Remix: Freedom's Just Another Word for Nothing Left to Lose (The Lament Remix) [Griffin/David, 240 words, rated G, warning: character death], by sour_louise
He's always been alone, always, ever since Roland killed his parents. It hurts, but it hurts less than losing people. It's better this way, he tells himself, ignoring the ache that pounds inside him, pulsing like a heartbeat, cruel and unceasing.
Don't get close, don't open up. Don't let anyone in. Those are the rules, and they've kept him alive.
I don't miss him, he says to himself. David's shirt lies in the corner and Griffin doesn't look at it, doesn't touch it, except when he does.
I don't miss him.
David was stubborn, more stubborn than Griffin, even, and he wouldn't give up, wouldn't back down. Wouldn't let Griffin push him away, like all the others.
He was always alone, until one day he wasn't, because David was there, and he didn't leave, even when Griffin told him to fuck off, to get out of here you stupid bastard. David just smiled, in that annoyingly smug and knowing way of his, and said, no.
Fine, then, said Griffin. What do I care? Stay, then.
Fine, said David. I will. And he did.
Until he was gone.
One day, Griffin puts on David's shirt and jumps until he's found. They stride towards him, stone-faced, gray coats flowing behind them. Griffin hears the snap and hiss of electricity and stands, waiting.
He open his arms and closes his eyes, because he's tired, and because he's done fighting.
He's always been alone.