[The current dream was an old one. The same one he'd been having since he had married her in December. He was in that field of white again. Always that field of white, fighting the men dressed in black, having his senses stolen from him--but now those men shifted to people had had yet to fight. A man with a cannon for an arm. A puppeteer inside a mechanical monster, and as always that far off figure with the white hair--]
[He desperately tried to make his way past them, to the person he knew lay behind them. The person they would hurt if he did nothing. The person they were going to hurt because of him...]
[Her face too shifted. Back and forth from black eyes and feathered hair to bright blue surrounded by by fringe--it was back and forth, the past and the present intermingling, threatening to repeat and repeat and repeat.]
[Always too late. Always his fault--]
[The snow was painted red, and he was still fighting to reach her, trying to make it past that sneering face with the dark glasses.]
[I'm going to take her from you--why don't you accept that?]
[But he couldn't accept that. He would keep fighting. Fighting until there was nothing of him left before he would allow her to be hurt--and there was very little left. He was terribly injured, barely able to stand--but he wouldn't stop. He would not stop.]
[He charged that figure again, closing everything off, staking everything on this last strike. He would not fail her. He could not fail her--]
[And then his world erupted in the smell of blood, hakubaiko and jasmine...]
[He desperately tried to make his way past them, to the person he knew lay behind them. The person they would hurt if he did nothing. The person they were going to hurt because of him...]
[Her face too shifted. Back and forth from black eyes and feathered hair to bright blue surrounded by by fringe--it was back and forth, the past and the present intermingling, threatening to repeat and repeat and repeat.]
[Always too late. Always his fault--]
[The snow was painted red, and he was still fighting to reach her, trying to make it past that sneering face with the dark glasses.]
[I'm going to take her from you--why don't you accept that?]
[But he couldn't accept that. He would keep fighting. Fighting until there was nothing of him left before he would allow her to be hurt--and there was very little left. He was terribly injured, barely able to stand--but he wouldn't stop. He would not stop.]
[He charged that figure again, closing everything off, staking everything on this last strike. He would not fail her. He could not fail her--]
[And then his world erupted in the smell of blood, hakubaiko and jasmine...]
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