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He almost hadn't come and, if she had been anyone else, he probably wouldn't have.

There were a lot of things wrong in Gehenna's life, so much so that even being Gehenna felt like he was tainting something better than he was. A wolf in sheep's clothing, a monster simply pretending to be someone that was truly great in a way he would never understand. The universe had to be wrong, he was sure of it, because there was no way a warrior of Mars would have done the things he'd done. Hver needed help from Gehenna, the real Gehenna, but Kam guessed that he would have to do.

He owed her that much, right?

There was a familiar feeling of bile in his throat as he stared down at the toes of his boots, ignoring the way the skin between his shoulder blades crawled. He always felt as if he were being watched, despite the fact that Alkaid had been absent for some time. He quickly banished the inevitable path of that thought and jerked his head up, just in time to round the small curve and spot the pale knight where she sat so delicately upon the bench.

s**t.

He stopped walking and looked back in the direction he had come almost longingly, rubbing one giant hand against the back of his neck as he did. He was a wreck with hollowed cheeks and a noticeable waning of muscle mass. Although still bulky, the healthy glow seemed to have paled and his eyes were dark beneath the thick rim of his lashes. They swiveled back to her, knowing she should have already felt his approach and, despite everything, he couldn't just run away if she needed him. Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward, slowly.

Was there an ambush?

Feet away from her, almost suspicious, he paused again.

"What's wrong?"

Whatever Gehenna had expected, it certainly wasn't that.

"I-" his mouth opened and worked silently as he stared at her, disbelieving. Had she really spoken Ida's name, or was he in the middle of some horrible nightmare induced by his guilty conscience? For a moment he just stood there, slack jawed and staring at the shimmering, Cosmos knight as if she were Metallia incarnate. He felt like crying, throwing up, and screaming all at the same time and if his legs hadn't felt like lead, he would have bolted as fast as they could carry him.

The image of his getaway dwindled in his mind and he looked away from her. Pain blossomed across his chest and he pressed the flat of a wide palm against his breastplate, as if that might comfort him. He knew there was no comfort for it, or for him. As he struggled to find himself in the shock, the look on his face was a mix of different, intense emotions all muddied into one ball of stress and pain. The hand on his chest rubbed up across his eyes and then back across the dreads that seemed perpetually pulled back, a physical touch to pull his troubles thoughts into the world outside of his mind.

"Th-at can't be, Hver," he began again, his throat so dry suddenly that his words stuck on their way out, "she has to be dead by now. It.. must be a trick." No questioning why Ida thought he would know, no questioning where she was. He didn't ask anything because he already knew the entire tragic story.

The touch of her hand broke him, like a whip cracked over the storm of thoughts tumbling in his mind. His muscles went rigid and his eyes raised, higher and higher, until he could search the dark sky overhead. He couldn't look at her as she begged him to admit to what he'd done without knowing that was what she was asking for. He'd never spoken it out loud once it had happened, never uttered a word of his betrayal to a single soul. Once he opened that door, it wouldn't close - it couldn't.

But what if Ida was alive?

A small part of him felt that first, awful twinge of hope. He'd rather he hadn't remembered suddenly the way Ida smiled, or the look in her eyes when she was hurting for someone. He didn't want to hope and he didn't want to remember anything, at all. There was a hot, painful p***k at the corners of his eyes as a warning and the harder he tried to contain himself, the more that small itch in his throat swelled. Every awful thing he'd said or done, not just to Ida, but to everyone in his wretched, miserable existence, swam through his head, grounded by the feel of her fingertips pressed into his skin. The swelling, suffocating feeling grew until he felt like he was going to choke.

"I - <********>," he started, before his throat closed around the confession.

One silent, burning tear trailed down his dark face out and, annoyed, he raised his free arm and scrubbed at it with the scarf tied around his wrist - at the same time, he fought the overwhelming urge to empty his stomach all over the grass.

She'd been gone for so long, by now. To think she had been kept that long, used that long? Tortured? What? A roll of nausea hit him and he shut his eyes, as if he could make the whole world stop turning if he just refused to acknowledge it. Yet there was no solace for him even when he avoided the demons.

"I - I gave her up..." he heard his voice say, and his eyes opened slowly to look down at her at last. Every terrible thing he'd thought about himself was written in his bloodshot, watery eyes but he forced out the words he couldn't contain any longer. "Alkaid has her."

Gehenna didn't know if he should try to steady her when she began to waver. Her hand dug into the flesh of his arm and he tensed beneath the pressure, both from the touch and the impulse to keep her upright. Would his concern only make this worse? How could he support someone he'd obviously hurt so badly.

Why was it always Hver?

There was a sudden ache in his jaw that told him he'd been gritting his teeth so tightly his bones were beginning to protest. It was almost too hard to watch her, yet he refused to look away to spare himself the ache of it. He couldn't even begin to consider his own comfort and cowardice when he saw the look in her eyes.

"I - "

He started, and stopped. There was no easy answer for why he'd done it. There were so many causes to consider that for a moment he couldn't even decide what would satisfy the question. Maybe nothing would, or should. The fist connected to the arm she was holding squeezed and tensed until the knuckles turned white beneath his gauntlets.

"Alkaid knows who I am."

The pain and guilt in his eyes said that couldn't be all there was to the story, but he didn't know what else could be said. All he wanted was to outrun his demons - because fighting had never gotten him anywhere.

Gehenna's mouth opened as she turned, but stopped as he realized he had no words. Not for comfort, not for groveling, not at all. His slack jaw closed until his teeth grit and he had to drop his eyes from her wandering form, trying not to notice the way she suddenly seemed so.. lost.

Not for the first time, the Squire of Mars cursed himself mentally. There would never be an end to this nightmare. Reminders would just keep popping up from the depths of his self loathing, carrying new faces and new heartbreaks. The distance in her eyes was at odds with his memory of the same eyes looking down on him with worry.

How many more people would he drive away?

When she was far enough away from him that he was sure she wouldn't turn back, he left. His power was dropped almost immediately, the moment that he was in a shadow dense enough to be considered safe. He had no right to claim Gehenna's power - not when he was going to drown himself at the bottom of a bottle.