Claimers: I own them, just me, because I'm just a girl.
Disclaimers: No Doubt own a partial amount of the above line, not me.
Comments: Villains only seem truly bad because they are one dimensional.
Title: Godsmack own the line. It's from 'Going Down'.
 
Jude's POV
 
LaOC XXV - Making Sure I'm Alright? Yeah, I'm Fine
 
'You have any special plans for the fight, Jude?'
 
You have no idea.
 
'Yes, I have one or two. I'll be keeping them in here for now.'
 
I tap my head.
Alegra's not the brightest pin in the pack.
Sweet, just not very clever.
 
'Shit, I'm late. I have to get going for that course thing that Elle has us on. I'll see you later.'
 
I watch her running off.
Alegra; such a good Angel.
Never a disappointment.
Perhaps it's best if she finds some new friends, especially coming up to the Challenge.
Don't want her getting tainted with the same brush.
 
I get up and make my way to my office.
 
I used to love the halls.
So white and pure, seemed to optimise our life here.
Until...
I push the thoughts out of my mind.
 
Less than two weeks 'til the big fight.
Less than two weeks 'til the anniversary of...
 
It's strange how no-one has remembered.
Only me.
As if I was the only one who cared.
I wasn't the only one who cared about you, but it feels that way.
 
I open my door and enter my office; my sanctuary.
I leave the main light off and turn the desk lamp on.
Sitting down in at my desk, I open my drawer and take your picture out.
I hold it carefully, smoothing the ragged edges out.
 
Almost three years.
And in that time so much has changed.
I've changed.
You'd hate me now, I know you would.
You'd detest what I have become.
 
I rest my head down, and prop your picture up so I can look at you.
It seems so long ago that I could look at the real you.
Or touch you.
I can't even remember what your hair felt like between my fingers now.
 
My one physical piece of you is becoming tattered and faded.
Soon I won't even have this.
A copy, perhaps, but it won't be the same.
You won't have touched it, held it.
 
A knock at my door snaps me out of my dance with the past.
 
'Come in.'
 
Elle.
 
Time to become Jude again.
I put your photograph face down.
I don't want you to have to see me this way.
 
'Jude, I want an explanation of your behaviour in my reception with Dizzy.'
 
She sits down in a chair and she looks decidedly pissed.
She's only protecting what she loves.
Something that I should have done more diligently.
 
'I have none, your eminence.'
 
'Not the answer I want. Try another.'
 
You want a reason, fine, I'll pluck one out of the air.
 
'We were sparring, things got a little out of hand. Your eminence.'
 
What a ridiculous reason.
And she thinks so as well.
She gets up and I see her irritation level building.
 
'I will not have you behaving like that, Jude. You are still one of my Angels. For the moment.'
 
'And Dizzy is still one of your Angels... for the moment.'
 
I regret my words even as they leave my mouth.
But with every good plan comes sacrifices.
And her love is mine.
 
She turns round, raising a hand, and fires a small bolt out.
I manage to dive to the floor just in time, as it hits the desk where I was.
Smoke and the smell of burning covers us both.
Perhaps my plan needs to be reconsidered and...
 
NO!
 
I get up as quickly as I can, trying to put the flames out on my desk.
No, please, it's all I have left.
But I see it, the small charred remains of the picture.
And you're not there anymore.
You're gone, just like you were before.
 
All I can see is the background where you stood.
You're gone.
I can't even see your face now.
 
The stab of pain hits me again, as with the first time I was told you were gone.
 
'Did I burn your office calendar, Jude? I'll get you a new one.'
 
I feel tears falling from my eyes, and I simply hold the tiny piece of your picture in my hands.
It seems I am to lie in the bed I have made.
 
'No smart retorts?'
 
I turn round quickly, and I can feel her hatred towards me.
But I only have these words.
For they are all that matters.
 
'It's all I had left.'
 
My hand holds out the small piece of picture.
So small now.
She looks at me, confused, then I feel her in my mind.
It's like a caress; gentle and soft.
 
Her eyes go wide as she remembers about you.
You had to go again for someone else to think of you.
Ironic.
 
'Jude, I didn't... '
 
'Can you leave, your eminence? I need to clear up in here.'
 
There's a lot to clear up now.
So much.
 
You've inspired tears from God again.
You would have hated it, to have made her this upset.
 
Her hands remove the small remnant that I'm still holding.
 
'Take it, your eminence. You burned it, you earned it. Now if you don't mind, I have to...'
 
'Jude, I have no excuse. I'm so sorry. I should have remembered.'
 
'Sorry doesn't help me. Please leave.'
 
You would have hated me now, crying for you so much.
Almost three years and I still do it.
 
I begin to clean my desk up, sweeping your ashes into a little pile.
 
'I'm sorry, about the...'
 
'Leave!'
 
After an age, she puts what's left of you down on my desk and does as I ask.
 
And I am finally alone, with all that I have left of you.
 
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
 
 
I push most of what's left into the bin, and say goodbye to you.
 
Then I pick the small piece of photograph up.
 
 
 
I slowly feel myself sink to the floor as I cry over losing you again.