I Don't own anything dealing with the Pendergast novels that may be in here.

Diogenes was probably my most loved villain of all time.

(SPOILER SO DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE LAST OF THE TRILOGY)

I cried when his character stopped coming back.

So I wrote this to in hopes full fill my dream of his story continuing, well my version of his story. So to not end up like some fan girl… though I probably will eventually… and have him some how not have gone where he went, I went back in the past between then and now. This is strictly a love story… so if you don't like that go away. Twisted love, but love all the same.

It was nearing summer in the wet heat of Louisiana; the ground was coming alive like it was suddenly in heat. The sun pelted down on the moist earth like a greedy vulture eyeing a good spot and time to smite the earth. The air like a thick soup, the herby smell of fresh cut and charred grass mixed with the boggy smell of swampland just a bit of a ways a way. It was almost summer time and the school children were ready

Their laughter, their obnoxious teasing, it was all too much to be wrapped up in the middle of. Boys in creased knee high shorts, with their little polo's coming out from their taught belts. Pale knobby white knees lead down to their knee-highs and loafers, caked with dust and mud. Crawling like monkeys through the jungle gyms, chasing after one another like lions after the antelope in the vast Sahara, crowing like birds for the name of their territory- it was absolutely vulgar. So he stay-stay far away from the pack of wolves.

It was his swing, and no one dare touched his swing, even when he was not present. He had a dull red hair, short, and neatly slicked from his face. Freckles tickled his pale cheeks, just beneath two vibrant eyes- one green and the other a milky blue. He was in the same get up as all the others, except he maintained to keep his own quite tidy and less stained with the deadly bug juice.

Pale hands on the thick, creaking, chains of the swing, he sat sullenly staring at the scene. Legs dangling just above the ground, he slowly slung with the wind, ominously isolated from the others. Aunty always said, that children new things adults never knew, Diogenes was one of those things. Children knew to keep away from him, knew not to cross him, and knew not to stand in his way. How ever, his brother didn't share that common treasure.

At the moment, in fact, the pack had zoned in on their prey. His pale brother was putting up quite a fight actually, his angel blonde hair a disheveled mess. Little arms flying and thrashing, shouts of victory and shouts of pain filling the circle. A few girls in their skirts and polo are sat atop there thrown on the slides, snickering and musing in the royal games bellow. The little princesses with their knights fighting for their affections.

Ranging from ten to fourteen, their scrawny little bodies were quite the council to the queen and king. A little girl perched higher amongst the girls on a large rail, legs kicking lazily and messy brown curls falling in tufts over her shoulders. The king with his band of nights over the little boy that had now curled up into a ball; the king was a tanned boy with regal features for his age and taught little muscles- a sure foot ball jock with age.

The social structure of what is school. Lately, his parents had been considering taking the two out, especially from the recent events. In Diogenes opinion the attempt to have the two assimilated into school was a mistake from the beginning. Even when they had just started the private schooling- not even public- they had suffered the constant teasing of children. Of course, every school has the child that is driven mad by their peers for being week or odd. In the Pendergast brothers case the story was far different.

Their family was a family of darkness- a label that always sent a small smile across Diogenes face. That said, plenty of families had it against his- whether for their darkness or wealth was another question. As most children do, they listen to their parents like tiny pieces of clay, brain washed by the slime that oozes from their poisonous jack and bourbon stained lips. Obviously, this hatred festered like roaches into the children and from the display just beyond the haltered had thus transferred onto the youngest generation of Pendergast's.

Sighing to him self, he touched the tip of his shoe down to the ground, pushing himself lightly back and forth as he observed the games. So far, little Aloysius was on the ground curled into a ball; the idiots thought they had him beat. Diogenes loathed his brother, but he would not hesitate to credit the boy with his strengths. A sudden wave ran through the ground as a head dropped- some one was down. A few children from the front began to push back as the children in the further lines moved in confused to replace them. The battle raged on and his brother stayed in place on the ground. With in another minute, another head dropped and the crowed surged again. King retreating to his queen on their massive castle of metal bars, he surveyed the crowed with a waning pride- perched safe upon the top rail. Another head was down and more children began to flee.

Aloysius had been practicing a lot lately to fight of the crowed, and in his defense it had never been this bad. How ever, he was doing a fantastic job considering the head that just fell with a small muffled cry was the seventh so far. Soon there was just a small ring of five and the dirty Aloysius was up- caked with dirt, blood, and Battered with bruises. That was Aloysius; he would never go down that easy. Even in his brother's violent beating, Diogenes stays immobile; why waste a good pair of clothes on Aloysius's blood. He couldn't feel bad either; really, if he were in the same situation he wouldn't expect Aloysius to come running in to the rescue for him.

The King had long ago fled away and the girls returned to playing amongst themselves. It was apparently never fun when one was loosing… especially against one little boy. Plus, the risk of a teacher coming out now was growing ever closer. The teachers were never the supervisors hey should have been and came about on a set schedule to come check on the children. Obviously, the children still fighting Aloysius realized that- or they were tired of eating the dirt Aloysius was now feeding them.

Averting his attention suddenly, Diogenes heard the grass; stiff and burnt straight begin to break. Crackling softly, he could feel the curved steps, light, and careful hit the ground. Suddenly beside him, he turned to see two little hands clutching the chains of the swing beside him. In a flash, two feet and jumped up and over the seat, a small raven-haired girl in its place. She was pale, probably as pale as him, but the contrast between her skin and hair made the color of her skin far more dramatic. In the usually uniform, she was quite neat and he had realized that he had no idea who she was. He couldn't see the colors of her eyes, but something about them told me they were like crystals, the shards he could see that shot from her pupils like the calculated cuts on a diamond. Legs swinging gently, she too began to watch the scene beyond the two. Furrowing his brow he resumed his previous activity. Curious, no one dared to sit with him; she must be new to the area. If that were the case, she would have to learn what was his. Perhaps though he would throw a test her way.

"Absit Invidia," he said, still watching his brother beating a boy who would just not quit it. She was probably just another dunce, a little spoon fed twit. N to say he wasn't spoiled, he was spoiled terribly, and of course he loved it! How ever, he did differ in that he was not a twit and had confidence and pride in his ingenuity and intellectual superiority to his pears.

"vos mos parties," she commanded. Her voice did not hold the accent common to Diogenes, it sounded oddly straight and smooth. None of the consonance was too hard or too soft and instead, and the vowels followed suit.

"Diogenes," he said quietly returning his attention to the children at play.

"ANTOINETTE…"