Hello! This is my first SRMTHFG fic. I hope I did a good job. The pairing is AntaurixNova and it's in Antauri's pov.

This is a request from Duskblood. I hope you weren't expecting something too fluffy. My sadistic brain can't do that.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Enjoy!

My Dark

Have you ever noticed… how the night changes things? It is not the dark aura that is provided by the lack of light. A shadow during day can have the same effect… maybe even a better one since the shadow is what remains of darkness… the part of it that is still fighting even when light's power is at its peak. Why are people afraid of the dark when it is plain obvious that it is the light that they all should fear?

Is not the dark that was first there before light came? Is not the dark the one that watches us being conceived? Is not the dark the one that sees us as we are and accepts us without a second thought? Is not the dark there when everything else is gone? Is not the dark the one we run for when we need to think? Is not the dark the best keeper of our secrets? Is not the dark our guide to eternal tranquility?

Is not the light the one that claims to be truth, but always comes with shadows? Is not the light what chains us to horrors that we are desperate to forget? Is not the light that brought the curse of isolation hidden in the blessing sight? Is not the light what shines over what we wish forever hidden, while enveloping in shadow what we yarn to see? Is not the light what we run from each time we close our eyes? Is not the light what exposes us to the irrational judgment of others? Is not the light what we so gladly leave behind in favor of eternal tranquility?

Dark and Light have nothing to do with Good and Evil. The greatest Evil is always out in the open for everyone to see it, while Good offers the greatest comfort while hidden in the shadows. We do not know someone until we experience their darkness. Who leaves their soul out in the light will have it bunt. Who looks only at what is exposed will soon learn that they have only been seeing a mask.

You should never wish to be someone's Light because all you will be is an extension of their lie. Wish to be their Darkness so you will be an extension of their truth. If you say you love someone, ask yourself what you are in love with… the side that shines in the light or the part of them that is hidden in the shadows? One should ask oneself this in order to know where their heart is. Whether it has been given to a face or to a soul.

The night has taken over the land and I am glad. Night brings silence... peace… dark. It allows me to drop the mask I wear during the day and look directly at the world without the threat that I would miss something… everything has the same value in the dark. The night comes with my allowance to feelings… I can be angry without anyone being scared of it… I can worry without affecting others… I can hate without being condemned… but more than anything I can love… I can love with all the power of my soul… I can chase everything and everyone away from my heart to give all the space only to one.

Above all, the night brings her.

No, it is not, as one might think, a forbidden affair with the wrong person. She fights for Good. She is one of the most remarkable people one shall ever meet and many times I have wondered if I am grateful enough for having her by my side. In the light we are both warriors, soldiers for the cause of Peace, though we both wonder how Peace can be achieved through war.

I do not need to close my eyes to picture our battles. The dark has taken care of anything that could be distracting. She is more than striking while fighting. Her small, fragile-looking figure holds a tremendous force. Whoever looks at her will compare her to fire… hot, impulsive, uncontrolled. But I know better.

She is optimistic. She brings joy to our day with her sweet, yet rough attitude. She gives us hope even when logic says there is none. She shines for us. Even so… her yellow fur does not stand for the warmth of the sun and the pink of her eyes has nothing to do with the sweetness of candy-floss. The smooth, soft coat is a symbol for the precious metal that has taken so may lives and will continue to do so until the end of the world: Gold. The light color of her orbs is that of some of the rarest gems that ever were: the Pink Diamonds.

Beautiful, precious, unique yet harboring such unimaginable force, a coldness of the heart so well hidden, a cruelty that one would never even suspect… that IS her. She is not a child of Fire. They are all the same while she is one of a kind. She is a jewel of Earth… unnoticeable through the layers of a well-conceived appearance, but once released from the chains of what she appears to be, nothing and no one could ever deny her value.

The chilly breeze ruffs our fur and I feel her delicate figure snuggle into my chest. My metallic arm encircles the small waist as I rest my head on her own. I look down at her and my lips form a soft smile. She is curled into my lap, her head on my chest and her tail intertwined with mine. She is staring blankly at a small white flower.

Every night I come to look at the sky. Every night I sit on the Super Robot's head. Every night she comes to sit with me, exactly five minutes after I take my place. Every night she brings a white flower with her.

I never ask why. I know she chose white because that is the color of my fur. It is her tribute of affection to me. And I am grateful. One might think this kind of display is much too small and insignificant. But then again, this is no fairytale. I do not ask her to be my perfect little princess… my sweet, angelic, porcelain doll. In return she does not expect me to be prince charming. Holding her in these dark hours is as romantic as I can get. She never asked for more. She knows I can not handle more.

No… I can not…. and neither can she. We are not here because we wish to be a couple. We do not. People who want to be seen become couples. They go into the light and show their relationship to the whole world. People take it in, look at them, talk about them and above all they judge them. And the worst thing is they have the right to. The couple gave them that right when they showed their affection to the world. And suddenly their relationship is no longer their own. As much as they would try to say that other people's opinions do not matter, they always do. That is what the light does: it takes a private matter and makes it everyone's property. Just through their knowledge of the fact one becomes its owner.

If the couple manages to shape itself to the liking of the outside world they will last, if not they will fall apart. Whatever the case, they lose. In the first case they lose the purity of the feeling. They are obliged to constantly wear a mask that will appeal to others. There is no longer "the two of us" because they gave away that quality in favor of pubic acceptance. There is no such thing as an acceptable couple in the real world, simply because people never fall for those they should. It is the spirit's refusal to comply. It is what leads to so many breakups. Those couples that break up are likely to be those whose minds refused to be bound to the world's expectations. They probably tried to be what the world wanted to see, but they were too far from that. And since they had already revealed their secret, they can not solve the matter on their own because it ceased to be about them the moment the light shone over their relationship.

I stroke her smooth cheek, silently thanking God for the darkness enveloping us. She does not look up. She is lost in her own thoughts. I wonder if I am part of those thoughts. I am not certain. As she is not all that I think about, I am given the same treatment.

We are not ideal lovers. We do not think about each other every single moment of our existence. Our lips never locked since we started meeting on the top of the Super Robot, even if it has been two years now. Words were neither few, nor many. I know every corner of her mind and she knows mine just as well. But that does not mean we are always present there.

There are nights when she does not even cross my mind though I feel her next to me. And there are nights when she comes up here, without a word, and sits beside me, without even looking at me. But when she leaves I always know if I was or was not part of her inner struggle of the night. How? She leaves her flower behind. If it is unharmed I was left out of her thoughts for the hours that we spent in each other's arms. If its petals are covered with bruises and its frail form is twisted I know she has been thinking about me.

I sigh. This time she moves. She raises her head slowly and looks at me straight in the eye. I survey the softness of her pink colored orbs. The glimmer that had been there during day is no more. I can see that she has a lot on her mind. I will not, however, ask her to pour her heart to me. I respect her privacy and I trust her to be able to solve her dilemmas. And if not she knows I am here for her whenever she needs me.

I do not worry that she might fear what I think of her if she asks for help. She knows better than that. We meet in the dark because we left judgment behind. I can not count how many times I have opened my heart to her and asked for advice. And I do not regret a single word. Her sweet voice offered solutions as well as comfort and I pray that it always will do so.

She has become my darkness, my truth. She is the one I can rely on to always be there, regardless the situation, no matter if I want her there or not. I know this might sound strange… not to want someone that you care for to be there, but it is true. There are times when I want to be alone, to be all by myself. And I never can… because whatever happens, she is there… just like the dark.

Before this, I was alone, just like everyone else who has never shown their soul to another person. But I was not, as one may assume, in pain. Being lonely is a chosen state that, as anything that was brought by free will, shall never harm. Isolation is what hurts, but I was never isolated. I am well aware of the fact that this sounds like nostalgia… it is in a way. But I do not regret my present state.

There should never be regret when it comes to matters of choice. And I have chosen to be with her… so has she.

I stare at her eyes and she does the same thing. Sometimes I wonder if she is actually looking at me or just looking through me. She does that from time to time. Even during day, she has her moments when she spaces out for a short while. And I know that during that night she will hold me tighter than usual.

I do not know how much time has passed since we started our little staring contest. She has not blinked and neither have I.

I wonder what is on her mind. Mine is a mess. I can not focus. Not when we are like this. This has nothing to do with physical attraction. My mechanical body can not conceive such feelings. I can only relate to her soul. As the minutes pass I seem to be drawn into her and my mind starts to form coherent thoughts again. I am vaguely surprised at the three words that form in my conscience: "I love you".

It is not a sudden realization. I knew I loved her for a long time. It is a part of me… like breathing and the knowledge of it. Like every vital thing in our existence it is unspoken of. It is almost amusing how people give so much thought to things that could not affect their life less but keep the important matters to themselves. But then again, frivolity belongs to Light while Dark bears the weight of life.

Once, silence and peace were all I needed to think… to live. Once, my heart and mind only yearned for the tranquility of my room. But all that is now changed. My quiet quarters were replaced by the cold, yet magnificent night sky… the comfort offered by my room is nothing compared to the light hug that only her arms are capable of… my constant need for loneliness is now a constant need for her.

I am not saying that it was any better or any worse back when the two of us were mare teammates. It was none of this. I lived then and I live now. Only the means through which I do so have changed. But I need to say that it is a permanent change. Once you have transformed your way of living there is no turning back. Why? Because life only pushes forward… and we, being life's slaves, have no choice but follow it.

My fingers move to caress her cheek as her eyes close slightly. I know she loves such gestures. Yet she never asked for any. I know she does not need them to live. Her lips form a soft smile, so different from the happy grin that she usually has, yet so adorable that I can not help but love it. She knows that. She knows that I can live without it too… but she still does it. Neither of us needs pleasure to live, but we do not reject it when it is given to us.

What I can not live without is her. Plain and simple. I am aware that such a declaration would be more suitable for a soap opera and considering the fact that I have earlier stated that she is not all I think of, it comes as a contradiction. But life has very little to do with logic when it comes to such matters.

Like I once needed quiet, now I need her, like I once needed to be alone, now I need to be with her.

I can not explain this state. Strangely, this finding does not bring fear. The lack of knowledge never frightened me, as I know that the universe is an everlasting mystery. Whoever tries to deny that is in for more disappointment than one can handle.

Her presence helps me think. Not only that… it helps me dream… it helps me hope. Why? Because she knows me. Because she understands and accepts me… as the darkness did. I don't need to wear a mask. She can see pass it when it is on anyway. So can I, when she is hiding…

I feel her move against me and I break my trail of thought. It is only then that I see the Sun is rising and our time together has ended for the day. I do not resist when her gracious body slips away from mine. I watch her walk away as quietly as she did when she came hours ago.

I wonder… would she be able to live without me? It is a question that has never crossed my mind before. Maybe I could call her back and ask her… but she is already out of sight. I watch the sky being conquered by the sunlight and sigh. Another day to wear my mask.

I look at my hand and my mood suddenly rises. As always, she left the little white flower in my palm… and it is in pieces.

So... what do you think? I know it seemed kind of plotless, but then again is there any kind of plot in your head when your mind's wondering? And to be honest, I really enjoyed writing this.

I hope you liked it. And sorry if I misspelled anything.

Flames are welcomed as long as they're well founded.

P.S.: AntaurixNova ROCKS!