Fallen Angel

Author's Note:

Silas is a tortured soul, without doubt. I made this fan fiction in hope of being able to probe that tough façade he had to put on for everyone.

Disclaimer: I don't own Silas or the Da Vinci Code.

Chapter One

Will of the Heavens

The police had left him there, bathing in his own blood.

I am a ghost.

Even as he thought that, Silas still could not believe that his life would end this way. It would end just after he had found out that all this time, the Teacher whom he thought was helping God's church was an imposter - a man who used him and Aringarosa for his own purposes; a man whose greed overtook his own being.

Silas could see it all now: He had failed God. He had failed to protect the church. He had failed to serve the church. If only he could turn back time, he would change everything. He would rectify his errors and be a better person. Maybe, just maybe, if he could do that, then it would not end as unpleasantly as this.

He closed his eyes as he crossed himself to pray. He prayed for forgiveness. He prayed for mercy. He thanked God for everything that He had given him. It was the end for him. There was no use fighting the pull of Death. He was very tired. He didn't realize just how exhausted he was, no, not until then, as he lay on the cold grounds of London. Finally, he was given the chance to rest.

He prayed for his mentor.

We have been tricked.

The words of Aringarosa echoed in his head, not seeming to let him be. Yes, they had been tricked, and Silas wished he could do something to change that. He sincerely wished he could. He clasped his cold hands close to his chest, wanting to get his concentration back.

It is never the end.

At the thought, Silas opened his eyes. "It is never the end…" It was something he once heard. From where or from whom, he could not recall, but he knew it was one thing that he always reminded himself of.

He clutched his chest, wincing. Gathering all his remaining strength, he pushed himself up. It is never the end, he thought, trembling hard as he stood up. The need to survive had seized him, and was now forcing him to get up and do something to save his life. He still had so much to do. Dying now would leave everything unfinished. He needed to live. He wanted to live.

He needed to get to a hospital.

The mere thought of it seemed surreal.

God… please give me another chance.

∆∆∆

I am being followed, she thought as she strolled the Kensington Gardens. She could feel that someone was watching her closely, eyeing her every move and waiting for a chance to corner her alone.

Someone wanted her dead. And she knew the reason.

Her grandfather, Raphael Hyévremont, died of old age a little more than a month ago. He was the owner and CEO of Hyévremont Chips. It was sad, in a way. He was the only person whom she loved; the only one who cared for her, who spoiled her, who gave her everything that she wanted. She lost a great deal when he died.

But he taught her that dying was a part of life. He taught her that the ones left by the deceased should not weep so much because there was no reason for that. In his deathbed, he told her that she should not shed tears for him. It was his time, and there was no use crying over it.

"Life is incomplete without death."

She followed his advice. When he breathed his last, she had only closed her eyes and thanked him for everything that he had done for her. After that, she left and let his people take care of him. In a week, her grandfather was gone from her life. Just like that. But she was happy. She knew he deserved the rest. He had been an energetic old man, a cunning businessman: feared and adored by many. He easily built and shattered homes.

Quite naturally, he left her Hyévremont Chips. She was his only living blood relative, and the one he cared for the most. Everything that he had created throughout his life was now hers. She was wealthy.

With the wealth came the peril. Three weeks ago, someone had sent her a death note, which simply said: Hyévremont Chips is mine. You watch your back.

She was not bothered by this at all, but Etienne Meunier, one of the vice-presidents of Hyévremont Chips, took charge of giving her a sentinel.

She didn't like Etienne. He was young, intelligent, and was very haughty. He blatantly told everyone that he could not believe Raphael had left her, his spoiled brat for a granddaughter, Hyévremont Chips. She remembered what he had said to her:

"You're a spoiled brat," he said succinctly, his dark blue eyes eyeing her coldly.

"I'm a what?" she snapped, furrowing her brows. Just who did this man think he was? She was the new CEO of HC, and he had no right to insult her! "Could you repeat that, Mister High and Mighty? You seem to forget your place. You are a mere vice-president here." She looked at contemptuously.

"You're a spoiled brat. You're very stubborn, and you think you can protect yourself. If you don't want to lose your life, have a sentinel with you." He said that seriously, without batting an eyelash. "You don't seem to realize that since you're the new CEO, there's more reason for you to take good care of yourself."

She smirked at him. What a jerk. "I don't want any sentinel."

"You have the intelligence beyond your age, but you also have the maturity of a six-year-old," he told her. "Just because you're the head doesn't mean that you don't have to listen to the people below you. Sometimes, these people know better than you do. Your want is irrelevant; your necessity is more important right now."

She had shut up then, accepted the sentinel he sent her, and paid this sentinel to get lost. Somehow, Etienne learned about her mischief, and did not hesitate to send a new one to her.

Giovanni Desarènes, one of her grandfather's most efficient advisers, had timidly told her that she should do as Etienne instructed her, but she told the old man that she didn't need anyone to dictate what she had to do with her life. Her grandfather didn't even do that; now why would this Etienne-person think that he could order her around? She was old enough to take care of herself.

Now she was touring London, her driver the only one with her. She left HC to Giovanni to spite Etienne. She loved her grandfather, but she wanted to travel. The company could wait. What was the use of the numerous people HC was paying if it would suddenly collapse in just a matter of weeks?

There's no need to panic. There were many people around. She would not be harmed.

∆∆∆

The pain was becoming unbearable.

Silas winced in pain as he took another step. He was bleeding profusely, and he knew that if this kept up, he would die before he could get to the nearest hospital. I will get past this… I swear to God I will. I must not fail Him.

He took another step. If only there were any person around, he would be able to ask for help. Where he was in Kensington Gardens was one of the least visited locations because it was still being renovated. There was no one in sight.

He shut his eyes, wincing still.

Good Lord, please send me a fallen angel… he prayed.

∆∆∆

Where did everyone go? she thought, worried. Just moments ago, there were a number of people around her, but now, everyone seemed to disappear. Perhaps because the place where she stood was the one still being refurbished. She was all alone, and she could hear the footsteps of the person following her.

The footsteps behind her were quicker, heavier, and more perilous. She needed to get out of here. Fast. She walked determinedly. She was not going to die here. She had to prove something to Etienne. She felt fear, but greater was the anger. The person who wanted her dead insulted her. Did he or she think that she was a weakling?

That was when she saw a man hobbling his way through the place. A fallen angel! she thought with delight. She approached him quickly, a plan forming in her mind. "I thought you wouldn't come!" she exclaimed, giggling as she put her arms around him, like they've known each other for a long time. She honestly felt relieved to see someone like him around. He certainly looked like someone people wouldn't want to mess with. He didn't stop walking when she drew near him, albeit his pace was slow.

The man had a towering height. She only reached a little above his shoulders when she stood beside him, although she was considered very tall by almost everyone she knew. She began to whisper to him, forcing him to halt. "Look, you just have to pretend to know me - " She looked at him for the first time and almost cried out in surprise.

He had red eyes.

And right now, those eyes were glaring at her. "Get out of my way!" he rasped. He was clutching the area somewhere below his ribs, and he was wincing in pain. Blood was gushing out of his forehead. He was gasping for breath.

She then saw it.

"You're wounded!" she exclaimed, momentarily forgetting the person following her. She tried to assist him, but he was a lot taller than she was, and much heavier. His legs failed him, and as he held her, he collapsed, dragging her with him.

The thought that first came to her was to protect his head from hitting the cemented pavement, so she grasped the back of his head as they landed on the ground. The impact made her cringe; she felt the small stones pierce her skin. But what she had done was not futile; his head was safe from any critical injury. She immediately checked on him. His eyes were closed, but his chest was still heaving up and down. He was just unconscious. She saw the terrible wound below his ribs: It was caused by a bullet.

Panicking, she lifted his head and laid it on her lap. Her blue blouse was now crimson; the man was losing too much blood. Whipping out her cell phone in alarm, she dialed the number of her driver. "Marius! Call the nearest hospital and tell them to get down to Kensington Gardens!" she ordered as she observed the place, looking for any useful landmarks. "Tell them we're near the part that's being renovated! I want them here fast!" She ended the call and put the cell phone back in her denim's pocket.

She glanced around. The person following her was nowhere in sight. She breathed a sigh of relief as she focused on the pale man who had saved her life, even if he didn't know or even mean it. Trembling, she touched his pale cheeks.

"You're my fallen angel. I won't let you die."

∆ to be continued ∆

Author's Note:

It's partly from the book and partly from the movie. I just made the setting the Kensington Gardens.

I am merely testing the waters; see if anyone's still interested in a Silas fic. Please review and tell me what you think.

Thanks.