Title: Forever Zero (FlyingArrow)
By Echo the Insane
Warnings: Serge angst.
Disclaimer: Do you lot really think I own Chrono Cross? Well, I don't. Duh.
Summary: Serge is waiting on the beach. For Lynx, for himself, and for someone he can't quite remember. No pairings.
Sometimes Serge misses being Lynx.
He does not miss the body, or the sounds it made. Not the hands, or the fear the sight of them caused his friends. Not the intimidation, or the self-hatred he felt. Not the blood on his hands, or the warmth of life running through his fingers.
He does miss the strength in Lynx; a strength he never possessed, even at his strongest.
Sometimes, he feels Forever Zero itching at his finger tips. He goes out to Opassa Beach, where no one dares go anymore, and calls for that terrible (wonderful) magic, only to get FlyingArrow instead. The blinding whiteness of the attack makes him ill, and he longs to sink into the darkness.
Black magic felt better to him.
Sometimes, Serge sees Lynx from the corner of his eye. While fishing with the men, while doing housework with Leena, while walking alone on the beach. He's always there, watching.
Sometimes he feels Lynx's breath on the back of his neck, and shivers.
Sometimes Serge wonders if Lynx was just a dream. The screaming of his soul tells him otherwise. He is often surrounded by the feeling of Lynx, and wonders what it would be like to be back in that inhuman body.
He wonders how his mother could look at him and smile, when he was inside a demon's heart.
Serge feels the darkness rising up from the sea, like a beast waiting to strike him down. He looks out across it and knows he will die in the waves.
Lynx will be there, laughing.
There is something Serge has forgotten. About Lynx, about himself, and about someone important; whose name is just out of reach.
The swallow in his hand is heavy and old, for Serge is an old man now. He has been waiting out on this beach for...something(someone), for sometime. His blade is rusted and his clothes are patched, but he knows that something(someone) will come.
He clutches the swallow closer and hopes that coming thing(person) will be a friend, not foe.
He doesn't feel like shedding blood on the beach.
That's what Lynx would do.