Author's Note: After letting ths sit on my DA page for a good three months, I thought it was about time to upload it here. As for Bonds, I've deided leave it on indefinite hiatus. It WILL be finished, but not until I have the muse to do so.

Warnings: AU and Eventual Shonen-Ai. If boyxboy digusts you, it would be wise to give up on this story.


Changed

Chapter One: A Quiet Voice

Ike sat there, in his cell, leftover, unneeded—the smoke no one notices until the fire has its hold. He was not a in the dreary world, not even a stain on its dreary crust, but rather, an extra shadow breathing in the corner.

Appearance wise, he looking like any other street rabble: a jacket held only together by patches; grey, stained breeches tucked into weathered boot that had been red in their prime, and greasy, matted, blue hair that peeked out from beneath a faded black beanie. To complete the outfit, handsome, rusty cuffs bound his wrists together, and a second pair chained his feet to the cement floor, giving him just enough slack to come within a foot of the bared door that made up the fourth wall of his cell—not that he left his corner more than he had to.

His current circumstances could be blamed on the location of his village—the People's Republic of Ninten—right on the boarder of the kingdom of Seggh. Seggh itself posed no threat. Its grand empire had long since been wiped out and usurped by Ninten, leaving the Segian people scattered and in constant fear of invasion and enslavement. It now served as a sort of buffer country between Ninten to the west, and Sonii to the east. The problem for those living on the boarder was that they were the first target for any attacks by the Sonii military.

Yet no one knew just how dangerous the boarder lands were until Sonii's most recent ploy: the Miasma. Bombs rained down from the sky, spreading sticky yellow smoke through the country side. Those who did not die, or were not horribly disfigured, ended up 'changed'. Most of the Changed were no difference in appearance than a normal human being, albeit that they suddenly found themselves with extraordinary powers. The Miasma was a poisonous vapor designed to target cells in the brain that controlled basic body functions—such as breathing and making the heart beat. Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, the viruses contained in the yellow gas mutated during their transportation, and ended up altering an unknown part of the brain, And POOF! Magical powers on command. Mist, Ike's sister, could heal gaping wounds by simply touching them. Soren, who had grown up with Ike, could control winds and zephyrs on will power alone. Ike was the only one in his village whose physical appearance had been altered. His thoughts flickered from the hat hiding his head, to his bagging clothes, and finally to his callused human hands. They were normal enough now but at will…

Not long after the miasma, chaos erupted in the streets of the larger boarder cities. Changed were shunned, driven from their homes, and sometimes even stoned to death. To make the situation even worse, rumors soon broke out that the condition of the Changed was contagious even after the Miasma had been dissipated. This only served to fuel the growing hatred and prejudice. In a desperate attempt to save its citizens, the Ninten government had offered asylum to the Changed in the form of out of research facilities, where they would be kept out of public eye, and thus, safe. Despite the large numbers of Changed who flocked to these locations, most Changed smelled a trick. Most in this category had already found a way to blend in or lived in secluded spots, safe from the massive Anti-Changed movement. When the government realized it had less than a quarter of the estimated changed citizens, it was forced to reveal its true intent—to remove all Changed from society, forcefully. A great cheer broke out in the Anti-Changed organizations as the President of Ninten made this announcement.

Changed were hunted down like crazed animals, sedated, caged, and then dragged off to remote facilities. Any citizen seeing a changed was required to inform the local authorities. Soon, even a blood test was developed to single out the Changed who appeared normal. In less than half a year's time since the initial bombings, almost all Changed citizens had been hauled off to research facilities and holding camps.

Amidst all this chaos, Ike's village remained an oasis to Changed. Most of the inhabitants were either the Changed themselves, or had family members with the condition. They realized that the Changed weren't all that different from normal people, and so, kept quiet. This closed-mouth method seemed to work, and the government was far too busy with the rest of the country to investigate any of the smaller villages too closely. For a time, there was relative harmony.

Then, Ike had ruined it all.

He, unique in his physical orientations, had been spotted by a traveling merchant while he was in his… other form. This single incident was the catalyst that lead to the eventual destruction of his village, and his capture. The law enforcement appeared quickly and stealthily, succeeding in capturing many of the inhabitants. Those were not captured were able to flee into the woods that surrounded the village. Ike's sister and father were amongst them. He knew they had escaped. He had stayed behind to ensure that face.

Not long ago, Ike had given up counting the days, only being able to count a night as the time the lights that illuminated his cell went off, and day as when they were on. For all he knew, they could have switched the order of things, making it light in the evening, and dark in the morning. In all honestly, he didn't care. He didn't care about much these days. He had one goal—eventually reuniting with his sister and father, and a few choice people from his village. Besides that, the world was empty for Ike.

* * * * * *

Bright lights pierced his dreams, bringing Ike to consciousness. The door to his cell was yanked open with a painful squeak, and something, or rather, someone, was pitched rather roughly through before said door was pulled shut again. Ike blinked rapidly and squinted as his poor eyes attempted to adjust to the sudden light. Just as things became clear, the lights were abruptly shut off again, leaving the two in darkness.

When Ike's vision had finally readjusted, the new comer had found his footing, and was now fixing the door with an icy glare. He was scarcely older than a boy, at maybe fifteen or sixteen years of age (not that Ike had room to talk, seeing as he had only turned eighteen last winter.). He was clad in a grubby red hoodie with the word 'Icarus' on the front, jean shorts, and tennis shoes, with the special worn-out-toe-hole—perfect for getting ventilation, ice, and rain to ones socks. Blue restraining devices—that looked oddly like rubber bands—kept what Ike identified as dirty white wings strapped against the boy's back. The only other restraining device he had was an iron box around his hands. It looked like said hands had been placed in the box, palm-to-palm, before the box had been secured shut.

The last details Ike could take in before the boy noticed his presence were those of his face.

Messy auburn locks fell down past his eyes, only to be pulled back by a tarnished gold hairclip. Ignoring the grime, he had a pretty, feminine face, and a soft chin. None of these observations really mattered though, except for the boy's expression. His eyebrows were furred in determination, and his lips formed a scowl, but despite this brave front, his cerulean eyes were laced with fear. When those wild eyes met Ike's deep blue, they flicked for a moment with renewed terror, before hiding themselves behind the veil of a smile.

Plopping himself down next to the other, the boy introduced himself as, "Pit!" and in no time at all, he was talking to Ike like they were old friends. Despite the slight cockiness that spiced his demeanor, the boy was surprisingly kind, ad genuine. Ike felt conversation slipping from between his lips like a stream that had just discovered a new outlet. He was comfortable with this newcomer, and as the night slipped slowly by, Ike could feel himself being wrapped in the warm blanket of idle talk.

"It actually tastes horrib—" Pit paused his story about mixing hot sauce and ice cream to stifle a yawn.

"We should probably get some rest," Ike commented, rubbing his left eye, which was twitching slightly (1).

The angel-boy yawned again, mumbling a little, "Okay."

Amused, Ike watched as a half-asleep Pit attempted to pull off his red sweater—most likely to use as a lumpy sort of pillow. Feeling like a big brother again, Ike gently pulled the boy's sweater back down to his waist line. When greeted with a groggy, confused look, Ike simply replied, "You won't be able to get your sweater off while your hands are locked up like that."

A light bulb went off over Pit's head as he blinked at his restrained hands. "Oopse," he said with a sheepish grin. Ike's response was to ruffle the boy's hair, taking great care not to hit him with his hand-cuffs in the process. He leaned back into his corner, as he had nearly every night before, but this time, with eyes locked on the fussing angel-boy, he was content to let the darkness claim him.

(1) – According to Soren, whenever Ike gets tired, his left eye twitches.