Disclaimer: The world this drabble takes place in is (c) belongs to me, as well as the characters mentioned and used.

-METAMORPHOSIS-

"All things truly wicked start from innocence."

-Ernest Hemingway

I.

The end of the world started some weeks later, with a simple day trip into the village.

Walking slowly down the dirt road toward the village center, Chryssie eyed every person that walked past with suspicion and distrust. Her parents walked on either side of her, each of them holding one of her hands. Every time someone approached, Chryssie would grip their hands tighter, watching warily until the person was gone. Every villager that greeted the little girl was ruthlessly ignored.

Heather and Christopher exchanged slightly exasperated looks. Although they understood that her nightmare weeks ago had frightened her terribly, they wished they could do something to ease her in the presence of the villagers. Honestly, the people had given Chryssie no reason to dislike them as terribly as she did, but she could not be dissuaded from her low opinion of them. Nothing they had been able to tell her had made any difference. The fact that Christopher's illness had grown frightfully worse in the last fortnight had only made Chryssie a fiercer protector.

Heather stopped walking and bent down to look in her child's eyes with a smile, her bundle of supplies curled in her arm. "I will return shortly, Chryssie. I must go and pay a visit to Mistress Greene and her newest little one."

The golden eyes searched her face intently. "I will come with you," she decided at last.

"Truly, Chryssie, it will be alright. Stay with Papa." Heather's flexed her fingers comfortingly around her daughter's smaller hand. "I shall return within the hour." She added a touch of firmness to her voice when Chryssie refused to let her hand go. "Chryssie," she murmured.

"Tis alright, little faerie," her father said wearily, nudging her closer against his side. "Mama will be back soon. Come, come. We will go and drop a coin in the well. You enjoy that."

She pursed her lips crossly. "But, Papa-"

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, a soft, secret reminder to mind herself. "Give Mistress Greene and little Peter my best," he reminded his wife gently.

"I shall." Heather rose to her feet, casually sweeping at the dust on her skirt. "Behave yourself, you two."

Chryssie's fingers tightened around her father's anxiously as she watched her mother go. To distract her, Christopher swung her arm gently as he strolled towards the well. When they had walked for a short time, he could feel her fingers gradually relax around his. It was quieter here, in this part of town. Nearly everyone was at the market this time of the day, and he knew that it would comfort Chryssie when less people were around.

Finally they came to the long dirt path that would take them up the hill where the little well sat. Slowly, they made their way up the winding path, Chryssie watching her father cautiously as they made the slow climb. Once, not that long ago, it would've taken them only minutes to make the climb. Now, it took more than half of an hour. Her papa was always so tired, so breathless. She stopped often to wait for him. When they came to the well, Chryssie stood on the tips of her toes to peer down into the dark, reflective depths.

Christopher smiled tiredly down at her as she tossed a tiny pebble down. A tiny smile curled her lips as she heard the stone splash. Little things gave her such pleasure; it did his heart good to see. They stood quietly together for a time, taking comfort and enjoyment in each other's silent company. He rubbed his thumb slowly over her small fingers. There were no words to describe how much he loved Chryssatin. He could only pray that she would remember how much he loved her after he was gone...

After some time, he reached into his pocket for the coin he'd promised her. She liked to watch the light flicker across the surface of the gold as it flipped down into the dark water. But when he drew breath to speak, he coughed suddenly instead. At the harsh, wheezing sound, Chryssie looked up, alarmed. After all this time, she knew that sound very well. The single cough exploded into a vicious fit that continued until her father was bent double against the side of the well, gasping for air between racking coughs.

Chryssie tugged his hand urgently, raising her arms up to be lifted. Weakly, he hefted her up and she leaned over his shoulder. Chryssie pounded soundly on his back with her small fist as her mother had taught her. It forced the trapped blood up all at once and with one last, hoarse cough, Christopher had a nasty mouthful of it. He spat it onto the muddy ground, grumbling curses as he tried to rid his mouth of the thick, coppery mess. Chryssie's hand patted her father's back gently now, attempting to soothe as he gagged and heaved up the last of it. "Are you alright now, Papa?" she asked softly, looking into his face. He was so pale...

Christopher glared down at the ugly dark-red splatter at his feet, swiping angrily at his mouth with the back of his shaking hand. There was so much of it, much more than before. "Y-Yes," he rasped hoarsely. His breathing was shallow, laboured, his skin sheeted with sweat. "I'm...alright, Chryssie." No, I'm not. I'm not, I'm not alright. He felt so weak now, his body so heavy. He'd overtaxed himself. "Th-Thank you..." She curled her arms around his neck for a moment more before squirming to be let down. Carefully, slowly, he lowered her back down to the ground. She watched him ease himself awkwardly, stiffly down to the grassy ground to sit. He leaned back limply, resting his body against the cool stones of the base of the well. His green eyes were narrowed; his vision was slipping in and out of focus. "C..Chryssie..."

Concerned, she slid down to sit beside him, covering his larger hand with her own small one. His fingers curled gently around hers as he tipped his head back, eyes fluttering closed as he struggled to regulate his breathing. Gods, when did the air get so thick, so cold? He'd been out too long, that was it. It was time to go back to Heather now, time to go home. He'd get up, in just a moment. Christopher drew in hitching breaths slowly, wheezing weakly. Heather... Heather... He needed to see her, talk to her. He needed to tell her he loved her.

Chryssie shifted to lay her cheek against his arm, both her hands holding one of his. Papa was tired again. It was alright, it was alright. She would wait for him. They would nap, just for a few minutes, she decided, closing her eyes and pressing herself against her father's side. He would feel better once they woke up...

FND: Yes, I know, the chapters are fairly short, but trust me-there are QUITE a few of them. There are perhaps three more chapters before STAGE I is complete, and we move on to STAGE 2.

This is the last METAMORPHOSIS update for tonight. Please, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this new origin story. Goodnight, all. Please, review. I'd love to hear from you!