For once, Gilbert (Raven) Nightray was retaliating. To Oz. For once in his meagre twenty-four years. But really, he couldn't understand nor could he comprehend why Oz didn't believe him when he said that he was throwing himself away.

"What did you say?" Gil asked, visibly shaking with rage. Oz, surprised by the out-of-character demand, looked at him with a blank expression.

"...What? What do you mean, Gil?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Gil's golden eyes shifted to the side to avoid looking at his master.

"You say it's all for the best. That 'you only meant well.' Well of course you did! That's always it, Oz! You always throw yourself away so easily; let yourself go, like you don't mean a thing to anyone!" Gil hissed, grabbing the blond by the shoulders and staring at him with such an intensity that the heat could almost be felt. "Well I've got news for you, Oz. You mean more to me than my own life; I would die for you. I would die for you any fucking day."

Oz stared back, emerald eyes wider than saucers. Still, now that it was all pouring out, Gil just couldn't stop.

"You love Alice, right?! Don't you know how much you hurt her, when you do things like this!? When you just prepare to die and don't give a damn!? Can you even begin to understand how painful it is to watch you wither away!?" The raven-haired man paused to swallow some air, but he wasn't finished. No, he was far from done. "Can't you just look at it through my eyes!? Through Alice's, Sharon's, Ada's, and everyone else's? Why, Oz? Why...? Please, just explain." Gil stopped to hang his head, hair falling over his eyes as he mulled over his actions. Oz just wore a bland expression until Gil looked up again and shook him slightly.

"Oz...?"

"Gil, what's it like to suffocate?" He asked, looking completely serious.

"...Why would you want to know that?" Gil retorted, frowning.

"Because, I think suffocating is the feeling one gets when they're stressed, paranoid, or just ready to fall to their knees under the weight of all the expectations." Oz answered, eyes focusing on something behind Gil, glazed over. "Sometimes, when I have time to really think, Gil, I think that maybe I'm suffocating... suffocating slowly. Like someone's choking the air out of my lungs and then letting me breath for a few seconds before doing it again and again and again. And I can't breathe anymore, Gil, I just... I can't... breathe..." Oz murmured, frowning a little harder toward the end; his breath growing ragged.

Gil could do nothing but stare now. He could do nothing but look at his master and wonder why he'd become what he was. How it had happened, and who started it.

Oddly enough, when Oz crumpled to his knees, Gil followed closely, grabbing him and gathering him up before he could actually fall and hit the ground. Gil realized something then, in those few seconds.

He would always be there to pick his master up when he fell down. Always. So he told Oz that and watched the expressions that flew across his face in a matter of seconds before he told Gil that it was the master's job to take care of the servant.

Gil couldn't help but chuckle.

...Maybe things would be okay, after all.

x x x x

So, I wouldn't really be a fan of PH if I didn't actually write a fanfic for it, but this is angst and I've been trying my damnedest to get OUT of that genre.

...Well that was a short-lived goal.
.___.

Anyhow, hope you enjoyed.
Review/comment/like or dislike. The usual.
PS ; For those who aren't fans of Imogen Heap, the song I set this fic to was Hide and Seek.
(Or Jason Derulo's, "Watcha Say.")

---Ritzs-your-resident-cracker.