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Seeing Red by Vicinity
Summary: When there's nothing you can do but wait. Tango de los Pistoleros, Yves, Jimmy.

Title: Seeing Red
Author: Vicinity
Email: akavicinity@yahoo.com
Category: Angst/Romance
Rating: PG
Summary: When there's nothing you can do but wait.
Spoilers: A couple references to "Tango de los Pistoleros."
Disclaimers: Not mine, not mine.

It is cold with the falling of evening, and I shiver, wishing that I had something to warm you with. Your blood is on my hands, and I wonder if you grow colder with each passing moment. So many men have died in my arms, and you are the first one that I ever had a real chance to love. Santavos was passion, but you are life. I trace my fingers lightly over your wrist until I realize that they are leaving designs in scarlet, and then I have to swallow so that I do not cry.

I want to hate you, I really do. You ran ahead of me, telling me that you had "to warn the guys," because you believed that you could. You didn't, because they already knew, and now this is useless. It is all useless.

You tighten your grip on my hand, and I look down at you, trying to smile. I want to tell you that it will be alright, because there is nothing else to say, but you would know that I was lying. I know by now that naivete does not mean lack of intelligence. I want to tell you that I understand, that I know your pain, but I don't. And so we are silent, a morbid tableau.

I could call for help, but it would be futile. They will find us eventually, and even if they came now, there is nothing that they could or would do. It is too late, and you were too courageous, too strong. If only you had faltered then, so that this would not have happened. But you couldn't have - they are your friends, and you had to save them, the way you always want to.

I wish that I could take your place, but I would not want you to know this pain, this incredible loneliness. For all that I have shielded myself from emotions, from you, I cannot stop this, and perhaps it is the worse for my trying. If you can withstand the physical pain, I can take this mental torment. Except that yours will end soon, and mine will continue for a lifetime. I want to hate you for this, but I cannot. Love, then, is the ultimate weakness, and I am glad that I have not loved before this. After today, I will be strong again.

I think that I have been in this position before, and afterward you were there. This time, there will be no one. I will be alone again, as usual. I touch your face, and you try to smile. You are trying to comfort me, even as you are terrified, because you are so inherently good, so innocent. You should not have chosen this life. You should have gotten a safe job, met a good woman, gotten married. Instead, you chose this, and you chose me. You said that you loved me, and I wish that I had closed the door in your face. It may have broken you then, and me as well, but we would not be here today.

For all that I have known, all that I have done, I cannot deal with this. I cannot watch you die. I cannot . . . but I will, because I would not leave you.

Your voice is a harsh whisper, "Yves?"


"Take care of the guys, huh?"

I manage to smile. "I will."

"Thanks." I wonder how much you know, how much you think you were helping them. My beloved innocent boy. And then you are gone, leaving me here, and all I want is to hear your voice again. All of my defenses are falling, and I wonder if that is your parting gift - do you want me to be real again? It will not matter anymore.

They will be here soon, and I will think of you. Goodbye, Jimmy, and I am gone.