Morphine (Faust VIII, PG-13, Angst/General)

[SquallHeartilly]

Morphine

A/N: I don’t own Shaman King.

Summary: Faust is missing something… Is it Eliza, or something else entirely?

Rating: PG-13
Genre: (Light) Angst/General


Prologue: The Pain, the Morphine


(Third Person POV)

Ravishing, but glassy azure eyes stared waywardly at an empty needle on the less than sterile floor beneath him. Messy blond hair fell forward into the face of beaten broken man, whose face seemed crest-fallen and agitated from the sudden revelation that that would be the last shot of morphine he’d get for a while.

‘This just can’t be… I can’t fight without it.’

Ever since the death of his beloved, morphine had helped ease the pain. The pain of loneliness, anger, vengeance, and, of course, the pain of the Shaman King preliminary fights. A pale hand hungrily searched the pockets of his lab coat to dispel these ‘myth.’ He could feel his eyes go red as the reassertion of this…mistake…sunk in.

“I…” He started sullenly. “…I am…out of morphINE!”

As he was cracked at the last syllable, his eyes widened the faintest inch. As the high began to fade, he could feel himself get just a tad bit irritated.

‘No, not now.’ He despaired.


Chapter One: Withdrawal From One’s Self


(Third Person POV)

Johann Faust the VIII was not what one could consider to be sociable. It was a cruel fact of life, throughout most of his natural life, that people avoided him like the damned plague. Elizabeth Falke was the only person outside of his immediate family who had ever cared to talk to him. However, that never bothered Faust, only those imposed the communication embargo on him.

Which is why it was ever so surprising that the docile personification of subservience had been so quick to snap at his friends on the Funbari Team and the Ren Team…especially since the person he’d snapped at the most was no other than Anna. The pair had gone at it so much in fact, that the two had to be separated.

Anna was now barricaded in her room out of fear of her, respect for Faust, and the justified reason for doing such a thing to the glorified slave driver. Faust was currently cooling off in the hot springs, refusing to speak to anyone.

The weary and cranky blond shaman begrudgingly relaxed in the hot springs. Though it was only sparingly before he remembered that Anna wanted him to the doctor for Funbari Hot Springs… The idea was actually pretty nice, however… When you’re going through withdrawal and pissed as all Hell at the founder of Funbari Hot Springs, it doesn’t exactly inspire aspirations of working as their subordinate.

(Faust’s POV)

A small groan passed through my dry, cracked lips. I’d been through withdrawal before, if only for a few days, but this… It’d be quite a long time I would be able to get more morphine. Until then, the others would have to deal with my pissy attitude. If they didn’t like it, then I could shove their over souls up their asses.

More air escaped my lips, only this time it was in the form of a sigh. I wouldn’t be able to keep my damn cool for long and that could be trouble. Especially when participants tended to prey on ones emotions. I looked towards the bones of his late wife with a look of pity.

I was always used to being a alone, at least before Eliza entered my life. But after her death and then return as my guardian ghost, she fell silent to me. Even though for the past few years Eliza had been by my side, I still felt alone. Even when she was alive it felt as if she wasn’t there at all. At times I thought the only reasons she married me was because I saved her life and out of pity. It had always been that way.

This was one of the reasons I hated withdrawal, it was horrendous for me. Gone was my painless, plastic existence and here before me was the lonely state I felt all the damn time in my youth. The second reason was the physical reaction, the normal withdrawal pains that any drug user goes through.

‘Dammit, I was a doctor! Why the Hell was I bitching about it? I knew… I knew that would happen and chose to do it anyway. What the- What the Hell am I doing?’ I thought in utter confusion. ‘Surely, there is something better out there for me than this.’

I continued to look at the skeletal remains of my guardian ghost.

‘What are you doing here with me…?’

(Third Person POV)

Yoh shook his short mane of russet, in an attempt to rid himself of a bad shiver. Anna was pretty damn scary when she was angry, but Faust… Never again had he wanted to see the same Faust he met in the tournament prelims. Certainly, it wasn’t a day neither he or Manta would forget. On that day, he realized that not everything would end as he hoped. He realized that his dreams could easily be dashed.

That one stray thought made Yoh think that Faust must have felt the same thing when he lost Eliza. The happiness, the comfort…all taken away by some “big man with a big gun.” He felt himself grow a little cross at the thought. It was the first time he’d ever considered how Faust felt about things.

‘Am I really that self centered?’ Yoh questioned coarsely. ‘May be I was just hiding it from myself…’

“Yeah, that’s it.” Yoh whispered absently, mostly to himself.

He wasn’t aware that Manta had overheard him and had cocked his head and curiosity.

[animeninjaNIPPON]

wow, that was intense... I love it!! I can't WAIT to read more!!

[Jr.]

If they didn't like it, then I could shove their over souls up their asses.

Priceless!! I can't wait to read more!!

[Magenta]

*paitiently awaits next chapter* So far a absolutly love it. The way you can connect with the charcters and create the mood is magnificent.

[SquallHeartilly]

Morphine

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the beginning. I am making this up as I go along, so enjoy the ride. Did you know: Stuart means ruler of people in German… I am kidding, about the ‘Did you know’ thing.

I just noticed something weird in chapter one and two, I put Faust in a hot spring, right? Where did it come from, how’d it get there? Is there even a hot spring in Patch Village in the anime? Oops… ^.^;

Song is by Green Day, it's "On My Own Here We Go." Of course, I don't own it.


Chapter Two: The Blond Haired, Blue Eyed Devil Part One

(Third Person POV)

It has been said that heat can do strange things to the mind. And right now, that saying was being proved in the mind of Johann Faust the VIII. A comfortable heat was all that was needed to relax one’s mind… Stray thoughts and memories could twist the perception of reality.


(Faust’s POV, Morphine)

(I am having trouble trying to sleep,
I am counting sheep, but running out.
As time ticks by,
And still I try.)

Insomnia is a horrible thing for most normal people. It is simply a state of unrest when all one wants to do is sleep. But I was hardly what one would call normal, at least from a Geiring, Eastern Germany citizen’s point of view.

(No rest for cross tops in my mind…)

Even when normal every day things occurred to me, there would always be a twist to make it especially abnormal. In deed, the insomnia that afflicted me tonight was no normal insomnia…

The insomnia as it were, was caused by…the death of my precious wife, Elizabeth Faust. It had happened two days ago, in the small clinic we had opened up last year. Someone…some monster had broken in. And Eliza was there…a struggle and a shot. That’s all I heard…

When I ran in, I was greeted by the sight my dear Eliza. On the floor, covered in thick, dark crimson blood flowing from the gaping wound in her head… I stood there in shock for what felt like an eternity, staring at the room. I blindly charged the thief, not caring for my own safety…

(On my own, here we go.)

At first, I could never figure out why of all places, a thief would break into a clinic? Especially a small one like this. Drugs maybe…but there were very few the clinic owned of any real value. Just morphine…and it wasn’t even gone!

(My eyes feel like they’re gonna bleed,
Dried up and bulging out my skull.
My mouth is dry,
My face is numb.)

‘What the Hell was all of that for! Revenge? A warning? Why… Why did Eliza have to die? Why couldn’t it have been me!’ I thought as my eyes fell on the dead woman before me. ‘Eliza, you were the only one to ever talk to me. You and father always made me feel as if I were truly loved in this world. But why this? Why now?’

(f**ked up and spun out in my room…)

‘…Was I being punished for the misdeeds of the original Johann Faust? Yes, my father had told me that story, and until now I had refused to believe it. I was being punished because of him, because I looked like him! Because I am his descendent, his blood, his legacy!’

I blinked away the thought angrily, but I was still unable to deny it. I snapped my attention to the sharp pain in my back, I absently touched wound. It was nothing compared to the pain of loss… Nothing could stop that pain.

(My mind is set on overdrive,
The clock is laughing in my face,
A crooked spine,
My sense is dulled…)

Almost nothing… I love morphine. There was nothing quite like it in the world. One shot and everything- pain, worries, feelings- is gone. Only a sense of relief and chemical induced happiness, accompanied by a slight feeling of being numb. And without the nasty side affect of novocain…

(Pass the point of delirium…)

I reached in my pocket of my lab coat… It was still covered in the blood, mine and Eliza’s. I would never wash it out, I’d keep that coat forever. Before I knew it, my wandering fingertips found the only source of happiness in my life.

(On my own, here we go…)

Morphine…

(My eyes feel like they're gonna bleed,
Dried up and bulging out my skull,
My mouth is dry,
My face is numb,
f**ked up and spun out in my room…

On my own, here we go…)

'It's funny... When I was a small child, I hated needles. But now, I have no problem with them.'


(A/N: I am ending it here for right now. I have the next chapter done…but I feel like it’s too long to post for sitting.)

[SquallHeartilly]

Morphine

Chapter Three: Johann Faust... The VIII

(Grim Fairy Tale)

“Once upon a time… Once upon a time, there was an a worldly man named Johann Faust.” Began Stuart Faust, stumbling over the opening, as he told his five-year-old son a story.

He would never know whatever possessed him to tell his son this story. Hell, he didn’t even know exactly why he was telling his son this story. He had never believed it himself, but if it would help his son deal with isolated existence, then by all means…

“Johann was a master, he master many academic subjects. Theology, philosophy, medicine, and most importantly perhaps jurisprudence, all of which he seemed to master. However, it was because of this, his pursuit of wisdom that forsook his own soul and drawn to perdition.”

He sighed as he looked at his son, Johann Faust the VIII. Tiny nicks and cuts covered his face from the child’s bullies. His azure eyes gave off a dull matte, while his face presented Stuart with a look of unnatural aloofness.

True, there were more than six hundred years separating the child from his namesake, but family tradition dictated that those he looked like Faust were to be named after him. Perhaps then, some form of atonement could attained for the wretched man. However, things would always be the same. The family name would always be tarnished because of the actions of one man.

(A/N: I feel uncomfortable writing this part so I please forgive me in that area. I am trying to be as vague as I can and not offend anyone.)

“One day, perhaps out of boredom or maybe because they simply could, the Devil made a bet with God. Exactly what the terms were is unknown, but the tempest was fierce and quick. Before Faust knew it, he was walking the plank between perdition and salvation… It was a very short plank, and he was taking a very long walk…”

Stuart trailed off to watch his son who was sitting there looking at him, azure eyes looked dead, but he was sure he could follow him. He shook his head from exhaustion and frustration.

Humph. “Why am I telling you this? You don’t care, do you? The only thing you should care about right now are those cuts on your face…” He said solemnly.

He stared at his son with a look of love and regret on his face. Sweeping the small child into his arms, he embraced him in a tight hug.

(Faust’s POV)

I’ve remembered that story ever since I was a small child. It was the reason why I thought I was an outcast. Deserved to be one in fact.

I stopped myself and growled. ‘Why am I thinking all of this? None of it will change anything… I guess… All I want is so damn morphine, is that okay?’

I soon found myself walking past an envious or admiring (I couldn’t tell which) Horo Horo. I cocked a slightly irritated eyebrow as I head for my room. And my dear Eliza…

I coddled her more in death, than in life… But, she was always there for me at least.

(The Hellish Schoolyard )

“You see that kid over?” Asked a butch, young boy at the playground.

“Which one? That dark haired girl?” Asked a second boy, curiously.

“She’s cute…” A third added.

“Naw, not her.” The first one said. “That weird one, the Faust kid.”

“My mother told me to stay away from that kid. The ‘devil’s child,’ she said.” The third child spoke.

“Your mother is in love with the bible! She wouldn’t be able to tell a jackal from a wolf!” Said the first one.

“Take that back!” The third one demanded. “She could to!”

“I doubt it! But I heard about the first Faust. They say he sold his soul in the pursuit of knowledge.”

“Then he really is a demon’s child?” Questioned the second.

Thirteen-year-old Faust felt himself slide down the cool, chain link style fence of Archibald Academy. It was the same everyday… He’d arrive and if anyone new was in the schoolyard, the same conversation would occur. It never changed, nothing in this town had changed since as long as he was alive.

It probably hadn’t that much since Faust the I had lived here. It probably would never change and he was doomed to live his life here. A growing anger burned inside of his body, as the three boys decided that it wasn’t enough to look…

The three boys glared daggers at the blond, blue eyed devil they called demon. Advancing, slowly towards Faust, the grey sky seemed to soak up the tension between the four. A sigh escaped from his lips as he searched for a way out. It was then he locked eyes with her.

It wasn’t the first time they locked eyes. He’d seen her several times before, knew her name even. ‘Eliza…’ He thought.

It was always the same, a kindhearted, thoughtful look in her eyes. And it was always, meant for him. It was as if, as if she were trying to tell him something. No doubt it was something like ‘don’t give up,’ or something of that sort.

Still, even if it was a look, it was better than nothing. He was so rapt in her indigo eyes that he hardly felt the first blow… He saw her lips moving. He couldn’t hear her voice, but he knew she was trying to say something to him.

“…A heavy memory in this sea of solitude.”

(A/N: What Eliza is saying was taken from Faust’s image song, ‘White Moon’ (Shiroi Tsuki). The lyrics ‘White Moon’ were provided by the teamwork of Caty-chan and Chibi Team Rocket.)

(Faust’s POV)

‘Eliza never spoke to me, not in a way one would think of as speech at least. But she was there for me, with a silent, if not blank look. She may never speak to me, but she never left my side after that day.’ I looked at the eerily silent woman.

“Eliza…” I started, taking her hand and looking deep into her indigo eyes.

‘I don’t want to be alone anymore. Before you, all I had was father, and that wasn’t enough. But then…you came and I- I didn’t feel alone anymore. Don’t ever leave.’

A/N: Well, there’s Chapter Three. Chapter Four should be the second part to ‘The Blonde Haired, Blue Eyed Devil. Please, tell me you think.

Also, I posted this story on fanfiction.net! It's doing pretty good, for a first timer.

[SquallHeartilly]

Morphine

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the last chapter… Moving on… Hm, perhaps Lyserg is using too many big words in this chapter.

Chapter Four: The Blond Haired Blue Eyed Devil Part 2

(Faust’s POV)

“Twelve more hours…” I growled through my grit teeth.

It sucked to have insomnia, it either caused you to wander or become obsessed with your damn thoughts. It certainly never made you look good in the morning either, and was also boring as Hell.

I rolled over to my left and faced the window, barely noticing the fact that the northern sky was ablaze with a fiery red color. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something was going on there. And to go investigate might be a little less than wise… But what the Hell, I am Johann Faust the VIII. If high school didn’t kill me, nothing else could.

(Lyserg’s POV)

"Life is governed by the simple premise that it is unfair. It is unfair that because one is powerful, others will fear and distrust him or her." I whispered to myself as I stared at Hao in an utter rage. "It is also unfair that the weak and the strong will often prey on each other in futile attempts to quell the other in to nothingness. And equally unfair is the fact that many innocents will be caught and tangled up and the chaos of this contest."

At least, that’s what I, Lyserg Diethyl, believed. ‘But you had to take life in stride, you couldn’t just give up and stop living. What would be the point in that? That’s why he had to take responsibility; no matter what it was for, what the consequence.’

It was unfair (and unfortunate) that I had come across Hao. Unfair for me to fight possibly the strongest shaman ever. And unfair for me to die by his hands, without even taking revenge for my father.

But the single most unfair thing there is to this…end… was the fact that I knew. I knew that I wasn’t the only person in this fight that had lost something precious. Everyone had lost something precious and sought to regain it. But I couldn’t figure out, why on Earth did Hao kill my parents, when Hao knew the pain of what it was like to watch his own mother die?

But then again, he’s just a reincarnation. A simple slip of what he used to be. I can’t expect him to have the memories of the original Hao. I stared in daze at Hao, to him, it seemed anticlimactic to die by his hands. But he had to take responsibility, it was he who initiated the fight with Hao. It was he who lost and so now…

“Any last words…?” Questioned Hao casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.

“Damn, I hate you…” We said in unison.

I growled at him and he glowered at me, and we stared each other down.

“Heh.” He uttered quietly, before he started laughing at me. “You shouldn’t be in such a rush to die.”

“What! Morphine!” I cried preparing to attack Hao again, but he was too fast, disappearing in a wake of fire. “Damn you, Hao!”

I turned away, disappointed. If I had been stronger, if Morphine had been stronger… I sighed, “I just want this damn thing to over with already! Is that too much to ask?”

(The Diagnosis of Elizabeth Falke)

“…There’s nothing that can be done! That’s not true, it can’t be!” Screeched Gerren Falke in anger to Stuart.

The older man with graying dark hair could only turn his head away from the livid father of Elizabeth Falke. Stuart could only imagine the horror of watching your child, your own flesh and blood, die a slow painful death. It would drive insane to see Johann in that state.

The sound of a grown man crying roused Stuart from his frightening thoughts. He turned to give a wide eyed stare at the man, feeling a wave of pity overcome him. Ignoring doctor-patient protocol, Stuart lurched towards the man and put a comforting hand on his back.

“You wouldn’t understand…” Gerren whispered sorrowfully.

“I can only imagine…”

“And that’s exactly why… I can’t stand being alone. I miss my wife and mother.” He admitted slowly.

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Responded a grateful and relieved Gerren. “She’s the only thing I have and I am the only thing she has. If we were to lose each other…”

He turned away from a befuddled Stuart to return to his daughter’s side. Stuart turned away from the heartbreaking, yet warm reunion of father and daughter. He suddenly found himself locking eyes with his son.

“Johann?”

His son merely cocked his head in response and looked away.

“You want to help, don’t you? It’s understandable, she is your friend after all.” Stuart announced knowingly.

“Can I?” He asked hopefully.

“…When you’re older. Slowly, but surely, the disease is killing her. But she still has time! She still has time…” Stuart replied.

“Then I’ll wait! I promise I’ll do anything to help her. I’ve got to, she was the only person to talk to me!” He vowed.

“Right. We’ll stick together until a cure has been found! A boy and his father…” Stuart said sweeping the small boy into his arms and lifting him onto his shoulders.

(Faust’s POV)

“Possibly…” I said looking up at the sky in a daze.

When my father and I were trying to cure Eliza, we’d asked ourselves that many times. I returned my eyes back to the green haired boy and watched as he picked himself slowly. A small sprite, his I presume, tried to help him, but he stubbornly persisted alone.

Eliza, that’s kind of the way we were when we were young. I’d have a situation and you’d come up and try to help… But then, almost in tears, I’d declare, “I will do this on my own! I don’t need anyone’s help or sympathy.”

If I had carried on like that, would I have cured Eliza? Would we have made it this far with just myself to depend on? No, I couldn’t have made it, not alone. There were too many things at odds with me, but father… I always had his support and Eliza. Even if I was the devil incarnated.

A/N: Hope you liked this latest offering. The next chapter may be the last chapter. I don't know. Anyway, um, please review.

[SquallHeartilly]

Morphine

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. But as this is the last chapter, I didn’t want it to be completely crappy. Thanks for all the support everyone, but now my story has come to an end.

Chapter Five: Faustian Deals (Ghostwrite)

(Faust’s POV)

It’s an unusual for a shaman to do, ghostwrite that is. But there was really nothing left for me to do now. The tournament was over and Hao was defeated, it wasn’t as if I had much of a choice.

I had returned home and reopened our- my clinic. Eliza was there as my silent backer, always helping with diagnosis and treatments of all kinds. Occasionally, rumors would flare up from time to time, one report after another of the ghost of the Faust clinic. All manner of people would pop up and claim to have seen my Eliza walking the dimly lit halls of my clinic at night.

Some claimed her to be the angel of death, stalking her next victim. Others, believed her to be some sort of messianic healer, sent from above. Though most agreed, whatever she was, she closely resembled my late wife.

But currently, that is beside the point. What I had been getting at that was the strange message I had received from my misadventure in ghostwriting. Indeed it was quite the misadventure, I mean it had started innocently enough.

One minute, I am taking a swig of American-standard 200 proof Jagermeister and the next thing I know, I am practicing headstands on the balcony of the old Faust manor. It was impractical, that you can be sure, but the next thing I know, my ass was firmly planted on the safe ground of the balcony.

I vaguely remember making my way towards my bed. Crawling towards it in the true fashion of a broken man, wondering just when it was I lost my manhood. Perhaps I never had it to begin with. It’s at this point, I believe, that someone possessed me then.

I couldn’t begin to tell you the name of this spirit, but for sure it was a familiar presence. It greeted me warmly in my haze of drunkenness and it seemed to cheer me up quite a bit. The strength it had given me made oversoul seem like nothing.

At this point, I seem to blackout. But now this morning, I awake to find myself face down in a litany of papers. A various array of things written on them, as if there were loss of words and common sense. Of the many written pages strewn about there was only one that I could make any sort of sense of… One written in the form of a poem entitled: Faustian Deals of Morphine.

And as I read and reread the tiny poem, I found myself at a loss. And then just as soon as I was lost, I found myself smiling. Soon after, I found myself at my clinic, clearly in no condition to treat anyone, to do anything remotely close to medicine. But even so, I was the best this town had and no one could deny that.

They came en masse that day, as disgusting to me as they ever were. But that would be the last time for that sort of thing. Today was the day I would restore myself. Today was the day I could make a real choice by myself, of my own volition. Today, I would choose life, my Eliza, and myself. There was no need for morphine when I had gained my own inner strength and peace of mind.

And there was no reason to stay in this place of stagnation any longer. I had no need for it anyway. Today was the day I would leave and start over. Yes, I would rewrite my intended fate. After all the say it’s never too late…

The Faustian Deals of Morphine
When back then
You saved me,
Now you break me.
Great is the infamy
For the alleviate of pain,
A drug of simple name,
Morphine.
The numb encases me
And death recedes
To nothingness.
Simple and untouchable,
As all Faustian deals are.
But just as simple as you seem,
Complexity arrives
And I find myself denied.
The ersatz existence
Of my own design
Collapses.
And once the numb evades me
The pain drowns out everything.
The Faustian deals of morphine
Can leave you lower than you were before.

A/N: And so ends Morphine. Maybe to be followed by Panacea… A sequel of sorts starring Faust and Choco-Love… Possibly. I haven’t decided yet, it’s still being worked out.

This poem gave me second place in the ACT-SO competition. I was so proud I grafted it into the story. Anyway, thanks for the support everyone. Later.