The Red

The red…

I remember you.

The morgue was dark and cold, as such places are meant to be.

The lights had long since been shut out, the living having gone home to their families and warm beds. There was no fear of the more permanent residents going anywhere, for their blood had long since stopped flowing in deadened veins. There was a mechanical hum echoing from deep within the building, the freezer keeping the corpses chilled as they waited so patiently within a wall of metal doors for their time to be buried. Whatever their cause of death, it was no longer important, even while it was forever etched upon each body, as the cadavers lay entombed in a perfect marble cast. No life or blood allowed emotions to writhe across their frozen visages.

The darkness held them all in its cold embrace, no place for the living in the impersonal shadowed surroundings. Somewhere in the building came the sound of breaking glass and then the sound of a door being opened, but no alarm went off. Who, after all, would waste their time breaking into or out of a morgue?

Hard footsteps echoed in the artificial stillness, reflecting off the metal doors and the linoleum floor. A soft whistling sounded from the shadows, and leant an eerie cast to the place, as if the reaper himself were paying a visit, just to look upon his handiwork. A moment later the darkness was broken up by a small flame bursting into life, lasting only long enough to light the end of a cigarette before it had gone out again, only a small glow lingering in its wake. It was shockingly sterile, even in shadows, the place smelling of formaldehyde and ether, though already the wafting smoke was beginning to permeate the air.

The darkness was again shattered in the next second as the stranger flipped a switch setting the row of fluorescent lights flickering to life in a white synthetic glow.

Oh yes, I remember you.

The blood is still on your hands.

“Veritas…” A quiet mocking voice sounded from the man’s lips as he shook crimson red hair from his face. Sin, for no other name truly fit, possessed the same cold perfection as the bodies, but a sadistic smirk was etched upon his face. His eyes tilted arrogantly even as they burned the same red as his hair, a preternatural fire lighting fiercely in his gaze. He was dressed simply, in faded jeans with chains hanging loosely from his pockets and tears in the knees. A black tee shirt covered his lean frame, with a faded leather jacket encasing his arms and with worn black boots on his feet. Smoke rose around him in a cloud from the cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth, even as he breathed it in.

Pale fingers with nails stained black trailed along the metal doors, the smile forever on his face. A swagger came into his steps as he walked, tracing lines along the steel surface. “Veritas…I know you’re awake. I can fucking feel it.” His voice was both harsh and liquid as he paused against the wall, a chuckle escaping his lips with a strange forceful and destructive need. Laughter spilled from his throat, even as he continued with slow measured steps, the sensuous glide of a snake in every smooth movement he made. He slowed again, head tilting slightly as his fingers curled around one metal handle; the dangerous glint flashing sharply in his eyes. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

With a sudden, wrenching movement, he yanked the door open, stepping aside as the frigid table rolled from the freezer, a white sheet covering the still form underneath it. The smile on his face grew broader as one hand drifted over the white sheet, hovering just above its surface. He closed his eyes for a minute, feeling the other man’s power hovering just below the surface of his skin as life slowly returned to frozen veins.

Cold…

Why won’t this end?

Long fingers grabbed the edge of the white sheet, pulling it back to the man’s waist. Sin tilted his head curiously as he studied the corpse, red hair spilling across his face and casting his crimson eyes in shadow. The man was undeniably beautiful, even in death, with chin-length hair that was a silver white in color, though it was black at the roots. His eyes were closed, but Sin knew them to be a bright blue that could put the sky to shame. The only thing that marred the seeming perfection was the thick rigid slash across his throat, long since turned black and no longer bleeding. A simple black cross with a circle around it was tattooed on each of his shoulders, but nothing else marred his pale skin.

“I wonder what it will take,” Sin mused softly, leaning back against the wall as he studied the other man, inhaling the smoke from a half forgotten cigarette, just before flicking it out across the floor and drawing a fresh one. The other man had shifted slightly, and Sin could hear even from where he stood the steady thudding of his heart as it began to beat again. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back against the cool metal surface. For the moment, the smile was gone from his face, instead his brow creased with something akin to worry, and not quite fear. “How many times must we die?” He had to whisper the words, some amount of despair creeping into his throat as he waited, ever patiently.

It took only a few minutes until the other man groaned, shifting under the sheet, and another few moments until his brilliant eyes flickered open. He stared up at the sterile ceiling for a long time, breath harsh as he drew in air to lungs that had stopped functioning hours ago and feeling the horrid agony as blood began to seep through frozen veins ones more. His skin was on fire with pain as his body tried to remember what it was to live, and his eyes shut, gasping for air as his fists clenched and unclenched. Sin watched on expressionlessly as the man struggled with his own body, but finally blue eyes slipped open, staring again at the glowing ceiling. He had to blink a few times to get his eyes to focus again, but then he caught a glance of the other man in his peripheral vision and his head tilted, staring at Sin with narrowed eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “I remember you.”

Sin chuckled, tossing his hair from his face. “Of course you do.” For a moment his red gaze met the other, holding his eyes for a long time, letting him gain some measure of just what they both were, eternally, and inescapably. Then his eyes fell away, the grin back across his face as if the hand of the sculptor who had formed him had carved it there. One hand pulled a knife from inside his jacket, toying with the blade and ignoring the feel of the others eyes upon his skin. His gaze was focused only on the cold steel within his hands, running fingertips over the razor sharp edge and reveling in the blood that pooled on the freshly made cuts. “Do you remember what would happen if I slit my own throat with this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head at the woken corpse.

You’re bleeding again.

My blood.

Veritas was staring at him with narrowed eyes, resignation showing in his gaze as the memories began to return to him. Death always had a strange effect on them, though he was inclined to laugh at that thought as well. They were only dead for a little while before the turning of life ripped them back up from their graves, pitting them against each other in an eternal battle. Whatever their true names had been were lost somewhere in the dark past, torn from them as brutally as they had cut each other apart. It had been so long and each death ripped more of their memories away from their minds. After so many deaths, that they had forgotten anyone that had existed in their past, as well as themselves.

All that existed now was the killing.

“I would do it for you, but the result would be the same,” Veritas said harshly, twisting around on the cold metal and keeping the white sheet wrapped around his waist. The strange and sad hatred that Sin had always associated with the other was back in his face, but Veritas could find only sorrow in his heart. “Have you come to kill me again?”

Sin laughed again, straightening and ignoring the drops of blood that fell in tiny tears upon the ground. For a moment, the smile slipped away, in full view of the man that was in every way his antithesis, and he did not see the disturbance echoed on the other’s face. For the one brief instant, his arrogance and certainty wavered, though Veritas could not see why, and confusion replaced his cold expression. “I should, I really fucking should,” Sin said slowly, looking down at his fingers again as the knife dug into the skin of his palm, drawing a long bloody red line, watching as if it were another’s flesh, and not his own pale skin that bled so easily. “It’s what we do, isn’t it?” He laughed harshly watching the red liquid well up on his flesh, and ignoring the shocked and confused stare he was receiving.

They had been enemies for the entirety of their existence, and yet they knew each other better than anyone else alive, better than they knew themselves. They could never be friends, even if they wanted to. It wasn’t in their nature. Not when one was the embodiment of mortal sin and the other was named for the truth and virtue he was meant to uphold.

And yet at the same time, the world was changing around them, even if they did not, and the old lines of black and white were fading into shades of gray.

I think I hate you

My blood is all over your hands.

He sighed heavily, sheathing the knife and meeting Veritas’ gaze squarely, the doubt gone from his eyes, only a strange despair that shocked the paragon of Virtue. They stared at each other as if for the first time, and yet it seemed a wider abyss than the foot of cold air separated the two. Centuries of pointless battle, of killing each other a thousand times and rising again a thousand more, of forgotten memories and bloody wounds, and yet never in all that time had they simply stopped and wondered if there was any other way. It was impossible in every shape of the word, for Virtue and Sin could never exist side by side, their own existence prevented it, and yet for a moment, in the strange stillness of the morgue, it hovered like a vague hope in the back of both their minds.

“I came to ask for your help,” Sin whispered quietly, unable to speak the words any louder, as if they would shatter like glass. It was only because it was such a strange moment that Veritas did not slay the other then and there, though he had no weapon at hand. Instead he merely stared up at the red-haired man, smelling the acrid stench of smoke as it wafted from the end of his cigarette. He stared at Sin, face emotionless even while on the inside he was shocked. The other man seemed shaky and unsure of where to start, completely unlike the darkened creature of pain and destruction Veritas had been hunting for all of his existence. He found himself more willing to listen than he would have been years ago, for he too had grown weary of the same fight, watching and waiting with interest for whatever news had shocked the other so thoroughly.

“There is a man. A real bastard. His name is Azrael,” his eyes were narrowed and Sin had turned to stare at the floor again, taking a long drag from the cigarette that was already burning out. He didn’t even notice when the flames reached his fingers, burning his skin as it turned to ash. “I don’t even know…” He laughed harshly shaking his head wildly and sending the two rings in his ears to clink against each other as red locks flashed about his face. “He’s bad news. Worse than me, if you can believe it. He fucks up everything and I…I don’t think that I can kill him by myself.”

He had to turn his face away, unable to meet his enemies gaze as a tear slipped from one of his eyes, hating that his weakness was there for the other to see. He needed Veritas, whether he could find the words to admit it or not. It was stupid that he felt this way, and felt it so strongly; the despair that had wormed its way into his veins and was seeping through his skin. Never in his life had he felt so worthless than on the instant he had looked upon Azrael, a being so perfect he could only be an angel fallen. The being that was both Virtue and Sin so wholly that the entire fabric of his being felt as if it were being torn in two. He understood, with a horrid certainty that here was the one who could replace him. If he were to die again, this time it would be forever, and the fallen angel would take up the powers of Sin, become all that he was. Take away his only reason for being.

A part of him wanted to let it happen. Part of his soul cried out so fiercely for the grave that it felt like agony every day he took another breath. But at the same time, centuries of this life had seared it into his blood. He was Sin. It was who he had become after too many years to count, and he was not ready to let it go, especially to a being he could not help but hate. It was ironic in a way, that he hated the one most like him and could hold such respect for the man he should have killed even now.

Why won’t this stop?

It always hurts...

“If I die again, than I’m dead for good. He’d take my place. So I guess what I’m asking is which of us you’d rather see dead,” Sin said softly, forcing a smile upon his face and turning his blurred red gaze to the other man who still sat on the edge of the steel table, staring at him. The strangeness of the moment did not escape either of them, aware that they were separated from frozen corpses by a wall of metal doors, and that one still held the barely healed scar across his neck from a death too recently awakened from. They both knew that they should be trying to kill each other, for the nature of the universe would allow no other outcomes. Neither could die, and yet neither should live.

No emotions or secrets were visible behind Veritas’ brilliant blue eyes, as he simply watched and studied the other man. After a while, Sin shifted again, turning his gaze away and lighting up another cigarette, tension hanging as heavily in the air as smoke. He stared off into the room, not able to meet the other’s gaze. It was very possible that Veritas held the key to his life or death. What hurt worse was that he was still trying to make up his own mind about it.

“I’ll tell you what,” Veritas said suddenly, startling the other man so much his cigarette slipped from his fingers. For a moment, a smile hovered across the virtue’s face, and he saw an unusually hesitant one crease Sin’s features. His train of thought slowed for the moment, staring at the other and trying to work out in his head what this all meant. He knew he had the opportunity to kill this man, if he wanted. His own death still hung heavily upon him, remembering the horrid darkness that he felt every time his life slipped away from the overused shell of flesh. And yet he had done the same to Sin so many times he had lost count. It had created a strange bond between the two, and yet now he knew he could free the other. To stop the neverending circle for one of them, even if Veritas could never be free. If it was what he wanted.

He could let him live. Or he could set him free.

“Let me get out of here,” he said, mind snapping back into focus. A wry smile creased his face. “Then we’ll talk.”

Sin smirked, rising from his spot against the wall and trying to regain some semblance of who he was. This was uncharted territory, for as long as they had lived and died, they did not work together. They had never been allies in any sense of the word, Sin indulging in whatever gave him even the slightest bit of pleasure. He had been a murderer, for the pure thrill of watching another die, and he knew that Veritas could not forget that, not when Sin still felt no guilt over it. Veritas of course, was the epitome of all that was good and pure, practically incapable of being anything short of a saint in actions, even while he withered into ash on the inside. It had reached the point now where they were both empty of anything except living for the next day, for another chance to kill one another.

Veritas followed him wordlessly, trying to rub some feeling back into his hands and arms. He felt somewhat vulnerable, covered only in the white sheet and trailing after a man he knew he should kill now and damn the consequences. He was surprised when the moment he walked out the door he was struck in the chest by a bundle of clothes, and Sin’s grinning face staring at him. “Catch,” he chuckled belatedly, and Veritas only stared back at him with a strange look on his face, even as the other turned around to let him get dressed.

“You’re not worried I’ll stab you in the back?” Veritas asked, even as he pulled the loose jeans on, gaze still focused on the other man’s back. There was nothing on his face to betray whether or not he was serious, and Sin remained where he was, leaning against the wall and lighting up a cigarette, laughing softly at some private joke. He ignored the other for a moment, shaking his hair and spilling red locks over his face as he stared down at the ground. “You are truth. If you wanted me dead, you wouldn’t bother with this charade. Besides,” he added, glancing over his shoulder with the grin forever on his face, for a moment his gaze drifting over Veritas’ frame. “You’re not armed.”

“Like it would matter,” Veritas responded, yanking the tee shirt over his head as he brushed past him, rubbing the fresh scar on his neck. Sin watched him go, smoke floating about his head in a heavy cloud. He hesitated, all the doubt clouding his mind making it impossible for him to move for an instant, frozen and unable to deal with the desperate choices that were forcing his hand.

“No,” he whispered after a moment, dropping the cigarette to the ground and snuffing out the embers with his foot. “I suppose it wouldn’t.”

I am truth.

And you are death.

-†-

“You’re asking me to help you commit murder.”

“I prefer to think of it as asking you to save my life.”

A cold wind raced through the warehouse as the doors slid open, chains rattling in the darkness, for all power in the city block had gone out. Drops of water were spit upon the ground from the rain that was beginning to fall, a storm already in progress and lightning flashing somewhere beyond the horizon. Thunder rumbled like the ominous displeasure of the gods, echoing in the mostly empty building. Chains rattled against each other in the metal supports, towering boxes hiding their secrets from view and the darkness encasing all of it. A glint of steel flickered as lightning flashed again, for a brief moment lighting up a man’s cold, pale features. A red scratch ran across his face, blood trickling to his chin, though he seemed not to notice.

His hair was a crimson red, same as his eyes, and in one hand he held a blade, the other clapped firmly over his shoulder where blood was trickling from between his fingers. “Veritas!” he shouted, voice harsh, his usual smirk gone from his face. He was drawn to this man, whether he liked it or not.

The thunder rumbled again, concealing the heavy breathing of the other man, who crouched behind one of the towering crates, back pressed against its wooden surface and trying to ignore the pain in his legs from running so far, especially with the bullet having ripped a bloody hole in his flesh. He tipped his head back, crushing blue eyes shut and fingers dancing nervously over his knife hilt, forcing himself to listen for the telltale footsteps that would alert him to Sin’s presence. Even if he could not hear that clearly from the storm raging outside the darkened warehouse, he could feel the other man’s movements as if they were his own.

After centuries of life, he knew this man better than he knew himself.

He took a breath, wishing his gun hadn’t run out of bullets, and moved to the edge of the crate, hovering at the corner as he waited for Sin. How many times had he killed the other now? His mind wandered, pulling up what memories he could, though anymore all that existed was the battle between Sin and Virtue. He could no longer remember how it was that he of all people had been chosen to be the flesh and blood embodiment of truth and honor. No longer could he remember how it was that he had ended up in the ancient battle. He could remember little, except various lives spent hunting and killing the other, occasionally trying to do what he could to save human nature, even as he watched Sin tear them down again.

“You’re insane.”

“Am I? Well, perhaps. But you’re no better.”

Blood thundered in his ears and his fingers flexed around the knife hilt, trying to slow his breathing as he heard the other grow closer. He was being stupid, dragging his blade along the sides of the wooden boxes. “Veritas…I grow weary of this game of hide and seek,” His voice sounded as if he meant it, but Veritas knew better. No matter what he said, no matter how it seemed sometimes, he knew that Sin lived for this. His only purpose was to bring death and destruction to the world, and Veritas was so tired of fighting against it. And yet he knew even as the thoughts crossed his mind that would never stop either. “Come Virtue. One of us will die today, you know it.”

Veritas had to bite his tongue to keep from responding in the thousands of ways that crossed his mind. He knew how Sin worked, the taunting that he hoped would bring the other from the shadows that held him so that they could declare a momentary victor to the war that would never end.

But he had done it that way before. And it had ended in Veritas' death more than once.

He stilled his limbs, urging his mind to focus only on the sound of footsteps growing steadily closer, ignoring the throbbing of his wounds or the blood that made his hands slick. He drew air in through his nose, urging his rampant thoughts to stillness. After years of the same fight, he had practically perfected the art of battle, yet he knew that the other man was just as skilled. He had seen him rip men apart with his bare hands, drawing bloody scratches in their faces with nails that were more like claws.

Neither of them was truly human anymore, but Sin less so than Veritas, something that had managed to drive him on even when inside he wished that just once, this final death could be his last.

Sin was right at the corner. Veritas drew in one quick breath before lunging at the other, blade flashing as lightning once more lit up the sky.

“Give me one reason why I should help you.”

“Because you’re Virtue. It's what you do.”

He was ready for the attack, though surprise flew across his face for a brief moment before his blade locked with Veritas, muscles straining against each other as they fought for control. Sin pulled back and slammed a fist into the other man’s head, sending him reeling for a moment, though he used his momentum to get out of the way of the blade that came flashing towards him, just barely nicking his skin as he whirled away. Sin backed off for a moment, watching the other with red eyes that glowed in the darkness, the two barely able to see each other.

They were both exhausted from the chase that had lasted all day, destroying half the city in the process. Power lines were down from where Sin had missed his target, slashing through the thick telephone pole with strength no mortal could hope to possess.

For a moment their eyes met as the lightning flashed again, and Veritas was surprised by how much blood they were both covered in. They seemed perpetually coated in red. Sin’s familiar grin was still etched upon his pale skin, and yet his eyes held only desperation, the same need to kill Virtue as he felt towards the other. Their death was all that mattered in this world, even if they had long since grown weary of the existence. If their life would never end, than neither would the fight, and he could not give up. Not even when he no longer clung so fiercely to the beliefs that had once bound him, and when he could no longer remember so clearly what it was he was fighting for.

The next blast of lightning found them again at each other’s throats, knots of muscle grappling as they swung fists and blades toward the other. Veritas barely dodged a thrust towards his stomach, slashing his blade at the other’s head, only to be caught in Sin’s hands. A hiss escaped the redhead’s throat as the steel drew a bloody line in his palm, but he still clung to the blade, thrusting towards Veritas’ face. The Virtue only barely managed to kick the blade aside, ripping his own weapon from the other’s hand and spraying blood upon the cement floor. Laughter rang in the hollow building, even as thunder rumbled outside, and Sin stumbled away, cradling his hand. Veritas should have slain him then, but instead he rested his hands on his knees, trying to draw in breath to his aching lungs.

“It won’t end you know. Not ever. Not for either of us,” Sin was laughing even as he said it, licking the blood from his palm.

“I know,” Veritas said softly, straightening and staring at the other in an open challenge, not an easy task with the rivers of blood trickling off his skin. He didn’t know of any other words to say. They both understood what they had become. Their lives no longer had the purpose that they once did.

“You should be dead.”

“I’m not denying that. I never have.”

Veritas jerked in surprise as Sin lunged at him with inhuman speed. He stumbled back, barely able to deflect the blade that threatened to pierce his flesh, even as sweat trickled down his forehead and into his eyes. Their blades locked again, one of Sin’s hand gripping the other man’s tightly, knuckles growing white with the strain. His glowing red eyes were only inches from the other’s face, his face contorted in a sneer that seemed so unlike the sadistic grin that was usually etched across his features. Veritas grit his teeth, feeling the weakness of his own flesh, even as he forced himself through it, howling as he shoved the other away with one great heave. This time he did not let Sin get away, coming after him with an overhand stab that Sin managed to dodge, though he could not escape the second slash that cut across his stomach, drawing yet another bloody line upon his pale skin.

How long they went on like that, neither man was sure, for time seemed to have no meaning in the darkened warehouse. Outside thunder still rippled across the sky, lightning splitting it in intervals as if the world itself were tearing apart.

Veritas bit his lip, grimacing in pain and barely keeping from crying out as the other man’s blade ripped across his arm, catching the hilt of his blade and sending it spinning off into darkness. A curse slipped from his lips as he stumbled back, but Sin caught his foot, a vicious and cold look on his face as the virtue fell to the ground, his head cracking off the pavement. Veritas barely had time to roll out of the way as the blade came slashing towards him, but he felt a pressure on his back shove him down, even as he struggled to get to his feet. He was pressed face first into the cement, Sin’s heavy boot digging into his back. Panic welled up in him as he felt the other’s hand roughly grab hold of his hair, wrenching his face back.

For a moment, breath raced across his cheek as Sin leaned down, his lips right next to his ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice harsh. A solitary tear fell upon the virtue's face as panic raced through him. Then all he could feel was the cold steel upon his throat as darkness came crashing down around him in a rush of pain and blood.

“If I help you, it’s not going to change anything, is it?”

“It’s going to change everything.”

-†-

The red…

Why can’t I just hate you?

Veritas leaned back, staring at Sin from across the wooden table, his blue eyes lidded and no emotion playing across his cold face. He was still weighing the man’s words in his mind, trying to still the instincts that demanded he kill Sin now and be done with it, even when he knew that it would not be the end of it. No matter how he wished it so. He took a breath; threading his fingers and resting them on the arms of his chair, letting his eyes droop a little. He could tell that Sin was unnerved even if no one else in the world would notice it. He knew this man, and could tell, just by the way he went through cigarettes and the way his foot tapped anxiously on the floor that he was afraid. It was this fear that made him pause.

In all their lives, he had never known the other to show hesitation or fear. This last battle, the one that had resulted in his death, still weighed heavily on his mind, and yet it was the other man’s quiet words of apology that caused the greatest amount of his introspection.

Perhaps Sin too had been changing, and though he could not help but still want this man dead, he could see parts of himself echoed in the other man’s face. There was a dismal emptiness, the same binding to a cause that Veritas himself was feeling, though he refused to believe that Sin had the same devotion that the virtue had once possessed. All Sin had ever lived for was the pure thrill and pleasure that he could get out life, whether from men or women willing to share his bed or from watching mortals bleed to death on empty streets far from their homes and never to see their families again. And yet here he sat, the smell of coffee thick in the air, considering saving his life.

“Are you sure that you even want to live?” Veritas asked, his voice quiet as he reached for the coffee cup, wisps of steam drifting from its mouth. He watched carefully, as the trademark grin slipped across Sin’s face, tipping his head back and shaking the red hair from his face. The café was quiet; few people around this late at night, but the soft lights seemed to fit the pair, both preferring to remain in the shadows.

“It doesn’t matter what I fucking want,” Sin said after a moment, but his voice had a strange neutral tone to it, and he fixed Veritas firmly in his gaze. “This is what we are. It’s too late to change it now.”

Why is dying so hard?

Why won’t I stop bleeding?

Veritas shook his head, glancing out the darkened window and watching the streetlights and wondering why it was he was sitting here at all. Every muscle in his body demanded the other’s death. It was his sole purpose for being, especially when his recent death was still so prominent in his memories. It had taken a moment after awakening to regain all the bits and shattered pieces of his mind. A sigh escaped his lips as his hand again drifted to his neck, fingers trailing over the scar that was now just another in hundreds of white lines that coated his flesh. His skin prickled, and he glanced up, feeling the other’s eyes upon him. Sin’s red gaze was fastened firmly on the scar around his neck, and for a moment his eyes widened in surprise, not seeing the satisfaction he expected. There was a sad kind of regret in despair, the words I'm sorry still echoing in the virtue's mind. After a moment Sin blinked, and the smirk was painted back upon his features as he looked away, looking as if it had never left his face.

“So tell me about this Azrael,” Veritas said, shifting uneasily in his chair, wrapping his hands around the coffee cup. Though the words hadn’t been spoken yet, they both understood that this was his way of agreeing to help. Sin chuckled softly, resting his elbow on the table, cigarette still dangling loosely from his fingers.

“I met him not long after you died. Bastard literally fell right out of the sky.” Sin sprawled back in his chair, obviously more at ease now, one arm braced under his head as he stretched out long legs. He was smiling again, closing his eyes for a second as he yawned, before lolling his head to the side and turning his attention back to Veritas. “He wasn’t particularly friendly. Very demanding actually, and I wish I’d killed the fucker the moment I’d seen him.” Sin sniffed affectedly, eyes widening in mock innocence. “There I am, trying to make friends, and he thinks it’s all right to fling me across the goddamn warehouse!” He scoffed, shaking his head and taking another drag from his cigarette, but beneath the jovial air, Veritas could tell he was unnerved.

After all, there was only one man who’d ever had the kind of strength necessary to stand up to Sin, and he’d been dead at the time.

“He has the same markings as us, the crossed circle. Plus the bastard went ahead and said he wanted me dead.” A growl escaped his throat, and he shook his head, leaning forward with burning intensity in his eyes. He tapped a finger on the table as anger and fear flashed across his face. “It’s no coincidence. Whatever the fuck made us this in the first place apparently thinks I’ve outlived my usefulness.” He slipped back into his chair, kicking irritably at the table, a glare on his face.

Everything hurts…

Am I crying?

“What would make them think that?” Veritas said wryly, lacing his fingers together and staring at Sin over the tips, a thin smile gracing his lips. Sin shifted, forcing a smile and tapping out ash from the cigarette. He looked away from the other’s eyes, feeling oddly unsettled, though Veritas could not place why. “No idea,” he lied, though the virtue could tell by the way he glanced away and the way he fidgeted that he had more than just an idea.

“You’re lying,” he said softly, the smile already gone.

Sin chuckled again, shifting more uneasily and taking a long drag from his cigarette, blowing blue smoke out in plumes. “Just because we’re plotting murder together doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything.” He winked at the other, leaning back slightly and staring off in the other direction, watching the couple in the corner of the café as they finished their coffee, holding each others hands as they headed out the door. The thick and heady incense of love hovered in the air that they had vacated, and Sin could not deny the jealousy that flashed through him. “Some things are better left unsaid,” he whispered again, inhaling the smoke from his cigarette.

He was jerked back to the present by a hand slamming down on the table. “And some things I have to know. If you’re in trouble with whatever powers-that-fucking-be, I need to know about it before I commit myself to your cause.” Veritas glared at him harshly, blue eyes bright in the dim light, the kind of eyes that made women melt before him, not that he'd ever taken advantage of it. Sin just laughed again, shaking his head and rising to go.

“Then I don’t need you that bad,” he lied again, digging dollar bills out of his pocket and tossing them on the table.

He was surprised when the other’s hand shot out, catching his arm in a punishing grip, drawing red eyes to blue ones. “What did you do, Nicolas?” He whispered softly, and Sin’s eyes widened sharply, ripping his arm from the other’s hand in surprise at hearing his true name used. It had been years since anyone, including himself, had even thought the name, let alone used it. Veritas watched him with unwavering blue eyes that had already filled his darkened soul with so much doubt. How had he known? What did it matter?

I’ve been dead so many times.

Why do I keep coming back?

“It’s none of your fucking business alright?” Sin’s voice rose in pitch as he stepped back, though he did not walk away, only staring out the window into the darkened street with arms crossed over his chest. He could feel eyes on his back, as the waitress glanced over at him a few times and Veritas left his unwavering blue gaze upon the other’s skin. A sigh escaped his lips, and he sunk back into the chair after a moment. He knew he was sulking like a child, but he didn’t care, digging for another cigarette. After a moment, he slipped a glance at the other man. There was no hatred in the eyes that met his, no craving for his blood that he expected to find at any other point in their lives. It scared him how much this man knew him, how all it took was the patient look and the rare smile to break him. “I cared, okay?” he said softly, flicking the lighter open, refusing to look up again until he got this out.

“I felt…guilty. I killed you for fuck’s sake, and not for the first time, and I felt guilty. Even now, I can still feel your blood staining my hands.” He forced a laugh, shaking his head, not noticing that his hand was shaking as it lay upon the wooden table. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Sin feeling guilty for killing Virtue.”

Veritas leaned back in an almost stunned silence, barely believing what he’d just heard. Sin wouldn’t look at him, and he understood why, in a twisted sort of way. How could Sin remain sin when he felt guilty for bringing death to the one man he was meant to kill? How convoluted had the universe gotten that it came to the point where sin and virtue didn’t hate each other, and even felt an odd, brotherly caring for each other? His hand wrapped around his coffee cup again, trying to still the uneasiness and confusion that had come over him. Why couldn’t they just hate each other, like they had in the beginning?

A sudden crash had them both jerking to their feet, Veritas immediately being thrown to the ground as something slammed into him, not even noticing the coffee that was spilling across his chest or the frantic cursing that came from Sin’s lips. The waitress was screaming in the background, and he had to blink a few times to realize that there were shards of glass embedded in the side of his face, and that he was pinned to the ground by the twisted metal of a street light that had just been thrown through the café window like a child’s toy. Splintered wood was scattered across the ground, and the overhead lights were swinging, one of them already broken and pieces of the bulb lying shattered on the ground.

It took a moment for his eyes to focus, but when they did, he was shocked at the sudden appearance of a figure walking through the shards of glass, a figure that was everything of dreams and nightmares at once.

“Azrael,” he whispered, hardly able to breathe.

His face was pale and cold, so perfectly sculpted that it made both Sin and Veritas look like deformed misfits at best. He radiated an air of darkness that seemed to catch even the purest of saints in its web until they couldn’t breath, too lost in the pure unrivaled preternatural beauty of the man. His hair was long and perfectly straight, falling in shimmering black waves across his chest. Sharp green eyes carved from perfect jade moved to catch the virtue in his gaze, smirking as if he could see every thought that flitted across his frozen mind, before turning his eyes away and focusing them on Sin. “Don’t run,” was all he said, a voice that was liquid fire, and horribly and terribly dangerous.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sin said, his voice a dark growl in his throat, and Veritas glanced at him, surprised at the easiness in which he moved, leaning back against the counter and lighting up a cigarette, the small flame flickering the shadows. His red eyes, however, were focused solely on the darkened being before him. Somewhere in the corner of the café, he could hear the waitress crying, and it was as if a switch had suddenly been flicked in his brain as he realized that he’d been frozen in fear.

You. It’s you I hate.

You’re just like me.

Sin didn’t move, didn’t flinch, simply smoking away on his cigarette as the other came closer, gliding over the shattered pieces of wood as if they weren’t even there, and his piercing green gaze never wavering from the sin. He radiated hatred and death, pale hands clasped behind his back as he approached, looking as if fear had never once crossed his frozen visage. He was colder than even the corpses still lying still and unmoving in the morgue, carved from ice and just as emotionless. Yet Sin showed no signs of fear, no hesitation, and a small smirk even crossed his face, as the other grew closer.

“So you’ve decided to accept the inevitable?” Azrael asked, raising a graceful eyebrow as he stepped over the broken pieces of the table. A soft smile creased his face, but it lacked warmth, the smile just as cold as the rest of him. Sin just chuckled, red locks falling in his face as he shook his head.

“Like hell.” With movements faster than the mortal eye could see, Sin had lunged forward, cigarette still clasped in his fingers as he slammed his fist into the side of Azrael’s face. A sharp cry echoed in the air as the burning end of the cigarette met the fallen angel’s eye and moment's later Sin’s nails scraped across his flesh. Azrael stumbled back, tripping over the light pole as his hand flew to his face, covering the wound. A satisfied grin was on Sin’s face, even as he ripped his knife from its sheath and advanced on the man on the ground. Veritas struggled with the metal pinning him down, finally managing to shove it from him and pull himself back away from the fallen angel on the ground. He was still groaning in pain, one hand clapped over his eye, and blood was trickling down his cheek.

Yet for a moment, his eye landed on Veritas, and the Virtue could see the smile etched upon his face.

“Sin!” he warned, scrambling to his feet, his hand feeling desperately on the ground for a weapon. His hand finally closed around a broken shard of glass, and his head shot up just in time to see Azrael lunging at Sin, nails slashing across the redhead’s face and drawing bloody lines in his face. Veritas could not help but be shocked at the speed at which the fallen angel moved, for he was quicker than both Sin and the virtue combined. In the time it took for him to blink, Azrael had his hand locked around Sin’s throat, bruising the flesh as he attempted to squeeze the life out of him. He paid no more mind to the blackened and bloody condition of his eye, acting as if nothing was wrong at all.

Sin lashed out with his knife, embedding it in the flesh of Azrael’s shoulder, kicking out at the man who was lifting him above the ground. Yet the fallen angel did not flinch, and a wicked smile creased his face. “Your time here is at its end,” he said, voice cold and smooth. For a moment, a sliver of fear shot down Sin’s spine. With desperation and a howl of hatred, he lashed out at the other, even as the hand tightened punishingly around his throat.

The next instant, Azrael jerked, head whipping around as a broken shard of glass was slammed into his lower back, a hand on his shoulder wrenching him back. Blood spurted, as the skin was torn open, the makeshift weapon severing veins and nerves. Veritas stared coldly back at the fallen angel, even as Sin fell to the ground, coughing and gingerly touching the bruises on his neck. Confusion flitted across Azrael’s face for a moment, as he met Veritas’ eyes, before his gaze lowered to the wound in his side, pulling the shard of glass out in surprise, staring at the blood before dropping it to the ground. A strange emotion seemed to play across Veritas' mind for a moment, and his eyes narrowed for a mere moment. Then he threw out his fist, slamming it into the side of Azrael's face.

The man snarled, whipping his head around, black locks flying as he did so, eyes of jade flashing dangerously. He lunged at Veritas, wrenching the virtue’s head back and staring at the veins in his neck. Veritas snarled, struggling in the grip that suddenly had him, kicking out at the fallen angel, who didn't even seem to notice.

“The virtue…fighting for sin? How can this be?” He muttered, shaking his black locks in confusion, eyes of jade focusing on the blood pulsing beneath pale skin, even while one of his eyes was eerily torn and burned. “Not that it matters. This time, you will die too.” With that said, he smiled, this time revealing piercing canines that made Veritas jerk in surprise, his eyes widening.

Azrael was a vampire. Just like Sin.

The red…

You have to die.

He couldn’t help the sharp cry that escaped his throat as he felt Azrael’s fangs dig into his neck, sinking easily into flesh and tearing at the skin. He could feel his own blood pumping through the veins and trickling down his neck, yet he couldn’t seem to move, the vampire’s powerful arms holding him immobile. “No…” he whispered, hating the tear that trickled down his face even as he struggled desperately to move. He was thrashing wildly in the grip that held him, trying to free himself from the darkened being that was tearing the life from him. Horror seeped through him with the knowledge of his approaching end, even as Azrael tightened his grip and ripped at the skin with insatiable hunger.

Suddenly Azrael jerked back, green eyes wide for a mere moment, his face bloodied and the red still dripping from his teeth. Behind him, Veritas could see Sin; his red eyes locked on Veritas as his own teeth sank into Azrael’s skin, never once wavering from the virtue, even as he drained the panicked vampire. The fallen angel tried to tear himself away, but it was Veritas who caught the other's arms, even with his own weakness still rushing through him. Finally it was over, the vampire slumping to the ground, eyes of jade wide and glazed with death, leaving Veritas to stand on his own feet. His fingers drifted to his neck, feeling the hot liquid pulsing from torn veins, but he could not look away from the red eyes that were locked on his.

“Thank you,” one of them whispered, but neither was ever sure which one of them had spoken.

Then Veritas’ eyes flickered shut, and he fell forward, unable to stand on his own any longer as his vision grew dark and dizziness overtook him. His head was throbbing and he could feel blood coursing down his skin, even as he slipped away into darkness. Sin blinked in surprise, catching the dying Virtue as he fell into his arms, blood still trickling down his neck, echoing the red still running in rivulets from the corner of Sin’s mouth. For a moment he could only stare at the red, knowing that he could kill the virtue again, as he had a thousand times. He could take away the life that had saved his, and he leaned forward, staring at the red. His eyes flickered shut for a moment, hearing his own blood thundering in deadened veins.

Then he heaved the virtue up, carrying him from the shattered wreckage that surrounded them.

-†-

The red…

I remember you.

The sound of beeping filled his ears, followed by quiet voices and the smell of ether and formaldehyde. Veritas felt only cold, and his stomach churned as he struggled to remember what happened. He wanted to weep and sob with the darkness that was still in his vision, and horror and grief filled him as memories returned to him. For all that had happened, he had died again, only to rise in a battle that would never end. A part of him had still maintained a hope that maybe this time things could change, and he could not describe the utter despair and disappointment that swept over him. He could feel the salty tears as they trickled down his face, before he struggled to open his blue eyes, knowing what he would find.

Yet he blinked in surprise, seeing a woman and a man in white coats talking with each other in quiet tones, clipboards in their hands. The woman glanced over, a pleasant smile crossing her face when she saw him.

“You’re awake. We were beginning to wonder,” she laughed softly, walking over to his side. The man just grinned at him, before turning and leaving the room, yet neither answered any of the questions flitting through his mind.

“Where am I?” he whispered, voice harsh.

“Moses Taylor Hospital.” She leaned down, checking his pulse as she scribbled notes on his clipboard, before turning her attention to the various machines around him. Yet Veritas was even more confused than before, not understanding what he was doing here at all, and he tilted his head to look at the woman, wincing at sudden pain. He reached his hand up, touching the bandage wrapped around his neck, fingers trailing over the white gauze and wondering at the IV stuck in his vein. He reached down to pull it out, but the woman stopped him with a gentle hand on his. “Leave it in,” she said, giving him a comforting smile.

“How did I get here?” He pressed, turning his attention back to the pain in his neck. The battle returned to him, but he did not understand why he was not dead, as he thought he would be. He was certain that he was still alive at least, for had he died, the pain would have been gone by now, along with the wound.

“Your brother brought you in. He’s been here all night." She smiled at him again, nodding in the direction of the corner before checking a few more machines and coming to stand at his bedside. "I need to go see my other patients, but I will check in on you later. Ring the nurse if you need anything.” She finished scribbling whatever notes she needed to take, before turning and heading out, closing the door quietly behind her.

Veritas turned his gaze to the corner, where a figure he had not noticed before sat sprawled in a chair, long legs spread out in front of him and head resting in his chin. The bruises around his neck were still visible, even cast in shadow as he was, and blood was staining his faded jeans. As if sensing the other watching him, his eyes flickered open, smirking in a way that only Sin could as red eyes met blue. “Good morning sleeping beauty,” he chuckled. Veritas couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Why?” he whispered, expression darkening.

Sin shrugged, rising to his feet and stretching his lanky form. “I told you why already. Besides, what’s the point in saving you just to let you die?” He said the words easily, yet there was a shadow of fear in his eyes.

Veritas felt suddenly like laughing, all his fears dissolved, for things had changed, even if he couldn't yet tell how. Was it possible for Sin and Virtue to coexist peacefully? He guessed they would find out, even as he struggled to turn around in the bed, pulling the IV out of his arm. “So where do we go from here?” He asked quietly, staring at the cold tiles. He jerked in surprise as a pile of clothes hit him in the chest, and he glanced up, seeing the wry smirk on Sin’s face.

“Well now that I know you’re not going to die, I’m getting out of here. I’ll see you when I see you,” he chuckled, blowing Veritas a kiss before turning and walking away, the old arrogant swagger back in his steps. He smiled to himself, feeling the other’s blue eyes still on his back as he disappeared down the cold and sterile hallway.

"If I help you, it’s not going to change anything, is it?”

“It’s going to change everything.”