So I read this blog-review of episode 4 and some general forum commentary about the series, and it started to make me think about the possibility of Shinra having a darker side under the sweet exterior. The novel and the anime tell slightly different stories, but I'll let this bit of writing speak for itself.

And for the record, they are still the sweetest couple in all the world, in my opinion. This is just a walk on a darker, more twisted side.

Enjoy~

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_T_iska_

_T_asket_

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Whenever he asked, she lied.

It was much easier that way.

She did not have to feel as much. Did not have to relive as much.

Because how could she tell him how vividly she remembers the sheer agony of sharp metal slitting flesh, her flesh, so exactly, and the unending waves of terror and pain that took her over until she thought she'd swoon?

Twenty years is not very long. Definitely not enough time to forget.

He was only four years old then. So young. Frightened as well. But not too frightened. Not too frightened to approach the vulnerable body of a woman with blade in hand.

Whenever he asked, she told him,

I do not really remember too much. I sorta... blacked out.

But he asked so often, she was not sure if he doubted this.

She urges her bike onward, speeding fast down dark and empty roads. Shinra had been expecting her home much, much sooner, but her delivery that night had taken a bit longer than she'd thought it would. She'd had to drive much further out, almost to the complete opposite end of town.

Late at night, her mind would race like this.

It was hard to face him and still think these thoughts. But in his absence, it was much easier.

What did he... see in her?

Shinra had made it obvious that he was curious by nature. He had relentlessly pestered her with questions in his youth, and still had a few unanswered ones he would occasionally run by her. It was usually not a big deal, because he would get the same answers no mattered how many times he asked. She still did not know how she perceived, or what her life expectancy was, or why she needed to sleep when her physical form was mostly for show. Or why she dreamed of what she did. Or why she dreamed at all.

He asked a lot of questions for someone... in love.

She shook her head as if to clear that kind of treacherous belief, hugging close to a turn.

Of course he loved her. He had lived by her side for twenty years, obviously. He could read her as well as if she'd the ability to make actual facial expressions. And as if through telepathy, he always knew what she was trying to say. He knew just how to hold her, just how to smile at her, just how to make love to her.

But...

But...

As long as she'd been around humans, she knew that he was not the average person.

What kind of man would choose to live the life he did? An underground doctor, perhaps not even accredited. Skilled, no doubt, but certainly not legal. Respected, yes, but to what end? He had no qualms about stitching up the underbelly of the city, providing for the thugs, thieves, and murderers that ran loose in the night.

She had devoted a lot of meditation to the subject, and there were two possibilities which existed in her mind:

One, was that he did it because he believed that every human deserved medical treatment. Help. Death from these types of injuries could be slow and painful. She liked to believe this option, but...

Two, was that he did it out of greed. For the money. Not for any set of humanitarian morals. He did it because, simply put, the money was unbelievable in this line of shady work. Doing what he did brought him more than enough cash to keep him and Celty in the spacious, beautiful place they lived in, with no one bothering them.

Either way, she had decided it was really Shinra's choice how he lived. Even if she did not agree with it, she would respect it without question. After all, he provided a lot for her. This big, nice home. Affection. Attention. And besides... it wasn't like she didn't do some unsavory things herself.

But she'd also learned from watching humans that the line between a 'good' man and a 'bad' man...

...does not exist.

She walked her bike into the breezeway, tucking it into the safety of her private little garage. But as she took to the stairway... she felt herself taking each step more and more slowly, as if... in dread...

Letting herself in, she found him in the computer room, typing away. He was in so deep a trance, he did not hear her come in.

Celty ran a hand over his shoulder, making him jump a little. He turned his head to her.

It didn't take long for him to notice her unusual demeanor. But really, did it ever?

"What's wrong, dear?"

She recoiled. She hadn't meant to be so transparent.

She settled down to her laptop, pulling a chair up beside him.

Carefully, purposefully, she typed out on the messenger:

[I've just had a lot on my kind lately.]

A harmless start, but that inquisitive mind of his was not one to be left hanging so deliberately.

After giving her the you-can-tell-me-anything bit, she, with shaking hands, continued nervously. She didn't want bringing this up to be the mistake it was starting to feel like, but her fingers carried steadily on.

[Why do you... tell me that I do not need my head?]

Selfish desire.

"Oh, Celty. I thought we were past this!"

A need to possess her-

He took her by the hands, holding them in his lovingly, smoothing his warm fingers over her colder ones.

With the dead serious tone of a man deep in the hold of love, he told her, "You are complete. Just as you are. I'll say it as many times as you need me to."

Her hands withdrew to return to the keyboard.

She could feel her shoulders shaking, but from what, even she could not tell. Fear? Sorrow?

Wasn't it eerily similar is was to the way a human shakes when crying?

[It's not because you think I'd leave?]

That made him pause uncomfortably. She looked at him dead on, not missing the way the color drained from his cheeks.

"Of course that's crossed my mind. But I do believe... that you love me too."

Did he mean to say that he trusted that she loved him more than she would want her old self back?

Emboldened by the tumult of emotions within her, she said:

[It's not because you want to keep me? Because the me as I am now will stay with you?]

He could see it. The way she trembled told him everything.

This had been eating away at her for some time. She had been living with this doubt for so long that she feared that he would either be upset with her for even harboring such a notion, or worse still, he would bring her nightmares full circle and it would actually be turn out to be right.

It was true enough that he did not want to lose her, and lived in daily fear of it. If she were to discover where her head lay, there was a good chance that repairing that severed connection would awaken the part of her lay lay dormant, asleep, within her. She would regain the part of her personality that had been lost, along with all memories and feelings that she had been built upon up until the point that they'd been separated.

"I've loved you for twenty years." He tried to make his voice as reassuring as possible. He took her chair and tilted it so that they were facing each other. "The reason I love you as you are... is that this is how you've always been to me. I don't see you as a person missing their head."

His breath caught. If she'd eyes, there would be tears, he just knew it. The very thought made him feel guilty. Almost sick. How could this be hurting her so much?

"I see you as... Celty. My love. Headless, and perfect. As I've always known you."

She froze, uncertain. But hearing him affirm it made her feel a little warmer.

It made sense, in a way. Shinra was not a man accustomed to change. They had lived in the same apartment for so long even she could barely remember the one before it. He went about his business the same way, every day. He even dressed the same on a daily basis. Maybe there really was a grain of truth to that... maybe it was not a personal greed to own her... but that he loved her for her. How he'd always seen her.

Shinra...

"Of course I never want you to leave, but I would never stop you if it was what you wanted."

And oh, oh, how she believed him.

"I love you. Please, Celty." His eyes rose to where hers would be. "There is no one else in this world for me."

Yes, she did believe him.

She believed him so wholly that she let him pull her zipper down over her pale breasts with no rejection whatsoever. And when his hands ran over her neck, her body shook with pure lust. Pure feeling.

So humanlike, but somehow, so like her.

And so, right there on the floor beside their computers, he shred the shadows from her body with his bare fingernails. And she did not hesitate to take his tie and pull so hard he lost his balance and fell atop her bare body.

He grew excited. His teeth were almost rough, the way they sank into the side of her throat. A powerful jolt of unabashed bliss shot through her, making her arch up from the carpet and just outright scream.

And he loved the way she lay beneath him, so trusting, so delicate, and just so damn beautiful. Every jerk of her body, every goosebump that rose, and every errant huff of smoke that left her was delicious. Sexy. His. Perfect. Needy.

With a sigh of arousal, there was a tongue outlining her collarbone. That did the trick. She shuddered hotly and nails raked over the back of his neck. Her thighs lifted up to grip his hips while her hands threw his glasses and jacket to the side in an effort to get at his skin.

Soon, there was nothing between them but dark, wanton heat. His body pressed to hers, pushing her down into the rug. Keeping her there while she writhed in some soft place between fear-

Love-

Pleasure-

Agony.

His hands held fast to her hips while he rocked sweet and slow, rubbing himself along her. His mouth find her nipple, and the way he bit, the way hepulled, stung just a little more than normal.

But she loved it. Loved every thing about this.

There was no need to think. He was expressing his feelings without words, and her heart did so yearn to listen...

Never had their lovemaking been so close to violence. And never had she felt so close to alive.

When he entered her, it actually hurt. Not too much, but just enough to let her know he was a little more serious than she'd realized. It made her dizzy, the way he thrust, so purposeful and quick. His breath came in short little exhales that she could feel against her neck as his teeth lowered into her skin.

This was not the soft, gentle Shinra she had become so accustomed to.

In his place... was...

She could hear herself crying out every time she was impaled and wondered briefly if he could hear it, too. Every little whimper, every strangled plea for more.

Shadows were wrapping around his arms, twining around them like serpents. It wasn't long before they overran his neck, cutting off just enough air to make him lightheaded. And it just fell so, so good-

"Celty," he gasped, vision blurring.

Ahhh-

She moved her hips just so, and his world shattered, so perfectly.

She held him tenderly as he came undone in her arms with a hiss and a low moan that sent shivers down her spine. His face was the very image of human pleasure: eyes closed, face red, mouth open and eyebrows drawn together as if he were drowning in sweet, sweet pain.

And when he fell onto her, body drained and satiated, she just held him close, keeping his face to her neck. She could feel his breathing evening out gradually as he calmed down from his high.

Sliding off of her, he sat back against a leg of the table, inhaling deeply. His eyes stayed fixed on her as he replaced his abandoned glasses.

She could not read those eyes, and this alone somehow felt worse to her than any of the problems her mind had faced tonight.

Rising, she did not even bother to rematerialze her shadowy suit. Silently, defeatedly, she made her way for the doorway, but it was hard to act sure and unbothered with a trail of white running down the inside of her right thigh.

"Celty," he whispered. She paused.

"...you don't want an orgasm?"

It sounded like he'd meant to ask something else.

In the equivalent of a head shake, she continued until she was to the bathroom. The door closed behind her, shut by unseen hands.

And this silence, yes, this silence, was the most horrible yet.

He took his time picking himself up off of the carpet, making sure she was not going to reappear suddenly. When she did not, he sighed deeply, eyes slipping closed, but for just a moment. With a slow movement, he closed his laptop with barely a sound. His eyes stayed on hers, still open, for seconds on end, resolute. Mute.

When he got to bed, she was gone. A note lay on the nightstand, telling him she would be back home by morning. That a job had come up.

She never really had been good at lying...

...but at least she tried.