A/N: Johnny C and Edgar Vargas are the creations of Jhonen Vasquez while the lyrics of Good morning Captain were written and are owned by Slint.

I'm sorry...
...and I miss you.
I miss you.
I've grown taller now.
I want the police to be notified.
I'll make it up to you,
I swear, I'll make it up to you.
I miss you.

-"Good Morning Captain" Slint. Copyright 1991

"Please! For god's sake, I mean no harm." Edgar begged, his voice worn down to a scratchy whisper.

Johnny couldn't help but admire the gall of this young man. Usually, the victim was a crying, screeching mess, but this man picked up quite a fight.

"All right Edgar," he replied, staring into the man's spectacles that now glistened with sweat, "I'll set you free." He hopped onto one of the stray crates and undid the handcuffs.

"Almost done, just have to get this one open." He muttered, slowly undoing the midsection lock, allowing his former victim to hop down onto the floor.

Edgar sat on the floor, catching his breath and trying to regain a sense of consciousness.

Johnny placed a hand on his shoulder. "You gonna be okay?"

"I think so. You have anything to eat?"

"Of course, I'll be right back."

Edgar stirred the bowl of Spaghettios as he glanced at Johnny staring at the television.

"So what is this show?" he asked, lifting a spoonful to his mouth.

"It's called Scumby."

"Oh." Edgar then adjusted his glasses and looked at the television. "So, er, what's that Scumby character doing with that horse?"

Johnny shrugged. "He's raping him."

Edgar scowled in disgust. "Raping?"

"Yes, the funny thing about the show is that Scumby's such an appalling character."

"Why do you watch it then?"

"It just reminds me of people I've known."

"Oh." Edgar glanced at his bowl. "My Skettios are cold."

"Want me to warm em up? There's a commercial break coming-"

"Ah no, it's okay. I've had my fill, thank you."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Uh, Nny?"

"Yeah?

"You enjoy Bach, right?"

"Yes, why?"

Edgar looked around. "Where'd you put that backpack I had?"

"It's behind the couch."

He reached for it and pulled it up.

"I want to show you a few cds I have. You might like them."

The killer turned off the tv and looked at his guest with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean? I've listened to most of his work."

"Yes, but I doubt you've heard them as done by Wendy Carlos." Edgar dug out two CDs: One was called "Switched on Bach", the other was the Clockwork Orange soundtrack.

Johnny grinned. He'd heard all about these, but never got a chance to listen.

"I love that movie."

"Then you'll love the soundtrack" Edgar replied, closing the CD player and hand the headphones to Johnny who was quivering with excitement.
"You must be an enthusiast. I don't think I've ever seen anybody_"

"Shh!" He closed his eyes, almost absorbing the music.

"Nny, I can't just sit here and watch you_"

"Shut up for a minute, would you?" He began humming along,. Suddenly, he was on his feet attempting what looked like ballet only to fail miserably.

Edgar smirked. "Can I join you?"

"Of course."

After they gave up on ballet, they tried to waltz around the room with some success though their footwear got in the way a few times.

"Nny, you're on my foot again."

"Oh, sorry." Johnny sighed.

"Let's start at the top then. One two three. One two three_"

Soon they began again, starting slow and then going at a moderate pace.

"Edgar?" Johnny asked, lowering his head towards his ear.

"Yes?"
"Thank you."

"For what?"

"I needed someone to talk to."

"Don't you talk to everyone you kill?"

"You're special though. You think the way I do."

"So?"

Johnny gripped his former victim's shoulders. "You're not like anyone else I've met."

Edgar winced at this. Did he have any more sinister motives?

"Nny, are you saying that… that.."

He frowned. "that I what? Are you accusing me?"

"Well, it's just that you tried to kill me."

"But I then realized that you're different. I actually like you."

This was unbelievable. Was this man actually declaring his love for him?

"Johnny, are you saying that you love me?"

The room fell still. Johnny just stared, his eyes widened in shock and confusion.

"Where the hell did you get that idea? Any type of attraction disgusts me."

"You seem very attached to me. That's all."

"Yes, but it's nothing romantic. I just like having company."

Edgar cocked his head. "Then why were we waltzing?"

Johnny rolled his eyes and sat on a crate. "Because we had nothing better to do."

"Well, all right. I'm sorry for throwing that accusation at you. I was just curious." He glanced at the door. "If you want, I'll leave."

"But it's 4 AM. You'll look weird walking around with blood on you."

Edgar glanced down at his clothing which was completely clean.

"Are you asking for a sleepover of sorts, now?"

"You said you were tired."

Why doesn't he just admit it? Edgar thought.

"I think you're hiding something."

The thin figure turned around. "You have a lot of nerve, Vargas." He rustled into his pocket and pulled out a small switchblade as his former "friend" braced himself against the door.

Easy now, make sure you have a grip on the handle. Edgar thought, feeling his palms becoming itchy with sweat.

"Y-You're not going to_"

"I will if you apologize. I thought you were different, Edgar. Now I see that I misjudged you."

"It was just an observation! I meant no malice whatsoever."

Johnny then smiled. "So you'll stay."

"Y-Yes," Edgar agreed, "For the night.."

The couch was rather uncomfortable and small, not like the soft, large if cheap bed he had back at the apartment. Edgar tried to sleep by any means possible, but the repetitive, clomping of the boots became imbedded in his brain.

"I know you never sleep, but could you please sit down at least?" he moaned with his face buried in the cushion.

"But if I sit down, I'll probably fall asleep. I hate sleep."

"Fine. Whatever."

Johnny couldn't stop staring at Edgar's curled up body as he slept. God, he looked so innocent and vulnerable. What if he was cold? He decided to slip off his coat and place it over his body.

"Sleep well." He muttered, brushing the top of his former. victim's head.

"Nngh..what?" Edgar murmured.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, I was just dreaming, I think."

"You know you look very peaceful when you sleep."

"Oh, thanks."

He sighed. "I may as well admit that I can't really sleep right now."

"Well, how about we go up on the roof? I'll show you the stars."

Edgar smiled. "That's very kind of you."

Fortunately on this particular evening, the moon was full and yellow with bright stars to match.

"It's beautiful isn't it?"

Edgar cupped his hands over his eyes and squinted up at the sky." Have you ever seen a planet up there?"

"I saw Mars once, I think." The thin boy ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I've always wanted to be over the stars, escape to another place."

"I hope to go to heaven when I die."

Johnny glanced at Edgar with wide, hopeful eyes. "Edgar?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'll go to heaven?"

Edgar was silent for a minute, scratching the back of his neck casually.

"I-I don't know."

"Don't you consider murder a sin?"

"Well, yes. But I believe god can forgive people if they redeem themselves."

"Do you think I can be redeemed?"

Edgar smiled. "Considering the way you've treated me, I think it's a possibility."

Johnny smiled and slipped his hand into Edgar's. He couldn't believe what was happening, but he loved it. This had to be a fever dream, a beautiful fever dream.

Suddenly, a wave of fear rushed over him, someone was looking over his shoulder, admonishing him. A cold constricting pain suddenly came down on the back of his neck.

Finish the job, boy! Kill him! A voice screamed inside.

The grip got tighter, choking him. He was on the ground now, wincing and twitching from the aching force rushing through him. He wanted to scream, cry, laugh, anything to ensure he was still alive.

"Nny! Oh god, are you okay?" Edgar's cries seemed muffled and distant to his ears, as if he was submerged underwater.

Johnny then managed to find words. "Edgar, I-I can't breathe, get help!" he spluttered, squinting his eyes shut as if wishing away the agony.

"Stop this." He gritted through his teeth, "Stop it."

No.

He could faintly hear Edgar frantically describing his condition into the phone, but he knew it'd be no use now.

Suddenly, as soon as it came, the agony ceased. He opened his eyes and stumbled to his feet.

Edgar returned, panting. "Y-You're alive?"

"Yeah." Johnny muttered, confused about what just occured. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You just had a seizure, I don't think you're_"

"Can you excuse me for a second?"

"You have to stay here, the ambulance will be here in a few minutes."

"No! Let me go, I'll be right back."

"Johnny!"

It was too late, he had already climbed back into the house.

Yes, boy, yes. All is going according to plan now.

"Shut up!" he sneered.
You know better than this, boy. Stop acting foolish, the wall needs_

"I can resist you! I don't you or that fucking wall." He pulled a knife from the rack, aiming it at the menacing statues. "I am going to settle this once and for all."

You can't destroy us, we're invincible.

"Fuck off."

Kill him.

" I said, Fuck o_"

"Nny! Wait! What's going on?!" A tired and panicked Edgar appeared in the doorway.

"Edgar, you should leave."

"Why?"

"I need to be alone."

"Are you going to..to kill yourself?"

"Of course not! I can't die remember?"

"Then what's going on?"
"It's complicated."

"Just calm down, the ambulance will be here. We'll go to the hospital and see what's wrong."

Johnny didn't move.

"Okay?"

"Edgar," he muttered, choking back tears, "I have to kill you."

"W-What?"

"You heard me. I don't want to, but I have to."

"Why?"

"They're making me."

"Who is?"

He looked over his shoulder. "The D-boys. They want me to feed the wall."

"I don't understand, after all that?"

Johnny took a few steps closer, brandishing the knife. "Yes."

The next few minutes seemed to happen in a blur: Edgar took off running down the hall, but Johnny managed to slash open his arm leaving his brief friend to fall to the ground, twitching only slightly and leaving a trail of blood that led to the front hall. Suddenly, the madness was broken by a knock at the door: it was a bulky, military looking man in a medical uniform.

"Are you Edgar Vargas?" he asked

Johnny, now a pale nervous, crying wreck, rapidly nodded. "Yes, he's in the front hall."

"God! That's a lot of blood loss." The paramedic then motioned for the others to come in.

Edgar wasn't responsive at all except for short spouts of breathing and the occasional moaning.

"What exactly happened here?" One assistant asked.

Johnny swallowed. "He.. He had a seizure and attempted suicide with a knife."

The other assistant dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. "Whoo, this is gonna be a long night."

"If he lives that is." The paramedic muttered as he stared forlornly at the stretcher.

After the ambulance pulled away, he found the glasses on the ground with blood splattered cracked lenses. He put them in the backpack and sauntered out of the room, trying to hold back the remorse that was about to hit him. He almost made it until he reached the living room where his body began to tremble until he forced out a quiet sob.

There was nothing left except for cold mediocrity with only the wall and angry voices to comfort him which is to say nothing at all. He got down on his knees, clasped his hands and looked up to the heavens.

"Forgive me, Edgar."