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PLAYING GOD

Part 6: Unfinished Business

And there she was.

Passing through the sunlit St Jaeger's Park as she walked home, holding her satchel-bag close to her: face drawn and quietly fearful, tail, ringed and delectably long, twitching nervously behind her as she trotted swiftly towards her apartment. Finn looked at her freely for the first time since the trial, since he'd changed, and felt his heart actually stop with the sheer force of longing.

Ignoring the growing sense of discomfort that accompanied the sudden transition from life to death, the wolf kept watching. Her soft, sleek fur of light tan - arms bared in the warmth of late spring: the scars almost vanished - exposed every silky hair beneath his liquid amber gaze. Even from a cafe table across the other side of the park, he could see her vibrant eyes of emerald, so exquisitely fragile and delicate. Her form, thin: not so much graceful as gawky, and so deliciously small and vulnerable, seemed to make to the air around her shimmer with beauty. Finn took a long, hungry breath, and amidst the myriad odours of the city, of cultures and species and materials galore, he was certain that he could sense her sweet scent. A soft, feminine smell, almost akin to honeysuckle in its delicacy... but with a gently musky undertone: bittersweet and utterly delicious. He felt himself purr.

Until she turned the corner and vanished from sight, the lupine didn't so much as blink, simply drinking in the sight of Sarah Jane Colfer after so, so long. He sighed with pleasure as he leaned back and closed his eyes, contemplating his emotions. It had never, not in all his years of playing (Mr Knives wasn't the first name they'd given him, oh no, Knives was just the first to have been caught), been anything like as intense as this. His mental control was gone, thrown out of the window from the moment he stood, watching that whimpering little goat begging, pleading, trying anything to appeal to his compassion.

His compassion. My, the things one does in the fevered haze of true desperation.

But it had worked. Since that moment he'd found every thought consumed with desperate longing. He needed to see her again, to speak to her, to watch her watch him, to feel her soft, fragile form against his own...

And he needed to break her, too. Oh, how he ached for it. But he could be patient. He could be.... hang on.

Finn sighed, and blinked once, sending a jolt of energy through his ribcage. His dead heart spasmed, convulsed, and started to beat again. The feeling of numb dullness in his chest vanished.

He'd done a few quick experiments with himself of course, examining his new form (anatomy seemed to be entirely normal, both internal and external, body composition exactly the same as before, biological chemistry ditto. Whatever had happened was evidently not something simply physical. It was quite fascinating, really, and he'd made a mental note to do some more research after this delightful reunion), and it was during one of these self-dissections, while testing his resistance to electricity (which was, to his amused annoyance, nonexistent: the pain was easy to beat -even while juggling the sensations of having just sliced your own ribcage open- but his muscles kept going into spasm: hardly a desirable outcome when you're elbow deep in your own chest cavity) that application of a particularly large shock had sent him into total cardiac arrest.

He hadn't noticed for almost five minutes.

Was he immortal? He wasn't sure, and he had no intention of trying to find out. All he cared to know was that he was far, far faster, stronger and more dextrous than was physically or biologically possible, he had been gifted abilities that really only seemed limited by his imagination, and he was free - free in a world which believed that he had been executed, and dead, dead, dead. Knives was gone forever, and... well, as the traditional story goes, "they all lived happily ever after".

Not if this big bad wolf had anything to say about it.

Finn had been sat there for four hours straight, utterly unmoving as he waited. Time to enter action again. He stood up, careful not to overemphasize the unnaturally sinuous grace that infused his every move. Stretching lazily, the lupine started to walk away, leaving the coffee he'd ordered untouched on the table, along with his payment: exact change, plus a not-inconsiderable tip. He was feeling generous, after all...

Ahem. Finn shook his head, clearing his mind in a heartbeat. He wasn't important. He wasn't the source of this searing, desperate, ravenous obsession. He wasn't little Sarah. The lupine shivered with perfect anticipation, gazing longingly at the corner around which his prey had disappeared. He started to saunter towards it. Slowly.

There was no hurry, after all.

***

Sarah was healing.

She told herself so, over and over again. She told herself now, as she stepped into her small apartment, setting down her bag. Muttering it like a prayer. She told herself every day, every time the knives came for her.

After every night of terror, when the scars blazed open again, and painted her mind's eye red. After every sudden and utterly inexplicable panic attack that pounced on her, irrespective of where she was or what she was thinking. After every slightest little intricacy of life - from a fountain pen to an amber bracelet to some unfortunate wolf she'd found herself sitting next to on the bus - sent her back to that sterile, brightly-lit room, where her soul had been dissected before her very eyes.

It was over, for God's sake. Over. She was safe, she was free, she was alive. That was another mantra she found herself chanting when the trauma came for her. She was alive. And she would never see Fi... never see him ever again.

But...why, why was it that thought hurt? She groaned softly, leaning against the wall, and tried to stare as hard as possible at a vase on the other side of her small living room. A determined attempt to hold back the tears that she knew were coming.

She just couldn't believe it. Even after everything. Even after he'd been given the most final, most fatal sentence ever handed out in the entire history of justice. Even after the execution date had been and passed, with a quiet announcement by the Authority that there had been no hiccups - quiet until the papers seized upon the story with an enthusiasm worthy of the wolf himself, blowing it up into front page headlines: DEAD AT LAST. And every time she saw one, Sarah found herself cringing away. Was it fear? Shame?

Or loss?

She just couldn't believe it. He'd seemed so friendly, so cheerful, so likeable. He'd seemed way out of her league: tall, achingly handsome, intelligent and charismatic and charming beyond measure. And yet he'd seemed to care for her. Talking with her, laughing with her, taking her out to lunch with him, giving a kind word in a time when she needed one. In those few short weeks of warmth and friendship, she'd felt more hopeful about the future than ever before.

And then.

Surprise.

_ _

But he - he had still been Finn. The cheerful, the casually likeable, the joker. Even as he... worked, he had been the wolf she had fell in love with. How could she hope to reconcile Mr Knives, murderer of so many and oh-so-nearly of her, with Mr Sharpe, playful friend, eternal spark of hopeful brightness and maybe, one day, just maybe, lover? They were identical; one and the same. And one she had loved, and one she had begged.

Swallowing back a whimper of despair, Sarah stood up again, feeling her tail trying to curl protectively around her ankles. She couldn't let this happen again. She had to keep going.

And the door rang.

(such a cheerful sound. Who could it possibly be? an old friend, a new acquaintance, a regular visitor? such an innocent, unwary sound.)

You know. hissed her mind, the part that had screamed the loudest. You know who.

_ _

"Shut UP!" she snarled, gritting her teeth and walking towards the door. She was being pathetic. He was gone. He was gone.

Sarah smiled politely (but a weak smile. A smile that was no more real than her constant claim of recovery), and, drawing a deep, determined breath, she opened the door.

Finn lounged against the wall opposite the door, his silver fur shimmering in the sunlight.

Sarah stared at him. He grinned at her, that cocky, confident smile that had began it all, so long ago, and spoke softly, his voice of liquid velvet seeming to echo.

"Surprise."

She felt her vision flicker and grow dim, her heart's pulse slam in her ears as blood rushed - roaring, shrieking - straight into her skull. Her legs buckled -

• and she must surely have blacked out, because next thing she knew the wolf was next to her, supporting her short, thin frame in a gentle embrace. Surely. Nothing could have moved that fast.

Gasping, the lynx tried to twist away, but behind Finn's tender arms was a strength like steel. He chuckled quietly at her weak, bewildered struggles, his slender muzzle dipping to nuzzle her shoulder. And then her vanquished emotions came back with a vengeance.

Pure, absolute terror broke through the numbness of shock: so much that the lynx felt herself gasp and almost choke on it. But there was more: Sarah realized, with a whimpered cry of sheer stunned emotion, that part of her was relieved.

(it's happened at last. that which you dreaded, that which haunts your dreams... it will ravage your fevered imagination no longer.)

_ _

(why? it doesn't need to. not now)

(and more. you'd missed him, hadn't you? missed his smooth voice, his dazzling wit, his radiant eyes. you'd missed him. finn, who always seemed to care. who almost killed you. well, now your wish is granted.) She uttered a short sound of total, animalistic fear, trying to slam a fist into her captor's temple, but Finn caught her hand easily, a low chuckle reverberating deep in his throat.

"Sssh..."

"H-how... " Sarah's voice came feebly, the words feeling heavy on her tongue. The wolf purred in response, utterly still for a moment as he held her fragile form against his. She shied away, and the first sob, weak, quavering and alone, broke her lips. Finn ignored it, one paw gently slipping up to tickle the fluff of her ears. For a long moment, he just held her. His fur felt soft and silky against her own, and her heart felt it would burst with fear-crazed hammering. Then the killer whispered lovingly into her trembling ear.

"Come on, Sarah. I did promise, after all."

And then the shock and the horror tumbled out in a thousand stuttered words. "H-How - You - they said... they said you were - "

"Dead?" He laughed, and it was no cruel cackle, but the simple, happy chuckle of a friend having a bit of a joke; and yet it was far more terrifying than any evil laugh could ever be. "Death doesn't apply to me anymore, my dear. Oh, I died, all right. And then - I was... reborn."

"You were - what?" Confusion reigned momentarily amidst the sea of terror. "You - I don't understand - Finn, you, you died, for Christ's sake!"

"Ah." He wagged a finger, like a teacher reprimanding a naughty schoolchild."I was executed. That means the Authority told everyone that they had officially performed it. A private function, of course: we aren't barbarians, after all. That means... that you only have their word for it. That means, in other words... well, it may be an ugly word, but they were lying."

"They were... But you - "She felt the tears start to come, and clenched her jaw, but another single sob escaped. Finn hugged her close, growling softly with pure pleasure. " - you can't be - "

"Let me explain." interrupted the wolf coolly. "They didn't kill me. Instead, they gave me to the dear "Inspector" Redstone. I'm sure you remember him?"

"I-"

"Yes. Did he tell you he was a... creature like me?" For the first time, Finn's voice sounded cold, his eyes slightly narrowed, looking away. Sarah stared up at him, starting to whimper, but the wolf didn't seem to be aware of her, a smirk playing across his muzzle that seemed, for once, genuinely cruel. "A psychopath, as you've so charmingly termed us. A murderer. But he didn't even have the decency to admit it. Dear little Brutus saw himself as a scientist. A bringer of knowledge. So, very kindly, he sent me into a bleeding wound in the fabric of the universe itself."

The lynx blinked, and she knew it was the first of her tears. "He - What?"

"I know." He chuckled, and Sarah feel his lean chest rumble with it. "I was surprised as well. They called it the Rift. They were wrong." Finn was silent for a moment, and his victim pressed her short muzzle into his shoulder and started to cry quietly, still hopelessly attempting to squirm out of his iron grip. When the lupine spoke again, any trace of laughter was vanished from his velvet voice.

"Its name... its name is Void." He sighed, tracing over a faint scar on the back of her slender, shuddering neck. "And... well, you can't begin to imagine what it was like." A single shiver ran through his lithe body as he swallowed, his breaths deepening as if in exertion. "You think I hurt you back then, Sarah, with all my little toys? You think that was pain? Nothing I could have done could ever have come close to what I experienced on the other side of that thing. No piece of dull metal, no inventive mind game... nothing at all." Sarah felt herself flinch at the mention (so many knives. mr knives.), but the wolf ignored it. "That was...beyond everything. There are no words for that agony." He drew in a breath, and then his voice was back to its cocky, cheerful, terrifying self. "But hey... I shouldn't complain, I suppose. After all, it made me what I am today."

And Sarah attacked.

Every ounce of strength her trembling muscles could muster - a not-inconsiderable amount, too: she might be small, thin and almost sobbing openly with fear by now, but when it's your life in danger, terror can summon surprising power - went into the elbow that thrust back, hard, hard into the lupine's stomach, and even as she slammed it back, she was turning to get out of his grip, another arm swinging round to smash into Finn's head, a howl of desperate fear and somehow, of shame tearing loose from her lips, and -

_ _

• she screamed.

It was as if there'd been a wall of solid, reinforced concrete behind her. Sarah was barely aware of the wolf's other hand snapping out to intercept her clumsy punch, or his amused snigger as he shrugged off her struggles. How could she notice anything else? She screamed again, collapsing into Finn's embrace and starting to sob totally as white-hot surges of pure pain rolled over her. Was her arm broken? Was it the cap of her elbow? How could she tell, when this agony tore though every thought, submerging her arm in a cauldron of boiling lava? How could she so much as think?

"Sarah..."the wolf tutted playfully, stroking her fur with exquisite tenderness. "Oh dear, oh dear... You see where violence gets you? That was a bit cruel of me, perhaps, but you need to understand, you know... You are mine. There's nothing you can do, nothing you can say to change a thing, my dear. Nothing at all... Although," he bowed slightly, still holding her, in mock courtesy, "of course, you can keep trying."

The lynx shied away from his words, burying her head in the warmth of the lupine's fur, and wept: great, roiling, broken sobs... and not just for the pain. Sarah felt the icy chill of slowly dawning realisation flood her veins as she comprehended it at last: Finn was going to fulfil his promise.

Sarah...I promise I'll finish you properly. One day.

_ _

Her scars, so nearly healed, pulsed bright with pain. In memory. In apprehension.

Oh no.

"Oh no... No, please... Finn..." she felt her sobs shake her small frame, and the wolf hugged her close, purring softly with satisfaction. "Please... don't do this... you can't."

He laughed softly, nuzzling her shoulder again. "Oh, I can. And, my dear little lynx... I will. But it can wait."

And wait it did. Sarah sobbed softly, clutching her arm as waves of hot and cold agony surged over her, and her captor simply held her, growling quietly in pleasure at every shiver of terror and pain, at every stifled sob. Any feeble attempts to resist were batted aside like irksome insects, any desperate pleas ignored entirely, and the murderer and his prey simply stood there in their fatal embrace.

"Please... Finn, I-I'm begging you... please..."

"Sssh..."

The minutes ticked away, and Sarah knew they were her last.

***

Come on, Finn chided himself. You've been patient enough. Let's have some fun.

_ _

He stroked the trembling shoulders of his prey, purring softly at the weak whimper of fear that broke her lips at the touch, and closed his eyes.

This time, the blade came easily, slinking into existence without resistance. He held it up, simply marvelling at the total lack of weight in the knife. It pulsed gently, morphing and sculpting itself to his slightest whim... and stopped.

Finn started to smile, gazing at the perfect copy of that Maccathian splinter dagger that he'd never had the chance to use. As if sensing him, the shape of violet thought solidified and strengthened, growing more real, growing sharper.

"W... what is that?"

Sarah stared up, horrified and helpless, at the glinting blade. The wolf chuckled tenderly, twirling the knife between his long fingers.

"Sarah... I've been ripped out of this dimension, torn apart atom by atom and then fused back together. Things like this may happen."

"But..."

"I don't know how. I intend to find out one day, I can assure you, but for now, we can just say that it's a blade without mass, without materials, without anything other than pure sharpness. And it's been waiting so long... for you. Do you remember this one, Sarah?"

She stared at him, and Finn's heart fluttered at the sheer impossible beauty of those orbs of jade, glazed with the liquid crystal of her sorrow as she wept. Nothing, nothing could compare to that exquisite despair. He would sacrifice his own life for it. He would sacrifice hers.

And yet... it was not enough.

He wanted... more. Oh, he wanted so much more.

Finn felt the blade waver in his grip. Sarah flinched away from it, burying her head in his fur as she began to cry again, but he didn't notice. He stopped things, suspending the world in a frozen second, and gathered his thoughts cautiously, pondering his prey. What did he want, then? What would little Sarah's fate be?

The answer was unanimous. Intimacy. Closeness. He loved her. So, so much. Until death do us part-? NO. Because he didn't want death to stop that from happening. He wanted to be with her even after that final, fatal moment. Then... what? He wanted... he wanted to...

And there it was.

So simple, so easy, so insane that the idea had been hidden in plain sight, right inside his head.

He'd wanted this from the very start, he realised. From his very first dream of laughter and screams, from his first knife. He'd wanted this epitome, this ultimate zenith of pure, total control. Impossible? Oh, certainly. Ridiculous? Even more so.

But now... Ah, but now. Now he danced amidst the burning remnants of logic, now he stepped above and beyond this world of simple physics... now he had become -

• Voidtouched.

(where had that come from? but he knew, of course, for it still stalked his mind. and it liked what it found in there.)

_ _

He flicked the thought away, letting time begin once more. Now he knew. Now he had his point of utter control, and the blade vanished in his grip, no longer needed. Sarah trembled feebly in his arms, and he felt her heart's desperate pulsing, and numbered the beats it had left.

This would be new, and it would be very, very tricky to boot. It was like navigating a maze blindfold, with your hands tied behind your back and your head spinning. But...

(for sarah)

He closed his eyes, and then he... he opened his eyes.

_ _

In this strange otherworld, everything was new. He looked around slowly, noting the weak, indistinct nature of the walls and furniture... but then there was a framed picture, one he remembered having contained a photo of his little Sarah, aged only eight. She'd told him (before the surprise, of course) it was her favourite, her most precious memory of her childhood. It glowed brightly with the force of emotion and memory. Here, he mused, matter was a dream, but thoughts and feelings... they were everything. Glancing at the blade: every inch of it in perfect, oh-so- sharp definition, making him growl silently with satisfaction, but the arm that held it, Finn's arm, was... strange. It was as if he was hollow, a vessel of sculpted glass to contain the flames. Violet edged and hearts of obsidian black. The flames of the Rift.

_ _

Voidtouched.

_ _

Then he looked at Sarah, and everything else was lost in the sudden explosion of desperate, hungry need. He could see her consciousness itself, a silently shimmering galaxy of lights that was her exquisitely fragile mind. For what seemed like an hour (though outside, barely a second passed), he stared at it, utterly transfixed. This was Sarah herself, naked and unadorned. This was the very embodiment of what he loved.

_ _

So he left it alone, not daring enter for fear of disturbing the celestial cascades of terrified emotion that roiled through her mind, searching for something else. Her physical form.

_ _

It hovered around her, encasing her beautiful mind like a protective cocoon, passing through itself, passing through her in a way which would require a hundred extra dimensions to even hope to comprehend - outside, that was, of this impossible world. He gazed at it - somehow, every hair of her soft, sleek fur was still in detail: despite being as insubstantial and wispy as a ghost's - and concentrated. The glinting shell of the lynx's small body started to slide away through another dimension, staying where it was, and yet, and yet shrinking, shrinking in perspective...

_ _

Shrinking.

_ _

***

_ _

Sarah tried to stop her sobbing, and failed pathetically. She tried again, choking herself off with a whimpered intake of breath, but the terror welled up and she broke down once more. The agonising jolt of pain that had been her elbow had faded slightly by now, but what did it matter? She pressed herself into the thick warmth of the wolf's fur, trying to hide her tears, trying to hide herself from the inevitable reality.

"Please... Finn, please..."

Her captor didn't answer, and Sarah risked a desperate glance up at him. For some reason, she found herself whimpering as she suddenly realised just how tall the wolf was: Finn was at least twelve inches taller than she was, and his build: not thickset, but lithe and lean, like a dancer, only served to accentuate it. No, more than twelve. He must have been closer to seven foot than six.

And more. The lupine's sleek head, his eyes closed, seemed to be rising above her. He must have been about eight feet now. She struggled, but Finn' strong arms reached around her, lifting her up into his embrace like a child. She felt her paws leave the ground As if he was actually growing taller, larger before her very eyes. Or...

...as if she was growing smaller.

"Oh my god...what the hell is this?"

And somehow, that was the true horror. Sarah's voice could have risen, could have become some cartoonish squeak, but... it just hadn't. She spoke normally: quieter, perhaps, but otherwise there was no change. And that was far more terrifying than any high-pitched squeal: it was as if nothing had changed, as if the world had declined to notice that she was now the size of a large doll - and still shrinking - and simply let her speak normally. It was insane. It was surreal. It was impossible.

And it was happening. She stared, too horror-struck to do anything more, at Finn. His eyes were still closed, but he looked at her, and smiled casually.

"Let the fun begin."

"Finn..."the lynx whimpered, trying to kick away, but now she was barely a foot in height, and her captor only laughed, grabbing her struggling limbs without opening his eyes. He lifted her up to the thick, silky warmth of his chestfur, handling her gently, delicately, lovingly. She felt herself start to sob again, but stuttered out words through the tears. "How...I-I don't understand... Wh...what are you doing?"

_ _

He grinned blindly, and yet she knew he that he saw her. "Sarah... I'm just beginning to explore the true extent of what's happened to me. I know what I want, you see. I know what I've wanted for so long now."

And all the while he spoke, she shrank, until Sarah realised that the wolf was holding her in one paw, and it was more than enough to restrain her. His long, elegant fingers curled carefully around her shivering, tiny form, ignoring her desperate squirming, and he opened his eyes. For a moment, they glowed the pure, blazing violet of that knife he had summoned: another impossible thing in a sudden world of logic-defying insanity. Then he blinked, and the liquid amber glittered warmly as he beheld her.

She was now about five inches, give or take.

OH NO.

The wolf smirked, his eyes sparkling with playful glee. "I can't imagine why I didn't realise before, frankly. All my games, all of my toys... they were just feeble attempts. I want your entire being, Sarah. I want everything. That, my dear, that is the true nature of control."

"What...?" Sarah tried to twist away as a single claw-tipped finger reached out, tenderly caressing the soft fur of her tiny ears, but her captor held her easily. She was trapped. Trapped like a cornered animal: doomed, hopeless and helpless. Prey.

Prey....

No. Surely he couldn't mean... No. The idea alone was pure insanity.

Excuse me? whispered her mind insidiously. Do you think that's going to stop him?

"Oh no... Finn, you can't do this..."

He grinned, exposing teeth that were clean, white and above all sharp."Ah-ha. Have you guessed? I admit, I'm not sure if I can either... but I'm going to give it a very, very good go."

"P - Please..." she felt the wolf press her tiny form to the luxuriant warmth of his chestfur, and buried herself in it. All she could think of were those teeth - no, at this size, the word was fangs. Great cleaving knives of bone (the tooth is coated with enamel, making it the hardest thing in the entire body, sang her memory with a sort of gleeful horror_. So white and so clean for now, but how long before they became red? Red as blood...)._ "No... oh please, not like this..."

"Excuse me?" Finn sounded nonplussed, and the lynx slowly raised her head to look at his eyes, the orbs of liquid amber now horrendously massive, making her feel like some doomed laboratory creature, trapped under the microscope. And yet they were still so friendly, so loving and gentle. He looked down at her, his cocky smile playing around his lips, and his breath, musky, warm, and sensuously male, washed over her shivering form. "Oh, no, no, no... Sarah... not like that, my dear. I'm not going to simply rip you apart." He dipped his slender muzzle, taking a long breath as he smelt her, hungrily, and purred softly. "I'm not going to chew. These teeth? They're nothing."

"Instead... I'm going to swallow you. Whole. Alive. Squirming."

Sarah stared at him, her short muzzle slack with the slow growth of pure horror. "You... you're going to...But... you can't... Please, Finn..." She swallowed back another sob, kicking weakly at the iron grip that held her, and realised that now, she wished it had been the teeth. Not like this. Not like this...

The wolf growled softly, nuzzling her minute form, and for a moment, she felt the slick warmth of his tongue, lapping gently at her, tasting her for the first time. The heat, the dusky wetness might have been deliciously sensual. And it was. And yet it was also pure, total terror. Gasping with fear - and pain, too, as her broken elbow (almost forgotten in the tide of unholy revelations; in the surge of horrified realisation as everything she thought she knew was ripped apart) flared up again with a spike of agony - she tried to cling to the thick, fluffy warmth of her captor's chestfur, and sobbed freely: her tears so small now, barely more than a pinheads worth of salty fluid.

He purred, quietly, and whispered softly to his prey as he lifted her up to his level, warming her shivering body. Surrounding it until even the air she breathed was claimed by his musky scent. Taking control.

"I'll love you forever, Sarah."

She whimpered a last plea, desperate, incomprehensible and nigh-inaudible, that he didn't even acknowledge. The wolf winked playfully at her one last time, and gently took her feet into his maw.

It was like the commencement of battle, as the vast lupine tongue wrapped itself around her, trying to get at every inch of her soft fur. Drenching her with hot, dripping saliva. She felt herself tremble with the deep, ecstatic moan of pleasure that rumbled forth from deep inside Finn's throat. A welcome. Come on inside...We've been waiting for you for so long.

She tried to scream, kicking out wildly, and for one desperately hopeful moment a leg freed itself from that slick monstrosity's ravenous embrace, and she tried to scramble back, yanking it up, letting out a howl of helpless terror as she pulled back...

And her shin slammed hard into the roof of Finn's mouth. More specifically, into his teeth.

The bone didn't break - not quite, but it didn't matter. Those razor-knives of enamel sliced through the flesh of her calf like paper, letting loose a spray of bright scarlet, and a shriek of agony from the tiny lynx. It felt like a branding iron pressed against Sarah's leg, but as she flailed, her scream fading off into feeble sobs of total despair, the red-hot pain did not fade or cool. It hurt, and so she cried, and no other thoughts could escape the flames.

Her predator smiled around her, and slowly tipped his back, letting the feline's smooth body start to glide into the starving abyss of his mouth. The muscular tongue coiled and smothered the ragged wound of her leg, as if comforting her... until she realised: he was tasting her blood. Tasting her pain. And the sudden snarl of hungry delight seemed to indicate that the wolf very, very much approved of it. His huge amber eyes seemed to glitter gently with pleasure, smiling lovingly at her. Slowly, delicately, the rest of her legs started to slide in, her tail still curled in terror, and every millimetre that entered was seized upon and inspected by that brutally caressing tongue...

"No..." futilely, she tried to push on the lupines cold nose... until a spike of agony from the shattered elbow sent her reeling, sobbing, clutching her aching limb close to her chest and feeling the tears roll down her face, moistening the soft flesh of Finn's pads. Her hips started to enter the wolf's slender muzzle, and his eyes half closed, the growl of total pleasure that vibrated through both his body and hers now almost constant. "Please... Finn, you don't have do this... please..."

That's the true joy of it, said his voice softly, emanating from right inside her skull. Sarah gasped , her uninjured arm flying arm to clutch at her head as a sharp stab of pain hit her mind. Somehow, the wolf had crept inside her head, and she could feel his cruel pleasure at it. "How did you... Finn, you can't..."

Shhh... you see, Sarah, that's the true joy. I don't have to. I don't "have" to do anything anymore. Only what I want to do. And my dear little lynx... right now, I want you more than anything I could ever have imagined.

_ _

Slowly, lovingly, he swallowed. And began to kill her.

The flesh around her calves rippled and crushed them together until she screamed with the pain, dragging her harshly into his mouth and raking her back over those hard, merciless teeth. Sarah howled again as she felt the lines of crimson strike hard into her, flailing wildly, sobbing, screaming and smashing her tiny fists into the sleek fur of the wolf's muzzle. Inside her head, Finn laughed cruelly. Squirm as much as you like, my dear.

_ _

Another gulp, greedy and thunderous, crushed her thighs together, and pulled her head inside, so that the shrunken lynx was staring at the soft flesh of his mouth, the tongue quieting as it made a bed for her. She stared in despondent terror at the dark portal of his throat, trapping her legs and vanishing them away like a magician's trick. She was utterly inside Finn now. She was his.

Sarah sensed her hopeless sobs intensify, his name - once such a beacon of a wonderful bright future, a beautiful friend, a perfect lover - and now a word of pure, absolute terror as well - spinning through her head, sending images of his cocky grin, his warm eyes, his sleek movements, his gentle, loving voice... Oh Finn, Finn, Finn...

"Please. Not you. Finn, you can't do this..." No matter what, he couldn't be this cruel. Surely. Not him. Not Finn, the kind one, the gentle joker. Not him. "You just... Didn't I mean anything to you?"

Sarah! His mental shout rang through her dazed, trembling mind, and stabbed into it like another knife. Don't be silly. I'm hurt, my dear. Of course you do. His body purred softly, and his mind harmonized with it, so that she felt her nose start to bleed from the terrible pressure in her skull. Sarah felt his paw caressing the bulge he made in her throat. How could he breathe through this? How could even do it in the first place? It was impossible... but everything about this was impossible.

(he's going to kill you, sarah. you're going to die tonight)

_ _

And that was impossible too, utterly unbelievable: she could not hope to even comprehend, let alone believe it. Not like this. Not so soon, please, God, please. _ _She whimpered as she felt him speak again.

_ _

Do you mean anything? Oh, my dear Sarah, you mean everything. You are the most perfect little creature in the universe right now. And I love you utterly.

_ _

"B-But... then...why?" She felt his muscles tense for the last fatal swallow, the last action she'd ever know him do. The last of her life. "Please... oh God... please, Finn... just... just why?"

_ _

The wolf was silent for a long, long moment, his fingers caressing her legs and lower back through the flesh and fur of his throat. Savouring her. Then he spoke, and she knew she was doomed.

Because I want to have you forever, Sarah. Not just for your short lifespan. Forever.

And the world went black.

***

Finn's eyes were closed, his ears flattened against his skull. He laid back on the sofa as he swallowed, and inside he screamed silently with utter, total ecstasy. He wouldn't care if the building collapsed. He wouldn't care if someone shot him in the chest, or if the world itself ended around him. The world itself was vanished, gone, forgotten. Every atom of his being coalesced around the squirming, sobbing (he could hear her too, somehow, hear her every whimper and choked-off cry as she was crushed between the strong muscles of his gullet), pleading little lynx trapped deep within him. The tiny bulge that was unmistakably her, was entirely composed of pure Sarah moved slowly, stretching every inch of his throat, one step at a time. He should have been howling with pain. He should have passed out from asphyxiation long ago. He didn't - he couldn't - care about anything like that. She was his, utterly, his to control, his to consume.

The wolf let a sob of absolute pleasure -physical, mental, spiritual, universal - ripple his slender shoulders as she started to enter the spindly cage of his ribs. Trapping her inside: a terrified bird in a locked cage. And (oh yes, yes , this is everything. this is true control, this is true perfection), she fluttered like one too. The tiny lynx ignored the pain - albeit poorly, as the howls could attest - writhing, kicking, clawing, trying anything to escape. And he could feel it. Every hopeless struggle. He touched her mind lightly, and in-between the inferno of terror in her thoughts, the mad dance of her struggles, he heard her.

(...oh no... this can't be happening... please, Finn, I don't want to... to d-d...)

_ _

It broke off as she screamed again, passing by his heart, being shaken by his massive heartbeat- but there was none to feel. It had stopped again, and he hadn't even realised.

What did he care? He'd give his heart for this.

Further she went, still crying, still stretching him, and Finn felt his stomach get closer. He hadn't eaten anything since he'd changed, feeling it was just... unnecessary. He had experienced no ill effects, but now, he realised that the total void of hunger inside him seemed to disagree. It needed sustenance. It needed her.

His little Sarah...

He felt the pulling, rippling gluttony of his gullet, and he felt her screams, her sobs, and his eyes closed again as he purred. Oh yes. So close...

And then she was there. One moment. One moment of utter blissful stillness as her form broke the valve into the slick chamber of his belly. One moment as prey and predator alike froze in total shock.

And then Finn screamed.

He felt his spine bend back over, curving into an insane C - identical to the ripping, gory stretch that had began his transformation, back after the Rift spat him out. When the agony started, when he became Voidtouched... but not this time. This time, he howled instead with a pleasure so total, so pure and so all-consuming that every fibre of his being screamed with him. His consciousness, every last cruel thought and calculating, callous plan, was eradicated utterly by the firestorm of joy, his iron self discipline blown apart b the sensation of the tiny lynx entering his ravenous stomach at last, at last. Sarah, little, beautiful, exquisite Sarah, was utterly his. And he could feel that she knew it too, and he could feel every last tear that she wept.

Slowly, the passion and pleasure faded, leaving him gasping for breath in a body that needed no oxygen or food or even a heartbeat. He laid back, a soft moan of delight humming from his lips as he felt her weak, almost bewildered struggles inside, and closed his eyes. He would see this through to the end. She deserved that one small mercy, at least.

***

"No...please, Finn... don't do this..."

Even while so small, she couldn't speak more than a whisper, so tight were the crushing caresses of the wolf's throat muscles. Sarah tried to claim a breath, gritting her teeth against the pain of her arm as another ripple sent her down further. She couldn't... this couldn't...

And it stopped. Her lungs, having struggled for even the slightest gasp, whooshed open as she dropped, suddenly free. , landing hard, painfully, on her torn leg, her newly-liberated lungs letting loose another yelp of pain. It was utterly pitch black, and the ground on which she lay, too stunned to keep sobbing, was soft like the slick flesh of Finn's long gullet. Soft, warm and wet. The air was thin, with an unpleasant, acrid sting to it.

"W...what is this...?"

Her voice sounded pitifully weak in the darkness, and Sarah realised that she knew. Of course she did. It wasn't hard to guess, after all. It was just... utterly impossible.

This can't be, can't be happening.

Oh, but it is.

_ _

"Finn?" she squeaked, falling over again, feeling the smooth curve of her fleshy prison as her head throbbed sharply with his smooth voice. "No... please, Finn... I don't want to d - ...to d - ...to die..." She felt herself start to cry again, slumped against the stomach walls of her murderer, utterly without hope, and realised that the air was starting to starve itself of oxygen. She was starting to pass out, to fall asleep for the last time.

Well done. he whispered softly, and her world shivered as the wolf stroked the flesh over his belly.

_ _

Sarah tried to speak, but her tongue suddenly felt dull and leaden, making her plea a desperate mumble. She felt the lupine inside her head, felt his love, and felt his madness. She closed her eyes, her head starting to spin, and tried one last time. "F-Finn... what do you mean? What did I do?"

And as blackness took her forever, he whispered,

_ I knew you'd be able to say that word in the end._