Ghosts
Author: tsunderes
Character/Fandom: Diva/Blood+ with a special guest appearance
Prompt: 10. mechanical piano;
Word Count: 3,055
Summary: Escaping from Arkham was easy compared to what comes after.
Author Notes/Warnings: Diva being
a) a ho
b) violent
c) sad
"You really are your father's daughter," the man says with a charming smile.
The girl smiles coquettishly as she tilts her head. Her eyes are questioning, so the man continues without missing a beat.
"Ruthless, I mean. But your ruthlessness is so much more appealing. Goldsmith takes over companies, but his daughter only takes over men."
"It's a skill," she replies with a giggle, "But am I really that much like daddy? I'd like to think I was much more sensitive than him..."
He places his hands on her hips and she smiles, nuzzling even closer. He thinks she's drunk, and that he's going to get lucky tonight. But as her hands creep up his shirt, she suddenly pulls his necktie tightly, pushing him down into the couch with an extraordinary amount of strength. The man gasps for air, but as her other hand clasps on his neck, he can't take another breath. He claws at her face, but she stares down coldly, watching as his limbs grow weaker and weaker until they finally go limp.
The door creaks open as she stands from the couch, and she looks back to see the man in the mauve suit. She smiles easily, and he responds to her smile by coming closer.
"Very good, Diva. That's perfect," he says, and rests a warm hand on her shoulder.
---
The tree's branch creaked underneath her small feet. Diva was standing only a few feet above water that was almost certainly unpleasantly cold, but she wasn't worried about balance. That was never really a concern. Well, not counting the last time she had stood on this branch. But even then, it wasn't really her fault as much as the person she had rather quickly brought out to stand on it with her.
So, it was mostly her fault.
It hadn't really been that long ago, relatively. It can't have been much more than a year. But the last time she had stood on this branch, she was happy, that she was sure of.
Now, blood dripped from her feet into the water below. She watched it with idle curiosity, ignoring the pain in her leg. It was only a matter of waiting for the bullets to push themselves out, but it didn't make it any less excruciating if she wasn't focusing on something else. Diva could see fish swimming leisurely below, but as soon as they swam through the small pools of red, they would jerk, and go still. But the fish all scattered as a bullet popped out of her leg and fell into the water.
Diva groaned and sat instead, leaning against the curve of the branch for support. It wasn't a surprise that the guards had hit her with the guns, but maybe she should have waited a little longer after all. The lack of blood was going to hurt her later. She should have waited until she was given the blood she needed, but she couldn't wait. Diva had gone back to the asylum because somewhere underneath all her queen-like pride, she wanted someone to help her. But as soon as she admitted that, Arkham had left as well. Crane had left a little bit before that, but she had been fine with that. It was better, she had said to herself.
But now she was alone.
Another bullet plopped into the water and she shuddered in silence.
Diva knew that she had to leave this place. There wasn't anything left for her.
---
"I'm surprised you came to me for help, despite--"
She cut him off quickly, "I didn't have anyone else. Don't misunderstand that."
"...How cold. Hold still. This is going to hurt, but please try to not kick me in the face this time, Diva."
She gripped the edge of the metal table, with a dissatisfied grumble. It was rarer for her to scream from pain, but as his metal tools dug into her flesh to pull out a bullet, she couldn't hold back. The leather strap kept her leg on the table, but the still powerful muscle twitched and writhed to try and forth both objects out.
"There," he said, dropping the bullet into a tin with a loud clunk, "all done. But as I was saying, despite our history. Or perhaps future would be more accurate?"
Diva groaned into the table, too numb from the fading pain to have cut him off this time. She turned her head to look at the man, who was taking off his surgical mask and gloves with care. His handsome face was etched into her mind, but there was no affection bubbling forth. Loathing was a better word.
"You're not done," she half-growled, "I still need blood."
"Ahh, of course. I had almost forgotten."
"That's definitely not true."
She kept her eyes on him as he removed the leather strap from her leg, her expression portraying nothing but hatred. But the doctor spoke easily, ignoring her bad temper completely, "Is it so bad to want to prolong such a brief meeting? You said if I didn't help you, you'd kill me, and if I did, I would never see you again. That's hardly fair."
"But what you did to me--" she started, but was quickly cut off again.
"Doesn't compare to what you and I have done to other people, does it? We live in a different world from normal humans. In sixty years, you're largely the same person you were when we were together. You're just a tiny bit closer to the humanity you never had, and the humanity I never really cared to have."
"You're saying something dangerous, Josef," she warned, but he didn't falter as he removed the leather strap. Josef took her hand, helping her to stand. He looked down at her legs passively, nodding that she didn't seem to be in pain from putting weight on them. Josef didn't let go of her hand, and instead led her to the side room that she had smelled so strongly. It was a dirty room that had once been white, but was now stained with the brown rust of blood that couldn't really be removed. A small tub underneath a red-stained table was full of the blood she needed, so she rushed to its side and drank from cupped hands. She would have been glad with silence, but he was never really one for it.
"You came to me and explained in a rage what I did to you, and despite admitting that it was basically planned all along, you didn't kill me then. This isn't dangerous if you let me get away with that. But it's been several weeks since then," he said easily, lighting a cigarette as he watched her feed with disinterest.
"Months," she corrected.
"Months? Has time started operating differently in such a short time, or does that have to do with your 'sacred place,' I think you called it?"
Diva murmured into a handful of blood, "...It's hardly sacred anymore."
"So I take it that your police officer left. Or left you. I doubt it's the second one, since you would have killed him for that and been proud of it."
He took the silence as a confirmation. "So that means your Chevalier are dead, your human boyfriend is dead enough, and you've probably done something regrettable because of both."
Diva finally turned to face him, oblivious, or at least ignoring, the blood dripping from her mouth, "Stop assuming such stupid things! I would never...!"
"Oh, you would. Amshel told me what you did after you lost Rasputin and the sick prince. You can be absolutely ruthless, you know."
She shot him a glare, but Josef only shrugged. "Simply stating an observation. But, more importantly, what are you going to do now. Hopefully you won't get mad for me to say you're not exactly wise in the ways of the world. We agreed on that several times while you were here...normally."
"I...don't know. I want to leave. I still have some of Amshel's associates I could possibly contact..." she said softly. Her bitterness faded away as she was confronted with the very real problem of how she was going to live absolutely on her own. Even though it was him, she would have liked some comfort. A kind word, or even just him touching her shoulder, that would have been nice. But Josef wasn't playing his role to seduce her anymore, so he remained leaning against the dirty white tile.
"That's a start. You'll be leaving the country you're in, I hope. Being with the clever Goldschmidt family for so long should have taught you at least some of their tricks."
"France, I think."
"You're rather tragically sentimental, you know."
She looked into the pool of blood again, and though her muscles felt strong and powerful once more, she couldn't help but feel tired for that moment. But Diva stood, frowning absently at the blood that stained her prison uniform.
"I know."
---
"I'm sorry, Miss Goldsmi--er, Diva, but we can't help you."
Diva stood on the other side of the desk, dressed like a glamorous movie star. She had to be, to be admitted into the luxury club that was rather discreetly owned by rather illegal "businessmen." They were old associates of Amshels, and one of the few families in the world that had been given the knowledge when they formed about the nature of the Goldsmith family. But after several generations of business deals between the two of them, Diva was less than pleased by his answer.
"You can't help me? No, that's not right, it's that you don't want to help me."
"Listen, either way, it doesn't matter. We only hide members of our family. Just because you want to get away from the law--"
Diva took a few steps closer and extended her arm. Though she was several feet away, her arm suddenly twisted into something large and grotesque. The flesh seemed to bear the wounds she had suffered over her lifetime, but the man at the desk as well as well as his bodyguard were taken aback by its appearance. Razor sharp claws were pointed at his neck, and Diva stared coldly, despite having revealed one of her most hated secrets.
"You're misunderstanding me. I'm not asking."
"I, uh...Jesus, what the fuck is that?! Amshel never told me about this shit," he yelled, scraping back in his chair. The bodyguard had his gun pointed at Diva's head, but they both knew it meant little.
"So," she asked sweetly, "I'll ask again. Can you get me to France with all the papers I need, or not?"
There was a moment of silence, but he finally nodded. The arm became normal flesh again as quickly as it had changed, and Diva was left smiling as if she were a child given permission to walk down the street on their own for the first time.
"See, it's easy! You won't hear from me again, I promise. ♥"
She gave an equally sweet smile to the bodyguard before she stepped out of the office and back into the club full of music and people. Some of them cast a glance to her, but it wasn't because the recognized the opera starlet. It was unusual to see a young girl running through the club to leave, was all.
The man behind the desk sunk in his chair in relief, and turned to his guard with an irritated grumble.
"She's too much like that fucking snake, Amshel."
---
Her long, wavy brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. It was such a slight chance that anyone would recognize the long dead Grand Duchess Anastasia, but Diva didn't want to take any chances where she could avoid them. There wasn't a lot she could do to hide it, but more modern clothing and hair was at least something. She had used up a lot of the energy from her freshly given blood to make those modern clothes, but it was important enough to risk.
A few people had stopped her along her way, asking where her parents were, but Diva had simply retorted that they were dead. That was enough to prevent further questions than where she was staying. Her "Grandmama" had sent her to go see her friend down the street, Alex. The irony was lost on them, but it allowed her to relate the story with a smile.
Diva held the ball she had found in the gutter close to her chest as she got close to her destination. It was unmistakable. The row of posh New York apartments just seemed to fade into unremarkable and old-looking English flats. She took a deep breath as she approached, and paused, looking up at one window of a flat. She couldn't hear a heartbeat inside, so she released the breath in relief.
"Well, that's good," she murmured, "Ne, it would have been weird to do this if you were there. Well, the not-you. But you're usually at work now, so that doesn't seem to have changed."
She sat across the street with her back against the wall, looking at the window again briefly before she turned her eyes to the red ball she had placed in her lap.
"You're probably not happy that I left, I know. Or that I went to see Josef. Or that I talked to those people at all, much less threatened them to get what I need--wanted. But I don't need to justify that to you, because you're not here, anyways. I'm just talking to a ball I found in the gutter because I can't say it to your window instead. Ne, isn't that sad? I think so. I shouldn't have to hide like this. It doesn't feel right.
But I went to that place by the lake. You remember, don't you? That branch that was hanging over it, but I used my speed to move you there with me. It was so scary, I thought I was definitely going to drown. But I guess you saved me, then, even though it seems so silly looking back. But those are the things I like to remember the most, the silly things. I'll be talking to someone on the Plane, and all of the sudden the way that I tease them reminds me of how you hated it when I teased you. Or the way you smiled when I gave you that car. I always knew that men liked cars, but I never really cared why until I saw your smile. It's sad because that's probably the happiest I ever saw you. You were a very sad man, you know? But I wanted to make you happy, really. I messed up a lot, but...I really remember when I did manage to.
It's kind of funny, because I think we both knew that there was something dangerous about you leaving. We sort of talked about it, once or twice, but we both liked to try and not think about it. I'm glad we didn't. That would have ruined all those happy moments. I never could have guessed how much it would hurt, though. Every single day of these six months has felt like so long, without you. I tried to continue being a good person without you, but I put my trust in the wrong person and got hurt because of it. No one really cares about that, though, because it really doesn't matter compared to all the people that I hurt. And once I ended up in the asylum, I was so scared, every single day, but I had to keep that all inside. Arkham would make me sleep, and every time I would wake up screaming, since I would dream of being in the tower again, or other terrible things. The Plane is the only thing that really has kept me alive. And...you.
There's not a single day that goes by where I don't think about you. Everything else is gone. Hei's Tokyo is gone. Wade's house is gone. CID is gone, too. All that's left is here. There's the asylum, of course, but that's not happy. And there's some London, since I'm making friends with this really nice person, Remus. But he's not you. The person that is you, the Master, I mean, I think I'm going to do something bad about that, too. I can't help it. I know I should hate him, but every time I see his face, I think of yours. That makes me just a little bit happier, but I know that's dangerous. I'll try to be strong, but I don't think I can be.
That's what it comes down to, after all. I'm a weak person. You called me brave a few times, but...I don't think that's true. I don't do brave things. I never have. And living might be brave, but I would rather die. I've lived so long, and it doesn't seem like I'll ever get to be happy. But it's pointless, as long as the Plane is there for me. So all I can do is keep living, even if it's painful.
But I wanted to tell you that to do that, I...can't. I can't come back here, and I can't keep hoping that you'll come back. Because you're not, are you? Ne, that would be too lucky for me. So I'm not going to. I won't forget you, and if you ever do come back, I hope that you'll forgive me. But I don't want to keep hurting so much anymore."
Her face was cold as she stood, and she clutched the ball tightly to her chest. But as she started to walk away, a voice called out to her.
"...You shouldn't be out alone this late. Where are your parents?"
Diva stopped in her tracks and looked down.
All of the sudden, she remembered how Amshel had his way of responding to questions. The person asking would never know the true context of Amshel's answers, since they spanned almost two centuries of life, but they were satisfying at some level because he could acknowledge that himself. That's what he had always told her, from "father" to "daughter."
"I don't have any. Ne, I've always been alone, you know?"
The voice didn't reply, but she glanced over her shoulder at him. Her dull blue eyes met Sam Tyler's. He was confused, of course.
"But don't worry about it," she said softly, "I'll be fine on my own, Sam."
He started to ask how she knew his name, but she disappeared before he could. The ball bounced against the ground, and he took the few steps closer to pick it up.
The little girl was gone.
Character/Fandom: Diva/Blood+ with a special guest appearance
Prompt: 10. mechanical piano;
Word Count: 3,055
Summary: Escaping from Arkham was easy compared to what comes after.
Author Notes/Warnings: Diva being
a) a ho
b) violent
c) sad
"You really are your father's daughter," the man says with a charming smile.
The girl smiles coquettishly as she tilts her head. Her eyes are questioning, so the man continues without missing a beat.
"Ruthless, I mean. But your ruthlessness is so much more appealing. Goldsmith takes over companies, but his daughter only takes over men."
"It's a skill," she replies with a giggle, "But am I really that much like daddy? I'd like to think I was much more sensitive than him..."
He places his hands on her hips and she smiles, nuzzling even closer. He thinks she's drunk, and that he's going to get lucky tonight. But as her hands creep up his shirt, she suddenly pulls his necktie tightly, pushing him down into the couch with an extraordinary amount of strength. The man gasps for air, but as her other hand clasps on his neck, he can't take another breath. He claws at her face, but she stares down coldly, watching as his limbs grow weaker and weaker until they finally go limp.
The door creaks open as she stands from the couch, and she looks back to see the man in the mauve suit. She smiles easily, and he responds to her smile by coming closer.
"Very good, Diva. That's perfect," he says, and rests a warm hand on her shoulder.
---
The tree's branch creaked underneath her small feet. Diva was standing only a few feet above water that was almost certainly unpleasantly cold, but she wasn't worried about balance. That was never really a concern. Well, not counting the last time she had stood on this branch. But even then, it wasn't really her fault as much as the person she had rather quickly brought out to stand on it with her.
So, it was mostly her fault.
It hadn't really been that long ago, relatively. It can't have been much more than a year. But the last time she had stood on this branch, she was happy, that she was sure of.
Now, blood dripped from her feet into the water below. She watched it with idle curiosity, ignoring the pain in her leg. It was only a matter of waiting for the bullets to push themselves out, but it didn't make it any less excruciating if she wasn't focusing on something else. Diva could see fish swimming leisurely below, but as soon as they swam through the small pools of red, they would jerk, and go still. But the fish all scattered as a bullet popped out of her leg and fell into the water.
Diva groaned and sat instead, leaning against the curve of the branch for support. It wasn't a surprise that the guards had hit her with the guns, but maybe she should have waited a little longer after all. The lack of blood was going to hurt her later. She should have waited until she was given the blood she needed, but she couldn't wait. Diva had gone back to the asylum because somewhere underneath all her queen-like pride, she wanted someone to help her. But as soon as she admitted that, Arkham had left as well. Crane had left a little bit before that, but she had been fine with that. It was better, she had said to herself.
But now she was alone.
Another bullet plopped into the water and she shuddered in silence.
Diva knew that she had to leave this place. There wasn't anything left for her.
---
"I'm surprised you came to me for help, despite--"
She cut him off quickly, "I didn't have anyone else. Don't misunderstand that."
"...How cold. Hold still. This is going to hurt, but please try to not kick me in the face this time, Diva."
She gripped the edge of the metal table, with a dissatisfied grumble. It was rarer for her to scream from pain, but as his metal tools dug into her flesh to pull out a bullet, she couldn't hold back. The leather strap kept her leg on the table, but the still powerful muscle twitched and writhed to try and forth both objects out.
"There," he said, dropping the bullet into a tin with a loud clunk, "all done. But as I was saying, despite our history. Or perhaps future would be more accurate?"
Diva groaned into the table, too numb from the fading pain to have cut him off this time. She turned her head to look at the man, who was taking off his surgical mask and gloves with care. His handsome face was etched into her mind, but there was no affection bubbling forth. Loathing was a better word.
"You're not done," she half-growled, "I still need blood."
"Ahh, of course. I had almost forgotten."
"That's definitely not true."
She kept her eyes on him as he removed the leather strap from her leg, her expression portraying nothing but hatred. But the doctor spoke easily, ignoring her bad temper completely, "Is it so bad to want to prolong such a brief meeting? You said if I didn't help you, you'd kill me, and if I did, I would never see you again. That's hardly fair."
"But what you did to me--" she started, but was quickly cut off again.
"Doesn't compare to what you and I have done to other people, does it? We live in a different world from normal humans. In sixty years, you're largely the same person you were when we were together. You're just a tiny bit closer to the humanity you never had, and the humanity I never really cared to have."
"You're saying something dangerous, Josef," she warned, but he didn't falter as he removed the leather strap. Josef took her hand, helping her to stand. He looked down at her legs passively, nodding that she didn't seem to be in pain from putting weight on them. Josef didn't let go of her hand, and instead led her to the side room that she had smelled so strongly. It was a dirty room that had once been white, but was now stained with the brown rust of blood that couldn't really be removed. A small tub underneath a red-stained table was full of the blood she needed, so she rushed to its side and drank from cupped hands. She would have been glad with silence, but he was never really one for it.
"You came to me and explained in a rage what I did to you, and despite admitting that it was basically planned all along, you didn't kill me then. This isn't dangerous if you let me get away with that. But it's been several weeks since then," he said easily, lighting a cigarette as he watched her feed with disinterest.
"Months," she corrected.
"Months? Has time started operating differently in such a short time, or does that have to do with your 'sacred place,' I think you called it?"
Diva murmured into a handful of blood, "...It's hardly sacred anymore."
"So I take it that your police officer left. Or left you. I doubt it's the second one, since you would have killed him for that and been proud of it."
He took the silence as a confirmation. "So that means your Chevalier are dead, your human boyfriend is dead enough, and you've probably done something regrettable because of both."
Diva finally turned to face him, oblivious, or at least ignoring, the blood dripping from her mouth, "Stop assuming such stupid things! I would never...!"
"Oh, you would. Amshel told me what you did after you lost Rasputin and the sick prince. You can be absolutely ruthless, you know."
She shot him a glare, but Josef only shrugged. "Simply stating an observation. But, more importantly, what are you going to do now. Hopefully you won't get mad for me to say you're not exactly wise in the ways of the world. We agreed on that several times while you were here...normally."
"I...don't know. I want to leave. I still have some of Amshel's associates I could possibly contact..." she said softly. Her bitterness faded away as she was confronted with the very real problem of how she was going to live absolutely on her own. Even though it was him, she would have liked some comfort. A kind word, or even just him touching her shoulder, that would have been nice. But Josef wasn't playing his role to seduce her anymore, so he remained leaning against the dirty white tile.
"That's a start. You'll be leaving the country you're in, I hope. Being with the clever Goldschmidt family for so long should have taught you at least some of their tricks."
"France, I think."
"You're rather tragically sentimental, you know."
She looked into the pool of blood again, and though her muscles felt strong and powerful once more, she couldn't help but feel tired for that moment. But Diva stood, frowning absently at the blood that stained her prison uniform.
"I know."
---
"I'm sorry, Miss Goldsmi--er, Diva, but we can't help you."
Diva stood on the other side of the desk, dressed like a glamorous movie star. She had to be, to be admitted into the luxury club that was rather discreetly owned by rather illegal "businessmen." They were old associates of Amshels, and one of the few families in the world that had been given the knowledge when they formed about the nature of the Goldsmith family. But after several generations of business deals between the two of them, Diva was less than pleased by his answer.
"You can't help me? No, that's not right, it's that you don't want to help me."
"Listen, either way, it doesn't matter. We only hide members of our family. Just because you want to get away from the law--"
Diva took a few steps closer and extended her arm. Though she was several feet away, her arm suddenly twisted into something large and grotesque. The flesh seemed to bear the wounds she had suffered over her lifetime, but the man at the desk as well as well as his bodyguard were taken aback by its appearance. Razor sharp claws were pointed at his neck, and Diva stared coldly, despite having revealed one of her most hated secrets.
"You're misunderstanding me. I'm not asking."
"I, uh...Jesus, what the fuck is that?! Amshel never told me about this shit," he yelled, scraping back in his chair. The bodyguard had his gun pointed at Diva's head, but they both knew it meant little.
"So," she asked sweetly, "I'll ask again. Can you get me to France with all the papers I need, or not?"
There was a moment of silence, but he finally nodded. The arm became normal flesh again as quickly as it had changed, and Diva was left smiling as if she were a child given permission to walk down the street on their own for the first time.
"See, it's easy! You won't hear from me again, I promise. ♥"
She gave an equally sweet smile to the bodyguard before she stepped out of the office and back into the club full of music and people. Some of them cast a glance to her, but it wasn't because the recognized the opera starlet. It was unusual to see a young girl running through the club to leave, was all.
The man behind the desk sunk in his chair in relief, and turned to his guard with an irritated grumble.
"She's too much like that fucking snake, Amshel."
---
Her long, wavy brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. It was such a slight chance that anyone would recognize the long dead Grand Duchess Anastasia, but Diva didn't want to take any chances where she could avoid them. There wasn't a lot she could do to hide it, but more modern clothing and hair was at least something. She had used up a lot of the energy from her freshly given blood to make those modern clothes, but it was important enough to risk.
A few people had stopped her along her way, asking where her parents were, but Diva had simply retorted that they were dead. That was enough to prevent further questions than where she was staying. Her "Grandmama" had sent her to go see her friend down the street, Alex. The irony was lost on them, but it allowed her to relate the story with a smile.
Diva held the ball she had found in the gutter close to her chest as she got close to her destination. It was unmistakable. The row of posh New York apartments just seemed to fade into unremarkable and old-looking English flats. She took a deep breath as she approached, and paused, looking up at one window of a flat. She couldn't hear a heartbeat inside, so she released the breath in relief.
"Well, that's good," she murmured, "Ne, it would have been weird to do this if you were there. Well, the not-you. But you're usually at work now, so that doesn't seem to have changed."
She sat across the street with her back against the wall, looking at the window again briefly before she turned her eyes to the red ball she had placed in her lap.
"You're probably not happy that I left, I know. Or that I went to see Josef. Or that I talked to those people at all, much less threatened them to get what I need--wanted. But I don't need to justify that to you, because you're not here, anyways. I'm just talking to a ball I found in the gutter because I can't say it to your window instead. Ne, isn't that sad? I think so. I shouldn't have to hide like this. It doesn't feel right.
But I went to that place by the lake. You remember, don't you? That branch that was hanging over it, but I used my speed to move you there with me. It was so scary, I thought I was definitely going to drown. But I guess you saved me, then, even though it seems so silly looking back. But those are the things I like to remember the most, the silly things. I'll be talking to someone on the Plane, and all of the sudden the way that I tease them reminds me of how you hated it when I teased you. Or the way you smiled when I gave you that car. I always knew that men liked cars, but I never really cared why until I saw your smile. It's sad because that's probably the happiest I ever saw you. You were a very sad man, you know? But I wanted to make you happy, really. I messed up a lot, but...I really remember when I did manage to.
It's kind of funny, because I think we both knew that there was something dangerous about you leaving. We sort of talked about it, once or twice, but we both liked to try and not think about it. I'm glad we didn't. That would have ruined all those happy moments. I never could have guessed how much it would hurt, though. Every single day of these six months has felt like so long, without you. I tried to continue being a good person without you, but I put my trust in the wrong person and got hurt because of it. No one really cares about that, though, because it really doesn't matter compared to all the people that I hurt. And once I ended up in the asylum, I was so scared, every single day, but I had to keep that all inside. Arkham would make me sleep, and every time I would wake up screaming, since I would dream of being in the tower again, or other terrible things. The Plane is the only thing that really has kept me alive. And...you.
There's not a single day that goes by where I don't think about you. Everything else is gone. Hei's Tokyo is gone. Wade's house is gone. CID is gone, too. All that's left is here. There's the asylum, of course, but that's not happy. And there's some London, since I'm making friends with this really nice person, Remus. But he's not you. The person that is you, the Master, I mean, I think I'm going to do something bad about that, too. I can't help it. I know I should hate him, but every time I see his face, I think of yours. That makes me just a little bit happier, but I know that's dangerous. I'll try to be strong, but I don't think I can be.
That's what it comes down to, after all. I'm a weak person. You called me brave a few times, but...I don't think that's true. I don't do brave things. I never have. And living might be brave, but I would rather die. I've lived so long, and it doesn't seem like I'll ever get to be happy. But it's pointless, as long as the Plane is there for me. So all I can do is keep living, even if it's painful.
But I wanted to tell you that to do that, I...can't. I can't come back here, and I can't keep hoping that you'll come back. Because you're not, are you? Ne, that would be too lucky for me. So I'm not going to. I won't forget you, and if you ever do come back, I hope that you'll forgive me. But I don't want to keep hurting so much anymore."
Her face was cold as she stood, and she clutched the ball tightly to her chest. But as she started to walk away, a voice called out to her.
"...You shouldn't be out alone this late. Where are your parents?"
Diva stopped in her tracks and looked down.
All of the sudden, she remembered how Amshel had his way of responding to questions. The person asking would never know the true context of Amshel's answers, since they spanned almost two centuries of life, but they were satisfying at some level because he could acknowledge that himself. That's what he had always told her, from "father" to "daughter."
"I don't have any. Ne, I've always been alone, you know?"
The voice didn't reply, but she glanced over her shoulder at him. Her dull blue eyes met Sam Tyler's. He was confused, of course.
"But don't worry about it," she said softly, "I'll be fine on my own, Sam."
He started to ask how she knew his name, but she disappeared before he could. The ball bounced against the ground, and he took the few steps closer to pick it up.
The little girl was gone.