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Disclaimer - Nope, the are not mine. Even though slavery was abolished hundreds of years ago NBC still claims Jarod and all the other dudes to be their property...can't change that...don't intend to make money with them...just wanna have some fun...



A TRACE OF RED
by Shaznay




I saw you...him...my conscience today. Older but still as beautiful as ever...as ever. If I could have ignored your eyes...the betrayal in your eyes...blue sparks of fury and love and all the other emotions I've suppressed for five years. I know that you must hate me...I saw my past in your face. The man I said goodbye to five years ago. The plan I let consume me.

The hardest thing I've ever done was staying away from you. I wanted to run to your room, hold you, kiss you, tell you that everything would be fine. Live happily ever after...I spent that night in my expensive apartment, surrounded by luxury, staring at the walls. Torn between my heart and my head, my love and my new responsibilities, my soul and darkness. I chose the latter, the latter won every time.

For years I heard your voice in my head...after every murder, every misdeed, every lie in the name of the Center. You berated me, yelled at me, forced me to feel pain. Eventually, your voice went away. In my desk drawer there is still the letter I never sent. Sometimes I re-read it. I couldn't send it...Maybe I knew if you found me...I would never have been able to complete my duties. It's only one more regret in a lifetime of mistakes.

Once I knew you were safe...I wanted to be kept in the dark about anything pertaining to you. When you returned to the Center, when someone spotted you near my old apartment - I didn't want to know. A few times I accidentally caught your image on a security camera or surveillance pictures. Black and white did little to diminish your beauty and the sharp tang of emotion I felt.

Then, there was today. I've changed, but I guess not as much as I thought. You still recognized me and with your sweet, understanding voice whispered my name. Angelic voice, perfect and filled with regret and disbelief. I was never able to become stone. I still felt the pain of each martyr. The absolute torture of never acquiring what you want and need most.

I talked to you coldly, putting on a blase mask. While my body hummed in your presence, my heart longed to be near you. I had to get out of there. I knew that if I allowed myself to look at you one moment longer I would drown in you. Leave them, take you and run away to some deserted island. If turning away from you was the ultimate test of my commitment to the project...then I have failed, because nothing can compare to this heartache I feel now.

I've had lovers - beautiful, heartless men who served the Center by wrapping themselves around my body. Power is a heady aphrodisiac. They had no idea that each one of them - no matter what the skin, hair, or eye color had ivory, almost pale skin, the slightest smattering of freckles, silky red hair and dazzling blue eyes. The name I screamed out didn't matter all that much to them. And they moaned my name...oblivious to the fact that each voice becomes yours. I drive my pain into these men. Each thrust a fallen body, each kiss a perpetuation of the lies.

I have taken over a place now and I will do what I must to protect the Center. If it means having to kill innocents...no...no one is innocent...it must be done. The tortured, haunted, but good woman you knew no longer exists - she lives only in your heart. Keep her there. Most likely the skeptical, understanding and yet hard angel of my memory doesn't exist either. But whatever happens...something has to change, because I can't continue this charade anymore...not after seeing the betrayal in your eyes.

I dreamt again last night. I was up to my waist in blood and all around me I could hear the screams of those I've wronged. You stood on a raft and pointed a gun at me. I heard myself say "Thank you"...before you pulled the trigger.









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