...Suggestions for drabbles will be gratefully accepted, as will constructive criticism and your thoughts (whether good or bad) on the whole thing. Remember, involvement of other characters will be used (any suggestions for AxL & other will also be gratefully accepted). Let me know your thoughts and enjoy! =D

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Mr C home CITY hasn't become a CITY yet; it's just a SMALL TOWN. Please bear that in mind else this will sound a tad strange. This is just a little drabble thingy; Mr C goes back to his home and finds it difficult because of the memories. Thankfully, there's someone there to help him through it...Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I assure you, I am not Darren Shan.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

'Sometimes goodbye is a second chance.' – Second Chance – Shinedown.

It was exactly the same. Everything, right down to the garden, was the same.

And that was slightly unnerving.

Larten almost expected to see his brothers stumble drunkenly down the small path, bang the gate open and shout at each other to be quiet; almost expected to see his father standing at the front door and yell at them for being so late; almost expected to see his younger sister's face at the window, watching as her brothers were beaten once again. It was a routine.

He had resented the fact that he was the oldest of the group; he always had to look out for them. And if – when – they got into trouble, he would get the blame. It was unfair. But he couldn't leave. His mother had been ill, his father a raging drunk and his siblings lived in fear and poverty. None of them were educated. None of them were healthy. He was the only one who worked, who bought in some money but that was never enough. They barely scraped by.

The money that wasn't spent on stale bread was stolen either by his brothers or father for drink money. They didn't care about anything other then making sure that every night they were blind drunk; they claimed it was to 'Block out the pains of reality.'

His father would always come home first and, depending on the amount of alcohol he had consumed, would either yell at Larten, his sister and his mother or beat them. Then his brothers would come home either very late at night or very early in the morning and his father would beat them. But, they couldn't bring themselves to care; they went out, had a good time, usually went back to a girl's house before being chased out of there and coming back home to be beaten. Larten couldn't see the attraction.

He glanced about himself, and, seeing that the street he was in was completely empty, entered the old, rickety abandoned house. There were four rooms – and there had been eight people – that were all cramped and cold. The resemblance that the place shared with his memories was uncanny; nothing had changed. It looked as if no one had been living in here since the Crepsley residents.

Larten had expected the place to be empty but, to his surprise, all of the furniture he had grown up with was still here, in exactly the same places. Granted, everything was now covered with mould and dust and God knows what else but it was still the same and it was still here. He began to wonder what had caused them to leave the house in this state; maybe they just left? Or didn't care? Or they all just died with it like this?

He would never know. But he didn't really care. After his mother's death, he didn't really care about any of them; apart from Cecile, his younger sister. He would take her beatings for her. He would have gone through anything for her; but, just a year after their mother's death, she died too; at just seven. The beautiful, innocent little angel died. That was what made him leave; the only two people he had ever really cared for had died in the space of a year.

Larten was standing in their back garden now; a patch of wild grass that didn't have a boundary; that grass continuing into a small forest that used to be his escape. He pushed his way through the grass and stopped in front of two medium sized rocks; headstones for his mother and Cecile. The grass around them was flat and sprouting pretty little wild flowers. From the light of the moon he could make out the crude indentations of some kind of final message for them, carved into the rock. Although he couldn't read them, he knew they were kind words; the neighbours must have done it, maybe out of pity, maybe out of sorrow.

He turned sharply and went back into the house, blinking back the wetness that had formed in the corner of his eyes. He found a box of old things and routed through them; trying desperately to take his mind off everything. He pulled out old toys, old clothes, old things that were too old to even be identified; then he pulled out a small teddy bear.

It was dirty, moth-eaten, and dusty but it was still, surprisingly in one piece; although the ear was hanging off and stuffing was protruding from the arms. Larten rubbed the pad of his thumb over the eyes and smiled lightly; the glossy black eyes staring at him unblinking. The bear had been Cecile's; she had taken him everywhere. The bear had been her safety net; when things had gotten bad – and that was often – she used to curl up in a corner and hug the bear tightly, whispering to it that they were going to be okay.

He tore his gaze away from the teddy bear and looked around the room; holding the bear by his side, his large hand grasping the bear's small one. Subconsciously, he realised this was how Cecile used to hold the bear; and whenever he saw her standing in the doorway, with bear in hand, he had thought that when he was older and when – if – he got married, that he wanted a child exactly like her. Never to be...

A hand on his arm pulled him out of his trance. He knew who it was and without even thinking, Larten wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her shoulder, taking deep breaths to try to gain some control over himself. Slender arms wrapped around his neck and he was so glad she was here with him; just as the teddy bear had been Cecile's safety net, Arra was his. He still held the bear.

They stood like that for what seemed like hours; she supporting him, he slowly regaining control. Eventually, he pulled away slightly and kissed her forehead, "Thank you." He looked down and smiled as the crooked grin he loved so much appear on her face.

She shrugged as if it was no big deal, "It's what I'm here for." She paused, looking around the old house, and then returned her gaze to his, "You ready to leave?"

Larten sighed, closed his eyes briefly then opened them again, sweeping his gaze across the room one last time and nodded. Arra smiled sympathetically then took the teddy bear from him, "We adopting this?" She held it up and studied it, pushing the ear back into place then frowning slightly as it fell down again.

He couldn't help but laugh at her choice of words and she grinned again to show she had done it on purpose. Gently, he took the bear from her and shook his head; turning and sitting the bear on a chair as he did so. In one movement he turned and slung his arm over her shoulder, walking out of the house and into the night.

As they walked away, Larten did glance back once; and a feeling of something being lifted from his shoulders came over him. The burden of his past family, past home, past life was gone. He had been given the gift of a second chance and, as he tightened his grip on Arra's shoulders, he vowed to make this one count.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Fin.