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Disclaimer: All Pretender related ideas are property of NBC. You all know that.
Warning: Character death.
He Was So Beautiful
by AngelWings

It’s not supposed to end like this, not like this at all. He was so beautiful, inside and out. He enjoyed his life, his freedom. His life was never supposed to end. Never.

The water sparkled from the moonlight as it danced about the gentle waves. The night played its song, crickets chirping. The night was beautiful, too beautiful for such an event.

My sad, and weary eyes snap over to lay on the car, only the trunk and two back wheel visible as it slowly sunk into its watery grave. Men, the Centre’s men, filled the shore of the lake, only a couple sent out to dive in after to retrieve him, while the others crowded around the dark vehicle that was on its hood, half in and half of the chilly, lake water, flipped from impact.

They were so desperate to stop him, and although I knew they intended to do what was necessary, I knew they didn’t mean to throw him off the bridge and into the water. Now, we wait… we wait forever. To see if he is hurt… to see if he is even alive.

It has only been a few minutes from when we watched the third of our Centre’s car slam into the side of his, both screaming vehicles sliding of the bridge and tumbling down the hill. But, only his was the one that made a mighty splash into the deep lake underneath, the black pest stopping on its hood, wheels still rolling.

I felt something snap inside me, something I have never felt before, as I watched the glass and sparks fly, watching his red car tumble down the hill helplessly. He didn’t do anything to them. He just wanted his freedom. He just wanted his freedom, his life… his soul back. And in return, them send him off the cliff. And for what? Power? Just for the sake of it? Why? He was so beautiful.

I swallow back the lump I wasn’t even aware I had in my throat, the burning tears stinging my eyes. My worried gaze look from the scene, to look over at her for a split second and realize with a painful wince, that she was dissolved into silent tears. Her shaking hand covered her mouth, as her icy blue eyes are glued to the sinking car that was disappearing into the sparkling water. The realization pinched me, knowing deep within I knew for the longest time, but it just now coming to the surface: She loves him.

I allow the defeated sob to escape my lips, my aged eyes looking back over at the water. And then, like a blow to the gut, I gasp, watching as one of the sweepers’ head pops up from the sparkling water, having to squint to see that there was a second head with him. As the man swam closer, I realize with all my dread that he was holding tightly against him an unconscious form… his unconscious, bloody form.

Reaching the shore, the man laid him down, I, along with others, scrambling over to their sides. I watch with numbing sadness, the blood covered the sand around him, his face pale and lifeless, bright and white from the darkness around us. Dropping to my knees, I reach down and feel his cold neck, searching for a pulse.

That blinding pain deep within screams again, my eyes growing wide. I slowly rise to my feet, oblivious to the rising efforts of CPR the sweepers were performing. I glanced up at her, her eyes blank, wet with tears, staring down at the bloody scene.

It was all happening so slowly. Too slowly, too painful. My crying eyes look at every face of the small crowd, each pair of eyes staring down at his lifeless form.

I watch as the crowd parts slightly, giving me a clear view of the figure sitting cross-legged on the sand, his white, long coat spread out around him. His brown eyes came to meet mine, and he smiles, my heart giving a tight squeeze in my chest. He stands slowly, his body moving in slow motion, brushing the sand from him, as the white glow almost blinding my eyes.

As he turns, I start to push through the crowd, trying to get to him, before he leaves, but as I move my eyes from him for a split second to look over my shoulder at her, he is gone.

I blink, wondering if I imagined it, before I turn back towards the scene, watching as the sweeper looks up from the still form to shake his head sadly, sending a painful squeeze to my heart. Again, I look over at her, and knowing she is forcing herself to be strong, to be the ‘Ice Queen’, she can not hold the tears at bay and they stream down her face, she bolting from the scene.

Staring down at his body, I shutter in emotion, the son I never had, but always loved now lying dead at my feet, bloody, but yet so very beautiful. His heart may not beat, but I can still count on him to be there. His spirit, his soul, has just earned their freedom. He was so beautiful- he is so beautiful.

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