Post by mcharmed21 on Jan 3, 2005 20:51:51 GMT -5
Author: Taynna
Disclaimer:
I do not own the characters contained within nor do I profit from my use of them in any monetary way. I also recognize that this disclaimer does not excuse my breach of copyright. However, as I have no assets, I assume that those who do own the rights to these characters have better people to sue.
Author’s Note:
This little bit may or may not end up part of a longer fic I'm working on right now -- if it does, chances are it will have to be rewritten to fit in anyway and I had to write this while the idea was fairly fresh in my mind.
Timeline:
Chris point-of-view, post 'Valhalley of the Dolls'
~*~*~*~*~
This is about the time Leo usually showed up to give me the speech about ends and means and justifying. Guess he won’t be doing it this time. I could give it to myself, I’ve had that one memorized for years.
Leysa trusted me, and I killed her. I’d do it again. Maybe that’s the worst part of all this, realizing just how far across the line between good and evil I am and that I’m willing to go so much further.
Mist did say that she knew I’d betray them, if it became more beneficial to my cause than our alliance, and I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.
The police officer is going to live.
It doesn’t make what I did any less horrific, but maybe if I pretend that it does the illusion will help me to sleep at night. There are other lies that will help me sleep: I didn’t have a choice; It was for the greater good; One life is a small price for hundreds or thousands of lives in the future. Leo has a lecture for that too - the wrong thing for the right reason is still the wrong thing. Funny how weak and meaningless Leo’s platitudes and sayings seem when compared with the hell that Wyatt will create.
The police officer is going to live.
That’s a positive. Isn’t it?
I did horrible things today. The blood on my hands is purely metaphorical, thanks to telekinesis, but I can still feel it staining my skin, dripping from my fingers.
I’m never going to be clean again.
This is irony. Wyatt spent years trying to turn me, mold me into his right-hand man and he never came so close as I have in my quest to save him from himself. I’m finally the murderer that he hoped I’d become - and it’s all to save him.
Maybe I’m just paving my own road to hell.
Disclaimer:
I do not own the characters contained within nor do I profit from my use of them in any monetary way. I also recognize that this disclaimer does not excuse my breach of copyright. However, as I have no assets, I assume that those who do own the rights to these characters have better people to sue.
Author’s Note:
This little bit may or may not end up part of a longer fic I'm working on right now -- if it does, chances are it will have to be rewritten to fit in anyway and I had to write this while the idea was fairly fresh in my mind.
Timeline:
Chris point-of-view, post 'Valhalley of the Dolls'
~*~*~*~*~
This is about the time Leo usually showed up to give me the speech about ends and means and justifying. Guess he won’t be doing it this time. I could give it to myself, I’ve had that one memorized for years.
Leysa trusted me, and I killed her. I’d do it again. Maybe that’s the worst part of all this, realizing just how far across the line between good and evil I am and that I’m willing to go so much further.
Mist did say that she knew I’d betray them, if it became more beneficial to my cause than our alliance, and I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.
The police officer is going to live.
It doesn’t make what I did any less horrific, but maybe if I pretend that it does the illusion will help me to sleep at night. There are other lies that will help me sleep: I didn’t have a choice; It was for the greater good; One life is a small price for hundreds or thousands of lives in the future. Leo has a lecture for that too - the wrong thing for the right reason is still the wrong thing. Funny how weak and meaningless Leo’s platitudes and sayings seem when compared with the hell that Wyatt will create.
The police officer is going to live.
That’s a positive. Isn’t it?
I did horrible things today. The blood on my hands is purely metaphorical, thanks to telekinesis, but I can still feel it staining my skin, dripping from my fingers.
I’m never going to be clean again.
This is irony. Wyatt spent years trying to turn me, mold me into his right-hand man and he never came so close as I have in my quest to save him from himself. I’m finally the murderer that he hoped I’d become - and it’s all to save him.
Maybe I’m just paving my own road to hell.