This was born from a train of thought that happened because I've been spending entirely too much time mulling on DMC. It's been done before, it's been done better (go read Laryna6's 'Angel Trilogy' if you don't believe me - that's a piece of frickin' art right there), and I might just decide that therefore I'm too unmotivated to continue this. Then again, I might not. Time alone will tell. Anyhow, just a bit of a teaser for now - if you stumble across this, please tell me what you think. Reviews are devoured upon spot.

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Prologue

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"The sky," Trish gasped. Her hair whipped back from her face as she leaned out from the plane's small cockpit to stare upward. "It's so blue."

"And it's gonna keep on being blue tomorrow, and every day after that," Dante said, smiling at the sound of child-like wonder in her voice.

"I never imagined it could be so... bright."

Dante threw his head back and closed his eyes. He pulled the ragtag plane into a steep incline, the wind whipping in his ears, and enjoyed the sudden squeal that erupted from behind him. The voices carried all the way down to the surface of the ocean – laughter from Dante and high-pitched noises from Trish – and echoed there even as the sight of their little transport grew smaller and smaller, until finally the plane was so high that, the remnants of Mallet Island seemed like a pile of pebbles in a puddle and its reflection on the surface of the ocean was barely larger than a small shape that bobbed in and out of the waves, far below and behind.

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The water was cold. It drenched him all the way to the skin and for a moment he was confused, because it had been such a long time since anything had touched his skin. Something was normally in the way. It dimly occurred to him that that something was also quite heavy, so it was a good thing it wasn't currently there, because he was currently in water and heavy things sank—

A wave crashed over him, pulling him underwater. Desperation gave strength to limbs that were only just remembering how to swim. After what seemed like a small eternity, his head broke the surface and he drew in a shaky breath.

He clawed the water, trying to keep himself afloat. It was proving surprisingly difficult, and he wondered vaguely how long it had been since he had done something like this – fought for his survival against something tangible, something that didn't derive a twisted pleasure from challenging him and then beating him; something that just was.

Far above in the sky, the plane was heading for the mainland. Last shreds of laughter could still be heard.

Familiar.

That was a coherent thought, the first one since everything had started to fall apart in his head. It felt different from what he was used to - important, somehow, and more... tangible. Raw. Real. The meaning scattered when he tried to reach for it, but the feeling remained.

Familiar. Know that sound.

One difficult, painful arc of an arm. Then another. He inhaled water and sputtered, but kept going. The land was a long way off, but he didn't think of it. He would probably have been unable to, even if he'd tried.

The sound was fading. Alarmed, frightened urgency greeted this notion.

Mustn't lose it, mustn't...

A few lazy clouds drifted across the sky; the plane was no longer in sight.

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