A/N: This is most definitely not something I’m very proud of. It’s kind of repetitive, and it didn’t turn out at all like I wanted it to… The actual story sprung from a comment I made as a joke to my sister: “My logic is the only thing that holds the world together!” which then was changed and made into this story. I’d like constructive criticism, especially since even though I dislike the way I’ve written this, I like the idea itself and think I could make it better. Enjoy, if you can…

Summary: Short story. One being holds the world together. One beings sanity keeps the Earth from falling apart. But when he is captured by his rulers, his mind and his sanity begin to unravel…

‘Nobody ever credits me for my work.’ The thought, released almost unconsciously from the being sitting quietly on the white sand floated lazily around the void for a moment before slipping into the very fabric of the planet set before him, disappearing with hardly a trace. On the planet, a very small earthquake shook one of the continents; But it was so small as to go unnoticed. The thought carried no serious spark of anger within it and so did no serious harm to the planet. The being who had released the thought was leaning casually back on the sand with hands pressed palms-down behind him, fingers splayed and turned away from his body, the slightly tanned hands supporting him as he leant back on them. The thought had been freed as more of an observation than anything else; He honestly didn’t mind that no one on Earth knew how much he was aiding them. It didn’t bother him in the slightest, except on some of his worse days, and then it only bothered him a little.

A tanned hand rose to brush curling brown locks from his face as Ketras, as he was known to the people around him, rolled lazily onto his side. It was on these days that the fear his heart always held for the planet he guarded was the most diminished. On these days when the sun shone and the sea rushed softly ten feet away that he could barely fear for his planet at all.

But then, whenever he decided to dwell on the lack of fear plaguing him, it would inevitably return full-force. It could not be long before the supervisors found him yet again; And then they would send the ones in charge of guarding this galaxy after him. And then they would kill him and his planet along with him. Everyone knew that the only way to kill a matured Keeper was to destroy the planet he or she watched over. And the only way to do that was to kill the Keeper. They would start with Ketras, and to his torment his planet would respond, trying to save its keeper and yet only managing to destroy itself. Ketras had seen it happen more than once. He didn’t want it to happen to him.

And the fear had returned. It was mostly fear for himself, but it was also fear for his planet. He had grown fond of the beings who lived under his care and protection; He’d grown fond of the planet itself. It was a sardonic planet, probably due to its inhabitants. Many of his friends had been set to guard dull planets with no life forms and absolutely no sense of humor. His Earth had picked up humor from its occupants and sometimes it was quite interesting to converse with it.

But thinking of this, the more distressing thought that his planet was dying entered his mind. The concern came partly for the planet’s sake: The simple fact that it was dying hurt. He loved this planet too much to let it die. But the concern also came for himself: if the planet was dying, that meant there was something wrong with Ketras. He was tied so closely to Earth that whatever he was feeling and whatever ailed him effected his planet. It was probably the fear, he reflected. The constant nagging fear that he would soon die and take his planet with him. Earth was getting his fear, was feeling it, was beginning to fear as well. Things were dying, the humans were becoming more and more vicious, and Ketras was having nightmares. The nightmares had grown progressively worse over the years. Nightmares of blood, human blood, spilling over Earth’s soil and then soaking into it; Nightmares of Earth’s trees wilting, drooping, dying, and of her soil growing tired and unable to support plant life, and of her creatures mutating as the humans’ weapons began to kill everything. And alongside the nightmares of his planet’s life vanishing, he was having visions of himself, captured, bound and fading, and it was all becoming too much for him to handle.

Ketras felt a tear start to roll down his cheek. He rolled over in the soft sand and the tear fell, leaving no sign that it had ever been. Ketras pillowed his head on one arm, trying to figure out why things were spiraling so badly out of control. Was he seeing visions of the future, or was he just seeing his fears solidifying in his dreams, nothing more than pent-up emotion?

His question was answered as hands closed around both wrists and both ankles and he was hauled off the ground. He didn’t even have time to begin kicking before something blunt hit the back of his head. Ketras went limp immediately, and his assailants carried him away. No one on Earth knew, and therefore no one cared, that the Keeper who kept their planet alive was being hauled into captivity. Only the Earth herself knew, and she could do nothing to help. Violent quakes rocked the continents, followed by tsunamis, devastating people worldwide, as the Earth tried to aid her fallen Keeper.

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Ketras’s eyes opened to a pounding in his skull and a high-pitched keening in his ears. He tried to roll over and then stopped, flopping back onto his side. They had caught him. His supervisors had located him and brought him in. He knew that he should have expected no less. He had committed a crime in their eyes, and all disobedient Keepers were to be killed. In truth, all he had done was attempted to save a Keeper from the fate he himself was going to be subjected to: Destruction of herself and her planet. He had failed and he had been forced to flee. Honestly he had expected them to take a little more time looking for him. He sighed, realizing that all that was was his mind trying to delay the inevitable.

The door opened. The keening was still there, loud and high-pitched and grating on his ears. Ketras rolled over to look up at his captor. It was the head supervisor. ‘I should have known,’ Ketras thought wearily. ‘This is how it always starts.’

Ketras’s eyes closed of their own volition as he tried not to think of what would be coming next. He turned his mind to his planet. The bond he had with it was weak because he was so far away from it; But he could feel its distress. It was literally going to shake itself to pieces as it tried to find him. He couldn’t calm it, and he knew trying to do so would yield no results. Everything could only get worse anyway, so why try and stop it now? The dark thought seeped into his consciousness and tried to take over, but was quickly rebuffed by the fear that was quickly taking Ketras’s mind over. He had seen this before. He knew what to expect, but knowing only made it worse.

He was dragged to his feet and yanked from his cell and along a white stone passage. He was thrown unceremoniously into another cell, and the door was locked from the outside. Ketras noted dully that the walls of this room were soundproof. No sound got in; No sound escaped. It was deathly silent.

The supervisors knew every Keeper’s deepest fear. If a Keeper was being troublesome, the supervisor played on that fear to keep the rogue in line. He also used the fears to his advantage when the destruction of a Keeper was necessary. It was impossible to hide your fears from the supervisor, and impossible to avoid them when he decided to turn them against you.

And Ketras’s worst fear was silence. That and darkness, and in this room there was no lack of both. It was pitch black and silent as the grave, and Ketras sat in one corner, knees pulled up to his chest. At first, the silence and the dark did not bother him. But gradually, his fear began to surface, filling him slowly with panic. Below the fear, there was also the discomfort of being somewhere so completely without light or sound. The silence pressed on his ears like a physical thing, like a pressure against his eardrums. His ears began to ring. Perhaps they were trying to fill the silence that so troubled him.

And added to the fear and the discomfort was the sadness of knowing his beloved planet was tearing itself apart, quaking and flooding itself as it tried to get to its Keeper. Ketras shifted, putting his arms around his knees and hugging them to his chest, putting his head down on them and sitting there, fear and dread and sadness warring within him, fighting for dominance and control of his brain. Even so, he knew it was only to get worse from here.

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the sounds of a struggle carried down the empty, echoing passage. After a few seconds, the combatants came into view. Two of the supervisor’s guards came down the hall, dragging a vehemently protesting and violently struggling Ketras between them. The Keeper was kicking out at his captors, flailing wildly and shrieking obscenities and threats at the guards who dragged him so carelessly down the hall. As they got closer to his cell, Ketras began to cry, sobs racking his frame even as he attempted to escape. The Keeper was nearly hysterical as he was thrown back into his cell and as the door was locked. When all sight and sound of his captors had disappeared behind the soundproof barrier, Ketras collapsed in a corner, face buried in his knees and hands wrapped around his legs as he clasped them to his chest. Three weeks. It had been three weeks since his capture and Ketras was very nearly ready to simply give up, make a fake escape attempt and then impale himself on one of the guards’ blades as they drew their weapons to subdue him. He had been thrown into every one of his worst fears, shown every nightmare he’d ever had, beaten and deprived of food and sleep. He was thinner and much weaker in mind and in body. He had never endured so much pain and torment before and he had been easy to beat into submission compared to some of the other rogue Keepers the supervisor had dealt with.

Ketras didn’t care about anything else but his next meal and his dear planet. Earth was nearly nothing now, as he was nearly nothing, reduced to wondering when his next meal would be or how long he had yet to live. Many of Earth’s forests had died or been cut down; Radiation had killed many humans and animals alike, and it had mutated thousands more; war was breaking out, people were dying, animals were dying, plants were dying…The Earth and Ketras were dying…And oh, Ketras only wanted to eat and drink and rest, rest and never wake up to hunger and thirst, to no light and no sound, to fists and hard boots and the tears and the pain and the knowledge that his Earth was dying…

He was being driven slowly insane, he could tell. He rocked back and forth, hands wrapped around his legs, and he shouted, and he cried, and he sang, just to alleviate the horrible silence. He laughed at the whole absurd situation and then broke down again in floods of tears, like a miniature model of the tsunamis that still flooded the continents on his planet. Oh, his dear planet, dying, as he was dying, breaking, as he was breaking…Ketras returned to his favorite position against the wall, knees against his chest, chin on his knees and hands wrapped around them, crying and waiting… Waiting for anything, anything that would keep him from his musings that only raced around in circles, dizzying him and never getting him anywhere…

And when would he eat again?

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There was a thud, and a limp form was thrown unceremoniously onto the concrete floor. The door was shut quickly to keep both the occupant and the smell radiating from the cell inside. Ketras rolled over, filthy, tangled and matted brown hair falling into his face. He didn’t even try to wipe it away. He had lost track of the time he had spent here in this dark place where sanity was a thread of light that was unraveling fast and hope was nothing at all. He thought maybe he had been here for six months or so, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t even remember what crime he had committed to land himself here, although it must have been something truly dreadful. Maybe if he knew what it was, he would be able to tolerate the pain they put him through. But he didn’t. So he tolerated it as best as he could.

But the grief emanating from his slowly dying planet wouldn’t let him concentrate on anything for long. It was growing so desolate and barren. He hated to see it in such a state, but he could not help it. He was in a worse state; Every inch of his body was filthy and bruised; Dried blood and vomit and who-knew what else caked his face and arms, and his ribs showed clearly through his skin.

At least he was no longer in the horrible darkness and the silence anymore. He was in a stone cell far from the other soundproof one; But this new cell was so cold, day and night, that he thought he would surely freeze while he fitfully dozed. Not that he dozed much. He was almost always awake, but his shoulders were slumped and his head bowed by the need for sleep and the lack of his will to live anymore. He could still remember watching this take place before, watching another Keeper go through this, but he had never imagined the feelings that would go along with it. Ketras raised filthy hands to rub at an equally dirty face and then dropped them back to his sides, laying still on the floor, not really feeling like moving at all. Every part of his body ached, and even the grime coating the floor couldn’t entice him to move; He simply lay there and stared at the stone ceiling and tried to ignore the pain in his stomach as it clamored for food. The only consoling thought was that he knew his torture was nearly over… But that thought was quickly followed by a darker one, because he knew the end would be worse by far. They had finished with the physical torture; The last phase would be more mental torture than anything else. So it was only to get worse from here. Ketras rolled over again, one arm pillowing his head and one wrapped around his stomach. He felt like he would never want to move again, would just like to lay here until he died because moving was too much effort. So he stayed where he was, not moving, not speaking, laying on his side and staring listlessly at the door of his cell, wondering when the guards would come next.

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Ketras knew nothing much about the length of his captivity anymore. He guessed that it had been about seven months that he had been kept here though. Earth’s continents had begun civil wars among themselves, and people stole and killed to survive. Neither Earth nor Ketras could survive much longer.

Three forms pelted down a stone passage: The foremost figure was smaller than the other two who appeared to be pursuing him. Ketras had had this idea in his mind for a long while, but he had never seriously considered it until now. He was so weak he could barely keep on his feet, but he didn’t need speed or grace for what he was planning. He made his way down the hall as quickly as his weakened body would allow, hearing the singing of blades behind him as they were drawn from their sheathes. Perfect. Everything was going according to plan.

Ketras stopped walking, leaning heavily against the wall, breath coming in painful gasps – even this small bit of exertion tired him – and turned, ignoring the painful protests of his hurting body. The guards raced towards him swords drawn in case they needed to subdue him. Ketras gathered his last bits of energy and began to run, back towards the guards. Before they knew what was happening, it was all over: Ketras’s limp form was sprawled on the floor as the Keeper tried to breathe; Blood pooled around him, and the guard above him stared at his sword in shock: The Keeper had simply run himself through.

Ketras was coughing, feeling like his body was dividing as he did so. He had been slowly dying before, but now he was fading much more rapidly. His planet was fading as well; Everything was ending. Bombs were exploding, people were dying, Earth was dying…

Ketras exhaled sharply and then inhaled again, trying to fill lungs that couldn’t be filled anymore. His breath came in ragged pants and his body convulsed, out of his control, as it tried to deal with the pain it was enduring. On Earth, years flew by as moments flew by in the passage where Ketras was dying. One moment, few people lived on Earth any longer; the next moment there was no living thing left on Earth at all. It was barren and desolate and it cried out for help, but Ketras could do nothing.

And then, in one instant for Ketras and ten-thousand years for Earth it all ended. Earth’s sun exploded, and everything was sucked into the black hole it created; Earth was sucked in and compressed until there was nothing left of it at all; And Ketras drew another painful breath, then let it out harshly, registering nothing but the death of his planet and a high-pitched ringing in his ears…

And all was silent again. Two guards stood above Ketras’s dead body, looking down in something almost akin to fascination. Just like that, it was all over. Earth was gone, Ketras was gone – their job was over. They hoisted Ketras’s inert form between them and carried him away. No one escaped the ordeal but a group of humans. They floated aimlessly in their ship for days on end searching for a planet they could call home. And when they found one, they landed on it and began their civilization all over again.

And one of Ketras’s good friends, another one of the Keepers, saw the humans land on her planet. And she saw their memories of the bombs going off and of Earth destroying itself, and she knew without a doubt that her friend had died with his planet.

So she sheltered her little group of humans as they recreated their civilization, and she kept them as safe as she could. She was young, and it was all she could think to do for the fallen Ketras.