Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Cowboy Bebop Meets Trigun ❯ Forget Me Not: The Lost Chapter ( Chapter 31 )

Disclaimer: Nope. Doesn't belong to me. Except Nightingale. Other than her, I own nothing.

 

A/N: A companion fic to Cowboy Bebop Meets Trigun that takes place sometime during the crossover. Just so everyone knows, it was written by Spicy-obsession. I edited it, but the entirety of this story pretty much belongs to her. It was her idea to devote one entire story to Nightingale and her past, most of which she came up with herself. She consulted me before writing it, but it is mostly hers anyway. So, I hope you enjoyed our combined effort.

 

 

Forget Me Not

 

It was early. About 6:00 when she woke up, her hair crumpling beneath her as she groggily sat up and checked her alarm. Hmm. I suppose I should begin the day now. She stood up carelessly and folded her futon neatly in place. She checked for her weapons, the katana and whip, neatly folded, hanging on a bare wall across from her futon. She made her way to the bathroom where, a few minutes later; the showerhead gently came on, filling the small room with steam. She tentatively stepped in the enclosed space and let the hot water hit her face first, feeling a light burning sensation but it faded soon thereafter. Once her hair was a dark mass glistening with droplets, she began to massage the shampoo into her scalp, taking care to wash behind the ears…

She turned the water off, wrapping a towel loosely around herself and easing out of the shower while little droplets of water dripped from her hair, sprinkling over the tile. She looked down and sighed. I'll get to that later, I suppose… She dried her hair in front of the mirror, eyes roving her body, closing in on small unnoticeable scars and pausing at the one on her face. It has been a while since then. I wonder if you have forgotten me by now… She saw the woman in the mirror look back at her, her hair a bedraggled mess. She hung the towel on a hook and began to put toothpaste on her toothbrush…

After performing the usual, she dressed plainly in her usual attire, strode into her room and opened a dresser drawer, searching for her cloak. As she ruffled through several pieces of undergarments, her hand hit something hard and solid. She pushed away the rest of the clothes to find a small wooden box. Her body noticeably stiffened. Her fingers slowly gripped the box and lifted it up from the drawer, eyeing the simplicity of its design. I thought I hid this so I couldn't find it. She checked the alarm again. 6:20. I have some time to spare… Forgetting her cloak altogether, she walked swiftly out of the room, box in hand.

Upon reaching the desired destination, she set the box down on the table and strode to a lone coffeemaker that was to the side. She opened a drawer and picked up a certain mug. Pouring herself a cup, she eyed the box sitting on the table. The strong scent of black coffee wafted through her nose. She sat down and set the mug on the hard surface. She lifted the box. Everything was as it should be. Untouched. She was unsure of whether to finger the delicate flowers sitting at the bottom, dried and preserved. She would not. She could not. But she remembered. She remembered everything.

She forced her eyes from the flowers and gazed at the mug blankly, the coffee slowly cooling. It was black and glossy, with nothing on it. And it was a gift. He had given it to her…

 

 

She strode through the hallway, confidence radiating off of her. People walked to the sides; some just stopped and let her pass. That was the walk of a high-ranking officer. She stopped at a door, whereupon she rapped her knuckles sharply. A “Come in” was issued from the other side. The door slid open and she walked in. As the door slid close, she gave a low bow to the man in front of her.

“You called, Tatsujin?”

The austere man in before her shuffled some papers and looked up at her, scrutinizing. He grabbed a folder and tossed it to her. Her hand shot up into the air, catching it easily. She swiftly opened it and flipped through the documents. He continued watching her.

“I am assigning you a partner, Nightingale.”

She looked up at him, an incredulous but polite look on her face. There was no scar.

“And what circumstances press you to call upon a partner, sir? Forgive me for saying, but I have never required the help of another source. Are you, perhaps, assigning me a particularly difficult mission?”

His reply was, “Although you perform your missions and assignments with deadly efficiency, you have yet to learn how to cooperate and collaborate with another along side you. It is best that you attain that skill. And what better method than to assign you partner?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. She gazed at him for a moment, and then nodded her head.

“Very well, sir. I shall follow your orders. And when, may I ask, am I to meet this partner of mine?”

At that, the Tatsujin chuckled, though coming out of him it sounded like a low rumble. He sighed.

“Incidentally, he was supposed to arrive at the same time as you. I'm afraid he's tardy.”

Right after he said that, the door slid open and a figure stumbled into the room, nearly falling upon Nightingale. She smoothly stepped to the side, eyeing the person suspiciously. The man at the desk coughed lightly.

“Nightingale, meet your new partner.”

The young man dusted himself off and straightened to his full height. He was panting slightly still and his pale red hair was messily covering his eyes. He smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, sir. I thought I was supposed to meet you tomorrow so I dawdled…” he trailed off.

Tatsujin raised his eyebrows bemusedly. With a wave of his hand, he said, “That's all right. The reason I called you here is because you have a new partner. Titian, please meet Nightingale, who is standing off to the side.”

The redhead turned to face her, a merry look on his face. He offered her a hand. “Pleased to meet you, err, Nightingale.”

She warily took his hand and shook it. This BOY was to be her partner? He turned to face Tatsujin.

“How long is this arrangement, Sir?”

He fingered his chin, looking at both of them.

“It is for an indefinite period of time.”

Titian smiled at her again. “It looks like we're stuck together for a while then.”

 

 

Gale took a sip of her coffee, her other hand idly tapping on the box. What a goof…I can't even recall how long we were assigned to each other…

 

 

Whispers about them were filling the hall as the two both walked down it. Yes, it was true. Nightingale has a partner. Was she doing well in her assignments? I suppose not because now she has someone to help her. Well isn't that Titian? Why, yes, it is. He's quite the looker, isn't he? How does she always get the good ones after her?

Nightingale sadly shook her head. The lengths people will go to…

The redhead glanced at her as they continued striding. “Something wrong?”

She gave him an unintentionally cold glare. “I would rather not say here.”

He gave her an apologetic look. “Oh. Sorry I asked.”

They passed a group of new recruits. The girls in it gazed shyly at Titian and waved to him. He waved back, murmuring, “Good day, ladies.” They all blushed furiously. And then glared at the black-haired woman. When they noticed her rank, though, they immediately stopped and bowed their heads rapidly. She rolled her eyes. Honestly, adolescents these days…

They reached an intersection.

“Where are you going to?” he asked.

Without looking at him, she replied, “I am going to the lounge for a cup of coffee. Black coffee.”

“A cup of coffee sounds like a good idea. Mind if I come along, too?”

She raised a brow. There was an eager look on his face and a merry smile. How old IS this BOY?

“Okay.” And not a word more came out of her or him

 

 

She was halfway through her cup. She swirled the contents around and listened to the clock on the wall, the steady ticking soothing her. She didn't bother to look at the time. A rather odd first impression, is it not? …Was it not. It took me a while until I grew accustomed to your mere presence…

 

 

“Hah! Hah!”

She swung the katana again. It sliced the air, making a swoosh sound. The headband slipped from her forehead to hang around her neck. The robe she was wearing clung to her. Her hair was matted in sweat. She had long taken off her socks, which were

probably lying somewhere, stinking for all it was worth. She swung again.

“Hah! Hah! H-“

“Mind if I join?”

She wiped some sweat off her forehead and looked at Titian, who was clothed in a simple t-shirt and shorts. No socks. She nodded slowly.

“You practice-?”

He laughed. “I don't look it, do I?”

“I'm afraid not.”

“Well, come on, then. Let's see if I'm good or not.”

“Very well.”

She turned to face him. He to her. They raised their katanas to each other.

“Ready when you are.”

He struck first. He charged towards her, and then sidestepped, trying to slice her. She easily dodged him, countering with a strike to his side, but he blocked that too. They stepped back, paused, ran head-on, and collided with each other, the veins in their heads becoming visible. Neither one would budge. The katanas appeared to be trembling in their hands. She was surprised. He was good. Very good. She broke apart and did a 360-degree turn, swinging back to hit him, only to meet his weapon smacking against hers, making a loud clack noise that resounded throughout the training room.

Their heads were nearly touching. Beads of sweat were covering their bodies. Their arms were shaking.

“Tired?” she asked. She doubted it, though. He had a steady look in his eyes. He managed a smile.

“Not even close.”

 

 

The cup was empty now. She stood up and got another cup of that heavenly stuff. She sat down again.

I only beat him once. Or was it that I let him be my equal…? And were you not a most interesting debater…?

 

 

“What are you thinking about?”

She looked up at him, a cup of coffee in his hand, poised to sit across from her.

“Why is it that you seem to find me, no matter where I go?”

He chuckled and sat across from her. He shrugged.

“Well, we are partners. And I'm not sure why I keep finding you. It is a small world, after all.”

“Almost too small, “ she muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said nothing.”

He raised both his eyebrows. “You have a thing for keeping yourself mysterious, don't you?”

She took a sip out of a white mug. “I prefer to keep to myself.

He took a sip of his. “What? Do you have any secrets?”

Just one. “…I have a few.”

“Maybe I'll find out someday.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Maybe I will.”

Silence took over. She was halfway through her cup when he broke the quiet once more. “Are you not one of GENE's higher-ranking officers?”

She paused, considering her answer. “I was not aware of my ranking to be so prestigious.”

“Such a waste of a badge though…” he murmured. She looked at him, surprised and with a frustrated curiousness.

“A waste? You mean to say, I am not worthy to be of this high a ranking?” Her voice was soft, liable to be taken as a dangerous undertone.

Titian put both hands in front of his face. “Whoa, whoa, calm down. It isn't necessarily applied to you. It's just that some people of your status like to abuse their power.” He was smiling sheepishly again. “And besides, you're so `efficient' and `deadly' and `calm', no one will ever suspect you of anything like THAT.”

The corners of her mouth twitched. “You mean I'm boring and predictable?”

He cocked his head to the side. “In Laymen's terms, yes, you are.”

Her mouth twitched again. “It is only through the way that I act so `boring' that I am able to rise through ranks and achieve perfection. Perfection for GENE.” She took another sip of coffee.

He followed her and did likewise. “But, what IS perfection? The state of being perfect, I highly doubt that ANYONE has ever achieved that state of mind.”

“But is not being perfect a reality?”

“Perfect has a different meaning for different people. If you have `achieved' that state of perfection, it will appear to me that you have led a completely boring and dull life, with no surprise. The word `perfect' alone is a most abstract term.”

She raised her eyebrows. So, he is able to hold a conversation without boring me. There IS more than meets the eye, then. “So what, pray tell, is your opinion of perfect?”

He rested his chin on his hands. “Depends on what yours is, Nightingale.”

She took an extra large sip and replied, “Perfect is being…in control. Control of the situation. Order and regularity. If I can do everything just right, then the world is…safe. For the moment.”

At that, he snorted into his mug. She gave him a reproving look and glared at him with cold indifference. He managed to meet her glare.

“Sorry, it's just…if that's your idea of perfection, then you're never going to get there. Getting everything right is a proved impossibility. You will only end up disappointed and sad in the end. But since you voiced your opinion, I might as well. For me, I don't really care about whether I'm perfect or not. Personally, I like flaws. It makes things interesting. If everything were perfect, I'd die of boredom. No problems, no wars, no excitement. I guess…I'm the kind of person who lives in the moment, never looking ahead.”

She stared at him for a few seconds, holding her now empty cup of coffee. Hmm, he really can hold an argument. She threw him a half-smirk.

“Touché.”

 

 

She looked into her mug, the nearly black brown staring up at her. It was still steaming, the scent directly hitting her face. She breathed it all in. And smiled. A small smile. You were always trying to make me smile…

 

 

“Why won't you smile?”

She sighed, turning to face him. “Will you please leave me be about that irritating subject? I do not smile because I prefer not to.”

He jogged to her side, a smug look on his face. “I bet you would look stunning if you'd just SMILE. A little one would do.”

“Nothing you do or say could possibly cause me to smile,” she said calmly.

He pouted, sticking out his lower lip. “I don't believe you. Someday I WILL make you smile.”

 

 

Surprisingly, you did. She allowed herself to chuckle softly. He didn't even do anything funny. It's rather amazing, how you got under my skin, even if it took nearly a year…

 

 

“Merry Christmas!”

Nightingale stood off to the side and watched quietly as everyone threw confetti around and began to hand out gifts. Most of them were hand-wrapped in blinding designs; usually glitter, though feathers were the trend, too. She arched a thin brow. Year after year, it was the same thing. It was becoming more predictable after each year. She sadly shook her head. Christmas was so overrated.

After much food, confetti, and mistletoe, members of GENE started to leave the conference room, most of them red-faced and jolly from the spiked eggnog. Wonder who could have done that? She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around. And straightened her posture.

“Yes, Tatsujin?”

“Would you clean up the mess, please? I have some business to attend to. Titian here will help you.”

She spun around to find the redhead dressed like an ornament, the orange glare from it making her wince to look at him.

“Tatsujin…?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Yes?”

She averted his gaze. “Never mind. Yes, sir, I'll clean it up.”

He tipped his hat to her. “I trust you'll clean this place up thoroughly.” He then strode out of the room.

She sighed and grabbed a plastic bag as she began to pick up bits of confetti and gift paper. When she got under the tree, she noticed an unopened present tucked between some random branches. A card was lying next to it and, she picked up the tag to see whom it belonged to.

TO: Nightingale (Boring Woman)

FROM: Your Partner ^_^

P.S. I hope you use this often.

She stood up with the present in hand to find Titian staring right at her, a gentle smile on his face. He dug his hands in his pockets.

“I figured that not many people give you anything this time of year so I took the liberty of being one of the first to do so. Go ahead and open it. There isn't an explosive inside.”

She warily ripped the paper apart, uncovering a small cardboard box. She opened it to find…

A coffee mug.

It was black, glossy, and plastic. She laughed inwardly. He looked on cheerfully.

“I know you love black coffee so here's your custom mug to drink from! Merry Christmas!”

She faced him, devoid of any emotion. “But…I did not get you anything.”

He shrugged and said, “That's okay. I don't mind. If you smile, that's good enough for me.”

She smirked. “In your dreams.”

He shrugged again. “Only a matter of time. Anyway, let's get started cleaning up this place, shall we?”

One Christmas tree cleanup, two sweep-ups, and a confetti scuffle later, they were through tidying. Nightingale wiped some sweat from her neck.

“Well, I'll see you tomorrow. And um…” She turned away. “A Merry Christmas to you too.”

His whole demeanor brightened and he said, “Wow. You actually said it. Anyway, I'll be going now.”

And he hugged her briefly before she had time to react. Her eyes widened, her hands pressed against his chest. He's hugging ME…? Where did that come from?? He then unexpectedly let go, holding her by the shoulders. He grinned widely.

“I'll see you tomorrow.” And he left the room, leaving her to stand there, immobilized, as she contemplated at what had just occurred.

 

 

She fingered the mug, still spotless from all these years. She could have pushed him away if she wanted to. I had enough time to react. Right…? Still, it was about time to tell him…

 

 

“Titian?”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

She sat down across from him. It was now a habit for them to meet for a chat in the lounge. With black coffee of course.

“I have something…to say.”

“Well you always do.”

“This is important. It's strictly confidential.” She gazed at him severely. “Meaning, tell no one.”

“Okay, okay, shoot.”

She clasped her hands together. “I am…”

He leaned forward slightly. “Yes?”

She fixed her eyes on him. “I am a…Plant.”

He blinked. “A what?”

She sighed. “A Plant. Well, an autonomous one, that is. I understand if you do not wish to associate with me anymore. I only ask you to keep this under wraps. I felt that I could tell you this, after knowing each other for a significant amount of time now.” She lowered her eyes.

He stared at her incredulously. And began to guffaw heartily. She gave him a reproachful look.

“Really, now, there is no need to laugh so. If you continue, I'm afraid I am going to leave right n-“

“No! No, it's okay. I was just laughing because you actually thought I was going to `no longer associate myself with you'. That's stupid! Why would I stop being friends with you just because you're a Plant?”

It was her turn to blink slowly. “…Friends…?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Well, yeah. I consider you a friend. Don't you?” The question seemed doubtful.

She cocked her head to the side, gazing at him thoughtfully. A long pause followed. And then-

“Yes, I suppose I do consider you my…friend. I, um, appreciate that you accept me for who I am.”

He looked away and smiled at no one in particular. “No problem. …Plant girl.”

“…”

“Nightingale?”

He looked at her. His eyes grew very big.

“You just smiled a second ago!”

“No, I did not,” she replied stonily.

“Ha!” He punched a fist into the air. “I made you smile! I knew I would eventually!”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “It's not something to dance about.”

“Oh yes it is!” And he got up from his chair and began dancing gleefully. She began rubbing her temples.

 

 

She downed a mouthful. Strange how you made me smile. I didn't even realize it myself until you pointed it out. I suppose you weren't so intolerable after all. Then again, there was that time you…

 

 

Titian walked down the hallway, looking for the balcony. Damn. I still can't find it, after all these years. Honestly, they really shouldn't make the place so big… He stopped at a screen door. Ah. Here it is. He opened it quietly and eased himself through. At least I remember that this thing squeaks when you open it wide enough. He shut the door softly behind him, turned around to face the night sky, and froze and it wasn't from the cool breeze either.

There was Nightingale, leaning against the railing, looking up at the partly cloudy firmament, her hair streaming from her head. Her hair was down. He never saw it down. She turned around, strands of hair thrown carelessly across her face. Her hands instinctively went to her hair, trying to cover it from him.

“W-what are you doing here?”

He walked over to her, leaning against the railing too. “I should ask you the same thing.”

She looked away. “I came here to think.”

“About what?”

“About many of things.”

“Still so secretive after all these months?”

“I told you before, I like to keep to myself.”

She cautiously let her hands go to the railing. He then noticed that she wasn't wearing her black suit.

“A nightgown? To your ankles?”

“I can be feminine, can't I?” she replied defensively. It was as feminine as she could get. The gown she wore was a pastel purple, the sleeves going past her hands.

“You should definitely wear your hair down more often. This is the first time I've seen it down and I've known you for, what? Nearly 2 years?”

Has it really been that long? “It was not one of my intentions for you to see it down.”

“I know that.” He stared at her, transfixed.

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me,” she said coolly.

 

 

Even if it made me want to laugh at you. She sighed and looked at the box. And finally, delicately, dipped her hand in the box, drawing out a dried blue-purple flower. It was tiny, the petals barely recognizable. For me you said…

 

 

“Nightingale?”

“What is it?”

“I heard from no one in particular that you don't even know your own birthday. Tell me, how did this come to be?”

She stopped rifling through her papers and faced him. “The day I was born is not a matter of importance. I was created, wasn't I? Then it does not matter to know the exact date.”

He stared at her incredulously and walked right up to her. He whipped his hands from his back to show her a wrapped gift.

“Something for the unwilling birthday girl,” he grinned winningly. She rolled her eyes and took it from him. They stared. He wrung his hands.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Open it! I want to see your reaction!”

“Alright, alright, I'll open it.”

She set it on a table and started to tear the paper apart. It was a book.

“Open it, “ he urged. She opened it and flipped through the pages until she found…

Flowers. Small, blue-purple flowers. Titian's eyes twinkled.

“They're my favorite kind. They're called forget-me-nots. My grandmother gave them to me before she died. I hope you like them as well. Hehe, took me a while to pick all of those…”

She lightly touched them, the blue-purple blossoms staring back at her. “Um, thanks.”

She glanced at him and paused. He was looking at her intently, his eyes unreadable.

“No problem, birthday girl.”

 

 

You never told me what they symbolized. I was a little surprised when I found out… She was halfway through her cup again. As she put the flower back in and closed the lid, she swallowed hard at what she began to remember…

 

 

It had been several months since that incident. They had continued talking, as if nothing had happened, but there was something awkward, unsaid between them now. She hated it. He hated it. But there was nothing they could do.

Nightingale stared at the whitewashed walls around her as she filled her mug to the brim. She was tired. Very tired. She sat down wearily, blowing off the steam and leisurely swirling the contents around. I'll never get tired of this stuff…

She inhaled the scent, letting it settle in her mind, relaxing her. The door clicked open and someone walked in. She already knew who it was. She just didn't feel like talking to him this morning.

He walked over to the coffeemaker. “Hey,” he said softly. She didn't reply.

“Okay…” he began. He filled his mug and sat down beside her. Not a word. He got the message and continued sipping his cup in silence. Minutes went by. They both drained their mugs at the same time. They got up and on their way to the coffee pot they bumped into each other.

“Sorry…” as their voices trailed off. Titian looked at Nightingale. She never noticed it before, but his eyes were hazel. It was a comforting color.

The seconds ticked by. Neither said a word; they just stood there, mug in hands, frozen.

He leaned down and kissed her.

It was a ghost of a kiss, their lips slightly touching, but she could already taste the coffee he drank, feeling it mingle with that familiar taste in her mouth and into the quiet ticking of the clock on that early morning.

The smell of the freshly brewed drink lingered inside her head.

They broke off at the same time, eyes locked with each other. There was nothing to say. He wordlessly took her mug, filling it up for her, as they went back to their seats and resumed drinking. A few minutes thereafter, she got up quickly and left the room, leaving the mug behind and him also.

 

 

She pushed it from her head, refusing to think about it anymore. She went ahead and finished the rest of the coffee, getting up to fill it to the brim again. Nothing lasts forever. Not even you…

 

 

“Titian is being reassigned to a GENE outpost. He will depart the day after tomorrow. I will now leave you two so you can both have a moment alone.”

Tatsujin left the room, his coat billowing behind him, as the door slid close and the two agents faced each other.

“I…guess this is good-bye,” the young man ventured.

“I suppose so,” she replied, attempting to sound unconcerned. “Have you got your things packed already?”

“Some of it,” he replied. “It's just hard to say bye.”

“It is,” she said. She crossed her arms and turned around.

“I enjoyed working with you, Titian. When you are situated at your new home, be sure to pay a visit here every once in a while.” She grinned bravely. For the second time.

He faced her. He had on a sad, resolute smile. “I want you to know my real name. It's Jason.”

Jason. A nice name. An amiable name. “I still prefer Titian,” came the answer.

He chuckled. “Me too. And if you don't mind my asking, what is yours?”

“It's…Gale.” She looked away.

“I like that name.”

“…Thank you.”

He held out a hand to her. “It's been nice working with you, too”

She took it and shook the appendage firmly. “I'll see you later.”

He didn't let go of their handshake. He gently pulled her closer to him, leaned over, and whispered softly in her ear, “I trust that we'll still be friends right?”

She nodded, her throat oddly tight. He paused one last time and added something so quietly she had to strain to hear it, “And hopefully, maybe more than that despite all of this.”

At that, he abruptly let go and walked swiftly out of the room, the sliding door making a swoosh sound, leaving Gale to feel her hand still tingle from the warmth of his and from the feel of his breath on her neck.

Why did I hesitate?

 

 

She resumed sitting, her third cup of coffee in her hands. She drank deeply and stared fixedly at the wall in front of her, bare and unblemished. She balled her hands, her knuckles very white. And then the news came…

 

 

“I am sorry to say, but after just several weeks of living in a GENE outpost, Agent Titian passed away while on duty. We will hold a funeral for him four days from now. You may offer your condolences to his friends and family then. Right now, we need to get back to work.”

Tatsujin stepped down from the podium, around him the members of GENE were whispering, a look of pity and shock plastered on to their faces. Some of the girls were crying loudly, the sobs resounding throughout the conference room. As he passed through the crowd, he stopped for a moment beside Gale. She refused to look at him. She felt his hand on her shoulder, squeezing her lightly.

“I'm fine,” she said quietly, unemotionally.

“I trust you are” came the answer. She felt him leave. Bowing her head, she pushed through the people, easing herself out the door, and walked towards her room, her shoulders rigid and tense.

Four days later, the funeral was going on outside, in the rain. A few of Jason's friends were going to speak about him.

As the coffin was being carried out, a procession followed, while Gale sat on the floor on her knees, in front of a bare wall. So white and…unblemished. She placed her left hand against the cold surface, reveling in the smoothness of it and how fragile it was. Anyone could easily break through such a weak barrier.

Why am I not outside, mourning him? Is it because I do not miss him? But how can I not miss him; he is my friend. Why am I acting this way? What can I call this…feeling? Such an odd emotion. She swallowed hard, even though it didn't make the tightness go away. She gritted her teeth and bowed her head.

“Why,” she began thickly, “am I acting so weak and vulnerable? Why, why can I not control these sensations? Why do I `feel' so helpless? Why must I be so INCOMPETENT? Why, oh why, please tell me, did I hesitate that morning?!”

She suddenly punched the wall, her eyes ablaze with an unknown passion.

“Why is all of this so UNFAIR?!”

She punched it again, with her other hand. The dent began to crumble, but it did nothing for the unfamiliar ache dwelling somewhere in her chest cavity.

“Whatever this pain is, there has to be a way to make it disappear!”

She stood up and began to furiously hit the wall, as bits and pieces of it started to fall to the ground, causing a pile of dust to fly up. She no longer cared about anything. All she wanted now was to have this `feeling' to go away. She did not want it. She had never wanted a partner to begin with. Pent up rage was unleashed, blinding her common sense as she continued to senselessly throw blow after blow, the heap of debris multiplying around her. A gigantic hole began to grow. She moved against the wall effortlessly, a killing machine as she destroyed the surface.

And then a chunk of rubble hit a light fixture.

Shards of glass flew past her as her frenzied fury refused to wane. Nothing mattered at this point. I am living in the moment, aren't I? I am not caring what happens in the future, am I not? I am following your advice right?!

Out of nowhere, a particularly huge piece of glass flew directly onto her face, giving her barely enough time to react and close her eyes before it cut onto her face, viciously slicing into the skin from mid-cheek to just above her left eyebrow. She stumbled and fell back, panting and wheezing as the filth gradually stopped flying.

She raised both hands to her face, barely able to see through strands of hair and blood. Her hands were streaked with blood, dripping onto the floor below, blending with the dust. A hand came to her face, fingering her ugly cut and smearing her fingers with more blood. She gingerly picked up a large piece of the heated sand and looked at herself.

A fallen woman looked back at her. She tossed it aside as she kneeled down and began to scream…

Never again.

 

 

Gale carefully traced her scar on down to mid-cheek, stopping abruptly. She checked her watch. She had stayed in the lounge for more than an hour. Everyone is probably awake. I had better go see to them. Getting up and wiping the moisture from her eyes, she picked up the box, pushed her chair back and left the room, the mug sitting on the table, with a few traces of coffee left, unfinished and cold.

 

 

And for the record, forget-me-nots symbolize true love.

 

 

Yes, Forget Me Not is over. We both hope you liked it.

Note from Spicy-Obsession: Please read my stories if you guys like Harry Potter. And I hope you liked this story. As you can see, I have a different writing style from Readingwhiz over here.