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29 June 2007 @ 04:02 am
{ Don // epilogue }  
Title: epilogue
Characters: Don; Sarah Ailes, Jack Ailes, Andrea Ailes implied
Prompt: None.
Placement: This takes place after everything in my fic-verse, but before Don - The Chase Begins Again.
Word Count: 646
Rating: PG for petit gratuitous language.
Spoilers: None for the film; everything for my story, but that's how you should read it.
Author's Notes: I saw Don and immediately wanted to know why he was so darned angry and callous. Since I don't believe that people are 'born that way', I decided that it must have been because he lost any reason he had to be a good person. So... this is my explanation of Don.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Don - The Chase Begins Again, not even that golf ball that Don used to kill the mole in that COMPLETELY AMAZING scene. I do own the Ailes brood, and this particular take on Don's past. Please don't sue me; I'm a college student now, and you won't get a dime!







She was too beautiful to live.

That's what I said at the ceremony. She was too beautiful to live. God had to bring her up to him; he couldn't stand being separated from her by all of these clouds and atmospheres. The earth shone while she was on it, and it got full of pride for holding such beauty. He couldn't allow that to happen, so he brought her up to where she belonged. He needed her to make the heavens beautiful.

I hate speaking in public. I avoid it at all costs, but I couldn't this time. She had her mother's eyes, and I couldn't refuse them when they asked this of me. So I sat up late and pored over words and ideas and feelings that I was trying to get rid of. At a certain point, after so many days without sleep, I started to get the sensation of dreaming, and it was as though she was here, and that's when I finally penned my ethereal requiem. I spoke in flowery words like that during the ceremony, which was long and far too drab for her. I wanted a Hindi funeral, full of the orange buds that she loved and complete silence, the reverence she deserved. But her parents pushed this American style on me, on her, and we weren't married so there was nothing I could do. Technically her body belonged to them, and that infuriates me to this day.

Her body was always mine. Will always be mine.

I don't sleep. I long to sleep, to fall into a coma and die to the world for awhile, but I cannot. My eyelids constantly display images of her, of the two of us, of my mistakes and the lack of hospital visits that would have saved her.

I am listening to the CDs that she sent me over the years everywhere I go. I rarely leave the house, but when I do I put my MP3 player over my ears and don't take it off. I haven't allowed anyone to see me yet, so that the voices I hear are my own and, when I'm really out of it, hers. I've started using my own product out of desperation, and found that, coupled with a strong brandy, it produces a state of vegetation that closely resembles sleep. I don't close my eyes, because she lives there, haunts me there. I sleep with my eyes open, immobilized and unthinking.

I am a wreck. I know that I will need to go out soon, to check on the business and make some deals to assure my enemies that I'm not weak enough to destroy. I will need to kill people, and I hope I'll find solace in that. I think I'll kill them slowly for the adrenaline rush and to hear the impassioned screams and weeping that, for once, aren't coming from my mouth.

I know she wouldn't want this for me. She would scream if she saw what I was reduced to in her wake. She'd want me to go out and party and have sex, to be happy. And when I'd tell her that happiness is only with her, she'd scoff and call me full of bullshit. She didn't swear often, but when she did she meant it, and she would curse me now.

So I'll get up for her, and I'll go through the motions of moving on. I will be the most ruthless man alive, cunning and cutthroat and selfish and perfect. I can be that now, because the thing that held me back is dead. I can be evil because I have no good left in my life, nothing to cancel out my hatred of humanity. I will make the world rue the day that she left me. I will make them feel my pain.

If I'm dead like this, everyone else will die too.
 
 
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