My Bloody Valentine

AUTHOR: Phantom of the Basement
CATEGORY: Parody/Horror
ARCHIVE: Go ahead, just contact me first.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters or the song. "ER" belong to various rich people and the song "My Bloody Valentine" belongs to Good Charlotte.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Random bit of madness, intended to be read as a parody, please don't take it seriously. Try to figure out who's narrating, who's dead, and who the mystery woman is. Feedback? Send it to I want to know what you think of the story!
SUMMARY: Someone is dead, someone is in love, and someone is in shock. Who are they? As you read this story, try to figure who is who...there are many possibilities!

Author's Note: Please, no one take this seriously; this is an idea that occurred to me while listening to Good Charlotte's song "My Bloody Valentine". Because of's screwy formatting, the lines in asterisks (**) are the lyrics of the song, everything else is mine. Just a departure into the realm of madness, and meant to be read as a parody, not something that I think could actually happen. While your reading this, try to figure out who is telling the story- it's kinda twisted…love does weird things to people. By the way, this I set AU anywhere between seasons 6 through 8…season 10 wrecked havoc on my writing.

-Phantom of the Basement


**Oh my love, please don't cry. I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. **

**I ripped out his throat. **


Actually, to say "ripped" out is inaccurate. I very calmly removed it with a scalpel- not a hard task for a surgeon, even a lesser one than myself.

**And called you on the telephone to take off my disguise. **

I call her first; I even use the blood-spattered phone on the bedside table, as a matter of fact. As I lift the receiver, I grimace at the thought of him using that same phone to call her; wince at the thought of him using the very phone, now in my hand to romance her, speak sweet words to her…but no more. He won't be doing any talking any time soon, by the look of him…

I toy briefly with the idea of leaving a new answering message on the answering machine in the kitchen:

"BEEP. Hello. I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now…slightly…indisposed at the moment."

I shake my head slightly- no time for fun and games. I am a man on a mission, after. Must attend to the task at hand…

**Just in time to hear you cry, when you mourn the death of your bloody valentine. The night he died…you mourned the death of your bloody valentine, one last time.**

After dialing her number, I wish that there had been an easier way to win her for myself. I've never liked 'him', even before they became an "item". But after that, the sight of the two of them was enough to turn anyone's stomach, even someone without personal stakes in the affair, as I had…

I'm brought very sharply back to the here and now- amazing how your thoughts can wander, even with a bloody corpse lying not four feet away from where I sit, clutching the receiver in a surprisingly steady hand- by the sound of her voice on the other end. She sounds happy, probably thinks that it's lover boy calling her up. I shake my head in disgust.

"Hello?" she repeats, sounding just a touch nervous now.

"You and I should have been together from the start," I state. Great opening line, that was.

"Who is this? If this is a joke, it's not funny-" I cut off her trembling voice.

"Who am I? I am the one who loves you more than anyone else ever could," I reply. "Fate has deemed that we were made for each other, but sometimes, we must help fate along. I've taken care of that for you now. Your lover is seeing someone else right now…the Angel Gabriel, if my guess is correct…assuming he went that way!"

"Who the hell is this? What have you done?" she cries, by now sounding truly frantic. I hang up the phone. She'll find out what has happened soon enough…she can consider my call an "advance warning". I glance at the picture of her on the night table. No doubt she'll cry for
the great oaf once she gets the truth from the police…

**Oh my love…please don't cry. I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right…all I know is that I love you tonight.**

**There was police and flashing lights…the rain came down so hard that night.**

I sit in the pouring rain and watch the scene unfold, watching, hidden in the safety of the shadows and the dark on the fire escape of the building across the street. From here I can see it all. Watch the macabre play unfold on the stage of our lives…

**The headlines read "A Lover Died- No Tell-Tale Heart Was Left to Find" **

I know the papers will report it- the violent and gory murder of one of County General's long-time doctors. He didn't have an enemy in the world…excepting myself. Once again, I wish that there had been an easier way to set things to rights. Sure, I'd never liked the man, maybe even hated him at times, but I'd never wished him dead…well, maybe once or twice. But the facts stood as thus: He had what I wanted, what should have been mine, what I'd waited for, longed and lusted after for years. And so, he had to die. It was as simple as that.

**When you mourned the death of you bloody valentine, the night he died. You mourned the death of you bloody valentine…one last time. Oh my love…please don't cry. I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right…all I know is that I love you tonight.**

Her car squeals around the corner and screeches to a halt in front of his building. The car door opens and she rushes out, and dashes toward the building. As she runs, she skids slightly on a puddle, making me catch my breath. Any lurking doubts created by some small, treacherous part of my mind are erased as I am struck, as I am quite often, by not only her beauty, but also the fire in her eyes and personality. That was the real reason I'd been attracted to her all those years ago.

I jump, nearly toppling from my precarious perch as both a police car and ambulance screech around the corner in close succession. Cops and medics stream into the building, just as she stumbles out the door, sobbing hysterically. I turn away, unable to watch her cry. Guilt cuts my soul like a knife-no pun intended. Guilt, not for what I have done, but for making her cry. As I avert my eyes from the now-chaotic scene before me, I think back over the events of the night…

**Tonight…he dropped you off, I followed him home. Then I stood outside his bedroom window…**

As I stood in the light misty rain, I watched a light go on in an apartment on the second floor- was it his? Finding the mailboxes, I regarded the list of tenant names and apartment numbers; there it was.

**Standing over him, he begged me not to do, what I knew, had to do, 'cause I'm so in love with you.**

His cries were pitiful and useless. Knowing that the last thing he'd see in this world would be the image of me, standing over where he lay on the floor, I calmly explained my reason for killing him. He tried to be calm and rational, tried to reason with me like a first-year psych resident. His speech became more frantic, less reasonable when he saw the scalpel descending toward his neck. His speech ended abruptly.

**Oh my love…please don't cry. I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right…all I know is that I love you tonight.**

I walk back to where my car sat, hidden in the darkness, as I had been hidden only moments before. As soon as I heard the story announced on the radio as "breaking news", I turned up the volume. I couldn't run back to the apartment too quickly, the police might think it odd that I was able to reach the crime scene so soon after the first news broadcast of the murder. Aside from that, I needed to know how much information was being released to the public- it wouldn't do to say something I wasn't supposed to know, now would it?

As soon as the bulletin ended, I hightailed it across the street, parking next to her car in the road. I saw her standing alone, the police having gone back to the crime scene upstairs. Curious tenants had been shepherded back to their apartments; medics had left with the body. She stood alone in the rain, shivering, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. She saw me before I could say a word.

"How did you know-" her voice broke.

"It was announced on the radio. I got here as soon as I could…" I opened my arms and hugged her trembling body to mine. Her tears began anew as she sobbed onto my shoulder. I murmured soothing things, my lips brushing against the curly hair pressed to the side of my face. "Shhh, Lizzie, it'll be alright…"

"How could this have happened? Robert, who could have done this?"

**Oh my love…please don't cry. I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right…all I know is that I love you tonight.**



Additional Author's Note: Surprised? Angry? Want to hit me repeatedly with large heavy objects? (Okay, so that last one isn't an option…) I started writing this story last summer, but then life got busy and I never finished it…until now. Unfortunately, when this was begun, Robert was alive and well, and a Cordano relationship seemed like a plausible plotline for TPTB to pursue. Thanks to "Freefall", those plans and storylines were shot to hell, but I stubbornly refuse to believe that he's really dead…I won't believe until I see his body. Toward that end, I decided to go ahead and finish this story anyway. Hey, Mark's been dead for what, two years now? People are still writing about him, aren't they? ROCKET LIVES ON HERE AT FF.NET!!! Sorry…still bitter.

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