This is the last chapter.

I thank you all for reading, for sticking with me. I know for a fact that some of you will be disappointed by the ending. But every end is a new beginning, don't forget that. The best advice I can give you?

Read between the lines.

DISCLAIMER: Strange Angles belongs to Lili St Crow.

To my friends

To my family

To my readers

And to anyone who has ever felt alone

Chapter 10: Forever

My bare feet made no sound on the cold stone floor. My hair was a mess of black curls, I was wearing blue pajama bottoms that were too long and a green deep tank top that only reached down to my belly button, and I was completely freezing my ass off. I didn't care.

A clatter pierced the air around me and I veered to the right, acting on an instinct. Five second and a muted curse later, someone rounded the corner where I was standing. I didn't slow down, reaching my hand out and grabbing the set of keys that dangled right in front of me. Moments later, I was gone.

He seemed to be asleep, his bare chest rising and falling unevenly. He sat on a thin mattress, no better than the one that Ash was given. Ash. The name sent an arrow of pain through my chest. They had forbidden me to go anywhere near him from the first day we've arrived here. When I'd tried to disobey, they fired a silver bullet in his general direction. He wasn't hurt, but the point was clear.

I shook my head, disgusted with myself. Forbidden me? They've forbidden me to see Ash? They've forbidden me to interact with anyone besides Graves? They've forbidden me to see Christophe? No one forbids Dru Anderson to do anything.

I sank to my knees in front of him, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. The moment my hands came into contact with his skin, his eyes fluttered open, his gaze still and unflinching and so blue, it hurt.

"You shouldn't be here." I watched his lips move as he whispered the words and it took me a while to figure out what he'd just said. Tearing my eyes away from his mouth, I gave him a steely gaze of my own.

"I shouldn't, yet I am here, Christophe. And there's nothing you can do about it. How does that feel?" He gave me a faint smile that disappeared as soon as it came. He reached out with his hand, tracing the line of my jaw, then my lips. I let him, mesmerized by the touch. He stopped then, and withdrew with a shudder.

"Get out of here," he hissed, eyes glowing. "If they catch you, they won't care if you're svetocha. They'll use you to hurt me, knowing that there's nothing they can do to you." Defeated. That's how he sounded. Defeated. And sad.

"Use you against me? Is that what they'll do? Use you against me? Because they have nothing to hurt me with? I can't believe you! You're just so…" He raised an eyebrow, asking me to continue. "Wrong! You're just so wrong!" I leaned against the wall, letting my hair fall in my face. And then, so softly only a djamphir might hear, "They can hurt me. They have you."

Shocked silence. Tears slowly dripped from my eyelashes and I felt him breathing right next to me, the sound comforting in ways it shouldn't have been. "Don't cry, kochana. I love you. Don't cry."

And then he held me and kissed my hair, and told me everything in the world I ever wanted to hear.

Twenty Years Later

There she was. A beautiful girl with long hair the color of midnight, falling in loose curls around her slim frame. Her electric blue eyes – eyes the color of the sky on a cold winter morning – watched the ocean. She wore a long green summer dress and minimal makeup, a focused expression on her face.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A male voice said from behind her. She turned, watching a tall, strongly build half-Asian boy walk up to her. He was a heart-stopper, with his elegant features and intense green eyes.

"Yeah," she answered hesitantly. "It is."

"You come here often?" he was settling himself next to her, spreading his long legs in front of him.

"Um, yes, I suppose. I come here to think." She was startled with herself. Why did she tell him so much already?

He smiled at her like he understood, though he couldn't possibly have. "What's your name, mystery girl?"

She bit her lip, unsure if she should befriend this handsome stranger. "Felicity."

"Anderson?"

"Yes." She looked surprised. Shocked almost. "How did you know that?"

"Bet your middle name is Elizabeth."

"Who are you?" she was angry now, standing up and looking around. "I haven't seen you before in my life. How do you know all this?"

"I know a lot about you." The boy looked sad for a moment, watching her, those spellbinding eyes glowing green. "I know that your name is Felicity. I know that you're sixteen years old. I know that you're in danger. I know that your parents were in love."

The last bit seemed to come out of nowhere, as he judged her reaction.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Edgar Graves, but I go by Graves. And your name is Felicity Elizabeth Anderson-Reynard." A pause. "They decided to honor her memory then."

She watched him warily as she sat back next to him, realization dawning. "You know my parents. Mom and dad." She paused. "How come I never met you?"

"Know your parents? Everyone knows your parents, babe. They're a legend. A son of a murderer and a daughter of a woman almost too pure to be real. They reformed the Order."

"The Order?"

"Come," he stood up, offering her his hand. "I'll tell you everything on the way. It's not safe to be out after dark. We'll stop by a café around the corner. You like banana latte?"

She looked at his face, then his hand. Slowly, she took it. "Love it."

Something told her it was the right answer.

Reviews are golden.

Hugs and butterfly kisses,

DreamALittleBigger.