Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Six Feet Under, it's not my toy box. I'm merely borrowing the characters for my own amusement and hopefully yours as well. Oh wait this is angst…er well I don't own the title either. It's a song title by The Cranberries on their To The Faithful Departed CD. The song itself really has no relation to the piece.

Note: I've only recently discovered this series, don't get HBO and therefore only been able to rent the seasons on DVD and consequently only seen up to season two. So with all that considered, hopefully I did an acceptable job of portraying the characters. Spoilers are up to "The Invisible Woman" in S2. Reviews and flames are welcome.

I'm Still Remembering:

What's wrong with you? What'd you do that for?

The blonde had come out of her drug induced stupor and sounded as lost as Keith felt. What'd you do that for? It was such an appropriate question. He kept replaying the incident in his head, kept asking himself the same questions-it felt as if her voice would be forever burned into his mind.

What's wrong with you? What'd you do that for?

It hurt. He was surprised by the physical ache of it, the acid in the back of his throat. He'd taken a human life. He, Keith Charles, killed a man. He was a murderer.

Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!

What's wrong with you? What'd you do that for?

He wanted to scream, or sob. The world was suddenly too quiet, too loud, too still, too bright, all at the same time. Murderer! He was stupid. Why had he shot to kill? Why? Why?

It was so pointless, so senseless.

That man didn't have to be growing cold at the moment. He didn't need to be dead. Maybe David would even be the one to take care of him. David, what would David think? Would he look at him, treat him different?

He should.

He'd taken all that man's potential and just thrown it away like it was trash. He should have…it was all his fault. Murderer!

What's wrong with you? What'd you do that for?

He wanted it all to stop. Nothing felt like it was moving at the right speed. Everyone told him that it wasn't his fault, but their words felt empty. Even if no one blamed him he blamed himself. He should've been in more control. He shouldn't have made that mistake. He felt as if he'd never be in control again.

He could still feel the gun in his hand…going off and the smell…smell…he could still, still, see…feel…murderer.

Murderer! Murderer!

What's wrong with you? What'd you do that for?

He should go home, sleep, take a shower, let it all just wash away, but he knew it wouldn't. He suddenly understood why David had needed sex when his father died. To lose himself in ecstasy, to have the world melt away till it was only him and another person would silence the voice and the pain coursing through him.

There was only one problem: the world didn't always melt away when he was with Eddy. And what would his boyfriend think?

He didn't want sex until he killed a man. It'd be impossible to explain that it didn't turn him on, he just needed to forget.

There was also Taylor to think of. He couldn't go home and have another battle of wits with his niece when he felt like this. She was supposed to respect him. He didn't understand how his sister had raised her, he'd never met a child so insolent in his whole life and God what if someone had shot her mom while she was in a drug induced stupor? He'd hate that person. Taylor'd hate that person. That kid's family, loved ones, would hate him. What if Taylor hated him? What if she never looked at him in the same way again? What if everyone looked at him differently now? He did.

He was a murderer.

What's wrong with you? What'd you do that for?

Without even meaning to he found himself outside David's home. He couldn't remember driving there. Everything was a blur, just this mass of pain welling inside him. The memory replaying over and over, the word murderer pounding into him and the woman's words all confusing him.

He tired telling himself to turn around and go home. Home? His home no longer even felt like home. David opened the door and let him in looking confused, perhaps worried. He felt lost, unsure of himself, and he was never unsure of himself.

Somehow he managed to sit down and get the words out. He managed to tell David what'd happened, what he'd done. He's surprised when David didn't take a step back, but moved towards him-it was a lot to take in-and a part of him feared David would reject him. David didn't. No David stepped forward, David always stepped forward when he was really needed, and he sat down trying to comfort him. He asked him if he wanted to pray, but Keith had been praying. He hadn't stopped praying for just a moment of peace since the gun had gone off in his hand. Everything crescendo inside of him and he's either going to…he moved forward and kissed David and then David's kissed him.

Everything finally slowed and went silent.