, other loosening its grip on his spear. He immediately risked another glance toward where the explosion had been, but the dust was clouding thickly in the air, and he couldn't see anything.

Samail clucked his tongue disapprovingly, "If you came to fight me, Michael, then fight me. I won't have you ignoring me for others. I'm the real menace here, not my pets. Enthusiastic though they might be."

Adrenaline made Samail feel slightly giddy, and the thrill of his spear meeting flesh had his heart beating faster. He gave Michael a shove with his mind, not hard but not light, either.

Michael had been expecting another attack with the spear, and the telekinetic shove caught him off-guard. He stumbled, rocks catching his feet and knocking his balance off enough that he fell to his knees. His left hand was wet with blood from the wound he had been holding, and he forced the fingers of his right to tighten on the spear again, struggling to get back on his feet.

Samail smiled, and took a step closer to Michael to try and loom over him. Something about the sight of Michael bloody and weak was strangely arousing, and he tried not to let himself get too distracted by it, blaming the alchohol.

"Should I end you here...? I wonder," Samail took a deep breath, smiling magnanimously. "I'm not a very patient person, I don't like having to wait for something I want. But perhaps I should keep you alive long enough to see me rip apart your Seals. Would you like that? Then they could know how little you're capable of. But I'm sure they already do. They've seen you fail time and time again to protect this city."

Samail licked his lips and stared down at Michael. Somehow he'd forgotten half of what he'd intended to say. He'd already forgotten a couple of well-thought out jests and barbs, or they hadn't quite come up the way he'd intended to, but this was hardly the part to be fishing for words.

"So would you? I'd be willing to make an exception for you, to keep myself from killing you immediately. As long as you'd make it worth my time."

Michael managed to pull himself up on one leg, then the other, glaring up at Samail. "Make what worth your time? Killing other people? Destroying this city? What point in there is waiting, if you're so determined to do it?"

He leaned on his spear. The cut was deeper than he'd thought, and blood was trickling down his arm, soaking his shirt. He was lucky he hadn't been caught more off-guard and lost the arm entirely.

"I won't let you kill them."

"You and what army?" Samail sneered childishly. "You've been saying that since this started, what's it changed, Michael? Did your resolutions, did your affirmations save a single person? All your determination has done thus far is create me." He gestured with the arm that held the spear, off at the city and the smoke and the other battles.

"So go on, Michael, stop me. Stop me with your words and your valiant decisions to save the city. And while you're trying to cut me with the dull edge of your courage, I'll kill you and every other worthless piece of trash in this place."

"You're not answering my question," Michael said, clinging to it like a child. "If you want to destroy it so much, what's stopping you? I'm right here in front of you. The Temple Mount is right there. And all you're doing is standing here and talking?"

He shifted, no longer leaning on the spear, taking it in his good hand. It was his left, but it would have to do. He took a moment to breathe before launching himself forward again, blindly as he had before, not really looking at where he was going or aiming so much as just hoping he would strike blindly.

Samail gave a choking cough as the spear went through his chest. So much, he thought, for it not hurting. The blood that gathered around the wound and seeped through to make a stain on his black shirt was every bit as red as Michael's, and he found some small and illogical validation in that. He was dimly aware of his own spear falling to the ground, of a clatter. His knees hurt abruptly, and he thought they too might have hit the dirty rooftop. He couldn't seem to take his hand off his chest; the damn thing hurt more than he could have imagined, and somehow none of the last lines he'd thought of seemed really appropriate all things considered. Death was a great deal more somber than he'd thought, and all the witty jokes and the clever quotes he'd made up or prepared were so out of place and unimportant.

The only thing he really wanted to say, he realized, was the thing he'd spent his whole life trying to avoid saying to the people who most deserved it, for pride, for spite, and for casual cruelty.

"Sorry, Michael..." Samail muttered. His fingertips were cold. His hands were cold, and so were his arms. His head felt a little foggy, like the intoxication that had eluded him before. He laughed, choking hoarse laughs with no breath behind them, as he doubled over, clutching his chest tighter. It didn't hurt so bad, even with the shaking of his chest jarring the wound.

Oh, God.

Michael wanted to release the spear, or pull it back out, or something, but his hands seemed to be frozen. His fingers felt like they were locked tight around the spear's shaft. There was another explosion from the direction of the barrier, but this time he didn't bother turning to look.

"I didn't ..." He hadn't wanted to hit, he realized dimly. For all of Samail's posturing and smugness about killing him last, or killing him at all, that was what he'd expected to happen. He'd practically taken it for granted. He'd only killed one person this entire war -- two, now -- and he'd expected his inability to fight properly to be the end of him.

"Oh, God. Samail...." Another explosion. The dust was heavy in the air, and he could excuse the stinging in his eyes from it.

endinmisery — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 20:03:18 GMT

[filter: private]

One last grand show, one last performance.

Exit, stage left.

[filter: public]

If I can't have ve'atah timshol bo I might as well have a good FUCK YOU DESTINY.

Watch this.

//11

oldersecrets — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 15:54:24 GMT

[ Filter: Private ]

Dear Santa,

most people right now would be talking to their God or whatever, but he never did anything for me and at least you always delivered, man.

so i've decided that I am cool with dying today. i really didn't have any plans otherwise, and seeing as this city is going to be destroyed because i know Sam won't let it not and it's not like the seals have done jack so far to stop us- well they have but not very successful attempts.

mom and dad and Adam and everyone are probably out of town by now. Have to continue on the Knighthood, or whatever the fuck they do. they never hugged me enough anyway.

i don't think they hugged me period.

ANYWAY, i guess this is destiny and all so there's no use fighting it- right? but that's kind of lame seeing as people always said that you had to do good things or else you'd burn forever in the flaming pit of Evil. but then there's Destiny and that says everything preordained anyway so there's no use in going against it.

That's lame.

but yeah. All I want for christmas is some big explosion, my pancakes not to burn today, and for Agnes and all the babies to go to heaven. I mean, if there is a heaven. i'm not going to it, either way.

[ Filter: Public ]

sha la la la la la~

fifty-first

confidentme — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 08:57:59 GMT

[Private]
The um smart thing to do would be to leave. But um I think it’s too late for that now. Besides… um I told Ion that I would stay with him. Even if I… even if I die.

I really do like him…

It’s the right thing…

I should call my sisters one last time…
[/Private]

chatwiththedead — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 08:49:27 GMT

[Private in Hebrew]
Either way it'll be over for me.
[/Private in Hebrew]

sweetertaste — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 07:14:58 GMT

[ Filter: Private / Language: Greek ]

Oh well!

withawarning — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 07:12:50 GMT

[ Filter: Private ]

Well then.

[ Filter: Public ]

At least it won't be boring.

015

allyouleft — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 06:55:20 GMT

[Private]

Well, at least now the gang knows I might not make it.

Maybe I'm being stupid. Sure, things got all fucked up somewhere along the line, but it's not like I can't fix it. Don't burn things or kill people once this is over, go home, start over at a new school and get a job...

I dunno.

Just seems easier to let fate sort everything out.

tearsonthenight — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 06:41:35 GMT

[Filter: Private, English]
It...all comes down to here.

Do I have anything left to be said that has not already been said?

I'll give everything I have to give, and whether that will be enough...remains to be said.

Perhaps someone will remember us, and perhaps not.

Sister...

I may see you soon.

But I will not give up. As long as we are alive, there is hope.

notrelying — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 05:29:00 GMT

[ Filter: Private; Language: Hebrew ]

This is either the end or the beginning. My beliefs state that we are supposed to believe in the coming of a Messiah, but this world has seven "Messiahs" and not all of them are here to be saviours. If that is so, then they are merely tools, prophets, just as the others have been before. There is a question as to what this means.

I cannot figure it out. It would take my whole life to figure it out, and that may end tomorrow.

In my time, I have done my best to protect the citizens of the earth so that they might embrace the coming of the Messiah. Our side's Michael has done his best, and he will do it tomorrow, but it has consistently proven to be not enough. My faith has been shaken by these failures, by my failures, and I wonder if I am nothing more than a man trying and succeeding at very little. It took this to shake my faith. Not the abandonment and not the home and not everything that has happened to Liora; it took this.

I have lost half my vision, but if we lose tomorrow, at least I will have less of a chance to view the end. If we win tomorrow, then I will take in the sight gratefully.

But I believe I have to fight for that sight, and fight for the Messiah, even if that Messiah's name is not Michael and he is another that must find the strength for us to move forward, so that we might finally meet our Messiah.

I will do my best. I will do it for you, Liora, and I will do it for my Creator. If I kill or am killed, I will have this. That will have to be enough.

youryesterdays — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 05:01:09 GMT

[Filter: Jerusalem Seals]

You saw what they said. We're going.

This is ... kind of it.

[Filter: Public]

If you're in Jerusalem and you're not part of the war, you should leave. Tonight. I don't know how things will go tomorrow, but you need to get out anyway. There's not much left of the city.

//10

oldersecrets — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 04:17:06 GMT

[ Filter: Private ]

1 2 3 4

[ Filter: Public ]

you can't always get what you want.

(but if you try sometimes you just might find
you get what you need~)

[ Filter: Jerusalem Angels ]

brb going to raid (literally) nearest store for hot cocoa mix.

014

allyouleft — Sun, 09 Dec 2007 07:34:21 GMT

[Private]

So this is it.

...Lainie, I'm sorry. I know you're probably pretty disappointed with me. I dunno, I kept thinking 'what am I gonna do with the rest of my life', the old gang's moved on, Mom and Dad are still all fucked up...it drove me crazy and when fate picked me to be an Angel I figured 'the hell with it'.

I guess I just got tired is all.

If the city survives...maybe I'll go home after all. Maybe I can snap Mom and Dad out of their funk...maybe I'll stay here and make up for all the damage I did.

Hah, but I've killed. I've destroyed. They say there's no going back after all that.

Maybe I should just let fate decide for me.

I'm so sorry.

endinmisery — Sun, 09 Dec 2007 06:47:23 GMT

So who'da thunk it, but there's one barrier left, and if you guessed "That big ugly yellow-topped thing that we've rather conveniently left standing," you've won the prize! If you didn't guess it, you probably need your eyes checked, because we've left enough rubble around to make it stand out.

But you know, I never really paid any attention to religious crap, but I think there's the little matter of those signs. You know, the ones that say the Torah forbids entry to the Temple Mount? I don't have a problem with them, and I can't imagine any of you would come this far and be troubled by a little thing like that (especially since I can't imagine כָּרֵת is any faster of a death than me destroying the city), but I thought I'd remind you all the same. I'm not making any one come, after all. It's all your own choice.

When you're all done with your second and third thoughts and done gathering up your noble courage and your will to fight for what you love or whatever else, I'll be waiting for you all with some kerosene and explosives on the 14th.

endinmisery — Sun, 09 Dec 2007 05:23:27 GMT

[filter: private]

It's selfish of me, and when have I ever not been? Damn funny time to be unsure of my motivations.

Fucking girl music is making me sappy. I've got a final act to write, and I've barely started on the choreography and dialogue. I don't know that I'll have time to learn my lines well enough, but the audience won't know if I ad lib a little in the third scene. Hah.

If the words fail me in my moment of triumph I can always just steal from good old Bill.

I 'gin to be aweary of the sun,
And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back.

fiftieth

confidentme — Wed, 21 Nov 2007 15:16:29 GMT

[Private]
This is um the first birthday we haven't spent together.

I'm glad she wasn't here though, I wouldn't want her to get hurt. But I really do miss her.

I um... don't know what to do.
[/Private]

[Filter: Ion]
Um I don't know if you're busy but um I attempted to make a cake and well if you would like to come over or something?

[/Filter: Ion]

//9

oldersecrets — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 03:17:01 GMT

suddenly, puppies. Puppies everywhere.

Though I did bring those kittens too cause they looked really sad alone and i think there may or may not be a tarantula somewhere in the house.

but after i started to think about them I got kind of depressed cause I probably won't be around to take care of them very long and they'll probably go down with the city and I guess I could try to get them out but i don't think it would be very easy between burning down Important Religious Sites to stop and go 'hey would you like to adopt something small and fluffy today while you're fleeing for your pitiful lives~?'

yadda yadda yadda APOCALYPSE. i think i am naming one Dou in honor of that one guy who was awesome before i got here.

013

allyouleft — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 03:19:07 GMT

[Private]

The question is, what to do after it's over?

Guess I could go home. Somehow I don't feel as compelled to stay away anymore.

We'll see.

endinmisery — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 03:02:08 GMT

[filter: private]

Insert not-so-cryptic bullshit here or something ummm

[filter: Jerusalem Angels]

November 20th. A week from now. We're destroying the Al-Aqsa Mosque.

I want this place as close to in ruins as it can be when this all ends. Destroy whatever you want in this city. I want to see it all laid to waste before we end this. If you need help of any sort to accomplish something, let me know.

I'll tell you the date for the last one a little later.

[filter: Jerusalem]

If you're still reading this, then you've been warned, and you're clearly fucking retarded. This isn't your last warning - you've gotten that already. This is just to let you know that the final days aren't just coming, they're here. I hope you're really good at dodging buildings.

forty-ninth

confidentme — Mon, 12 Nov 2007 16:22:04 GMT

[Private]
I um hadn't realized it had almost been a month since the last time I posted. I guess I've been too worried.

Miriam hasn't told me if she is coming or not, I guess I should hope that she isn't, but um not in a rude way. But um I'd rather not have her here where she could get hurt. Not that um I'm in a better spot...

But I can't leave, as long as he's here I can't.
[/Private]

23.0

waytoomuchstuff — Mon, 12 Nov 2007 07:44:52 GMT

Well, everything's set. Next stop: Barcelona.

I'll miss Berlin, but...well, sometimes things don't work out the way you think, you've got to be open to changes. Right?

ix

feelenough — Tue, 06 Nov 2007 01:12:39 GMT

I think you would call this 'miracle working'. And Bianca wanted pictures, so!

I talked her down from the fuschia, thank god. That woman has an unhealthy fixation on pink though, so it could not be avoided entirely.

Next time, Gadget.

30

epinephrinized — Tue, 06 Nov 2007 01:02:16 GMT

[ Filter: Private ]

So he didn't pick up. After calling him twice every day for god knows how long.

So what.

[ Filter: Public ]

Halloween parties sucked this year~ Too bad.

{ 15 }

detvetbade — Mon, 05 Nov 2007 22:10:55 GMT

I kind of like this weather.

LOG; she calls me 'cause i'm still awake; HAYDEN + WILL + TAMARA

legalities — Thu, 01 Nov 2007 04:56:15 GMT

2AM LA time.

It was getting late, but it wasn't as though she had anywhere to be the next day. Besides, what with often poor sleeping habits she was also getting sort of dragged into similar sleeping patterns to Will and Hayden. Though she made a point of being up by a certain hour each morning, just... because.

Anyway. She wasn't ready for bed, but she didn't feel particularly awake either. There was nothing productive to get done, and flicking through The Elements of Legal Style kept her more or less occupied. She was grateful for a peaceful time, anyway.

There had been a trick-or-treater every so often earlier in the evening, and the later it became, fewer came by. Will used this as his excuse to hijack the remnants of candy, throwing the occasional piece at Hayden before eventually retreating up the stairs, nearly tripping on Tamara's damned cat in the process.

"Happy birthday," he said, setting the bowl in the middle of the bed.

It had been his birthday, and all end of the world related things aside, it had been an okay birthday. His last, probably, but still, he'd had a good time.

Which was why he didn't appreciate being left alone in the living room, and followed Will before long, leaning against the bedroomdoor frame, glancing at his watch. "What he said."

She wasn't sure that it really counted if she hadn't slept and woken up -- but, technically...

"Thanks," she smiled, and closed her book. Maybe it was too late for legal style, even for her. She should be pleased she'd even reached twenty-two, shouldn't she?

It was after midnight. It counted.

He dug his fist into the bowl and offered her the handful of assorted goodies. "I'd offer the two of you a cake, but it wouldn't really be a cake anymore by the time I'd be done with it."

"Or it would be inedible," Hayden supplied, pushing himself off the doorframe to sit down next to his sister on the bed. He didn't have much to supply, really, but 'Happy Birthday'. He'd been feeling useless lately in general.

It wasn't like it mattered if she ate things that weren't good for her anymore--and, well, birthday. She accepted the candy, though in actual fact she didn't feel that hungry. She was starting to feel a little off-colour, actually. Happy birthday, it's that time of the month? Augh.

"It's the thought that counts." She leaned against Hayden, a little.

"Right, if you say so," Will smiled and took up the rest of the bed to lay down, his head ending up on the edge of someone's lap. "Bet it would still be better than Hayden's."

They weren't really talking about anything right now, but that was okay too.

They were nice and dysfunctional. And he didn't even mind anymore, which made it worse, somehow.

"What do you wanna do tomorrow?" Since he'd gotten to choose what he wanted to do. Not that it included anything but sitting around and having beer, but hey.

"I don't know." Automatically she reached out to stroke Will's hair, though maybe she'd resist braiding it. "Go out to eat somewhere, maybe?" Like there were many places open anymore, what with huge parts of the city destroyed and people evacuating.

She really didn't feel all that great. And a sneaking suspicion was creeping up on her, but she didn't want to think about it. She just concentrated on breathing evenly, and leaned against Hayden a little more.

He shut his eyes and relaxed, wadding up and uncrinkling a candy wrapper with his bare hands. The gloves had been discarded for the night.

"Absolutely anywhere you want." That was left, of course, but ahaha. Not that he could mention that.

No, but Hayden could think it. He didn't say it either, of course, putting both his arms around Tamara to keep her where she was, pulling her a little closer. He'd gotten over himself at some point, but still.

"What he said."

She didn't mind. It was nice, and just a little amusing now. She bit down on her lip for a second to keep from making a sound, but that was all.

"I'll think about it."

Apparently it didn't matter.

Will's eyes cracked open again, peering up at the two of them.

"We've got time."

He forced himself back up into sitting position, his hand landing to push against Tamara's knee for support.

... he suddenly regretted that statement.

Hayden was oblivious thus far. It was nice, only having power that could crash people through walls. Or something.

He smiled a little, kissing Tamara's shoulder.

She caught Will's gaze for a second, and looked away. It wasn't so bad that she wasn't allowed a few more seconds to act like everything was okay.

Will's hand jerked away as if it had burned, a gut reaction to keep himself from seeing more and perhaps from keeping her from seeing what he had seen months ago with Emma. As if protecting her from that would make it a little better.

One of them had to say something.

But he did notice that. Which was why he pulled away a little, looking from Will to Tamara.

"What?"

She didn't have an answer, because she didn't want to tell the truth and she didn't want to lie. And did Will really think he could spare her something like that when she'd been dreaming it for months?

It was starting to really hurt. She bit down on her lip again.

"She..." Fuck. Will reached around her to grip Hayden's hand, the thoughts perhaps a little jumbled.

He didn't want to see this again, but he didn't want to run away. He couldn't do that.

........ oh hell no.

His hold tightened on Tamara, colour draining from his face as he turned to look at her. "No."

She really couldn't deal with this. Maybe she'd been sort of assuming he'd be there, but that didn't mean when it all actually came around she could stand either of them having to watch her die. She held onto Hayden's shirtsleeve, face lowered. It was probably stupid of her to want to apologise. A faint sound of pain escaped her, because really there wasn't any point in trying not to make a noise anymore.

Will pulled his hand back, sitting there quite uselessly for a moment before he reached back out and and stroked Tamara's hair.

He finally found something to say, as well. "Please don't be sorry." His hands fell away again, back into his lap. The twins needed to have their moment.

Moment. Right. They needed their moment. She was going to die, right now, and this was the last time he'd get to see her face; to see her alive. If he knew how to freeze time, it could last forever.

"No," he repeated, a little more weakly, his hand against her cheek, cupping it. No, no no no no no. "Tamara." His voice didn't even sound real.

There was still nothing she could think of to say. Mostly she just wanted to not let go of him, and so she held on more tightly and raised her face so she could keep looking at him.

"I got longer than most of the others," she said, and god, she felt like she was going a little crazy. As if longer than the others was anywhere near enough.

He shook his head at her. He still wasn't willing to believe it was happening here and now, because even if it was November, the end of the world couldn't be coming around already.

"That's not a comfort."

It wasn't as though her death was the end of the world.

She didn't have any comfort for him, or any sort of answer, because the pain was getting worse and she could taste metal. She buried her face against his shoulder, as though he could help her or she could hide somehow. She'd dreamed it so many times she almost expected to wake up in a moment, scared and sweating and tangled in the both of them -- but still breathing. A low sound escaped her.

It was tearing him up inside, but even if they'd had forever to prepare, Hayden still felt lost.

He held her tighter. "I love you."

It might as well be the end of the world.

Will moved himself back over to the twins, arms slipping around both of them as best he could. His eyes shifted away, unable to focus on just one spot. He didn't want to watch, but he couldn't leave either.

She was going to get blood all over them. What a stupid, stupid thought, but she didn't smile at it. She didn't think she'd be able to die alone, and there was another stupidly delirious thought because it wasn't like she had a choice.

"I love you too." It wasn't easy to speak, and her voice shook, but she didn't want to cry. She thought there here was yet another thing she might not be able to control, and squeezed her eyes further shut. "Both of you." She really couldn't manage anything more eloquent than that statement of the obvious. She could think of worse last words.

And worse last moments, because at least in the final second it didn't hurt anymore.