✎ Angel
Rating: T+ Series: Crossover/RP related Summary: They can both see the sun, the only difference is that she's looking from the other side now.
Author Note: Inspired by the aftermath of a thread between myself and my wonderful writing partner Joey, featuring her Sniper OC, Jaxon, who has taken it upon himself to act as a father figure to my child muse, Misty. Contains lots of sad and character death and alcohol abuse.
A lot can happen when one is away for so long. Jaxon almost didn't see the point in returning, especially after everything that had happened to him. His true nature was catching up to him, slowly but surely, and the dhampir thought getting away from everything would help quell it. It didn't. Perhaps coming back was his way of reminiscing before it was too late. The monster under his skin had nearly broken through, and soon, nothing but slaughter and carnage would matter to him.
Maybe he shouldn't have come back after all. The news that soon found its way to him was practically unfathomable. Jaxon was familiar with death, naturally. Especially with his destined fate, it would soon be a constant factor in his life, but... nothing could have prepared him for her death.
Misty. He practically was a second father to the girl, and had always thought of her as a daughter when she was little. Not only was she gone... she had been taken from him. That just made things worse, the fact that he could have been here to protect her, to save her from the horrible monster that took such a beautiful life out of this world. During his absence, somewhere along the line, he forgot... he forgot how much she truly meant to him, and the guilt and rage and sadness crushed his heart in a vise. He didn't want to believe it, he even tried to convince himself that it was just a nightmare, that he'd imagined it all, but it was real...
A blind rage led Jaxon to her home, which also housed her psychopath father. There was no knocking, and the marksman did more than just enter unannounced. The door practically few off its hinges when Jaxon kicked it and stormed inside. Dan had been inside, sitting in a chair in the living area, and had hardly given an upward glance. Jaxon hardly gave him a chance to react, promptly slamming his fist into the side of Dan's face. He held absolutely nothing back, and wasted no time in grabbing Dan by the shirt and slamming him against the wall.
“It was you, wasn't it?!” he growled, eyes glowing red and his fangs extending unintentionally. Jaxon rammed his body into the wall, ready to literally beat a response out of him if he had to. “You fucking KILLED her!” The marksman was practically frothing at the mouth. Dan, once regaining his senses from being suddenly assaulted, finally looked at Jaxon with sunken in, bloodshot eyes. His expression was a thousand yards away it seemed, and even though he appeared emotionless, the glimmer of moisture in his eyes almost made Jaxon think twice. Almost.
“If I say yes,” Dan began, his voice rasping. He paused his sentence and spat out a tooth that the dhampir's punch had knocked out, “will you let me join her?” It wasn't just Dan's words, but the dull monotone of his voice that snapped Jaxon out of his fury. His grip on Dan's shirt slackened, crimson eyes drifting to the floor, unfocused. Something about what he said caused the marksman to second guess his accusation. That meant some other sick fuck had killed her.
Jaxon was brought out of his thoughts when Dan began talking again. “I don't know who did it. And I know I've killed before, but I would never lay a finger on my little girl. Now if you wouldn't mind, leave.” Dan slumped over to the chair and sat back down. “If you aren't going to kill me, then I'd like die in peace...”
Out of all the places to go to next, his old camper probably wasn't the best idea. All it did was bring back memories. Seeing everything made him nostalgic for those days and the pain in Jaxon's chest seemed to swell into unending agony. Lost in a fit of white hot fury, the dhampir mindlessly destroyed the place all in an effort to make it unrecognizable. His claws tore through the fabric of the couch and the curtains and in the kitchen, his fridge was quickly knocked over and the table crumbled easily beneath his fist. Jaxon even grabbed the splintered table leg and contemplated plunging through his heart, but that wouldn't effectively kill him. His bloodlust was strong, particularly for the bastard that took away an angel like her... though his death would be satisfying, it would not bring her back.
He would never see her again...
That realization made him freeze in place. Never would he get the chance to say he was sorry. Sorry for leaving her behind so suddenly, without a goodbye. For forgetting how much she meant to him. For not being around to protect her... His claws retracted, and the only thing he could do from there was cry. The guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders, and Jaxon collapsed to the floor, tears spilling from his eyes in an endless wave. He sobbed and cursed at himself, all because he wasn't there for her, he couldn't save her, and ultimately blamed himself for her death.
The next day wasn't any less rough. All Jaxon could think about was Misty. No matter what he did, a memory would cross his mind and have him crying all over again. Hell, he couldn't even smoke of all things. His mind kept playing tricks on him and her image appeared in the smoke, just to taunt him. It also reminded him of the time the two of them had tried to quit smoking together. Of course, they both bent to the will of their nicotine addiction and instead sat on top of his camper under the stars and talked about nothing. Thoughts of his would be daughter only brought back his guilt. Jaxon just wanted to dull the pain in his chest with a stake...
There was only one thing that seemed to quell his agony, even a little bit, and that was an upside-down bottle of strong liquor. The burning in his throat wasn't even remotely as agonizing as how horrid he felt, but the inebriation did help him forget... only because he was drinking to the point where he passed out. During this state of drunken unconsciousness, he dreamed of Misty as if she were alive and happy, as it should have been.
Jaxon awoke with a hangover and a heartache that promptly made him reach for another full bottle of liquor. His shaking hand brought the lip of the bottle to his own and Jaxon greedily gulped the liquid poison into his stomach. The tears that formed in the corners of his eyes may have been from the dream he had, or maybe it was from the burn of the alcohol. Jaxon didn't even realize he started crying again. He just wanted to fall into an alcohol poisoning induced coma and dream about her forever. Nothing else seemed to matter now.
Choking on a sob, Jaxon took the removed the bottle from his mouth, coughing the alcohol out of his lungs as he wiped his eyes. For a long time, he simply sat there crying as his body quivered and his mind spun. Jaxon had suffered through many injuries, being a mercenary, but nothing hurt worse than the pain he felt now. No, he was tired of being hurt, he just wanted to die.
After taking a deep breath, Jaxon gripped the bottle in his hand and prepared to finish it off, only to stop when he saw a pair of small hands grab his own. Jaxon trailed his eyes upward, staring in disbelief as he realized they belonged to Misty. Those pretty pale green irises focused on him with a mixture of disappointment and sadness. Though she didn't say a word—Jaxon felt that she couldn't—he could hear her voice as clear as day. Please stop.
“Misty...” Jaxon's voice barely had any volume to it, but the girl smiled softly as he spoke her name. Her hands rose to cup his rugged face, and the marksman laid his over top of hers. “Oi'm sorry. Oi'm so sorry...” His apology was broken with a fit of sobs.
Misty gave him her brightest smile, even though her eyes sparkled with moisture. She shook her head and again her voice seemed to project itself into his mind. Not your fault, she assured. It's not your fault.
Jaxon's eyes fell shut, relishing her touch, only to open them to see that she was no longer there. Was that all his drunken mind playing tricks on him? No, he could still feel the warmth from her hands, not to mention he could almost feel her presence around him. Not in his camper and not outside, but wherever she was, this acknowledgment helped put his heart and his mind at ease. Misty was watching over him, just like the angel she was.
