Dio felt the liquids pour from his eye although his free hand kept a strong hold on it. He couldn't help having his wound seep through the cracks in his hand, but it was his fault he approached the madman's daughter - his intent on gaining her trust- by the wishes of her mother.
Was that why he was alive? Just to help a little girl? He couldn't tell the future, but he knew the Doctor would not be lasting long anytime soon. The lighter in his pocket grew heavier, like lead, each time he approached that one fateful room where it all began:
He was a corpse, as always, but he couldn't move. It was impossible for him to have a conscience either, but he could remember it as easily as his own nick-name given by the other walking corpses who shared his fate. The girl whisked away something in her palms, but he couldn't tell with his one eye. She stopped, her pale face turned and her blue eyes shone with fear.
She ran off and he didn't see her until an hour later she returned with a bundle of bandages in her skinny arms. She was a petite girl, but it was obvious by the baby-fat on her face and the innocent demeanor she was younger than him. Obviously. He was only thirteen; he'd been like this for who knows how many years.
She rummaged through her pack and pulled out the long rolls before setting it on his face. He was just in a still, first-person view as the ebony locks, thick and shiny, blocked part of his vision yet he noticed something pink in the form of a ribbon. After she had finished, she backed up and smiled, pleased with herself though a little shyly. In spite of her own skin similar to a preserved dead body's skin, she was alive, breathing. Her heart began to beat.
Oh, how he had longed to hear a beating heart none other than the two dummkopfs he saw until his last breath.
He learned her name through the mother with a stab wound in her breast, but fury within as well. Aya. Aya was someone he thought he was falling for. She was young - did she know love or even his feelings for her? He tried to save her, but she only wanted to be with her father. Hardy, stubborn, but loyal to the core. He only saw the last of her childish face before he fainted, woke to the laughter of the corpses and sighed. The others in his situation, with a brain, said he was foolish to love a mortal, living being especially the daughter of the man responsible.
Dio didn't care. He was still falling for her.
He recalled the flames as he flickered around him. He had kissed the girl, but her blue eyes betrayed nothing but sadness. He couldn't even glimpse at her face knowing it was him who killed her father and him who would burn the memories. His vengeance demanded it while his late human self only wanted to do what was right.
As the sun rose and the curse was slowly lifting, he felt something beating in his chest. He smiled. Maybe I can love, even as an undead.