I don't own anything

For Summer, since she's the only crazy to like Clane who is around at the minute.

WARNING: Contains suicide.

Things in Morganville are worse than they've been before; even under Bishop, there was the knowledge that vampires had control of the town, that it may be destroyed, but that the good vampires always had a fair chance. Here, however, it's an unfair battle between the Draug and the rest of the citizens of Morganville, humans and vampires together, and when it comes down to these two enemies working together, things are irreparable.

Claire's eyes focus on Shane as they sit together in the corner of the Glass House living room, her head leaning against his chest as his arms wrap around her waist; time is a precious commodity now, something that needs to be utilised in every way possible, and they both know that the silence speaks one thousand words. There's no need to say what they already know: that they love the other more than anything else in the world, that words don't exist to explain the lengths they'd go to in order to save the other, that they're never going to chance leaving the world separately.

Amelie is gone. Amelie is dead or dying – to Claire, they're both the same word, because one is merely on the way to the other, a state of being that brings nothing of consequence with it, because time limits are constraints in planning – and the Draug has won. As soon as she found out about them, Claire knew that they were all dead people walking: they're the same as Amelie, really, but they have a chance to control their death, to make their final moments count, unlike her. She's locked inside her own body, paralysed by whatever the Draug did to her, and there's no chance of her ever being able to get out, Claire thinks. The stunning pallor of the ancient vampire's skin remains rooted in her mind, the absolute stillness of her body, the continual seeping of a silvery coloured pus from the wound in her neck that threatens never to stop – they're all factors in the conclusion that their leader isn't ever coming back.

They've got nothing left but one another, nothing left to love or look forward to seeing, because certain death is around the corner. As soon as every vampire has been fed on, until the only vampire left non-mutilated by the Draug is Sam, in the graveyard, they'll turn on the humans and make sure that they're all eradicated. Soon, the world will be taken over by the Draug, spreading their control as far as they can, until there's nothing left to conquer.

This human relationship, something fragile and volatile, something that doesn't have the right to last more than a lifetime, is ever more subject to certain doom – and more imminently, also. They've no chance of survival in Morganville, not even with Oliver and Myrnin fighting as hard as they can, because they've sworn that they'll never give up, just for their Amelie, and so why not control their fate?

As Claire twists around to look into Shane's eyes, there's no need to say it. The meeting of their eyes confirms that the other has been contemplating the same thing as the other: the pact they made when he was still in the jail cell under Bishop's reign, when she was dragged from him, kicking and screaming: that if they were to face death and yet they were together, they should take matters into their own hands. Akin to Romeo and Juliet, they should die together, in control of their fate, because controlling the end of their life is a lot better than the alternative. It'll hurt less, as well, and they'll be together. They won't be subjected to the pain and humiliation of being caught by the enemies who are even worse than those they've always considered to be the lowest of the low.

"Shall we?" she mouths, suddenly aware that, on the other side of the room, Michael and Eve are saying their own goodbyes, because there's no chance that Michael can make it through. She doesn't want either of them to know what they want to do, because their friends would stop them, try and reason and make them believe that they can win.

(They can't: everyone knows that they can't, that the fighting vampires are as weak as the humans, and that Morganville is just a ticking time bomb.)

Shane nods slowly, his eyes turning their focus on the ceiling, and it becomes apparent to Claire that he means that the means to do it are in his room. It's as though there's a newfound telepathic connection between the pair of them has sprung up, now they're in their final hour or so, and every second counts.

They don't say anything as they both stand up simultaneously, because there's no point telling their friends where they're going, what they're doing. Claire's hand automatically laces into Shane's, him pulling her in as close as he can, because they're not going to give up on being as close together as possible now the end is drawing near, are they? She wants to die with their skin in contact with one another, take her last breath with his hand laced in her hair, her arms locked around his neck – that's the desired death, to be with Shane right until the very end. To die on their own account is the most they can ask for in Morganville at the current time, and they're more than welcome to take the offer now they've considered it.

Slowly, they walk into Shane's room and bolt the door shut, because there's no purpose in allowing downstairs to hear their conversation, when this is supposed to be a secret. There's a sense of desolation, of foreboding, as they progress further towards the drawers at the back of the room, where the cause of death is being stored, because it's as though they're walking to their execution – which, in a way, they are. They were going to die anyway: all they're doing is merely speeding up the process, changing the manner in which they die to one that suits them. It has never been in their life goals to die at such a young age, to be frenzied and furious in their love and then be so delirious that they carry it through whatever comes after death. All that they've ever wanted is to be normal…and, no matter how odd it sounds, this is as close to normal as they'll get in Morganville.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs close to her ear, his hands on her waist as they stand in front of his wardrobe, keeping well back from the window. Outside the closed curtains, silhouettes flick past along the road, searching for prey that's easy to reach – easier than inside this place, anyway, because it's still stronger than most, even though its spirit has been broken – before it has to go hunting. It shouldn't be hard. All the humans continue to try and flee, thinking that the night time is the best time to get away unnoticed, but it doesn't matter; the Draug don't suffer the same constraints as their cousins in regards to the sun. They're free….and that's what makes them deadlier than ever.

She nods slowly, her eyes never leaving his, even as he reaches down for the box in his cupboard. "I'm sure. We're dead anyway, Shane. Why don't we do it when we want to?" she reminds him of their pact once again, the one that meant that they'd always do it to get out of the situation before they could be harmed – something the Draug would do to them, if they were caught. After all, they were on Amelie's side. And Amelie was their enemy. That's enough to condemn anyone to death.

"But…do we do it with the other two? Or do we do it like this, secretive, as though we're in the wrong?"

She hesitates for a moment, unsure whether or not to break her resolve and allow the other two to know their plans, to say their last goodbyes. But there's no point. They'd never be able to do it, always be lured back by the promises of false hope and the idea that Oliver and Myrnin, as a joint force, could be strong enough to defeat a stronghold of thousands, even though to even dream it is futile. It's a scenario that can never be accomplished, something that, to think of, would only bring false hope and the knowledge that easy death would always have been the preference.

"We don't tell them." Claire sounds strong as she says this, her voice not wavering as she places her hand on Shane's. She isn't outwardly scared; she's coolly confident, self assured that they're making the right decision for them. "They'd only try and stop us – or take the poison from us. And I don't want to live, Shane, not if it means that I could lose you, that we could be ripped apart by enemies worse than vampires." By the end, her voice loses the composure and cracks, emotions shining through as she hurls herself into Shane's arms.

It's a priceless moment, one driven by lust and fear and the knowledge that, in a few minutes, all the worrying will be over; they'll be able to float away together, Shane and Claire, away from all this madness that constitutes a "life." They'll be free from the qualms of the vampires and the knowledge that they could be destroyed at any point, whenever the Draug grows tired of them.

Life can be theirs again because, for these moments, the moments of madness, of hysteria and everything else that combines to end in a suicide pact, there's the promise of peace. They're acting to get to the end quicker, to not have to suffer as they have done before, before actually dying this time; they just want the escape route, because they're tired. They've done all this before, and won, and there's no chance their weary bodies can keep up. Everything moves too fast, changes from one scenario to another within an instant, and they've barely been keeping afloat through the change. Since Sam died, there's not been a day when there's not been the knowledge that they could die, quite easily, that day – and that's draining in itself.

Shane lifts the bottle and removes the lid: it's a chemical of which Claire could probably name, yet she doesn't want to; she wants to look at Shane's face as he contemplates the end of his life, to see what he'll do in these last minutes.

She wonders if they'll make them count.

His hand shakes slightly, and she holds it steady for him, her other furiously wiping away the tears stain her cheeks a glistening crystal colour, shining in the artificial light from the ceiling. Neither of them want to die, neither of them want to end their life prematurely, but there's no other option.

"At the same time," Shane promises, reaching over for two cups on the side of his table, one of them with Claire's name on it, the other his. It doesn't seem as though they were only drinking coffee from these yesterday, wondering whether or not Myrnin would make Claire work late again. Such normal worries – the kind that they contemplated every day, without ever thinking about the bigger picture, because there was nothing worse than that, for them, at that time.

She nods slowly, watching as the clear coloured liquid is poured in equal measures into the two mugs, until the last drop has been removed from the bottle. He's about to hand her it, to end their lives right now, but she can't. There's no way that she can die without telling him verbally what she feels, what they share in feelings, because otherwise everything could go wrong.

"Two minutes," she murmurs, handing him back her mug and watching as he places it on the table. Her hands grip his, her body moving in close to his, and, for a moment, she wonders if this is the right idea. They could stand like this, together, until the Draug came for them, and be able to be together, right until the very last minute possible.

Or they can do this.

"I love you more than anything, Shane Collins," she gets right into it, her lips causing a slight ruffling of his shirt due to the positioning of her head. "You're the only reason I'm still here, you know. I'd have transferred to M.I.T in a flash after Monica, have persuaded my parents to let me, if I hadn't met you. And then you've saved me all these times. I…love doesn't even cover how I feel about you. It's more complete and utter adoration, and it's only for this reason that I want to do this with you."

He doesn't say anything in response, merely lifts her head up to face him, his finger under her chin, before their lips crash together hungrily. It's as though they've never kissed before, at the same time as their knowledge that they'll never kiss like this again alive, that this is their goodbye – something that cannot be explained in one thousand words. If they could snapshot this moment, their bodies scratched with the war, their faces stained with iridescent tears, nothing perfect about them, they would, because it's the snapshot that shows the pair of them just how strongly the other feels about them. There's no other way to show it than through this, as his arms wrap around her body, as her hands twist themselves into his hair, because now they're as one: Shane and Claire, one force that has been a force to be reckoned with.

Soon to be no longer.

After another moment or two, they break away, still standing as closely together as possible, and yet still being able to hold their respective cups. There's no smile as they look into one another's eyes, merely the complete seriousness of their actions hitting them: this is it, the end, Claire and Shane moving into whatever happens after life on Earth.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you, too."

As soon as Claire finishes speaking, they both pour the contents of the cup into their mouths, swallowing the slightly bitter tasting liquid without hesitation: it feels wrong, to swallow something that tastes so…strange, yet neither of them care, as they hope it brings as painless a death as it can.

Somehow, they find themselves lying on the bed, limbs tangled within one another, and it's almost as though they're sleeping, as their heart rates increase, sending shock waves around their body. There's no physical difference, as her hands twine around his neck, and his hands wrap into her hair, and they both allow themselves to smile even as the rivulets of tears run down their faces.

And then, finally, it's over.


She's the first one to go, her heart contracting with a shudder before, finally, ceasing. There's a moment where she gasps for air, breathing in sharply on Shane's chest, before she goes out, the light leaving her eyes as suddenly as the ceasing of her heart.

There's a beat of silence, one long, slow moment when Shane wonders if he's done the right thing, if they should have done this because all it'll do is cause the greatest pain for their friends, before his own heart is giving in. He's stronger and more able to fight the poison – for longer, at least – but he doesn't want to; he wants to be with Claire, wherever they go after this failure of a life, and that's all he's ever going to desire.

His grip in her hair tightens as his lips reach down to press themselves to her forehead, before the end is neigh for him, too.

It's as sudden as he was promised when he bought that bottle of poison, and as painless too, something that surprises him: then again, when you buy something in Morganville, usually what you see is what you get.


They're tangled together in one another's arms, in the room that is their final resting place. Outside the window, people scream as they're overcome by the Draug, and the two downstairs know that the end is approaching for them all, that Morganville won't exist much longer, no matter what their "leaders" say. The moment Amelie died, the moment the hope in the town did, because there's no resistance without a leader, and there's no victory without a resistance. They survived with Bishop because of Amelie, and against an enemy worse than him, they've no chance.

Yet there's a peaceful silence in the upstairs of the Glass House, no breathing, no movement, nothing. They're no longer here: they're the modern day version of Romeo and Juliet, though, as well as dying for love, they've died because there's a certain relish that choosing to die brings – and that's something that only they can explain.

Peace is in the air...and it's such an uncommon thing in Morganville tonight, that it's the most impressive resistance of all.

Don't favourite without reviewing, please & thanks.

Also, please do not request more Clane fics. This is , once again, a one off, for an amazing friend.

Vicky xx