"Between the lines of fear and blame... You begin to wonder why you came"
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In every twisted tale, shameful song and paltry poem was the sordid grin of death, that took life and left the mind shaking in its wake. There was no difference between golden hero and woeful villain, yet all stared down into the same dark pit that had swallowed their whole life in a flash of madness. For many years, the brooding Nightshade had been the instrument of death, inflicting it upon others wherever he decided fit and leaving behind him a trail of scattered emotions, forever wanted for crimes against the innocent. He was the untouchable, the inflictor, always wanting to be hated and feared, the kind that flourished in his own arrogance and looked down his long dark nose at the idiocy of others. His screw was forever loose and his thoughts dabbled in the dark corners.

So what happens when the tables turn?

The sun was high and it was warm enough to drag a grumble from the lips of the Doctor who hated the heat on his back. He almost wanted to turn around and head back to the Basin where the weather was colder and there were caves to grouch in. Yet, he knew he couldn't. Aramis had spotted the familiar white form and feminine scent of Kou disappearing towards the Thistle Meadow, the place where most of their children had been born. It was that made d'Artagnan push on through his annoyance of the heat and head closer to the Meadow, worry lining his face as he knew... He was late. It was worry for both Kou's health should the birth be difficult and well, his own health for being late. The shade visibly grimaced at the thought of her scolding him, although he had to admit, it could be a turn on.

He pushed the thoughts away with a snort bellowing from his nostrils, shaking his head and reminding himself that it was important he be there quickly. To at least offer his magical assistance and the usual bad naming help, "Bush" wasn't the best in the book, even if they were surrounded by them. Hound and horse pushed onwards at a brisk pace, all eyes looking for the familiar sight of a mare and her new foal, the basking glow of new life and the welling pride that filled him as the father. Today, however, would be different.

There was no sparkling image of a newborn foal and her doting mother, no filling of joy throughout his body. Just Blood. Lots of it. A white crumpled form littered the meadow, bruised and battered, an image that would remain with him for the rest of his days. The Time Mender struggled to move his legs as the trembled through a walk until finally he stood over her with an unreadable expression. She was beautiful, she was always beautiful and always would be. Perhaps it was because he didn't know how to react, or maybe because there were so many emotions to feel at once that he stood very still.

Finally, the magic of the Time God slowly seeped out of him and into the body of his Nurse, his face contorting into intense concentration as he ran it over the puncture, the bruises and the broken bones. His strength wained, his face became more and more desperate, weaving into her heart and he carried on like this until he had no more energy left to give and his body shook. "Kou?" He whispered, his voice hoarse with weariness and shock. He waited for an answer before heightening his voice to a loud angered roar "KOU!" Teeth ground against teeth, mismatched eyes flickered dangerously, but his body language mimicked that of sorrow.

Without moving the Nightshade ushered to his hell born dog, but Aramis already knew, they were bonded after all and the hellion was angered too. His nose traced the floor, the body and... Tiny glass feet. An electric blue gaze lifted to view the filly, the newborn, the child Kou had protected. It was then with a slow shift of his head that d'Artagnan noticed her too and his expression immediately looked pained. She was the perfect blend of their love, her pristine coat a memento to her mother and a harsh reminder to her father. She was Kou born again, but the Doctor was far too gone with rage to realise this yet. Instead he looked at her tiny form with regret, hurt, sorrow, anger and lastly, love. He wanted her to forget this day, but at the same time she needed to remember, he needed to know who did this. So badly, the Nightshade wanted to shake it out of her small hide, the knowledge. The who! He knew, however, she was far too young to demand quite a task of her newborn mind and he hated it.

When everything became too much his legs began to move and for hours he simply paced the meadow, back and forth, his tail flicking, his mind captivated with revenge. The murderous cogs turned and the chains fell free of his madness, he was, for the most part, all rage.

There were moments, however, when the anger would drift away and sadness would take its place. He would hover near her, place a thistle upon her beautiful hide and whisper desperate words. "Take me with you." Silently, he hoped she'd reply to him, just some words. Anything.

Where did I go wrong?
I lost a friend.