As an intro, I see myself as a fanfic writer who specializes in Hatake Kakashi from Naruto... but recently the show has been peeving me off by doing stupid stuff... although, I still squeal at the sight of Kakashi... he is forever my interest! Rahxephon was lent to me - and I think Doctor Itsuki is tremendously hot (although, when I learned that he dies later on, I was v. angry) - so anyway, here goes!

I do not own Rahxephon, this is disclaimer – all of the following is merely due to an overactive imagination.

Itsuki KisaragixIishiki Makoto

Italics: Itsuki's thoughts

Bold: Krapp's Last Tape by Samuel Beckett (an existential play about a man who realizes he MAY have chosen the wrong path in life - the intellect over the heart... as he listens to his younger self, he focuses solely on lost relationships.)


Cold

Do you find me cold?

Very.

Let me in.

We sit here, facing each other, gliding down the stream, the wooden prow cuts through the water like a blade through flesh. The green water burbles beneath our feet – and fills the silences between us – my dark eyes meet his and no words can come.

Makoto and Itsuki…. Is this really us?

Cold.

Never knew such silence.

I remember those days when we were young together – so mischievous – he was always proposing the most outrageous things – he was a volcano – a fire burning, always burning. But time has passed and ice is my home and this cool water bearing us onward, a part of me.

We will never be one again.

We can never go back.

Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn't want them back.

He's still the same though. Perhaps that is why it still hurts.

Still grey-eyed, grey-haired, a pale shadow of what lies inside (a sort of ruthlessness which is only promised in the eyes). His clothes are white, a uniform, a mask – but he can't conceal the beauty of his hands, his face – some things you can never hide.

What does he see in me, I wonder?

I asked her to look at me and after a few moments – Pause – after a few moments, she did, but the eyes were just slits, because of the glare.

Perhaps he sees nothing but the uniform. The mask. Perhaps he sees the lab coat, the brown three piece suit, the flawless hands, the tall, lean body, pale skin, silken hair – and the cold eyes.

I bent over her to get them in the shadow and they opened. – Pause. Low – Let me in.

He reminisces, I push away.

"You are so cold," he says in that eternally soft – (so annoying!) – voice of his.

Our small talk seems so futile – there had been a time when nothing stood between us – nothing so petty as a few feet of wooden floorboards.

I remember those days, but now it all stands between us – relations, diplomacy, and two federations, a god-like robot and a boy called Ayato.

No. Not just that – but a score more.

So there isn't much to say as we just happen to travel together down the broad green river. Entombed it feels as though we were all alone like that one night we had gone boating together in the small park lake back home.

We drifted among the flags and stuck. The way they went down, sighing, before the stem! Pause. I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving.

It had been paradise for a summer – but school came, and with it, decisions – our paths parted just as suddenly as we had met, and here we are with only memories (now rotting dead) to bind us in a rather sick way.

The waterfall approaches and I say nothing – we just hold each other's eyes in regret.

It comes falling down as if to wash it all away – all that water falls. It reminds me of that night we lay together in the boat to hear the slap slap of water on the edges. Some sort of weightlessness birthed in a sense of freedom.

But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side.

Even now, water still falls, it approaches and drenches him. Quickly, I snap up my umbrella, it never touches me – nothing ever does.

"Do you find me cold?" I ask, smiling with only a small quirk to my lips, safely sheltered under the umbrella Quon gave to me.

Quon.

Let me in.

So cold.

Do you find me cold?

"Very," he glares at me, sitting there dripping, his feet in the huge lake which has spread inside the boat.

But under us all moved, and moved us…

My feet are up on a stool. I'm always well-prepared – as much as a man could be. But then, nothing can touch me – neither fire nor water. He was always the opposite – experiencing everything.

So whose fault is it – that we sit here without anything to say?

His – for leaving to experience it all?

Mine – for being what I am?

It's dark out – I can hardly see his eyes.

Let me in.

And under the umbrella, I'm merely a dark shadow. He gives up the conversation and just sits there to watch the scenery pass by.

Past midnight. Never knew such silence. The earth might be uninhabited.

Still… as I watch him walk away, a tiny part of me twinges.

Regret?

It can't really be – I've moved on, I've got better things. TERRA, the Rahxephon, Ayato. Quon.

Still…

Do you find me cold?

Very.

Let me in.

Never knew such silence.

Now as I lay here, my blood spreading over the floor, I know technically what is happening to me – I am a doctor. My organs are shutting down, one by one. And as my eyes darken, I wonder if I should regret anything.

Do you find me cold?

Very.

Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn't want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn't want them back.

I wouldn't want them back?

So cold.