Author's website: http://www.wyrmrock.com

Disclaimer:

Author's Notes: Tara Blue

Story Notes: Put on your cringe hat

This story is a sequel to: Prequel to Mad Love

His fingers were shaking as he settled into the bath, the steaming hot water almost burning his flesh as he lay back, taking a deep breath and picking up Fraser's newly sharpened shaving razor from the towel that lay beside the tub.

He had to do this. Nothing had been right since Fraser had left. /He/ hadn't been right since then. It was his fault, Fraser's. He'd done this to him. Fraser. Fuck.

"You killed me, Fraser..." he whispered, bringing the razor to rest against the veins of his wrist. He pressed hard, a drop of blood popping free as the blade just barely punctured his skin.

And then he swore, throwing the razor across the room with a cry. He heard it clatter against the toilet and bent over, feeling so goddamned stupid. This whole thing was...idiotic. Killing himself over /Fraser/? God. What the /hell/ was he thinking? No one was worth that. Not Fraser. Not Stella. No one.

Slowly, he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. He needed help. Fast. He'd actually intended on doing this thing...

Sobbing, his shoulders shook hard. His voice echoed in the small bathroom, and he didn't hear the door open. Didn't even notice that anyone else was /in/ the room until he felt the cool hand gently touch his shoulder.

"Fraser?" His voice was hoarse, and he looked up oh so slowly. Not wanting to see Fraser like this, not wanting Fraser to see him like this. He stared at the cold eyed figure that was looking down at him. "What..."

He never had a chance to finish the sentence. Hands shoved at him hard, pushing him down into the tub, under the water. Strong arms pinned him there, held him even as he thrashed, kicking out desperately. He tried to land a blow. Tried to prise the fingers off of him.

Ray's lungs were near bursting, his vision filled with bright sparks as he struggled to free himself. He was not going to die like this. No. No.

He managed to raise up just enough to breathe as his attacker leaned backwards to retrieve the razor from the floor. "No. No!" he spluttered, choking on the water. "Fraser!"

A hard hit to the chest, and he was back under the water. Oh /God/. This was not happening. No...

As his struggles weakened, he felt a slicing motion at his wrist. His eyes open wide with the pain of it, and blood began to blossom through the still warm water. The same motion at his other wrist, and he finally screamed. Took water into his lungs, swallowing. There was too much of it.

And then, as everything began to darken, his attacker...his killer leaned forward, all dark and beautiful, and kissed his dying lips.

End Mad World by EA Karras: eakarras@hotmail.com

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