~darkness~

Every so often, there would be a glimpse.  Nothing more or less.
The pain was constant, as he had known it would be, but for a flicker of a second,
maybe once a year, there would be a glimpse.
He treasured these moments, for he knew that every time he saw that smile, or the
happiness in her eyes, he knew there was hope.
Every day, the offer that Alistair gave was the same- I'll drop my knife if you pick
it up-  His torture would stop if he started the torturing.
Every day, he'd remember the smile, and laugh, returning the offer with a hoarse,
bloody "Go to Hell."
Sometimes, Alistair would know, and change tactics, moving from physical abuse to
emotional.
"She never loved you back"
"She was killed yesterday"
"She can hear your screams"
Each comment was met with the same reply.  He didn't have the strength to say
anything more.

Although Alistair believed it to be painful, the times that Gareth was left alone for
years were his best times.  As good as they could be, with a meathook through his
left shoulder and a weight on his ankle.
He'd close his eyes, imagining those times they'd shared.  The hot chocolates after
his nightmares, her solid belief that he would get better.  The hugs when he was sad,
the smiles when she was happy.
All those years inside the hospital, and she was his only source of sunlight.  The
only source he wanted.
He'd wonder what she'd be doing.  If she were happy.  If she'd forgotten.  A part of
him hoped that she had, because at least then she wouldn't be wondering what Hell was
like.  It was bad enough to imagine, and he would never wish these images upon her.
And then the demon would enter again, refreshing his offers, and he'd turn them
down.

So long as she was saving lives, he would not hurt them.