Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It always echoed deep in the back of his mind. The moment when death moved so slowly and he had all the time in the world. He had waited and fought for as long as he could. If only she had been there sooner. If only she had been stronger, faster, better. If only he hadn’t been left alone in the room. If only he had been smarter. If only he was a better fighter. If only he could have lasted a few more moments. If only he was better.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. If. Only. If. Only.

She never looked at him. He wondered if it was because she was trying to forget or could never forget. In the beginning, she treated him like a mad hallucination, rejected every attempt he made to help. To speak. To tell her. He had tried to move on, tried to find someone else to bother. He had tried to haunt his enemies like he promised. But he always, always, always, always, always came back to her. He yelled at her, said hurtful things, anything, anything, to get a reaction. But he never blamed her. She had warned him. She had told him. Play the coward. Play the villain. But never play the hero. He had listened. He had wanted to run away.  But, then, she would be alone. So, he played the hero and paid the price. And she remained alone.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I’m. Sorry. I’m. Sorry.

Over the years, he stayed by her side. Her expression never changed. There was something behind her eyes, however. Some sadness he didn’t understand. In the end, he had realized, the Old Crone of the Stars had been right. Death was fated. He never told her what the Old Crone had told him. After the final breath, he realized that it hadn’t mattered: the fighting, the running, the begging, the blaming. He never got a chance to tell her.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Let. Go. Let. Go.

He did his best as a silent protector, a sentry, a watch guard, always alerting her to near by dangers as she slept. Sometimes, he could deal with them selves, throwing objects that flew out of nowhere, creating minor chaotic chasms that frightened off humans. Nonhumans were a different matter, however. He couldn’t always protect her sleep from them. Depending on who or what they were, they could seep into her dreams where he had no presence. But he stayed by her side. Just as she did when she nursed him during his illnesses. When she helped create a splint for his broken leg, an arm, a finger, from all the things he’d fallen from. When he burned himself after trying to make dinner as a surprise. He would not leave her.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“We made a promise, didn’t we?” he crouched by the log, watching her sleep. “Now, I can watch over you.” He smiled, happy and content. “It’s okay if you can’t hear me, if you choose to believe I’m not here. You don’t even have to say a word.” His arms rested on his knees, his face against his arm. “You’re frowning in your sleep again. You’ll get wrinkles.” He used to press his finger there and try to smooth it out. “Squid… be a good older sister and take care of yourself, alright?”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Perhaps if he had known the pain his presence gave her, he would’ve disappeared. Perhaps if he known. If only, if only. But he didn’t. Maybe it was because Squid knew if she did tell him, he would go. Maybe she wanted to punish herself.  Regardless, he never heard the ticking of the clock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick…