See end of chapter for notes.

After his first day of work, Riff had escaped into the garden more in a desperation for solitude than any intentions of studying. He had tucked his textbook under one arm anyway, for a visual excuse, and left the manor house. Money bought privacy, apparently-yet another change he would have to accept. Riff sighed, setting his book to the side and staring up at the Hargreaves's manor he now worked in. Less than a year from a completed medical degree, and reduced to this, instead.

Someone was digging nearby, so quietly Riff was almost surprised he had heard it at all. Without making any conscious choice to do so, Riff stood, following the sound to it's source. Where two walls met, and the privet curved away, there was a small hiding place of dirt and grass.

A boy was digging there. Mud had worked its way beneath his fingernails and stained his nightshirt, and every time he wiped tears away from his eyes left streaks across his face. For a moment, Riff wondered if he was some spirit-he was so pale, so unearthly, and his eyes shone gold in the moonlight-but the boy lifted his head as Riff approached.

His eyes weren't gold, but gold-tinted green-and Riff suddenly couldn't breathe.

He had read descriptions, heard stories-his parents had been soul mates, had found each other on the street. His father had walked into a lamp post when he had known. His mother had described it as walking into a house and having it be home. For Riff, it simply clicked into place-one puzzle piece finding its partner-and he knew with a dawning horror that this boy...

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

Riff hardly heard the question. "What-" He had to swallow, begin again, fight against swelling emotion and certainty. "What are you doing in the middle of the night?"

"My bird died, so I had to bury him," the boy said arrogantly, as if it should be obvious. He seized at Riff's tie, and pulled him forward-as shaky as his knees were, Riff was almost surprised he didn't simply collapse. "What are you staring at? Are my eyes very strange? What kind of book is that?"

The boy finally paused long enough for Riff to answer one of his questions. "It's a medical text-I couldn't continue school, so I have to study alone…" He trailed off, noticing that the boy now, was staring. Young, he was so very young… It was impossible for him to know, not at his age, not when that certainty came with adulthood-

"You…" Riff pulled his eyes away, looking down at the book. If the boy asked, he would deny it, he would have to deny it- "You can see me?"

"Eh?" That was a question Riff was not anticipating. He looked up again, just in time to see the boy stumble, swoon-Riff reached out, catching him shoulders and cradling him close, kneeling down on the ground. "Are you all right?!" But the boy couldn't hear him. Riff stared down at his face, and swallowed again. Help, this child needed help. Blood seeped through the back of the night shirt, hot in contrast to his cool skin.

"Cain!" A voice called across the gardens, and Riff struggled to his feet, the boy still slumped against his shoulder. "Where are you?!"

The approaching voice resolved itself into a figure, and Riff stiffened. "L-Lord Hargreaves!" Friend of his father or not, Alexis Hargreaves gave Riff chills. The boy stirred, straightened at their voices.

"Father…"

Father? Then this boy was the young master, Cain-but then why did Cain seem so afraid of his own father?

"You have seen his wounds…" Lord Hargreaves murmured, staring at Riff. "Then it's no use. You will act as Cain's servant. Do you understand?"

"Yes!" Riff agreed, resting his hands on Cain's shoulders. "Of course!"

The next instant, Lord Hargreaves had grabbed Cain's arm and pulled him roughly forward, reprimanding him about being outside without permission. It was the first hint Riff received that the relationship between Alexis Hargreaves and his son was deeply, deeply wrong.

His heart, so newly discovered in Master Cain, broke three more times before the night was over-once while Master Cain was whipped, once when Cain insisted "It's my fault," and once again when Cain said his father loved him. Alexis does not love you, Riff wanted to whisper into his scars, Alexis cannot love you, but I do, I do, and I can't help it.

It was nearly one by the time Riff retired to his bed-not to sleep, but to stare at the ceiling. Cain Hargreaves, Cain Christopher Hargreaves, future Count of Cornwall (providing his bastard of a father didn't kill him first) was his soul mate, his other half. He was not quite twelve yet, half Riff's own age. A child-male-abused! It was impossible for Cain to even know yet-and Riff could never tell him. He was too young, he wouldn't understand-and what if he thought, God forbid, what if he thought Riff would put conditions on staying? On his service? Cain wouldn't know yet, couldn't truly understand, and what if, what if, what if?

Riff buried his face in his pillow and tried to drown his own thoughts.

The day Cain killed his father, Riff held him tightly as he cried and whispered promises of eternal devotion into his hair. From that day, Riff acted as protector, friend, servant, shadow, anything and everything his master needed-but never made eye contact with Cain again.

Riff had several endearing quirks. He refolded the napkins when the new kitchen maid folded them differently. He hid his reading glasses in his pocket or in his room, as if Cain didn't know he needed them. He did everything left handed, except writing, where he was ambidextrous. He pursed his lips whenever Cain did something he shouldn't, or something amusing.

Less endearing, Riff never made eye contact with him, or with anyone else, aside from the servants. It was maddening, that Riff kept so completely to the bounds of rank and class. Cain thought it must be very boring to be so proper-but then, he had the freedom money and rank gave him to scoff at society and do as he pleased. He was free to think of Riff as a friend who happened to be a servant, but to Riff, he must always be both friend and master, equal parts of each.

At least, so Cain assumed to be the cause, and it wasn't until the Jack the Ripper incident, and his fall from the Lauderdale tower, that Cain learned otherwise.

Riff had insisted upon following him, and he had thought little of it, resigning himself to his shadow, and accepting the coat and call for the car as the gesture of support and affection it was. He'd been out of sorts for days, now, long before Emmeline's death. Meridianna's beauty had struck him, her touch had shaken him-all reactions he had read of before, longed for before. The goosebumps across his skin and the flutter of his heart were signs. Right? What did it matter if that recognition came with a touch rather than a look? There was something wrong with him, Cain knew that much, and (praise and prayers to a God Cain didn't believe in), his tainted history and poisoned blood didn't prevent him falling in love. The fear he'd kept secret even from Riff, who he trusted more than anyone else-that he was incapable of even having a soul mate-disappeared in the face of Meridianna's touch.

Was it any wonder then, that he needed to find out everything he could about this woman? That he and Riff had ventured to the tower where Meridianna was said to have committed suicide? The unexpected meeting with the girl whose truth he was investigating-her outrageous claims, that she was a walking corpse, a dead woman brought back to life-the fall, the drop and fear settling in his stomach-and then-and then-

"Master Cain!" A shout as Riff fumbled for his hand and caught only his scarf, and was he really going to die-to die without knowing the truth?

A split second of eye contact, Riff's terror matching his own… and the flutter in his stomach was no longer only because he was in free fall. One handed, Cain made a desperate snatch at the crenellation-and caught it.

He swung into a space, beneath the floor he'd been standing on moments ago. For a moment, Cain sat, shaking, his shoulder aching from the unexpected wrench. Carefully, he prodded it with one hand-it was painful, but it didn't seem to be dislocated. He glanced behind him and shuddered again. That had been far too close.

"Cain! No, Cain!" Meredianna. Of course, she had only seen him fall… "Cain, answer me! Please!"

He crawled forward on hands and knees until he found a trap door and levered it up with his good shoulder. Meredianna had collapsed to the ground, face buried in her hands. Riff stood beside her, motionless, stiff, his weight more on the wall beside him than on his legs. He was still holding his scarf. "I'm all right," he reassured her. "I'm right here." His eyes didn't leave Riff, not throughout the entire explanation. Meredianna began crying, and clung to his neck, but Riff said nothing, only held his scarf tightly.

When Meredianna released him, Riff touched his shoulder, and smiled. He looked him in the face, but he didn't meet his eyes again. Cain looked back to Meredianna, met her eyes, smiled…

But that flutter didn't return.

I was falling, Cain rationalized to himself as they walked down the tower stairs, Cain hand-in-hand with Meredianna. I was falling and afraid. I know the effects of adrenaline well enough to recognize them-my hands are still shaking. That's all it was. That's all. I love Meredianna. I'm certain of it, and I'm certain she feels the same way. Riff was walking before them upon his own insistence. He wished to be below them, should another fall occur, and held the door open as they left. Meredianna dropped his hand.

It was beginning to rain.

Cain offered her an umbrella as they spoke, followed her when she tried to walk away, and whispered words of love into her skin. He hardly knew what he was doing, or why, only that he had to love Meredianna. She had touched his heart in a way no other woman had before-but Riff, waiting for him by the carriage, patient, steady, honest, reliable-hadn't he touched his heart long before anyone else had before? Hadn't he seen him, in that garden so long ago?

"We're returning to the manor," Cain informed Riff shortly, fingers entwined with Meredianna's. "Meredianna will be accompanying us."

"Yes, milord."

Cain made plans, spun castles out of clouds and sugar and dreams the whole ride back, staring into Meredianna's blue eyes and trying to feel that same flutter-to not think that they were too dark a blue, somehow wrong, far closer to cobalt than Riff's azure.

They had had their day of hope, they're night of dreams-it was only fitting for it to come crashing down, when Cain had only half believed it in the first place. Meredianna was dead, and had been for a long time. The doctor and his assistant had escaped, and Riff stood behind him, even though Cain had ordered him not to come. He knelt over to Meredianna's body, pulled her to his chest, trembling.

"Master Cain-Sir, please, we must go-"

"I don't care," Cain insisted, clutching at her skirts like a child. "I just-I want to be with her!" Meredianna was beautiful, female, of my own rank-she made sense! I want to be with her! "Just leave! Go by yourself, but leave me alone!" You're only a servant, you've always said so, so obey me!

Riff didn't.

He pulled him back by the shoulders, pulling him away from Meredianna and forcing him around. "Master Cain, please listen to me! She gave her life for you! If you love her, how dare you waste that! Have you forgotten there are others who love you-" He was gripping his shoulders so tightly- "Who are waiting for you at home! Do they mean nothing to you? Even me-"

Cain covered Riff's hands with his own. "Say that again," he said quietly, staring up at him. "Riff! Say that again!"

"Master Cain, we must leave-"

"No!" He yanked away, staring into Riff's face. "Look me in the eye and tell me to leave, Riff!" Cain didn't move. "Look at me!"

Riff shook his head, closed his eyes, but finally, finally, looked at him. "Master Cain, please," he said quietly. "Come home."

A light flared, in the back of Cain's mind. He would later liken it to lighting a bunsen burner-the of the gas click and the roar of ignition and the sudden illumination and heat-but right now, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Riff, buried his face in his shoulder. "…Take me home," he whispered. "Don't let go-don't ever let me go. I will die if you leave me."

"I can't," Riff whispered. "I promise, Cain. I promise."

He shuddered, and allowed himself to be led from the burning building and back to the car.

It was days before they had the opportunity to speak-after Oscar had been packed off to an hotel, and Emmeline buried in the Hargreaves cemetery, after Clarence Nash's arrest for the crimes of Jack the Ripper was published in the newspaper, after Gilford's death, and the suicide of Meredianna's mother. When life slowly began to return to normal, when Cain retired to bed without thoughts of murder and the dead, and woke in the morning to sunlight, and the promise of tea with Merryweather, not to another reported body, or his damnable need to know… Then he was able to think of love, and speak of it.

"Riff," he ventured, curled in an arm chair beside the fire. The man in question had come to shoo him off to bed, but had conceded to straighten his study first. He'd been agreeing immediately to most of Cain's requests, lately, had been quieter and even more deferential, if that were possible.

"Yes, Master Cain?"

"Would you come sit down with me?" he asked.

"There isn't another chair, milord," Riff observed, but approached to stand next to him anyway. Cain stood, and pushed his servant into the arm chair. Before he could protest, Cain settled into his lap, tucking his feet up and pressing close.

"There," he whispered, burying his nose in Riff's neck.

"Master Cain…" Riff protested quietly. Cain refused to move, an eventually Riff sighed, and wrapped his arms around Cain's shoulders, pulling him close.

When Cain spoke, his words were so quiet they almost couldn't be heard over the crackling flames. "You're my soul mate."

"Yes." If possible, Riff's voice was softer than his own had been.

Cain straightened, just enough to look Riff in the eyes. Azure, soft, loving… Right. "You love me?"

"Yes." Cain could feel Riff's exhalation against his cheek, and he smiled.

"Would you kiss me?"

Riff raised one hand from his scarred back to instead cradle his cheek. "Do you wish me to?" Cain scoffed, and leaned forward himself, as Riff wouldn't take the initiative.

Lips met lips, slid against one another, broke away, returned. Cain had kissed many girls before, in pursuit of pleasure, but never in love. He found he had pressed Riff back into the arm chair, that both were rather short of breath, when he pulled away. "I can't believe I'd been so blind," Cain choked out, tangling his hands in Riff's hair and kissing him again. "Riff, my Riff, my love-" The older man shushed him, pressed his lips to his temple and stroked his hair. Cain laughed. It was almost as if Riff couldn't stop touching him, now he'd finally been given permission. "Why did you never tell me!" he demanded, voice cracking.

"Milord-"

"Cain," he interrupted, lips pressed to Riff's jaw. "You called me Cain, when you promised to never leave… Call me Cain now, and always when we're alone."

"…Cain," Riff agreed. "Cain… surely even you see how many problems there are between the two of us. Rank, age, even gender-"

"I don't care. Do you?"

"I… I am afraid," Riff admitted.

Cain tugged back to look at him again. "You couldn't have been afraid of rejection. You knew long before I did." Cain laughed in delight. "Ah, but you would have known from the first, wouldn't you? You dirty old man," he teased, and laughed again when Riff flushed all the way too his ears. Cain nuzzled close again. "I'm sorry, love," he said, still too amused for proper contrition. "I don't mean to make you feel guilty."

"I couldn't tell you," Riff admitted. "Not when you were so young-I feared you'd… you'd think I would make it conditional, that your love or concession or favor was required for me to stay. I love you, Cain," Riff breathed, as if it were a mortal secret. "I love you, and you were a child far too young to understand."

"But I understand now, and know now," Cain whispered in return, reaching up to stroke Riff's hair, to kiss his cheek. "I think… I think I always knew, in fact. Do you remember Siobhan? And the vampire, when you had to leave? I hated being apart from you… I have since I was a child. I didn't want you to care about anyone else-a child's selfishness, a child's possessiveness, and that hasn't changed. You're mine, Riff. Mine own, mine alone…"

"I am," Riff agreed quietly, cradling his face with both hands. The heat of his skin and the blue of his eyes grounded Cain, and he sighed, leaning forward for another soft kiss.

"Good. As near to me as the air I breathe…"

"Always," Riff promised, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Always, my lord, my master, my love…" Cain closed his eyes, listening silently to Riff's heartbeat, savoring the way he could feel it when he pressed his hand to his chest, or his lips to his throat.

"It's late," Riff spoke at last. "You should have retired an hour ago."

"Mm," Cain hummed agreement, but didn't move. "You're right."

Riff stood, and Cain had to scramble for his footing and his pride-but his indignation was forgotten when Riff bent and kissed him, gently. "Come, then, and I'll prepare you for bed."

Cain followed quietly, wondering-but Riff undressed him with nothing but his usual professionalism, warmed the sheets and tucked him in. It almost seemed as if nothing had changed-until he bent again, and kissed Cain goodnight.

No, nothing had changed, really. But then, everything had, too.

A/N: ...So, um, a couple of different AUs have camped in my brain quite without my permission. This is one of them, after I thought that, well, one of the things that the Godchild fandom lacks is hopelessly cliche soul mate fic. Which means that I was writing other things rather than Pretty Maids and When I Waked. But the upside is that this one is really short and now it's completed?

Also I feel like the first half of this is just rehashing Sound of a Boy Hatching but it was kind of necessary because it's a bit of a huge detail that's been added.

I'm publishing this at two in the morning, my time, and it's entirely unbeta-ed. I haven't even read it through again myself, so please forgiven any typos, awkward phrasings, or missing words and phrases. I'll reread and repost eventually.

Throw a couple of reviews my way, if you get the chance! I'll probably write the next chapter of Pretty Maids and finish When I Waked tomorrow morning. Both of those should go up this weekend-particularly as I missed last week's update. Again. I'm so sorry.

I'll give another plug to my friend's story, "A Case of Blackmail." It's really, really good, I promise. Go read it! Review!

And... I'm pretty sure that's it! Good night, every one. I need sleep.