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Let Me Fall If I Must Fall	By : AislingSiobhan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros, et all. I make no money from this and I own nothing, don’t sue. Title belongs to Josh Groban’s song of the same name.

Chapter List
- 1-Let Me Fall If I Must Fall
- 1
Well, it seemed like a good idea in theory, but I’m not really sure how it worked out… Let me know please?

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“Let Me Fall If I Must Fall”

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros, et all. I make no money from this and I own nothing, don’t sue. Title belongs to Josh Groban’s song of the same name.

Summary: [RAB/HP] Regulus Black gave his life to destroy a Horcrux but failed. Harry realizes he’s better off alone and he goes back to where it all started, to the Cave, to think. Where Regulus waits to finally gets what he wanted.

Warnings: Slash. AU. Regulus/HP. Violence. Character Death. Necrophillia. Inferi. Wierdness.

Rating: NC-17.

A/N: Yes, so, maybe I should invest in some therapy? Most people would have used time-travel to work this pairing, but me? Never!

XXX

Words: 5,018

Chapter 1

June 4^th 1997.

It was loud, too loud and Harry found that he couldn’t think clearly. Dumbledore was standing up again, looking as strong and brave as Harry had always thought him to be; nothing like the frail, weak man who had cried at Harry’s feet moments ago, begging for an end. Fire shot from the Elder Wand, bright and burning and magnificent, and Harry couldn’t take his eyes away from the sight of his Headmaster. But he couldn’t think. He couldn’t hear the spells Dumbledore cast and he couldn’t hear the Inferi screaming. The rushing of the flames was too loud, and they were all around him, covering him like a protective dome, hiding him from the Inferi.

Harry covered his ears, the gaudy ring on his finger digging into the skin of his right cheek, but he ignored the pain. He had to block out the sounds. He needed to think.

They had to get out of here!

It had all been a trap, all of this; Voldemort had known that someone would attempt to steal his Horcrux and he had taken precautions. The Inferi were crawling towards them, climbing up the banks of the lone island surrounded by putrid waters and reanimated corpses. There was no escape except the rickety little boat that glowed a ghostly green, and even that had Inferi crawling all over it. Unless they could kill them all, Harry thought frantically... Unless they could stop them, or distract them, Harry and Dumbledore weren’t getting out of the cave.

“My boy,” Dumbledore wheezed his voice soft and unsteady. He looked about ready to collapse and Harry steeled himself, knowing he had no choice but to help. There was no time for thinking. He could think over what everything meant later, if they survived; now was the time for action.

“Incendio!” Harry roared, his wand pointed at one Inferius.

“Don’t fall into the water, Harry,” Dumbledore warned. He cast a spell towards the boat, and it propelled itself rapidly towards them, knocking down the Inferi in its path. “Don’t touch the water, Harry, lest you wish to become one of them.”

Harry gulped. He glanced around at the desiccated looking creatures, bald and thin, with skeletal fingers and sharp pointed teeth. Their eyes were all milky white, with no pupil, and they were all naked, their genitals or breasts shriveled from decay. They were all dead, every one of them, so Harry didn’t feel guilty for casting a ‘Sectumsempra’ or any other number of spells at them, even if they didn’t work, because he couldn’t kill something that had already died. These people had died because of Voldemort; Voldemort had killed them, just like Voldemort had killed Harry’s parents and been the reason Dumbledore had to drink that horrible potion that had weakened him so much.

Harry wasn’t going to be just another person who had died by Voldemort’s hands, and so with as much care as he could manage, he stepped into the little boat. Then he turned, his arms open to help Dumbledore, who came towards him slowly, sliding down the bank of the island. Dumbledore cast one more spell, a ‘Fiendfyre’ and the Inferi began to scream and hiss. But they didn’t follow the little boat as it made its way out of the cave.

Harry glanced back as Dumbledore shifted in his seat. The Locket hung from his trembling fingers, the chain wrapped around the large ring that had the Black family crest engraved on it. Sirius had left it to him in his will, and Harry had worn it proudly since the day he had received it.

A lone Inferius was watching them leave. All of the others had disappeared back into the water, giving in to the call of the deep, dark depths, happy to flee from the light and the heat of the still burning fire. But this one dipped its hand into the almost empty basin, scooping up some of the dreaded potion, before bringing it to its lips. He grinned at Harry and Harry narrowed his eyes at the creature’s actions. The Inferius pointed at the boat, or more specifically the Locket and Harry found his fingers clenching tighter around the Horcrux protectively. Harry pointed back, over Dumbledore’s shoulder, his ring catching the fleeting light. But when Dumbledore turned around that Inferius had joined its brothers and sisters beneath the surface of the charmed water that had once protected Lord Voldemort’s soul-piece.

XXX

August 2^nd 1997.

Harry stood framed in the doorway to Regulus’ old bedroom. Everything was the same as when Regulus had been alive, since neither Kreacher nor Walburga had ever removed or changed anything once the boy went missing. Harry found it to be rather sweet. He thought he would have like it, if his mother had survived and he hadn’t, that she would have kept his things the way they were, as if he was always with her, in her thoughts and memories. Then it wouldn’t be like he was really dead. Perhaps that’s what Regulus’ family had done? Held out hope for years that the boy would just walk through the doors of 12 Grimmauld Place one day as if he had never left. It was a nice thought, not a healthy one sure, but the idea of it made Harry smile anyway.

Ron and Hermione were behind him. They whispered excitedly to themselves because Regulus had the same initials as R.A.B., the man who had stolen the real Horcrux and replaced it with the Locket Harry and Dumbledore had found.

Harry ignored them though. His thoughts were loud, crashing through his brain with extraordinary strength and speed and he didn’t have the capacity to listen to his friends as well right then. Regulus Black, what had happened to him? Harry wondered. Was he really killed by Voldemort? Or had he run and hid himself away for decades, or perhaps he had killed himself, desperate for his struggle to end? Harry supposed he would never know, but neither had Regulus’ family ever known and that was the saddest part of the boy’s story.

As Harry thought, Kreacher had appeared in the room, summoned unconsciously as Harry desired to know what Regulus had done with the real Locket.

“Gone,” Kreacher told them, “It’s gone.”

He told them so much more than that, that Harry could barely get his head around it. When it had started to sink in, when Harry’s brain had finally been able to store the information Kreacher had departed to him, he turned pleadingly towards Hermione. She nodded her head, and Harry knew what he had to do.

“Kreacher,” he said quietly, kindly. “We want to finish what Master Regulus started. We want to ensure that he didn’t, er, die in vain.”

“Find Mudungus Fletcher?” Kreacher repeated his voice hoarse.

“Yes,” Harry repeated, holding the fake Locket out for the house elf to take. “Find Mudungus Fletcher and bring him here, to Grimmauld Place.” Kreacher nodded slowly, eyeing Harry in a manner bordering on awestruck before he disapparated with a crack, happy to follow his new master’s bidding.

XXX

November 7^th 1997.

Ron and Harry were arguing again. They did that quite often, Hermione had begun to realize. Or more correctly Ron had begun to start arguments more often, even with her, his girlfriend, because he didn’t like the way she cooked the fish or the way Harry had pitched their tent. He had even once started a fist fight because he didn’t like the November weather and wanted to know why they couldn’t stay at a hostel just for the winter months. It had been the most ridiculous notion Hermione had ever heard and she had happily told Ron as much. But it was Harry who got punched in the face when he had tried to defend Hermione, to stop Ron from lashing out at her, and yet Hermione continued to love the redhead. She had forgiven him, continued to love him and share his sleeping bag at night, even though he had threatened to hit her. Wearing the Locket around his neck had been his excuse and Hermione clung to it with both hands, unwilling to believe that Ron’s temper would ever be so bad otherwise.

But when Ron had left them, when he had run away home and abandoned them, alone and afraid in a forest in the middle of nowhere, Hermione had grieved for him. She had called him every name under the sun, but the love she held for Ron continued to burn within her.

But Harry, who was an unfortunate receptacle for Lord Voldemort’s soul, would never have imagined that Hermione would stop caring for him too.

It had started when Harry had asked Hermione what she knew of Inferi.

He couldn’t get the image of that one Inferius watching him leave the cave by the sea, taunting him and mocking him almost as Harry escaped with the fake Horcrux. Then there was Regulus Black, who had gone to steal the Horcrux, to destroy it but had failed and ended up being dragged into the murky waters and becoming one of the creatures who had killed him. Harry couldn’t get either out of his thoughts. Was it possible that they were one and the same? Had that Inferi been Regulus, trying to warn Harry that they didn’t need to take that Horcrux, that the real Horcrux was hidden somewhere else, even as Dumbledore suffered for it? But that was a stupid idea, Harry reminded himself. Inferi were thoughtless creatures.

“Just because they can’t think for themselves, doesn’t mean they don’t think,” Hermione corrected him. “Those made by the Dark Wizard are bound to follow his orders, in You-Know-Who’s case, to protect the Horcrux and kill anyone who comes near it. But Regulus was possibly the only person who became a Inferius by virtue of the Inferi themselves, and not Him, so he wouldn’t be bound by You-Know-Who’s commands. He mightn’t be able to escape the cave because of the protections and wards in place, but he isn’t forced to protect the Locket. In fact, I dare say he still very much wants it destroyed. After all it was what he died for.”

He listened to her, letting it all sink in. He could see it now, Regulus, the slim, dark haired Seeker from Slytherin, dragged by his ankles down the edge of the island and beneath the water. He probably wouldn’t have struggled, Harry realized, he would have been too proud, and he would have known that there was nothing he could have done to survive. He would have just given in, knowing his life was about to end and letting it come easily to him instead of fighting the inevitable. He had probably closed his eyes, Harry thought, because that’s what he would have done; closed his eyes and tried to imagine what his parents might have looked like if they had lived long enough to age, to imagine them all standing proudly beside him as he died with honour for what he believed in. Regulus might have even prayed that Kreacher managed to destroy the Locket.

“It must have been a horrible way to die,” Hermione said with a shudder. “To have been drowned by Inferi.”

Harry didn’t reply. He had always been told that drowning was the most pleasant way to die, other than going peacefully in your sleep that is. It was just like drifting off, one magazine had written and at the time Harry had scoffed and turned the page. But in the Black Lake during his fourth year Harry had nearly drowned, once the Gillyweed wore off, and if he hadn’t of struggled it would have been a decent enough way to go. It would have been better than being tortured and killed by Voldemort at any rate. The only thing Harry pitied Regulus for, however, was that he would spend eternity as a Dark creature, trapped forever in that cave unless Voldemort came to burn them all to ashes.

At the thought of the Dark Lord, Harry’s hand rose to press against his forehead. His scar throbbed, red and swollen looking and Harry’s eyes slipped closed as a gasp escaped his lips. Hermione moved towards him as he sank to his knees, one arm reaching out to comfort him. Harry bit back a scream as her fingers touched his cheek. It hurt! It hurt to be touched by her, and Lord Voldemort snarled as he reared back his arm towards the Mudblood who dared to touch him while he was vulnerable.

Harry could hear hissing, and he glanced around until he spotted Nagini, coiling and twisting anxiously beside Voldemort. The Dark Lord was kneeling on the ground, on a battlefield somewhere, Harry realized and someone had just dared to injure him. She would die a horrid death, Harry noted dimly, as he was freed from Voldemort’s mind and released back into his own.

Hermione was sprawled on the floor by his feet. Harry stood up, he held a hand out towards his friend, to pull her to her feet, but Hermione shied away from him with wide-eyes. She looked up at him in terror, a bruise already blossoming on her cheek and Harry frowned. He had hit her? He wondered dimly, when? When Voldemort possessed him? Well, that was hardly his fault. Ron had tried to hit her several times, and Voldemort had never once possessed him, Harry thought angrily. He offered his hand one more time, but Hermione scrambled away from him, pulling herself to her feet and keeping her face averted. She refused to look at the brunette Wizard and after a moment Harry turned away from her too.

She was afraid of him.

Ron had abandoned him.

Harry thought about Tom Riddle, who had acquaintances and servants and followers but no friends. He had always considered friends a weakness, Dumbledore had told him. Harry considered that, his head tilted to one side as he glanced over his should at Hermione who still wouldn’t look at him. Perhaps Tom was right, Harry whispered to himself. Perhaps he really was better off alone.

He turned on the spot, disapparating from the forest and leaving Hermione behind. She could go home, or to Hogwarts; back to her old life, just as Ron had done. Harry would continue his mission alone, with the Locket hanging around his neck.

XXX

December 24^th 1997.

Harry stood over his parents’ graves, crying silently.

The Locket still hung around his neck, and Harry reached up with one hand to grip it tightly as if it were an anchor securing him to the world. He still hadn’t found a way to destroy it yet, but he was looking. He didn’t have Hermione’s brains to help him out and he didn’t have Ron’s brawn, and he had to rely on magic to create fires and shelter because Hermione had the supplies and Ron had been the one to cut and carry firewood. Harry wasn’t much good for anything really; except for seeing what Voldemort was planning or feeling. What kind of a hero was he when that was all he could offer?

He was practically useless.

Noises from behind the grove of trees startled him. Harry spun, waving his wand in the direction of the noise, only for it to fly out of his hand at the command of another Wizard’s spell. It clattered to the frozen ground. Harry glanced down at it, and then back up at the group of six snatchers who all were watching him with wide smirks and wands raised.

And then he ran.

Harry turned his back on them, darting through the gravestones and the trees and through the kissing gate, ducking down to avoid their spells, while running away from the threat. He waited, hiding in the burnt out ruins of his old home, until every last one of them had apparated away, and then he snuck out, his invisibility cloak thrown over his shoulders. His wand was gone though, and if Harry didn’t know any better he’d guess that someone would recognize it and Voldemort would soon come looking for him at Godric’s Hollow.

And so, once more, like the frightened, defenceless teenager he was, Harry fled.

XXX

January 1^st 1998.

He hadn’t known where else to go. There was no one else he could turn to for help without getting them killed or targeted by the Death Eaters. Harry really was on his own now and he was wandless and he still had a Horcrux to destroy and no means to do so.

But there was one thing he could think of.

Regulus Black had hoped to destroy a Horcrux too, once upon a time. Perhaps he still knew how and perhaps he would tell Harry the secret so that Harry could destroy this one. Harry could achieve what Regulus had died attempting, and maybe that would be enough closure for the both of them.

So he found himself at the entrance to the cave again. He didn’t have a wand or a knife, so Harry rubbed his hand furiously against the face of the wall until his palm started to bleed. Blood flecked the wall when Harry drew his hand away, and though it continued to bleed sluggishly, he ignored it in favour of walking through the gap that had appeared: much like the bricks in Diagon Alley creating a door, the cave had opened up once more to him and allowed him entry. Harry waited just inside of the doorway to the cave, his eyes glancing around for signs of Inferi above the surface of the water, but there were none. He appeared to be alone.

He didn’t know why he had come really. Some half-arsed hope of Regulus the Inferius solving his Horcrux dilemma, perhaps or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to fail his mission, because death was the best excuse there was. No one could say he hadn’t tried hard enough if he died during this quest, no one could say he hadn’t tried, even if he failed. Hadn’t he done enough to stop Voldemort, he wondered, moving closer to the water’s edge.

Harry wasn’t sure how he was supposed to get the boat to surface without a wand, but he stared down at the black water, silent and still and surrounding him and gasped as the ghostly boat appeared before him, glowing green and rocking lightly in the waveless sea.

Harry glanced at it warily, unsure whether he should trust that its appearance was a good thing or not. He wasn’t sure if he should risk stepping into the boat. What if Voldemort knew he and Dumbledore had been there, and had cursed the boat? But it wasn’t Voldemort, Harry realized, his heart beating a mile a minute. An Inferius’ head appeared behind the boat, poking just over the top. There were clumps of black hair still hanging on, anchored to the dry, bleached skin that remained. Grey eyes watched Harry, its lipless mouth twisted up in a small, strange smile, and Regulus crooked his finger once then pointed at the boat. He disappeared back under the water, and Harry waited for a full five minutes, but no other Inferi appeared.

He climbed into the boat. Harry glanced over its edge, wondering how to propel it forward without magic, and without touching the water with a paddle or his hands. He jerked backwards as the boat began to move of its own volition. Harry glanced around wildly, panting heavily in fear, and then he caught sight of an Inferius swimming behind him, pushing the boat with one hand and inhumane strength. When the boat knocked against the bank of the island in the middle of the water, the Inferius swam backwards, and then waited, watching as Harry stepped out of the boat and onto the island. When Harry was on solid ground, the creature grinned widely, showing rotted teeth and a shriveled, blackened tongue, and then he pushed the boat out into the middle of the water, far out of Harry’s reach.

“Hey!” Harry shouted. He clutched at his stomach, feeling sick at the thought of having been tricked and trapped. “Regulus, bring the boat back!” Harry shouted again, and the Inferius jumped in the water, shocked perhaps that someone remembered its true name.

“How… Do… You… Know… Me…?” It wheezed. The words were soft, almost silent, and it was only because the cave was empty and sound echoed that Harry heard the words at all. They came one at a time, with a breath between each word, as the Inferius struggled to fill its dead lungs with the air needed to produce sounds.

“You were Sirius’ brother, right? Regulus Black?” Harry paused, scratching at his head unsurely. “You died trying to defy the Dark Lord?”

Regulus cast his gaze onto Harry’s hand. He still wore the Black ring, the one Sirius had left him in his will, and as Harry caught Regulus’ glance he pulled the hand against his chest protectively. “Sirius’… Son…?” It asked.

“His godson. He made me his Heir when he died. Sirius never had the chance to have children. Like you, Vol-the Dark Lord ruined his life.” Harry paused again, swallowing heavily at the thought of what he had to do, of how much was expected from him. “He ruined my life too. I have to destroy his Horcruxes before I can continue living my life, and I know that was what you had planned on doing as well. I want to help you achieve the goal you set out to do; I don’t want your death to have been in vain. But I need your help to do that. How do I destroy a Horcrux?”

For a time Harry thought Regulus wouldn’t answer him. The Inferius even sank back beneath the water, ignoring Harry’s shouts for him to come back and help, please help, help me please, and the desperate, hopeless screaming for the boat to be returned. But then he was back again, crawling up the side of the island until he was standing just before Harry, who had tears on his reddened face.

Regulus produced a wand, holding it out reverently, as if it were the most cherished thing he had ever owned, and likely it was. It was Regulus’ wand, because he and Dumbledore had taken theirs home, and so had Voldemort and none of the others had wands or lives when they were brought here and reanimated. Harry reached out for it, eyes narrowed and he grasped it tightly.

“Fire…” Regulus hissed, his chest moving with the word, but not taking breath. “Cursed… Fire… Will… Destroy… The… Cursed… Items…” He pointed at the basin, which had once contained the dreadful potion that had poisoned both Kreacher and Dumbledore. It was empty now, and following Regulus’ instructions Harry dumped the Locket back into the bowl. “Why… Did… You… Come… Here…?”

Harry didn’t know what Regulus was thinking, for his face was expressionless and his eyes were dead, but the Inferius watched him curiously, waiting for an answer. Eventually, Harry decided to tell him the truth. “I’m tired of fighting, of hurting and failing. I was looking for an easy way to end this, and if you knew how to destroy the Horcruxes, well it’s more than anyone else seems to know. It would make things so much easier to have your help. And we’d both get to destroy a Horcrux!”

“Yes…” Regulus agreed, staring straight at Harry’s scar. “I… Can… Help… You. But… You… Must… Help… Me… Too…”

“What do you want me to do?” Harry looked over at him with wide-eyes. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he thought about how close he was, how easy Regulus would make this for him. No longer would he have to worry about disappointing people; he could go back and tell Ron and Hermione he had managed to destroy the Horcrux. Then, they’d only have Hufflepuff’s Cup, Nagini and something of Ravenclaw’s to go before they could be rid of Voldemort for good. They would be that much closer to the end, and it would have been because Harry had finally succeeded in Dumbledore’s mission for him. He wasn’t going to fail this time. “What do I need to do?”

“Cast… The… Fiendfyre…” Regulus told him.

Harry remembered the spell Dumbledore had used, and how the old Wizard had wielded the magical, fiery beasts with skill and precision, terrorizing the Inferi and protecting Harry at the same time. He thought about it, concentrated, and forced his magic to react through a wand that wasn’t compatible with him. But the spell worked, and soon the basin was burning brightly. Regulus shied away from the flames, sliding down the bank so that he was waist deep in water. Harry grinned at him, looking pleased and excited, but Regulus frowned back. Harry turned, to see what Regulus was frowning at, and realized the flames were coming towards him now as well. The fiery creatures were seeking other food to fuel them, and Harry looked around frantically for some escape. There was the boat, floating in the middle of the water that he couldn’t touch without damning himself, and there was the cursed fire that would burn him alive until there was nothing left to burn. Which was the lesser of two evils, he wondered cynically.

“Regulus, bring me the boat! Please! Please, I destroyed the Horcrux!” Harry shouted. The Inferius turned to glance at the boat, and then back to Harry that was clinging to the edge of the island, just shy of the water, but barely out of reach of the flames. No other Inferi had dared come above the surface and now as the fire burned brightly they sank even further into the sea.

“Not… All… Of… Them…” Regulus whispered to him, staring once more at his scar. The scar throbbed in time with the pulsing of the Fiendfyre, stinging and bleeding slowly, and Harry brushed at it with the back of his hand, the ring scratching on his face. “There… Is… One… More… Within… My… Reach. You… Asked… For… An… Easy… Way… To… End… This. I… Can… Offer… You… One. A… Way… Out… An… Easy… Escape. Give… In… To… Me… Let… Me… Carry… Your… Burden. You… Can… Rest… Godchild… Of… My… Brother. You… Can… Rest.”

Harry glanced around again. The flames were getting closer and unless he did what Regulus wanted he would have no choice but to drown himself, to turn himself into an Inferius as well. “What do you want from me?” Harry screamed. He was crying again, shaking in fear, and he looked so much younger than he really was; he didn’t think any of his friends would even recognize him now.

Regulus held out a hand, taking one step closer to Harry but remaining in the water. Harry glanced at the hand. He looked back at the fire, burning bright and hot and deadly. He glanced at the calm water, which hid Merlin-knew-what from his view but would be the death of him regardless. Harry shot a longing look at the boat, thinking about the Cup and the Snake and that other one, about his friends, and the golden snitch that Dumbledore had left him in his will and whatever was hidden within it; Harry thought about his life and how hard it was, about what he had lost and sacrificed; he thought about his family who were waiting for him on the other side, and whether he would see them if he became an Inferius; he wondered if his parents would be proud of him for trying, would Sirius be, or if they would be ashamed that he hadn’t tried harder, that he had taken the easy way out.

Did that make him a coward? He wondered, as he reached out and allowed Regulus’ to clamp a hand around his own.

Regulus pulled him forward, into the water, and Harry fought not to struggle as Regulus pulled him beneath the surface. Drowning was peaceful if you didn’t struggle, Harry told himself, as water flooded his lungs. Death was easy, easier now than dying by Voldemort’s hands later, he thought as his mind grew fuzzy and Regulus’ arms held tighter to him. At least he had destroyed one Horcrux, he consoled himself, just before his heart stopped beating.

When the Fiendfyre had reached the water’s edge it had stopped burning. Now there was nothing left of it but its mark upon the charred rocks that made up the island. The basin was blackened, and within its centre lay the Horcrux, cracked open and empty, the soul piece of Lord Voldemort destroyed. Regulus looked down at it and grinned, and then turned to look at the body of Harry Potter that he had dragged out of the water. Harry was still and pale, and in ten years time he would be paler than bone, with little hair left and no clothes or teeth or organs. Everything that made him human would have rotten by then, but Harry hadn’t been created by Voldemort, so he was free. Everything that made him Harry would remain.

Except the Horcrux.

Regulus had finally succeeded in his mission; his death hadn’t been in vain, and neither had Harry’s. They had both finally managed to destroy a Horcrux of their own.

Finally.

There was no longer need for thoughts of failure on Regulus’ part, because he had achieved what he had died trying to do. He had succeeded. He had won.

And now he had a companion to keep him through eternity. A rather pretty boy, at that, Regulus thought, sitting cross-legged at Harry’s head, watching and waiting until the new Inferius woke up.

Fingers caressed Harry’s pale cheek, light and soft, and then slipping lower to press against pink, chapped lips. They were turning grey in death, but Regulus leant down to steal a kiss from them regardless.

XXX

* * *

Also, is it weird that I had Slipknot’s “Snuff” on repeat while writing this, and now that’s all I can imagine when thinking of Regulus/Harry? Even though I used Josh Groban as the inspiration? Ugh, I’m so odd.
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Let Me Fall If I Must Fall