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Desolate

About a Girl | Give Me a Second Go | It's Over, Casanova | What Makes You Beautiful | Kiss It All Better | Dark Side | Summer Love | Satellite | Over Again | Forever and Always | Paradise | Turning Tables

Part of the Songfic Series.

OA is He is We; Songfic by Red

Kiss It All Better

He sits in his cell

And he lays on his bed

The night was silent; completely dark. Unfathomable. The moon was gone, no beacon shone from StarClan. The darkness mirrored Firepaw's mood - silent, unforgiving, tense. There was no one to comfort him, he was completely alone to wallow in his pity. Even Graypaw's cheerful and comforting quips were doing nothing to alleviate Firepaw's dark mood. 

The den was just as quiet as the night - most cats had already retired to their nests, and were engaged in peaceful slumber all around Firepaw. The mish-mash of tabby pelts, gray fur, white-and-black patches hurt Firepaw’s dimly glowing eyes as his gaze flickered absently between his dozing Clanmates. A few moons ago, he never would have imagined even sleeping out in the wilderness, in a bed of moss. The thought was simply unfathomable - why would he ever want to leave his soft, fuzzy kittypet bed?

Covers his head and closes his eyes

He sees a smoking gun

Raising two ginger forelegs, Firepaw pressed his paws over his ears in an attempt to block out the rhythmic breaths of the cats around him. The noise was suffocating, so even, precise, frequent. So regular, it hurt. A strictly-maintained schedule, just like life in the Clan usually was - until the attacks.

Firepaw could envision the battle-scarred brown tom as he lumbered from the medicine den, pointed teeth revealed in a bone-shaking leer. The blood smeared all over his claws, painting him with the mark of a killer. He had killed her, left her lifeless in the den, with no one to hold her as she died. There was no one there, he robbed her of life, of a gift so precious and so generous it was incomprehensible that one would even take it away.

And the coward he ran

And in his arms is the bleeding

His retreating pawsteps rang in Firepaw’s ears as the young apprentice drifted into a fitful sleep. He had run, fled the crime scene like some petty criminal scared of the consequences of his actions. Clawface had willingly committed a homicide and escaped with unscathed, never caught, never tried, a free cat. He was free of all of the charges, the consequences that ThunderClan now suffered the brunt of.

And being the selfish, lovestruck kittypet his Clanmates told him eh was, Firepaw had gone to safe her - leaving his own Clanmates in peril. But the pretty young she-cat, she was valuable, she was more important than some petty warrior - though he’d never let anyone else hear him say that - with her knowledge of herbs and remedies. Perhaps, Firepaw thought, that was why she had been murdered so cruelly.

Love of his life

And she cried

And as Firepaw lay there, twitching uncomfortably and aware of the eyes of his Clanmates trained on his uncontrollably fidgeting body, she swept through his mind like a storm, her scent carried on the ferocious winds and her image striking Firepaw in a way reminiscent of lightning. Her words fell like raindrops, and her tears caused a cloud of guilt to roll in to Firepaw’s heart. He was sitting there, watching her die, listening to her cries and her pleas for help, and he could do nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he wanted to whisper, but, as always was with sleep, the words stuck in his throat. “I loved you, I didn’t want for this to happen, I didn’t mean for it to...Spottedleaf, I...I regret never getting to tell you that--” But still she cried, heedless of his words, tears pouring from her amber eyes.

"Kiss it all better

I’m not ready to go

"I don't want to die," she whimpered, her tortoiseshell pelt caught in the clutches of StarClan, "Firepaw, help me. I'm not ready." And he had wanted to, but every time he stepped closer she was swept further and further out of reach, disappearing even from his dream. Not even a vestige of her warm scent was left, just the old, stale smell of the dreamland forest.

By the time Firepaw woke, dawn's light was just caressing the horizon. Her body, along with the other dead, was laid out in the center of camp. The sun's rays brushed her fur, turning it to a golden-bronze sheen, but upon closer inspection...she was dead. She was really, truly dead, and there was no bringing her back, ever. She was gone, and nothing would be the same without her living, breathing body whittling away the sunrises in the medicine den, searching for herbs and purring cheerfully to her patients. 

It’s not your fault, love

You didn’t know, you didn’t know."

Sullenly, and in much of a trauma-induced stupor, Firepaw lurked at the edge of camp. Cats were still paying their respects to ThunderClan's fallen medicine cats, and as a newcomer to ThunderClan it wasn't quite Firepaw's place to be at the forefront of the mourning. Medicine cats were forbidden from relationships, and had Firepaw lingered as long as he'd have liked to...the memory of Spottedleaf that was still present in every cat's mind might have been tarnished because of a stupid crush. 

Firepaw was surprised when a shadow fell across his chilly body - Yellowfang. He looked up to find the grizzled she-cat standing beside him with something that vaguely resembled pity in her rheumatic orange eyes. The kindness that dawdled momentarily in the medicine cat's gaze shocked Firepaw, so much so that he almost didn't hear her words. 

"It's not your fault, Firepaw," she said quietly. 

Her hands are so cold

And he kisses her face

Firepaw shrugged heavily, every muscle weighed down with the burden of the life he couldn't save. Yellowfang looked as though she wanted to say more, but they both seemed to know that should she attempt to elaborate, the moment would be spoiled. Instead, Yellowfang dipped her head in one of the first signs of respect she'd shown Firepaw as he padded towards the body. 

Her body is cold, he noticed absently as he pressed his muscle into the fur on her flank. So cold. The Spottedleaf he knew would never have even been capable of feeling emotion this cold, lest it was in the face of an enemy threatening her Clan - which, Firepaw realized, she had felt in her last breathing moments. Maybe it is, in fact, somewhat appropriate that this is the final state in which the young medicine cat will be remembered. Her loyalty to her Clan and the injustice of her death will be forever engraved in the memories of those whose lives she touched. 

Blearily, and without regard for who was watching, Firepaw gave Spottedleaf's ears an affectionate lick and backed away. 

And says, “Everything will be all right."

He noticed the gun

Moments later, the body was bundled away on the backs of the elders towards the burial ground just outside of camp. Firepaw expected something to break inside of him as was apparent in the eyes of other cats, but he stayed frozen. Rooted to the spot, Firepaw's eyes searched the fronds for the last flicker of a tortoiseshell tail, and his ears strained to hear any last retreating pawsteps. But that was it - every vestige of Spottedleaf, gone. The last cats who had touched her already sullying their paws with dirt as her grave was dug. 

The first grief-stricken wail was torn from the mouth of Willowpelt, who sat close to the center of the camp, the spot where her elder sister's body had just vacated. Her blue eyes were haunted and the sound that came from her mouth was unearthly and terrible. Firepaw coudln't bear to hear it - he turned on his tail and fled back into the apprentices' den, heart pounding and ears still ringing. 

And his rage grew inside

He said, “I’ll avenge my lover tonight."

Only the soft patter of footsteps permeated Firepaw's miserable stupor, and he looked up to find sandy brown paws situated by his head. Firepaw's green eyes traveled the rest of the legs, and then the chest, and finally rested on the face of perhaps his least favorite denmate, a small tom appopriately named Dustpaw. As per usual, there was a malicious sneer written across Dustpaw's features, rendering him clearly ill-willed and altogether not Firepaw's favorite person at the moment. 

"I'm not in the mood to be goaded," Firepaw rumbled, turning his head away from his fellow apprentice and creating a fuzzy orange barricade between himself and the not yet launched taunts. "So if you're going to be mean...go do it elsewhere. Please."

Dustpaw didn't leave, but he didn't say anything either - and Firepaw would be loathe to admit it, but that gave him a tiny fraction of satisfaction. Not that any positive feelings would be acceptable given the situation and preceding events, but Firepaw couldn't help himself. He exhaled, heavily. 

And she cried,

"Kiss it all better

Even as he lay in the den, soothed only by his haunting thoughts and Dustpaw's heavy breathing, his thoughts of Spottedleaf replayed in his mind, each image becoming sharper and clearer as the time of her death drew further and further away. Even as her body lay in her earthy tomb, the hours dragging on and blending into sunrises, Firepaw felt as though she was more firmly coalescing in his mind. Her image wove through his mind whenever his eyes so much as fluttered closed; her scent wreathed around him whenever he parted his jaws to taste for prey. When the wind buffeted his fur, it felt as though her phantom pelt was gliding through is, reaffirming their bond. And every time this happened, Firepaw was only reminded that he wasn't there for her.

And it was awful, it truly was. The only cats that were willing to go near him were Graypaw and Yellowfang, and even they were somewhat reluctant to go near their flame-colored friend. Firepaw had been in such a miserable state and for so long that cats were beginning to wonder - and this, of course, only increased Firepaw's stress. 

I’m not ready to go

It’s not your fault love

"It's not your fault," Graypaw mewed one evening, as the sun sank beneath the horizon and sent its last, dying rays shooting into the sky. Firepaw kept his eyes trained on the bracken on the interior of the den, listening to his friend but hardly processing the words. "You weren't even there, you know. And...I know it feels rough. Like it's your fault. But is that what...is that what she would have wanted you to feel? To keep beating yourself up over it?"

Firepaw bit back the urge to spit out, How would you know what she wants? After all, Graypaw had been an apprentice and part of the Clan longer than he. Everyone here, save for the new kits, knew Spottedleaf better than he did. He was the outsider with the crush, who took it upon himself to wallow in one of the first deaths he'd witnessed upon exposure to the Clans. 

You didn’t know, you didn’t know."

Now he sits behind prison bars

Gloomily, Firepaw sat up and began to lick at his knotted fur. Satisfaction rolled off of Graypaw as he smiled - benignly, but bordering on smug  - at his friend and trotted out of the den, returning only moments later with a plump thrush in his jaws. It's brown feathers and speckled breast soon disappeared as the duo began to eat their meal, wolfing the bird down in almost record time. Firepaw's belly rumbled again as Graypaw burped, and then started to cough. A single, spotted feather settled in the dust between them.

Graypaw gave his friend a worried glance. "Firepaw..."

"It's not fair," he mumbled, hunkering back down and giving his pale chest a grudging lick. "She was--she was the medicine cat," he managed; though, if anyone, Graypaw could keep his secret, Firepaw didn't quite feel as though indulging his friend would be beneficial towards their relationship. "Now who's going to be taking care of our cats? I know we've got Yellowfang, but how many of our Clanmates really trust her?"

Twenty-five to life and she's not in his arms

He couldn’t bring her back with a bullet to the heart

"Firepaw--"

Mumbling into the moss that lined his nest, now, Firepaw continued, "And--StarClan, Graypaw, I just...I want to go find Clawface and give his face more than just a couple of claws. I want him to pay for what he's done, pay for what he's done to m--the Clan. It isn't fair," the ginger tom reiterated, resting his chin on the space between his paws. Graypaw wasn't altogether too surprised to see a couple of fat tears leak out of Firepaw's eyes and slide through his fur like raindrops. Before the younger apprentice could form another threat, Graypaw spoke up. 

"You couldn't, Firepaw," he said, and when he spoke his voice held all of the softness a friend's words should in a situation as such. "It's against the Warrior Code - and you know, it's not your fault. It's not what she would've wanted. And I know you probably think that you know her best," Graypaw added, the hint of a smile playing around his muzzle, "but it's not. Spottedleaf didn't lust for blood."

In the back of a man who tore his world apart

He holds on to her memory


All it is, is a memory

Hey, hey

He cries

Stay with me until I fall asleep

Stay with me

Stay with me until I fall asleep

Stay with me

Kiss it all better

I’m not ready to go

It’s not your fault love

You didn’t know, you didn’t know

Stay with me until I fall asleep

Stay with me

Stay with me until I fall asleep

Stay with me

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