Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

walked faster and faster, his hands knotted into fists so tight his knuckles showed white.
    Sooner or later he was going to lash out, and the only question was who was going to get hurt. Apart from himself.
    "I don't know what to do, Anne!" His voice was harsh and ugly now, and she flinched at the sound of it.
    Lewis didn't notice. "All the things I believed in seem to have been built on sand, and the tide is washing it all away. No one's who I thought they were; not even me. Everywhere I look, my world is falling apart.
    The people have gone insane, all our great institutions have feet of clay, and the Terror is finally here and headed right down our throats. I finally find love, after so many years alone, and I have to walk away from it. Because just like my bloody ancestor, I'm not allowed to think about my own life, my own wants and needs and desires. I'm a Paragon and a Deathstalker, so I have to be better than that. I have ... I have to . . ."
    He burst into tears, sudden harsh sounds that shook his whole body as the tears ran jerkily down his
    ugly face. He stopped pacing, and lashed out at the nearest wall with his fist. He hit the wall again and again, putting all his strength and desperation into every blow, bloodying his knuckles. Anne's hands went to her mouth as she clearly heard bones crack and break. Blood ran down the wall as Lewis's fist crashed into it again and again, and all the time he was crying like his heart would break. Anne rose slowly up out of her chair, walked up behind him, and hesitantly put one hand on his shoulder. He rounded on her, breathing hard, his face working violently, and then he hugged her to him, clinging to her like a child. She rocked him gently as he wept, murmuring soothing words as he buried his face in her neck. They held each other tightly, the way they used to back when they were children and the whole world had seemed to be against them. Finally Lewis ran out of tears, nothing left in him but a terrible, empty tiredness.
    And in the end, he was the one who let go first. Who straightened up, and gently pushed Anne away.
    He'd always been the one who'd been able to do the hard, harsh, necessary things. Anne stepped back, studying him with thoughtful eyes. Lewis found a clean handkerchief and dried his eyes. His hands were entirely steady. He looked at his bloody, broken hand, winced as the pain hit him for the first time, and awkwardly wrapped the handkerchief around it. Anne watched him do it, and felt a slow cold pain in her breast, where her heart would have been if she'd believed in sentimental things like hearts, and before she could stop herself the words came rushing out.
    "Lewis; maybe . . . maybe we could run away. You and me, together. Forget all this. Just. . . jump a ship, any ship, heading anywhere, and leave all this behind us. To Hell with it all, to Hell with everyone but us. Neither of us likes who and what we've become, since we came here. To this world, this city, these lives. It's not too late! We could still-"
    "No," Lewis said quietly. "No, we couldn't. Not and still have any respect for each other, or ourselves. I can't just walk away. I still have my responsibilities, my duty, and my honor. Tarnished a bit, perhaps, but they're the only things left in my life that still make sense. I couldn't give them up, and still be me. I've lost so much, and I'll have to give up even more; but I still know what it means, to be a Deathstalker."
    "Duty and responsibility," Anne said harshly. "I am so tired of those words. We gave our lives to them, but what did they ever do for us? Did they make us content? Did they make us happy?"
    "Could we ever be happy, somewhere else, knowing we'd turned our backs on the only things we'd ever really believed in? No, Anne; sometimes . . . you just have to suck it in, and play the cards you're dealt.
    Because to do anything else, would be to betray ourselves. To make our lives a lie."
    "This is your last chance, Lewis," said Anne. Her eyes were pleading, but her voice was very cold.
    "I know," said Lewis. "Trust me, I know." He stepped forward, and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
    "But sometimes the only honorable thing left to do, is to take your hand away from the lifeboat, and drown. Good-bye, Anne. I don't think we'll be meeting again. First, I've got to get this hand fixed, and then I've got a lot of work to do, planning the logistics for the Quest. I won't be at the Wedding. And I don't think . . . I'll be