A quick thank you (if you're reading) to everyone who read 'Smile', especially TheCheshireCatsDaughter, Aristarch andDivineGuardian- I couldn't contact them as they were anonymous... I can only hope you will all read this and enjoy it too... (sinister smile).

Title: Shine The Light
Summary: It took him a moment to realise that he was no longer running upon solid rock, but falling through the air at great speed… -Post season 3-
Notes: Set as a possible season four. The idea, the eventual song -it all belongs to meninwhite on the forum. I'm just writing it. Bold italic is whispering speaking – you'll understand in a minute. 'Italic in single marks is thought.'
Disclaimer: See profile.

Chapter 1

It was gaining.

Running as fast as his short legs would carry him, the small boy darted through the cavernous tunnels, gasping for air. The noxious fumes were beginning to choke him, wrapping its fingers around his throat and filling his lungs with its blackness.
The ground beneath him was slippery and wet, rocks jutting out in odd places, almost as if they were deliberately trying to trip him up.
The air was thick and warm, almost as suffocating as the fumes that followed him from the fiery dance behind.

The boy continued to stumble blindly on, not wishing for it to catch up with him. He was afraid, though he would not admit it – afraid of being caught, of being marked, of becoming like it.

Omi.

'It is closer!' the young monk thought, diving down a cavern to his right in hopes of losing the foul creature. His countermeasures were futile, as it drew nearer every second, as if the child were standing still. Omi could practically hear the slithering body and the grating of claws against the stone walls. It was so close that he could taste the blood dripping from its jaws in the air, almost see its eyes glowing eerily behind him.

So preoccupied with the distance of it, Omi failed to notice what was in front of him. It took him a moment to realise that he was no longer running upon solid rock, but falling through the air at great speed. He twisted and attempted to grab the edge, his small fingers missing the grip by bare millimetres. As quickly as it started, his descent stopped. A sudden jerk and Omi was hanging in midair, being held by the collar of his robes. Below him was an ocean of nothingness, save the dark of the shadows. The young monk thought it similar to what he thought hell would be like – cold, unforgiving and endless – but before he had a chance to develop his musings further, a voice broke his concentration.

Omi.

The Chinese child shuddered as the sound entered his ears. It was beautiful, almost melodious. He fancied it similar to glass chimes in a breeze upon a summer's day, clear and sparkling, serene. Yet, underneath the gentle caress of music laid a sinister note. Even in that one word, his own name, Omi could sense the darkness waiting to swallow him whole – a darkness far deeper, far more dangerous than what await him should he fall.

His body was lifted higher, bringing him to meet the eye of his saviour (or was it destroyer?). Its huge frame filled the tunnel behind them, blocking the light and bathing the area in a dim, grey glow. Nothing of its form could be seen, save its eyes, which were similar to freshly made gold coins, sparkling with hidden depths that promised to share its secrets. Omi cringed as he saw a dark form move towards him, but was surprised to find a tender touch from soft, smooth skin.

Omi squinted, trying to make the form out as it shrank, becoming barely larger than he was. He yelped as he was dropped, shocked when he hit a solid floor, wooden and gleaming in the spring sunlight, rather than the bottomless mouth that had been waiting to swallow him whole.

You must choose, my child.

The bald monk looked around, but the figure had disappeared, abandoning him in the strangely familiar place. He looked at the walls, barely noticing the pale shades of blue and the red pillars as he searched for the figure, the one who had chased him… The one who had saved him.

He ignored the oriental windows, opting to instead inspect the shadows the patterns cast, hoping that it had shrunk again, hiding in an attempt to play.

He heard a laugh, but it was not from the one he searched for. This voice was not as deep, not as rich, and did not carry the same undertones of purity and pain. The new voice was younger, arrogant and uncaring. It was more familiar to Omi than that of his hero, and at the same time it was less desirable.

Omi did not want him here. He wanted the boy to leave him be.

"Why are you wasting you time, Cheeseball?"

Omi whipped around, hurt etched into his features as he faced the speaker. Yes, the newcomer was one he spent his time with, one who was unwelcome in this world. His green eyes echoed the sneer on his lips, dark brown hair falling across his features. The black robes, flame-like patterns stitched into the sleeves, draped loosely across the unworthy body, mocking the smaller monk. The boy still wore the bandages applied over three months before, his hands resting on his hips.

Raimundo shot Omi an insincere smile.

"You're looking for the great one, right?"

Omi nodded, knowing in his heart that Raimundo, the newly appointed Shoku Warrior, was referring to it.
He heard the laugh again, a sharp and painful sound.

"It only appears to the worthy, silly little Omi. I mean, you're only of the Wudai level. Why would the great one pick you?"

Omi turned away in an effort to hold back the tears threatening to flow from his eyes. He could not thank it for getting him out of the tunnels, for bringing him home?
Omi felt warm weights, Raimundo's hands, settle on his shoulders. He heard the cold whisper in his ear, tickling his neck and sending shivers down his spine.

"Don't worry Omi. You will see the great one again - when it comes to collect your soul."

Raimundo span his companion, once friend, around to face him and stared him in the eye. His left hand moved to clasp a yellow one, placing an object in the upturned palm. The Brazilian smiled – a genuine smile – for just one moment, before he snarled at the smaller boy.

"You're not worthy, remember that. I don't have enough time to waste, putting weak idiots in their place."

With that, Raimundo rose and started to walk away, back towards the entrance of the hall where Kimiko and Clay stood, smirking. Omi felt the rage inside him boil as he looked down at what his former friend had given him – the small locket Raimundo used to wear so often. One delicate yellow finger traced the swirl before his hand clenched the item tightly in his fist.

'Enough! No more mocking, no more! I will not take it any longer!'

A single tear escaped his eye, instantly turning and heading towards the retreating head of a Brazilian boy, becoming as thin as a shard of glass.

Omi smiled as he heard the sickening crack of a skull being ripped apart.

--Shine The Light--

Omi opened his eyes, falling off his head as the scream startled him. He blinked groggily for a moment, allowing his vision to clear before he realised that someone was looming over him. After a moment, his eyes focused on a worried Raimundo, eyebrows knotted together and green eyes filled with fear. Omi felt a sudden rush of guilt as his dream came back to him, comparing the false Shoku Warrior to the one who sat next to him.

"Dude, are you alright? We heard you scream and I was so worried – I thought Chase Young was in here or something and-"

"Please calm down, my friend," the yellow one said, silencing his friend. "I… had a strange dream. I am sorry to have frightened you."

Raimundo calmed a fraction, though he still looked vaguely like a crazed monkey. He sat, cross legged, and looked Omi hard in the eye.

"Want to talk about it?"

Omi shook his head, unable to meet the concerned gaze. How could he have dreamt such things? He knew that Raimundo would never treat him so – they were friends, and had been through too much to act in such a way towards one another.

"No. I do not remember it very clearly anyhow. I am sure it means nothing."

Unsure, but not wanting to push his friend too far, Raimundo nodded.

"Might have been that chocolate before you went to bed, dude. Gives you nightmares."

"I thought that was cheese?"

"It's cheese? Man, who eats cheese before they sleep anyway?"

Getting up, he smiled kindly at Omi.

"See you at breakfast?"

Omi nodded and watched the newly appointed leader leave the room before lowering his gaze. His guilt had come crashing down upon him like the waves of his element. He had killed his companion in his dream, and as far as Omi was concerned, that was as bad as doing so in real life. He honestly did not harbour any true feelings of hatred towards Raimundo, so what was it?

Why was he dreaming such things?

Shrugging, he slipped on his red and black robes, tying his sash around his waist. He pretended for a second that they were the robes of a Shoku Warrior before dismissing the notion and heading out of the dorm.

A breeze blew across him, and for the briefest moment he thought he could hear the voice from his dreams.

It is stronger than you think, young one.

So, what do you think? It's only the first chapter, so there's a lot more to happen, but please review and lend your thoughts. It's what makes a story good, you know! Just to note, as the dream progresses, Omi's it becomes more of a fond term than one of fear.

Yours,
Straitjackit.