A/N: Huzzah, the final piece of the prose emerges! Let me ramble no further.

Get Over

Motif III: Unreachable

"I hate you."

The words echo loudly around the quiet, empty cathedral, unheard by anyone but me and the bare altar they're aimed at. They feel good to say, and I relish the vindictive taste in my mouth for a moment. I say it again.

"I hate you," and it is a snarl this time, an angry snarl that nearly tears my throat apart. "Why won't you show your damn face? Are you afraid of me? Are you hiding because you know the Terror of Death is looking for you? Are you cowering, you pathetic bastard?"

I nearly spit the last word out. But it's true. He's hiding, he's afraid, he's pathetic and scared and shaking when he has no right to be, because he's mercilessly killed and destroyed lives, real lives, so I can't understand why he'd be so afraid of death, not now.

But a part of me doesn't agree. A part of me is laughing at my anger, and it doesn't understand where it's coming from. It mocks the fact that there's no 'proof' of him, that fact that I'm chasing a dream, an imaginary man, a meager three scratches in a game. It mocks the fact that I've allowed the rumors and stories to distort my mind and view of The World.

But it's wrong. It's wrong because I've already seen all the proof I'll ever need, and I know. He's real.

Tri-Edge.

There's no lingering trail of thought that follows this time. My mind is set, is clear and focused on the truth. My hand is firm on the scythe's handle, and I'm waiting, waiting in the empty cathedral as the sun never sets and strikes the bare altar, where the burning orange, yellow, and red–all the proof I'll ever need–glares up at me.

This was where my world changed. I stumbled in here, helpless and naive, and found her dying. I cried and wept and sniveled, and when she faded away I wandered around The World like some lost idiot without a soul or purpose. I wandered and stumbled and fought for power without ever once gaining it, without ever once becoming any less helpless or weak.

And then the Painful Forest came along.

Everyone was afraid, everyone was terrified that they would die, but I had nothing to be afraid of, nothing to fear: I had already died, months ago. So I tore through the 'fear' and 'terror,' because I knew there was power behind it. And I found it. I found a curse and a gift that would lead me along the path to redemption and vengeance.

But I hadn't found my vengeance, because power could only take me so far. It didn't matter that I was powerful, that I was frightening, that I was the Terror of Death and the slaughterer of PKs, if I couldn't find him. All I could do was wait. So I waited. I waited and I stumbled aimlessly through The World, and I realized that, in the end, nothing had changed. I was still lost. I was still pathetic. I was still helpless. I had gone through hell and desperation, only to come full circle and accomplish nothing.

But then Ovan came back.

I was overwhelmed–and a part of me was disgusted by how weak I was in his presence, how desperately glad I was to see him–and chased him like he was a fleeting shadow, because I was afraid he would leave again, leave without telling me anything, without explaining where he'd been or what had happened.

And the condescending bastard smiled. He smiled and turned away. Turned away like he had done so many times before, and told me to trust and follow him. I wanted to laugh in derision and mock those words that meant nothing to me now... but I didn't. I followed him, listened to him, and nearly spilled out my heart to him.

Where were..?Shino's gone!I was so afraid and lost..Please, tell me–do you know?Tri-Edge–!

And he held up his hand to silence me like a child.

Do you want to know about Tri-Edge? ...He will be back today, at the scene of the crime.

I didn't need a single word more. I ran, ran like a desperate fool, to catch a man who I was both sure and unsure was real.

But I chased it anyway, because it was all that I had left. It was all the small, dying hope in The World that I had left to cling to.

And now I'm standing here, reminiscing and thinking back on how little I've done and how sickeningly vulnerable I am. I feel rage surge up my throat like fire and spill into my mouth, because I've been led on. There isn't anyone coming. Ovan lied to me, and I've somehow managed to play into his hands like a lapdog, a stupid, helpless–

The note sounds and quivers on the air, and I stagger as I hurry to turn around. My heart is beating so fast I think it's going to burst, and I feel like I'm going to die with anticipation, but I don't care. He's here, he's here, he's here, he's here, and I'm going to get my chance, I'm going to split him in half and–

I swivel around and the blinding light knocks me off my feet and sends me reeling. But I see him, I see him wrapped in blue flame and wavering like smoke, like he's about to disappear, but I know he won't; I won't give him the chance.

I see it all happening again, months and months of torment and grief, as he loosens his blades. I see wet cheeks and endless nights, empty eyes and bleeding wrists, black steel and burning orange, yellow, and reds as I shake uncontrollably and rake my daggers from their holsters.

"You bastard!"

I cover the ground before I can stop myself, before I can think, and my sweaty fingers scream in pain as he stops me cold. But I throw scrape after scrape. I don't stop, I can't, not when I'm so close, so very close to the way things were, to having it all back, to Shino–

He flicks me away like a fly.

I scramble back up from my knees, already choking on the rigid air in my lungs. The steady thrum of my broadsword whizzes like knives in the air as I pull it free and sprint forward. But my arms lock as I hit him again. I look at him, glare at him through the buzzing blades of my sword, and see two cold, empty eyes that couldn't care less about The World.

He flings me back again, and I hit the floor hard, panting. My fingers scrabble blindly as I stagger upward. I can't talk because of the swollen thumping in my throat, I can't make a sound. But he strolls over, slowly and calmly, and I realize how completely inhuman he is.

There's no purpose in his walk. There's no fire in his eyes. There's only the empty gait of a man who has come to do what needs to be done and be off. And I see it now, clearly, the wall of power between us. As tears stream from my eyes and blur my sight, I see that I was never powerful, always helpless, and that he was never in my reach.

But it's not over, not yet, because it can't be.

My trembling fingers draw my scythe again, draw Death, and plunge its cold steely arms into him, like grief and resent and torment. But he breaks it like glass. He breaks Death and my resolve like nothing, and as his hand clutches my face and moistens with my quickening breath, I can't help but break as well. He blows me away with a blare of white light.

I bite down on my lip and feel the warm blood trickle into my mouth. I see him standing over me, gaunt and leering, as he throws his hand into the air. I see the ring of light and data take form around his wrist, hear the crackle as it spins faster and faster, as it stops and the light flares and covers my eyes whole. I scream. I scream and hit the ground with a dull thud.

And then I feel it. I feel the steady rhythm as the black armor is slowly wrenched away, torn apart piece by piece. I see the fragments of my desperate, pathetic, months-long struggle ripped away, and remember bitterly again that he was always out of my reach.

So I lie there, on the cold, stone floor, twitching and squirming, as my only shell and defense breaks and scatters. The mournful music of the place sounds hollowly in my ears, and through my hazy eyes I see a figure. I see it looming in the doorway of the cathedral, watching silently. I see Ovan. Ovan, who knew all along that I never stood a chance. Ovan, who had led me here on purpose. Ovan, who probably didn't care that I was lying on the floor and dying. Ovan, who never gave a hell-scorned damn about anyone at all–

The screen goes blank.

-End-

A/N: And that, dear readers who stuck around long enough to see the fic through, is the end. It was emo, full of brooding, and a fun change of writing to experience. Nothin' else like broadening your writer's horizon, I say. :p Anywho, glad you guys enjoyed the fic, and if you feel up to it, leave some concrit and whatnot on your way out. Peace, yo.