Part XXIX: Death's Servant


Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of the Wings of Freedom tea shop, empty of its owner. It was odd to have such a brightly sunny day in late autumn, but the people of Canterbury had spilled out onto the roads to make the most of it. Its bright rays banished the cold, the shadows, and the lingering blues of the fall. None of that did any good however, for the underworld Nymph who sat at the service counter, cursing its warmth, its cheer, the way it seemed to mock her sorrow. Salt slumped forward and allowed her head to rest against the cool wood of the counter.

Just another hour. One more hour and the customers would leave, marking the third day of his absence. The third day opening and closing shop without him. The third day of stacking letters he needed to address. The third day of answering more complicated business inquiries with promises that he would soon return and inform them of his decision on the matter. The third day of sitting at the service counter, her eyes fixed firmly on the gilded, green door for the moment he might return.

She missed him. Terribly.

She knew she should dread his return, as it signaled the moment of her own departure. The moment that they would have to say their goodbyes. She didn't doubt that he was mature and collected enough to see her off in a cordial, cool manner and she hoped she had enough restraint to not cling to him, a pathetic, sobbing mess. She hoped she, too, could shake his hand and thank him warmly for the time they had spent together. That she could keep a cool head and say goodbye without hurting him any further. Although these concerns ran rampant in her heart, she didn't care anymore. She just wanted to see him again.

She frowned against the tears welling in her eyes. It had only been three days. Three unbearable days. How was she supposed to go on millennia without him? The very thought filled her with an ache so intense she rubbed at her arms to make it go away. It was impossible. Thousands of years like these three days? Maybe she could do something. Maybe when Angel was safe, she could provoke Thanatos into punishing her. There were a number of ways to end her existence if she truly thought about it. If she put her mind to it, maybe she wouldn't have to endure thousands of grueling years haunted by his memory, by the hurt in his eyes, by the knowledge that he would never take her in his arms again.

"Don't make me say Angel was right about you."

Maybe she was. Maybe they all were. From the first day. Filthy nymph. Useless. Ridiculous. Psycho. Obsessive. Stalker. Reckless. Fool. There were so many words that had been used to describe her and they were all somehow accurate, in their own way.

She lifted her head, checking to see if anyone at the tables had taken notice of her moment of weakness. No one had. But that was to be expected. She was invisible again.

Her phone vibrated and she reached for it automatically, her thoughts called back to the present. To Angel's condition. Was it good news from her mother? She could only hope.

Her eyes flying over the text, she scarcely noticed as the last of the customers filed slowly out. It was somewhat good news, the doctors said her condition was steadily improving and she was likely to wake up soon. Salt felt that she wouldn't be able to breathe easy until she finally got that confirmation. The message saying Angel had opened her eyes again. But as long as the doctors said everything was progressing as was to be expected, she supposed she would have to be satisfied with that for now.

Thank you, Mrs. Caelum, she typed out, Please let me know if -

The jingling of the front door's bell caught her attention, and she glanced up, ready to inform the visitor that they were closed, only to have her phone slip out of her hand and fall to the counter as familiar grey eyes caught hold of her own. It was like a vision from a dream, seeing him standing there in the doorway, observing her wordlessly. The anger simmering in the depths of his cool, grey eyes made it painfully apparent that he had not yet forgiven her, but she didn't need his forgiveness in that moment. She only needed him.

"Levi…" she breathed, her heart fluttering in her chest as she slipped slowly to her feet.

He was wearing new clothing, had apparently gotten himself a change of clothes from somewhere and showered, as was to be expected, she supposed, with his high standards for personal hygiene. Had he slept? Had he stayed at a friend's? Red hair and bright green eyes came to mind, but she banished the thought. It didn't matter. It was perhaps better, even, if there had been someone to comfort him.

His eyes scanned over the tea shop briefly before returning to her own stunned, brown irises.

"Get your jacket," he instructed, without so much as a greeting, "We're going out."

"Huh?" She stood there, confused. Was he throwing her out already? Without talking it over? Without a goodbye? Without a hello?

"This is supposed to be a peaceful space," he explained, regarding her coldly. "I'm done filling it up with all our shitty fights."

She dropped her gaze to the counter. He was right. A tea shop, especially Levi's tea shop, was serene, soothing, comforting.

"Sorry," she murmured, passing by the counter to remove her jacket from the wardrobe. He watched her aloofly, with an unreadable expression, as she shrugged on her coat and slipped into her black chelsea boots. When she turned to the wardrobe and pulled out her suitcase, her heart sinking, he frowned.

"The hell is that supposed to be?"

"Um… my things, I…" she trailed off, not wanting to put the obvious into words.

He furrowed his brow in irritation, looking from her to the suitcase. Her tormented expression made apparent, at least, that she didn't want to leave. Did she think he was throwing her out? Was that the impression he had given her?

Three days he had needed, to sort out his thoughts. Nothing with Salt was ever easy, it seemed. And yet, she had said something that he couldn't quite place. Her refusal to apologize had rubbed him the wrong way. It was impossible to make sense of and yet, stupidly familiar. When had he heard her say that before?

When it hit him, he wondered what had taken him so long. After nearly killing Vetty, while making up with Angel, hadn't he observed them from his perch by the service counter? The way a tear-stricken Salt had insisted to Angel that she could not apologize for her actions, that she would do it again if she had to. That reaction stemmed from her intense desire to protect and an inability to offer empty apologies. Was that the reason she had claimed she couldn't apologize to him for her actions? Actions that she, herself, had admitted were wrong?

It begged the question, what did she believe she was protecting him from? Maybe she hadn't been going through his past for selfish reasons or as part of her assignment to protect Angel, maybe she was trying, in her own way, to protect him from something she kept concealed from him much the same way she was doing with Angel. It wasn't that much of a stretch. Even though it frustrated him, it was the most likely scenario. It was the only thing that made any sort of sense.

He stepped forward and tugged the handle of the suitcase from her hands, his fingers brushing over hers, sending a wave of warmth rushing through her, even as his familiar touch cast a pang of aching longing and bitter regret through her heart. He was close enough to wrap her arms around him. Close enough to bury her face into his chest, to cling to his coat and apologize, and at the same time, he was further away than the Elysian Fields.

"Leave that here," he instructed. "For now."

She averted her gaze, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to make an appearance in her eyes, and nodded.

He led the way to the front door and held it open for her, allowing her to pass him by. She stood by his side as he wordlessly locked the front door and felt a sense of bittersweet relief that the tea shop's owner had resumed his rightful place. The tea shop had always been her safe haven, but it seemed that held most true when he was there at the helm of it.

He turned down the road without once meeting her eyes and she bit her lip, hurt to be so dismissed. Had he not missed her at all? Had he not thought of her once? Not reminisced achingly on their time together, as she had? Reminding herself that she had done more than enough to be deserving of his cold, brusque manner, she followed him quietly.

As they trudged on down the winding roads, working their way deeper into the heart of Canterbury where people still milled along the roads, making the most of the last, fading rays of sunlight, speaking not a word to each other, she lost herself deeper and deeper in her anguish. She had wanted to see him, yes, but where was he taking her? What was he going to say to her? Was she ready to hear it? Could she bear it? If he told her she had betrayed him. If he told her she wasn't what he had thought she was? If he told her he wished she had never appeared in his life, would she be able to hear those words? Would she be able to recover from them?

Filth nymph. Useless. Reckless. Fool. Traitor.

Her eyes brimmed with tears. She didn't want to hear it. Not those words. Not from him. Couldn't she tell him she understood already? Couldn't she make this short and painless? Her eyes were glued to the paved road at her feet. Couldn't she somehow escape?

"Oi."

Lifting her eyes, she saw that the distance between them had grown. He stood several paces further, turned halfway back towards her, the setting sun on the horizon bathing him in an ethereal glow as the crowd of people passed between them. "Is there some special reason you're hanging back there?"

She opened her mouth, wanting to ask mercy, but words failed her. Thanatos in all his might could not destroy her so utterly as Levi could with a few, simple words.

When her tears spilled out of her eyes, she reached up to wipe them away hastily. Levi crossed the distance between them, taking hold of her wrist before dragging her down the road behind him. His warm hand closed around her wrist only exacerbated her torment. His touch was so familiar, so comforting. She stood on the edge of a castle grounds, a home she would never again enter.

The tears spilled forth endlessly. No matter how much she tried, new tears formed faster than she could wipe them from her eyes. She didn't want all of this. She had only ever wanted to continue her quiet, peaceful existence with him. Forever, if she could. That was all she wanted. All she had ever asked. Losing Angel had hurt so much. Losing Levi would kill her. It was too much to ask of her. Why did she have to hurt so much? It wasn't fair.

"You don't get to cry after screwing up the way you did." Levi's voice was even, as unreadable as his expression.

"I know," her voice broke as she succumbed to further tears, "I'm sorry."

Levi glanced over his shoulder at her and saw that she had buried her face into her elbow, having given up on wiping away her tears as her shoulders shook with grief. His impassive grey eyes scanned the approaching road before he tugged her down an empty alleyway. Pulling her along, he released his hold on her suddenly, and her back collided with the brick wall of the narrow alley. She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and tearful. He pressed a hand against the wall next to her head, leaning over her.

"Spit it out," he met her tearful eyes with his own detached grey irises. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry," she blubbered, bringing both hands to her eyes, desperate to regain some control even as she hiccupped helplessly, "I'll stop."

He watched her a moment, fighting a losing battle against her tears, before pressing calmly, "That doesn't answer my question."

"I just," she sucked in a breath, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking, "I don't want you to leave me," she sobbed, "But how can I possibly say that?"

A glimmer of an indiscernible sentiment flitted through his eyes as he regarded her, "With your mouth, stupid."

She could not bring herself to look at him. The more she struggled to stop crying, the more her tears seemed to consume her.

"When will you learn to start asking for the things you want?"

When she did not answer, he raised a hand to her chin, lifting her face up to meet his eyes. She was helpless to resist him. The anguish in her expression, the tears streaming down her face, clinging to her thick lashes, the desperation in her dark eyes, everything lay bare to his perceptive, grey eyes that carried not a trace of emotion she could name.

"Say it."

His voice - low, even, and commanding - sent a shudder down her spine. She had never yet refused him when she could help it.

Trembling from head to toe, she forced herself to voice her feelings. "Please don't leave me, Levi," she whispered with difficulty, her lip quivering. "I'm lost without you."

Something passed through his eyes then, something she might have recognized if she was not so lost to her own fears, her own torment. He leaned in towards her, his thumb brushing over her trembling lip as she clung to his arm. "Now," his eyes followed his own movement thoughtfully, "was that so hard?"

Just beyond the alleyway, the world passed them by and for one foolish, irrational moment, she thought he was going to kiss her before he suddenly pulled away and nodded towards the other end of the winding alleyway, leading deeper into the backroads.

"Come on." He took hold of her hand and led the way. Although he had neither kissed her, nor answered her, she felt oddly comforted and kept up with him quietly.

She had never been down these roads and as they wandered further and further past one small side street after another, increasingly battered, run-down buildings passed them by. Homeless men and women had set up camp in these alleyways, wrapped up in sleeping bags, clinging to disposable coffee cups full of small change as if they held the most precious treasure in the world.

At length, they reached an area with graffitied buildings in such a state of disrepair that not even the homeless lingered there. It was precisely to one such concrete building, with broken windows and entire walls missing that Levi led her. He released her hand as they approached a narrow stairway leading up the side of the building to a second entrance. They climbed the stairs wordlessly, ignoring the stained, broken signs warning of a demolition date that had passed some four years ago. Halfway up the stairs, Levi came to a stop and held a hand out towards her. She saw that deep cracks ran through the concrete, longer than she was tall, but she trusted Levi's judgement inherently and took his hand, allowing herself to be led through a narrow gap where an entire section of the wall had crumbled away.

She stood in a dark room, blinking as she struggled to adjust to the lighting conditions. She reached out blindly, hoping not to crash into anything as she stumbled along, when she heard a door open and suddenly the area was flooded with sunlight. They stood in a narrow hallway and beyond that, to the right, Levi had opened a door leading into a large common area. An entire wall of this area had either never been constructed, or broken down over time so that they could look over much of the city from this vantage point, and had a clear view of the sun sinking in all its crimson glory on the horizon.

For a moment, she forgot about their fight and her fear. She forgot about Thanatos and Angel. She forgot about who and what she was. She watched the city she had made her home, its sprawling cobblestone roads, its glittering streams and idyllic buildings, bathed in the soft rays of the setting sun and breathed a sigh of wonder, "It's lovely."

Levi watched her quietly. It was a fact that beauty could be found everywhere. Even in rundown places like this. Even with broken-down people like himself. The common area was littered with empty crates and bottles. An abandoned cigarette pack lay somewhere off to the side. He doubted anyone had been here since he himself had convened with his group here last.

He considered dragging a crate over, to provide her with a place to sit, but Salt needed no invitation. She stepped closer to the view that had so entranced her and lowered herself to the floor where the ground ended, dangling her legs off the side of the building.

He had wanted to bring her here, to their old hideout. To talk it all over. To show her who he was, but he had not expected her to fit into this space so seamlessly. As if she had always been there. As if she were a part of the memories. Now that he had seen her here, her long black hair, bound in a ponytail, trailing down her back, the cool, autumn air bringing color to the apples of her cheeks, her cinnamon-brown eyes aglow in the light of the setting sun, he knew he would never be able to extricate her from this place in his memories now. She was immortalized within it. Had given this place new meaning without so much as speaking a word or lifting a finger.

That always seemed to be the way with her.

There wasn't a facet of his life that she had touched without making it her own. It had never bothered him, how easily she was able to claim everything he thought was his. He had thought he rather liked the way she dyed her surroundings in her own colors. Thought a day might come when she was so interwoven in his life that not a thing would be left bare. A day when he would be at peace with everything.

And then she had blindsided him and he had found himself surrounded by her while she had taken aim at him. A rude awakening to the fact that she, alone, had the ability to strike where he was unguarded.

Slowly, he approached her, his eyes scanning the city stretched out beyond. It hadn't changed much in the last seven years. This rundown place hadn't changed either, apparently the city council couldn't even be bothered to tear it down. What about himself? Had he changed? Was he somehow different from the last time he had stood here? Who knew, really? People change, little by little, every day and at the same time, they don't change at all.

He seated himself beside her, leaving a careful distance between them as they watched the sunset. The wind whistled past them and the silence was comfortable, as it always had been, between them. It was unsettling, how easy it was to settle back into the familiar quiet, despite the fact that they had unearthed such deep rifts in their relationship. Perhaps they had grown far too accustomed to covering their problems with stillness. Shrugging it off like it didn't matter.

"This was our meeting area. Farlan, Isabel, and I for the most part. The others came and went. Plans, payments, contracts… all of it here." Levi broke the silence, speaking of his past for the first time in the nearly six years she had known him. Salt turned towards him, feeling guilty beyond expression.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I thought you weren't going to apologize?"

"I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing," she confirmed sadly, "I'm sorry for that, too."

His grey eyes shifted from the fading rays of sunlight towards her downcast face, "That brat was a piece of shit," he announced without preamble, "He deserved to die."

Salt lifted warm, brown eyes to him, seeing the torment in his cold expression. "I don't doubt it," she returned softly. "You must have had a reason."

He frowned, seeing nothing but absolute acceptance in her demeanor.

"... I didn't always have a good reason." He turned back towards the horizon, uneasy at how readily she had accepted his statement. "At some point, it just became protocol."

He thought back to the many people who had lost their lives at his hands after. He didn't remember them all anymore. He never lost control again after that. He knew what it looked like the moment the life went out of someone. He knew when to let off. He wasn't proud of it, but he had been the best at what he did. It was a fact that had terrified his enemies and secured safety for his friends. When your life was hanging by a thread every waking second, empathy proved a luxury few could afford. His hands had been dirtied with blood, but the blood staining them hadn't been clean either. "I don't know when it all started blurring together," he confessed.

A warm hand settling on his own drew his attention back to her as she held his gaze sincerely - that familiar, undying, senseless affection burning deep within those dark eyes. "I don't care if you killed the pope, Levi." Her voice held no intonation whatsoever, an admission of a simple truth."That's not what this is about."

"What is it about, then?" When she frowned and didn't answer, he pressed, "What the hell do you think you're protecting me from?"

Her eyes widened, surprised, and she drew back with a sigh, pulling her hand away. She should have known he would have figured something out, with how well he knew her.

"It's your afterlife, Levi," she admitted quietly, "This life is incredibly short and what follows…" she swallowed and clenched her fists, terrified at the mere thought, "is neverending. I can't allow that to happen to you."

He stared back at her, nonplussed. Of all the…

"I never took you for the religious type."

"Religious?" she blinked at him, taken aback, "That's not it, I just… know what will happen, if you are not forgiven."

"And that's why you went and asked the old hag for forgiveness?" He narrowed his eyes in reproach. The very sentence left a bitter taste in his mouth.

She nodded quietly and he released a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. It wasn't any less ridiculous now than it had been three days ago. "You think that's the only thing I've done?"

"... No."

Of course not. Of course that hadn't been the extent of it. "How many?" he seethed.

She looked up at him to find him scowling at her. "What?"

"How many assholes have you been seeking forgiveness from?"

"I… I don't know, just… whoever I could find, going by your public record…" she bit her lip, seeing the outright anger burning in his eyes as his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Did it feel good? Bowing your head to the families of rapists? Getting on your knees in my name? Did you think that would make me proud? Was your empty head somehow convinced I would like that?" his voice was dangerously low, measured, the intonation spiking, indicating his iron-willed self control was slipping.

"Levi, I…" she faltered, "I wasn't thinking anything like that."

"You weren't thinking anything at all," he hissed, "Just getting another shitty idea in that placeholder brain of yours and acting on it blindly."

"Yes!" she protested, "Yes, I wasn't thinking! Because how could I think anything except that I would do whatever it takes to prevent you being cast in an iron cell in a fiery pit for all of eternity!" Her voice rose in pitch, in sheer terror, her eyes wide and horrified. "The thought of your screams," her lip trembled, her thoughts were somewhere far removed, seeing something he could not even imagine. "They haunt me every waking moment."

She shivered, and rubbed unthinkingly at her arm. "Of course, I knew you wouldn't approve. I knew you would be angry, but… I had to take a chance. Oh, Levi… I can't let you go there. Not ever."

Her fear was real, if her quivering shoulders were any indication. She thought he was going to hell?

"No one knows what happens after you die, and if that's my fate, I'll take it."

"No!" she all but screamed, "You're saying that because you haven't seen it! Because you don't know-!" she cut herself off as she realized what she had just said. She swallowed thickly. "Just no, please don't say that. Please, Levi."

"Oi," he took hold of her arm, the one she was gripping anxiously, "You don't get to choose. It's not your call. If that's what's coming, that's fine. It'll mean I deserved it. I'll deal with it when it comes."

"NO!" she covered her ears, "Stop saying that! PLEASE! You can't!"

His gaze softened at her anguish. He was right, she thought she was protecting him. Her actions, however misguided, had come from a place of sincerity. What had he been expecting?

He took hold of her wrists, pulling her hands away from her ears. "Oi," he muttered, "Cut it out. Listen to me."

She turned her face away, not wanting to hear a word. He considered her a moment. She was trembling. For him? Worried for him? He set his jaw determinedly, before pulling her in closer, so that she was off balance, supported entirely by his grip on her wrists. "It's my life. My choice. My afterlife. Back the fuck off."

Her eyes filled with tears as she sensed the finality in both his stern statement and his unrelenting grey eyes. "It's cute that you care so much," he deadpanned, his eyes narrowed and impassive, making her furrow her brows in confusion at the compliment, "but it pisses me off. So, stop it."

She tried to pull away, to center her balance, but he tugged on her wrists again, leaving her hanging awkwardly in the space between them.

"You're going to stop," he repeated, the even tone of his voice leaving no room for argument, "Or we're done."

She gaped at him, not believing her ears, but he held her gaze stubbornly, not showing any sign of budging. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Are you saying I should… just selfishly choose my own desire to be with you, ignoring everything I know, abandoning you to your eternal fate?" the incredulity in her voice and the anger on her features was unmistakable.

"Haven't you been listening? Selfishly choose what you want. That's what I've been telling you since day one."

She scowled, still leaning on him awkwardly, when he continued, "So, what's it going to be? Are we saying goodbye here?"

She sputtered indignantly, he was giving her an ultimatum, leaving her hanging in every sense of the word. It wasn't as if he was actually giving her a choice!

She sighed, defeated. She didn't have a choice. Not in his matters. Not in Angel's. Failing to respect that had only caused trouble for everyone. Was it worth it? Hurting him now so that he wouldn't be hurt later? She wasn't sure anymore.

She bit her lip, guilt consuming her as she relented, nodding quietly.

"What's that?"

"I…" she sighed, feeling terrible, wanting to throw up, "I'll stop, if that's truly what you want."

He hummed in approval, releasing one of her wrists to snake an arm around her waist and pull her in easily towards himself. He nestled her close, her back pressed against his chest as she sat between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Good choice."

She fumed to herself, feeling browbeaten into a decision she was not at all comfortable with, while at the same time, her entire body tingled with elation at finally being this close to him again.

"What else did she tell you?"

She turned her head to meet his cool, grey eyes looking down on her before she placed what he meant. She turned back towards the horizon. Only the faintest scarlet shadow remained where the sun had been, a lilac curtain now stretching over the sky.

"The things your lawyer said…" she admitted slowly, "about your childhood circumstances."

"Tch. Prying and then beating around the bush?" he seethed into her ear, "Just say it like it is. My mother was a whore and I grew up in a whorehouse. Do the words make you that uncomfortable?"

"Your mother was a wonderful lady." She frowned, unhappy with how he was referring to his own tragic upbringing.

"She was no lady," he dismissed neutrally, "you can be sure of that."

"I know she was kindhearted, brave, and beautiful and I refuse to sit by and let you define her by her circumstances." She attempted to pull away from his embrace, angry at the way he was referring to his own mother, when she had none, but he only tightened his grip and held her more firmly against himself.

"... and how the hell do you assume you know that?"

"Because you are her son," she huffed, giving up the fight, "And justice requires that I thank her with every breath in my lungs for having you, for keeping you, for seeing in you what I see."

He was silent for a long, contemplative moment, before muttering, "and what's that?"

Salt answered without missing a beat, "Everything."

He did not know what to say to that. It was hard to take her seriously, she was so over-the-top and yet, he knew she was being sincere.

"So, you know now," he said, finally, "That's who I am. Does it make a difference?"

"Levi, you could be the devil himself and it wouldn't change how I feel about you." She meant it. That was the strange thing about her. She said the most ridiculous things, but meant them with every fiber of her being.

"See, shit like this is why people call you obsessive," he dismissed, turning his gaze back to the evening sky, to the people making their way down the road to where city lights still shone bright.

"People?" she complained, angling a glance up at him, "Isn't that just you?"

"It's abnormal." He thought back to his earlier musings, to how strange their relationship was. To how little they resembled anyone else he knew, any other relationship he had seen. "Why are we so abnormal? Is it because we've seen too many abnormal things?"

Salt fell silent, considering. Was there even such a thing as normal? Or was everyone hiding their eccentrics? Hiding what made them different in order to appear acceptable to society's blind eye?

"Same goes for you," he buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, "No matter what you are, it doesn't change anything."

She laughed awkwardly, as she turned her head towards him, confused by his statement. "What do you mean what I am?"

He said nothing, staying firmly in place, breathing deeply, almost as if he were asleep. His raven hair tickled the skin of her neck and his arms were wrapped around her firmly, as if rooting her by his side. She sighed, and leaned her head against his, laying a gentle hand on his forearms. "Thank you."

She watched the sky darken, the shadows of the night creeping in as mortals gathered somewhere up ahead in the city's center. The peace of her element settled over her mind as Levi's embrace gave her courage.

"My name is Salt," she began slowly, narrowing her eyes at the city below. "I was born sometime in the winter, I am told."

She felt Levi tense, and knew he was listening intently.

"I have neither a mother, nor a father. No family to speak of. Not a soul to call my own. It was sometime around the first snowfall of the year, that I was summoned into existence from the shadows of the night. Although, where I lived, we have neither snowfall, winter, nor years, so that account could be as unreliable as it is irrelevant."

She frowned, wondering what she was even saying. Was she rambling again? But the things she wanted to tell him were blurring over the things she was supposed to be telling him.

"I lived like a ghost. Wandering, invisible. Only my mistakes garnered any attention. I made many of them, at first. Punishment was my teacher, and disdain was my master. Raised voices were my lullabies. Pain was my companion." She frowned grimly, her earliest memories were always painful to think of. "But I was no fool, and I learned quickly. In the end, there was no rule that I did not know, and did not adhere to. Although the most I could hope to achieve was true invisibility. If no one noticed me, I should have been grateful for it…" she trailed off, and sighed. This part didn't matter, did it? And yet, for once, she wanted to tell her tale in its entirety.

Levi shifted, and rested his chin on her shoulder again. He adjusted his grip, all but hiding her away in his arms, rubbing at the spot on her shoulder he knew plagued her when she was nervous.

It was his quiet acceptance, his gentle encouragement that gave her the strength to go on.

"Ten years passed, and I was given into the service of my master," she paused here, remembering the day that had so defined the course of her existence. Thanatos had been there, although he likely didn't remember it. Despite being the exalted God of Death, the Crown Prince of the Uchiha, there had been neither disgust nor disdain in his onyx eyes as he beheld her. "He never raised his voice at me, never censured me, never punished me…" It felt stupid still, in retrospect, how such simple things had earned him her undying loyalty back then. "In fact, he rarely ever spoke to me at all."

"I poured everything I had into my service, never wanting to give him a cause for displeasure. Not wanting my actions to reflect badly on him in any way. Until one day, I realized that despite doing my absolute best… in his eyes, I did not even exist."

Levi listened quietly and a twinge of ugly jealousy reared in his heart. Although he knew it was in the past, he could see all too clearly how this mysterious master of hers had been the focus of her obsessive affection and blind loyalty then. She must have taken him to be the very sun itself. Especially given that she'd had no one else.

"At first, I thought that I was in love with him. That his neglect had broken my heart, leading me to leave that place. I realize now that that wasn't the case. It was that place itself, and my role there that had frustrated me from the very beginning. I was tired of being inconsequential and invisible. I was tired of living out that meaningless life where not a day could be distinguished from another. An endless cycle of arbitrary tasks. An unchanging eternity that was worse than being dead."

"The fact that he neither knew my name or face only served to reinforce what I already knew. If I wanted to truly live, if I wanted to escape from the emptiness that had defined my whole life, I would have to leave. There would never be any love lost for me there."

"And so, I did. I came here, to your world."

"My world?" the words were spoken quietly into her ear, asking the question that lingered in the air. The deciding factor she had yet to mention.

"Levi, I'm a shadow nymph of the underworld." The confession hurt her. She wished the words weren't true. She wished she was a mortal. Like he was. Like Angel was.

She waited with bated breath to hear his response. His hand on her shoulder stilled, and she supposed he was weighing the revelation.

"What's a nymph?"

She turned towards him, surprised. "You must have heard Angel and I talking about it. Most mortals know about the greek mythology."

"If I listened to all of your incessant chatter, the two of you would have worn my ears off ages ago." He returned her gaze evenly, unsurprised and calm. His unperturbed manner served to ease her nerves as well.

"A nymph is a creature called to existence from the elements of nature." She explained gently.

"Like a fairy?"

"No, not a fairy-" she countered, offended, before she broke off, considering. "Yeah, okay, maybe. Like a fairy. In my case, I was created from the shadows of the night to be the servant of Death in the Underworld - the final resting place for mortal souls."

The Underworld. Not the underworld he had come to know but a real place, as was described in myths and legends, where human souls went to rest? And Salt had come from there? It was a stunning revelation, but at the same time, a relief - to know that those he had lost lived on somewhere, somehow. Even in the midst of his contemplation, another part of her admission suddenly dawned on him.

"Death?" Levi's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Didn't you say you work for that guy shadowing Angel?"

"Yes, that is my master, Lord Thanatos, the god of death," she confirmed.

"Wait, you mean… this guy getting involved with Angel… is some kind of grim reaper?"

Salt grimaced at the idea of comparing the illustrious, elegant and noble Lord Thanatos with some hooded, skeletal figure before relenting, "I suppose you could say that. That is his role, at least, to harvest mortal souls."

Levi considered this. The irony of the fact that Angel both hated death and apparently found herself enamored by it was startling. He was no fool. He had suspected it ever since Angel had spoken to him of the stranger by the river, and every one of her actions since pointed in that same direction. That of a heartbroken, lovesick girl. He would have told her as much, that she needed to let him go. That he clearly didn't know a good thing when it was right in front of him, if she had been in a listening mood. But she had cut them off, and he was never one to give unsolicited advice. After all, if she needed advice she would seek out her real brother, right?

But to think the man she found herself so hopelessly attracted to was Death himself? His protective instinct towards the younger woman flared.

"Does Angel know this?" he asked, at last.

"No. He has forbidden me to tell her." Salt frowned, still bitter at that decision.

"Or else what?" Levi furrowed his brow in irritation, "Angel has a right to know."

"She does," Salt agreed, "But if I tell her…" she averted her gaze. "He has promised to dispose of me."

"You think I'll just stand by and let that happen?"

"No, Levi," her head shot up to meet his incensed gaze, something possessive burning in his smoky irises. She shook her head, "Don't even think about it. He is Death incarnate. Listen to me on this, if he wants you dead, you will be before he's so much as completed the thought."

She pulled away from his embrace to face him. Reaching out for his hand, she squeezed it desperately, with all the force of her conviction.

"Promise me," she demanded. "Promise that if you ever see him, which I hope never happens, no matter what he says or does, no matter what he might say or do to me, you will not interfere."

"Alright," Levi held her gaze with fathomless grey eyes, not intending to make any promise of the sort, "Go on."

"Promise first." She clung to his hand, not quite trusting him.

"Do you think I have some kind of death wish?" he evaded. "Just go on with your story."

She eyed him warily before sighing and releasing his hand. "So, I ran away from the underworld. Wandered the surface. Of course, I didn't know a thing about how the mortal world works, so I had a hard time." She remembered, still, the hunger and cold, the hopelessness that had plagued her, then, and the all-consuming self-doubt that had threatened to swallow her alive.

"I stopped in the rain outside your tea shop for a breather, trying to decide what to do next. I remember looking in through the window, wishing for a hot cup of tea."

A blush crept over her face at the memory. The rain dripping from his black hair, the cool, grey eyes that had looked her once over, sending her heart aflutter, even then. How much she had liked his voice when she first heard it. How he had held the door open for her.

He was her savior.

After the cold of the underworld, the barren life she had led there, he had brought her inside to a world she had never known before. The warm shop, the hot tea, his warm hands, his burning kisses. Meeting him was all she had needed, to know that she had never been in love with Thanatos.

He had seen her, asked her name, given her meaning. Given her freedom and protection.

"And then?" he prompted, at her prolonged silence.

"And then I found my family," she whispered, not daring to look up at him, "I found a place that I belonged."

She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with her own confession, "I thought I would just live my life as a mortal, for as long as I could. But then, Angel took in Vetty."

Now she did lift her eyes to his, "Vetty is also a creature of the underworld. A demon cat, to be precise. That was why I had to kill her. But in the end, it turned out that she was trying to protect Angel in her own way. She was the one who told me that something is watching Angel. When Angel then started meeting Thanatos, I tried everything I could to warn her off, but she wouldn't listen."

Levi listened quietly. He remembered Salt's panicked anguish in those days. She had been downright terrified, to the point of being traumatized. It made sense now. Of course she would have been horrified to learn her friend was keeping company with death.

"I couldn't get too involved because I didn't want to catch his notice. I was only able to run away because of how insignificant I was in the underworld, but if he saw me on the surface, he would recognize me, and it would all be over. And then…" she swallowed at the memory, "he did."

"That was the day you came back looking like you'd seen a ghost?"

She nodded, "The day he found me. But he said I could stay on the surface if I protected Angel. That's what I wanted to do anyway, so of course, I agreed."

"He gave me this," she gestured to her arm cuff, hidden underneath her coat, "So that I could have the means to protect her."

"And since then… you know the rest."

Levi considered this, "What about the crow?"

"Crow?"

"The one you were talking to."

She lifted wide eyes, "You noticed that?"

Levi frowned, "I'm patient, not stupid, Salt. There's a difference."

Salt considered how best to explain. "The crows are also shadows, like me. Servants of Lord Thanatos. They're keeping an eye on Angel and summon me when there's danger. That is to say…" she trailed off, wondering how to word her next statement. "Both the crows and Lord Thanatos can summon me by my essence, which is why I sometimes… disappear." She finished lamely.

Levi was silent for a long moment, working through the revelations she had confessed to. She stayed by his side as he stared grimly out at the city, reevaluating their current situation.

"And this… emo-god is the one who told you I'm going to hell?" He angled his head to fix her with a solemn stare.

She nodded miserably, "Yes, unless you're forgiven by those you have…" she left the word unspoken, not wanting to say "wronged" as she was still unconvinced he had truly done anything wrong.

"Hm," he returned his contemplative gaze to the night sky.

"Just because they're gods, doesn't mean they're just," Salt scowled, looking out over the city as well.

"It's a fair judgment," Levi countered without looking at her.

"No, it isn't. People aren't black or white. There are so many shades of grey. They don't know you."

He turned to her, then. It was just like Salt to defy literal gods for his sake.

"I don't care," he dismissed evenly, "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

She glanced at him, the night breeze ruffled his hair and the moonlight illuminated his aristocratic features. He seemed unaffected.

"Do you understand why it is so important that I took the actions that I did? Please, Levi, reconsider. I know it's difficult for you, but please, let me do it. I'll get them all to forgive you, I swear it."

He scowled at her. Why was she bringing this up again?

"Oi," he snapped, "I don't even want you bowing your head to that shitty master of yours. How the hell do you think I would approve of you begging and scraping for all those people - and in my name? Don't you realize how filthy that makes me feel?"

"But what am I supposed to do?!" she pleaded, "I can't bear this!"

"Tough luck," his tone was unfeeling, "It's none of your goddamn business."

She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them miserably. He didn't know what he was saying. How could he even be so calm about all of this? She turned her head to watch him looking out over the city, his arm resting on his raised knee. A hushed silence fell over them as they worked through their thoughts.

"Do you… even believe all of this?" she asked quietly.

"Why shouldn't I?" he returned gently, turning to meet her eyes, "It's not the strangest thing I've heard."

She blinked at him, perplexed, "What could be stranger than that?"

She looked small and lost, weighed down by the magnitude of her confessions. It was a lot to take in, but it was also a heavy burden she had kept to herself over the past six years.

"One time, we were waiting for a target to come out of the toilet, so we could get rid of him," he narrated dryly. "We waited for hours but he didn't show. Turns out, it was because he had died in there."

"How is that stranger than my story?" she questioned, lost.

"Isn't it?" he asked, leaning back casually. When she only looked at him, perplexed, he sighed.

"I've been waiting a long time for this." He tucked a strand of raven hair behind her ear, "Why shouldn't I believe you?"

"I just… it's not anything mortals are usually confronted with."

"When you say mortals… how old are you, exactly?"

"Eight hundred and…" she did the math, having entered Thanatos' service at the age of ten years, and then the nearly six years she had spent on the surface, "...sixteen, I guess."

He frowned. "I'm usually not into older women."

"Of all of this, that's what bothers you?"

"Yeah, that's gonna be a problem."

She gaped at him, confused, before understanding what he was doing. Teasing her. Bringing some normalcy to the situation.

"And you're not ever going to age?" he asked, curious, and when she shook her head in response he continued, "So, what, you'll live forever?"

"Not forever," she smiled sadly, "but a terribly long time."

"That's good," he turned back to the horizon, "Don't have to worry about you dying on me."

"And me?" she lamented, "What will I do without you?"

He cast her a dismissive glance, "How is that my problem?"

She frowned, and folded her arms over her knees, looking out at the city below, where some sort of festival seemed to be taking place in the distance.

"I wish I could die with you," she murmured, so quietly he barely heard her. "I wish I could be buried beside you. I wish we could cross the Styx together."

He turned towards her, unsure how to deal with her confession.

"And if you end up going to Tartarus, I wish I could go with you."

"How is that supposed to help me?" he scoffed.

"It wouldn't," she admitted, pulling her knees in closer towards herself, "But it would help me, to know that you're not suffering alone."

"Oi, there's a limit to the stupid shit I will tolerate from you. You should know where to draw the line."

"I love you, Levi."

He froze in place as time seemed to stand still. Ice pumped through his veins as she voiced the words that always hovered between them, unspoken.

Words that settled on his ears like puzzle pieces falling into place. Words he hadn't realized he had been waiting to hear. Words that took his breath away.

"I've lied to you - a lot, I know. But I swear by my freedom, these are the truest words that will ever cross my lips."

She looked out over the city, where the festivities were well underway in the distance, fireworks lighting up the sky, miles away.

She spoke evenly, her words a simple truth. "I love you. And I will love you when Apollo tires of his chariot. I will love you still when immortality ends. I will love you when death dies. I will love you when love itself has lost meaning. I will love you so long as there is anything of me that lives. And when my essence has returned to the darkness," she took a deep breath, the depth of her emotion making her wistful, "I will love you from the shadows."

"Salt…"

"You don't have to say anything in return. I know, it's difficult for you and you might not want to hear this." She gathered her courage and turned to face him, lifting soulful brown eyes to his stunned, silver ones. "But to me, you are life itself."

"And death, to me, is having to live without you. If I don't have you, I don't have anything." She sighed, and felt tears stinging her eyes. "I just… I want forever with you. But I…" she squeezed her eyes shut, willing her tears away, "I have nothing to offer you. I don't know when they might drag me back. If I were to have children, they would be just as bound to the underworld as I am. I'm here on borrowed time. I have no future to speak of."

"That's why… even though I hate the very thought… It would be for the best, if you found a mortal woman to share your life with. One who can stay with you. Have children with you. Hold your hand until the end, and be buried beside you. Your life is too short to waste it on me." Tears spilled over her cheeks at her confession. No matter how much it hurt her, no matter how much she wished it wasn't so, she knew he was wasting his precious little time on her.

"You finally say something decent and then you have to go and shit on it," he deadpanned. "Back up a bit. Say that again."

"A mortal woman?"

"Tch. Not that, stupid."

"I…" she hesitated, he didn't mean…? "I love you?"

He met her gaze evenly, his steel-grey eyes boring into hers. A long silence stretched between them.

"Say it again."

She laughed weakly, despite herself, a contrast to the tears welling in her eyes. She had been terrified to voice the words, thinking he wouldn't want to hear them. Thinking he would feel pressured to return them. Thinking he was as adverse to her saying it as he was to saying it himself.

She scooted over, closing the distance between them. Rising to her knees, she cupped his face in her hands, looking down into the depths of those grey irises, as comforting as a dream to her. "I love you, Levi. I'll say it as many times as you like. I will never stop loving you."

Still, he said nothing, his eyes tracing the angles of her face as if committing them to memory, the shape of her almond eyes, the line of her straight nose, the full lips. The planes of her face alight with the myriad colors of the fireworks going off in the distance. It was one thing to know it, and another to hear it.

"I will always love you, wherever I may be." The emotion in her eyes faltered, conflicted with sadness. "But I won't always be here to love you. So, find someone you can build your future with, Levi. I'm no better than a passing cloud."

Her long-lashed eyes lowered. It was an attempt to shield her inner pain, he knew, as she began to withdraw her hands from his face. Levi felt something burn within his chest at her words, something white-hot and fierce that bordered on angry. She didn't get to say everything she had, to speak the words they'd always skirted around for years, only to tell him to go and find someone else. What kind of stupid behaviour was that? There wasn't a chance in hell that he could accept her ridiculous suggestion, and yet he knew Salt as surely as the back of his own hand. He knew what she was like; when she had something stuck in that damned, stubborn head of hers, nothing anyone said would shift her opinion.

There remained nothing for it, he realised, but to shut her ludicrous proposal down and show her precisely how wrong she was. That she was a shadow nymph from a dark Underworld and a servant of the God of Death changed absolutely nothing in Levi's eyes. It only explained away many of her stranger tendencies in manner and speech. It did not change who she was to him, or her significance.

He regarded her grimly for a moment. Did Salt truly think that he, of all people, was capable of being deterred so easily? That he would give up on the best thing that had ever happened to him? She was sorely mistaken. They were a team, a unit, and that didn't change just because of her shitty, shady past.

He reached up, caught her wrists before she could pull away entirely, and yanked her down with such force that a surprised gasp escaped his girlfriend's lips as she found herself half-sprawled in his lap, cradled in the strong, reassuring cage of his arms.

"Oi," he said harshly. His steely irises, darkened with emotion, pierced through her. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Levi," she began, wide-eyed as she gazed up at him, and he knew, somehow, in the dimness, that she was blushing. That charming, innocent, stupid blush that did such ridiculous things inside to him. "I-"

"Find someone," he repeated her words, gaze narrowing accusingly at her. "Did your brain jump out of your head? You say that shit again, you're gonna regret it."

Her mouth opened, startled by the vehemence of his disapproval - only for any words she had prepared on her tongue to be swallowed to oblivion as his lips crashed over her own, in a kiss so passionate, so all-consuming, that it made Salt's head spin.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting it for all of one second before she reached up to him, her fingers fisting in his dark hair, returning the kiss with equal fervour. Within her chest, her heart both soared and constricted, the love she bore for him manifesting as a terrible, physical ache, the weight of which was crushing. It was hopeless, she knew. Hopeless to continue, and yet, like a crazed, fatalistic addict unable to relinquish their high, she could not stop herself from responding to his touch. Without it, she was not alive. She needed Levi like the very air mortals required to breathe. An existence without him was no existence at all, would kill her long before her final demise arrived. There was no other comparable pain, no punishment that matched the unbearable suffering, the torment of an eternity without him by her side.

His hand trailed over the curve of her face, rough fingertips grazing over her right cheekbone, venturing higher until they found the band of her ponytail. He tugged it loose, wanting to feel the silky softness of her midnight tresses beneath his seeking palms.

The hideout was a ruin, his methodical mind knew, full of rocky rubble from the damaged wall, scattered glass and litter, discarded wooden crates and abandoned, damaged furniture; a far cry from the neat and spotless order he had left it in. It was no place for mindless acts of passion, and yet as the kiss grew deeper, Levi felt the flooding warmth in his body, his blood strewn alight for her, and could not think beyond the need to remove each and every one of her ridiculous doubts, to kiss and remind her of her place at his side until she surrendered them all and accepted what he already knew.

That they were simply meant to be, and there was no other alternative.

~Refer to Angelus Mortis: Uncut on Ao3 for the rest of this scene~


After spending just over two weeks under close observation in the hospital and enduring multiple scans and operations to align the various breaks in her right arm, leg and hip, Angel was finally discharged and taken back to her apartment, wheelchair bound and still in a great degree of pain and discomfort.

The medical staff were satisfied that her head injury was stable and a consultant doctor senior to Cain had informed Angel and her family of the prognosis. It would take several months for her broken arm and legs to heal. Angel had seen the scan images, which had shown a multitude of fractures caused by the crushing impact of the beam. Her arm, the consultant had stated, would likely make a complete recovery over time, perhaps leaving only minor shoulder issues behind, but due to the extent of injury, there was a greater risk that her right leg, in particular, could cause further complications down the line, and she would require extensive physiotherapy to regain function of that limb.

Angel was also firmly ordered to return straight to hospital if she experienced any further spells of dizziness, strong nausea, severe headaches, memory loss, or excessive sleepiness, which were all indications of worsening head-trauma.

The news of being wheel-chair bound for a period of at least four months at the very minimum hit Angel hard. She was used to being outgoing and enjoyed moving around. Being confined to a wheel-chair was going to be difficult. She knew she was lucky to be alive at all, that the accident could have been so much worse. Her spine could have been snapped and left her permanently paralysed. At least she had a hope of walking normally again. She told herself she just needed to be patient.

The medication they'd sent home with her was strong and Angel loathed the side-effects. But it was the only thing that brought her much-needed pain relief. She felt that she was a captive, trapped in the prison of pain that was her body. On the morning that her father wheeled her out of the hospital, Angel inhaled deeply, hungry to draw in fresh air after weeks of being consigned to a stuffy hospital room.

Her mother had taken time off work to care for her. The hospital had advised that Angel's recovery take place in Canterbury where possible as the medics there were now familiar with her case. Angel had been relieved to hear this. She knew what her parents were like, how they would have otherwise marched her straight home. But she hadn't even told them that she'd lost her own job yet. How was she going to confess to her mother that she had no more money to pay for rent? The humiliation of it was too much for Angel to bear. Not only would her mother be staying with her for the next few months, she'd also be paying Angel's rent for her. There was no way that Angel could get a job for the foreseeable future to cover the living costs.

So much for being independent, Angel thought glumly to herself. She didn't seem to have being a grown, responsible adult figured out all that well yet.

Gabriel lifted her gently out the wheelchair and placed her onto the passenger seat at the back of the car. Castiel reached over and secured her seatbelt while Mr. Caelum placed the wheelchair in the boot of the car. When they were all inside, Cain, who had followed them out, assured Angel that he would be around often to check on her progress. Angel and her parents thanked him, and then Castiel rolled up the window and the family departed.

"Is that guy seriously your boyfriend?" Gabriel turned his eyes to his sister, frowning as their father pulled out onto the road. "For real? How come you never told me about him?"

Cain had become a grey area ever since the nightclub outing. She didn't know how to answer her brother. Were they friends? More than friends? Something in between? Identifying him as her boyfriend would mean that she was no longer single and fully committed to him. Did she even want to be something long-term with Cain?

Her eyebrows furrowed together as she stared out the window. Her heart wasn't exactly leaping at the idea, but she enjoyed his company, didn't she? Wasn't that enough? Or did she just enjoy the way his fast-paced life-style placed her thoughts on pause, helping her to avoid over-thinking issues she desperately didn't want to dwell on? All the things that had happened to her over the previous months that completely defied all logic and explanation?

Was it him, or was it the distraction he offered? How could she know, when she'd never really even had a steady boyfriend before? Only meaningless, informal 'dates' here and there that had never led to anything substantial. How could she be sure when she had never been in love before?

Cain was wild in nature. Confident, uncensored, he played by no rules but his own and Angel knew that was part of his appeal. He went to questionable places, engaged in reckless behaviours. Angel had gone along on the ride, experienced those places with him. Done things she'd never even considered in the past, chasing the same high she assumed the teenager she'd saved, Liam, had been desperate to achieve in order to feel alive. But was that truly what living was about? She found herself wondering if there was another, better way. A way that didn't involve her being hurt - physically or emotionally. Or were those guaranteed to happen, regardless of which path one carved out in life? She'd been hurt being too trusting, too sensible and naive. She'd been hurt throwing all caution to the wind. When did the pain end?

She sighed heavily, hearing all too clearly the disapproval in her brother's voice.

"We're not official," she answered. "It's a grey area."

"He seems a friendly chap, at least," Mr. Caelum said.

"Dad, seriously?" Gabriel exclaimed.

"Well," Isaac Caelum amended. "I mean, he's clearly educated. What do you think, Jules?"

"Educated doesn't equate to class, honey," his wife, Juliette, remarked dryly.

"I saw this prick chatting up his female colleagues," Gabriel informed them. "Angel, you're too good for him."

"He smiles too much," Castiel agreed, scowling. "He's kinda weird."

"Ugh. Guys. I don't want to talk about it," Angel lifted her working hand to her throbbing head. The last thing she needed now was her family judging her on her relationship with Cain. Her head hurt too much and she didn't even want to think about him at all.

"It's alright honey," her mother reassured her. "You don't need to think about that now. I'm sure it'll be comforting to your brother to know a doctor is coming over to check on you, even if he dislikes him."

"Whatever," Gabriel muttered beneath his breath. "Just don't want my sister taken advantage of."

"My daughter's no push-over," Juliette remarked, meeting Angel's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Isn't that right, love?"

Angel thought of all the people who had lied to her and taken advantage of her, and swallowed, turning her eyes back to the window where she watched the world streak by. She offered no reply, not wanting to disappoint her mother with the news that she had failed in that department, too.


They arrived at Angel's apartment, where her family helped her to settle in. Angel came to discover that her parents had been staying at her place after contacting the landlord following news of the accident. Gabriel had taken Castiel back home so that he wouldn't miss any more work and Castiel could continue going to school. Her brothers visited on weekends, but now the entire family was together again to make sure Angel had everything she needed before everyone except her mother remained behind to care for her.

It had been a while since any of her family members had visited her, and Angel had not had Vetty the last time they had. Castiel and her mother took an instant liking to her cat. The family shared a home-cooked dinner together and Angel realised how much she had missed being around them, how grateful she was for them, how good it felt to be surrounded by people who loved her unconditionally. She bickered with her brothers, enjoyed her father's dad jokes, and laughed at Vetty's cute antics as she tried to endear herself to all of her family members. Then, at the end of a pleasant night, Angel's father helped her into bed, before he and her brothers hugged her goodbye, promising that they would return to visit the following weekend.

She went to sleep for the night, heavily drugged on pain relief, and dreamt vividly again of strange shadowy figures. When she awoke in the middle of the night, crying out in pain, her mother rushed to her side to soothe her, stroking her hair until her daughter fell back into a fitful slumber once again.


He sat perched on the rooftop late that night, listening to the distressing sounds of her broken cries for help. She was suffering intensely. Her soul, trapped in a cage of torment, screamed out for aid, calling out to his very being. He knew it would take her body months to recover if left to its own devices - and even then, there was no guarantee that the recovery would be complete, and that she would be restored to her previous state of health.

It was not his place to intrude, no business of his to pay heed to an injured mortal who was safe from the time of their demise. But Angelissa was in a heavily- compromised state. Unknown threats still loomed over her. Any further attack on her now would surely be fatal.

Another cry caused a heaviness to weigh upon his chest. He determined that he would monitor the situation and continue to keep sentry outside her home between the fulfillment of his duties. Now, more than ever, she was in need of a guard, helpless and broken as she was with only her mother beside her for company.

The sound of her tearful sobs tugged persistently at him. Although he had learned not to lend ear, although his eons as the god of death meant he knew precisely how to block out the sound of her cries, he instead reduced every other plea begging audience to silence, until no voice remained but hers.


True to his word, Cain dropped by the next afternoon, bringing with him a box of fresh pastries and coffee he'd pick up for both Angel and her mother. Juliette Caelum accepted the offerings, thanking him politely, and then hung back to watch his interaction with her daughter with keen interest.

"Angel, darling," Cain sat down on the couch next to where Angel was sitting before the TV, her broken leg resting elevated on a chair. "How are you feeling?"

"My arm itches," she complained, frowning down at the heavily bandaged limb cradled close to her chest in its sling.

"Ah, a common complaint," he agreed. "How is the pain? Were you able to sleep alright?"

"Not really," Angel grumbled grumpily. "I feel like crap."

Cain regarded her for a long moment, then sighed. "What possessed you to throw yourself in harm's way like that? Look at what's happened to you, darling." He gestured at her leg cast. "That foul-mouthed little brat deserved whatever came to him."

Angel frowned. "He's just a kid," she defended. "A lost kid. He came to visit me to apologise and brought me flowers."

"Did he, now?" Cain looked bemused. "I'm surprised he has a conscience at all."

"Everyone has a story, Cain." She responded. "Maybe his parents aren't around, maybe there's a reason he's so angry with the world. How can you say something like that?"

"Because he was a punk who bit off way more than he could chew." Cain rolled his eyes. "That would've been a life-lesson for him, Angel."

"You're a doctor," Angel shook her head. "What happened to saving people?"

"I do save people. But I'm saying it should have been him, rather him than you. It was horrible for me to see you in such a state. I hate seeing you now like this."

Angel swallowed, disagreeing with him. Though she was suffering immeasurable pain, she was pleased that she had spared the poor child the agony she was feeling. Maybe the outcome would have been different if he had been hit. Maybe he might have died. She'd gotten terribly hurt, but at least nobody had passed away. She took great comfort from that fact.

"Mrs. Caelum," Cain called to Angel's mother, who stepped out of the kitchen with hot drinks and the treats he had brought. "Has Angel been eating well?"

"Here and there," Juliette answered. "I think the medication leaves her feeling a little nauseous."

"Oh yes, it's ghastly stuff," Cain mused. "But the only thing that will do."

"How long do you think it will take for her arm to mend, at least?" Mrs. Caelum asked.

Cain rested a casual elbow on the couch's arm-rest. "Hmm. It should be quicker than her leg. Her leg suffered the worst brunt of the impact. Maybe eight to twelve weeks. We'll book her in for some physio too once the scans look good, to make sure she regains full function in her arm and fingers. Snapped everything. Even her wrist."

Angel felt it. She felt like her arm was just barely attached to her shoulder.

"Honey, do you want some pastries?" Her mother offered.

Angel shook her head. She usually loved sweet things, but the idea of eating anything sugary right then set her stomach churning. "I'm tired," she mumbled, trying to fight off the sudden wave of sleepiness that crashed over her. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy.

"Take a nap, baby," her mother moved to get the blanket, but Cain was already on his feet.

"Please, allow me," he offered, and gallantly snatched it before she could, spreading it over Angel comfortingly. She soon dozed off.

Cain reached out and tucked a lock of hair carefully behind Angel's ear. Mrs. Caelum watched him in silence for a moment, before saying, "Dr. Lockwood. What was my daughter doing at the construction site? Why was it unsupervised?"

He sighed and turned sorrowful eyes to her. "Angel wanted to go skating. I took her to a place I knew. There's never been an accident there before, and I've been several times."

She folded her arms, pursing her lips. "I assume there were warning signs the pair of you ignored."

He shrugged. "As I said, there was never an issue before."

"That's reckless of your both," she scowled. In her mind, she added that it was also wholly unlike Angel.

"In hindsight, yes," Cain replied, sipping on his coffee. "I feel terrible."

Mrs. Caelum eyed him for a moment, before continuing, "And this boy she saved?"

"A little scoundrel who was showing off in front of his friends," Cain waved a dismissive hand. "He tried to start trouble, and in the midst of it a beam fell from the scaffolding. Angel threw herself into the way. I tried to stop her. It escapes me why she would think to do such a reckless thing, when the boy was insulting her."

Mrs. Caelum's eyes narrowed. "My daughter has a kind heart and hates to see anyone else in pain. It may have been a reckless thing to do, but I assure you, it was done out of kindness."

"So she would rather take it upon herself?" He shook his head, as if he couldn't understand the reasoning behind Angel's actions. "Why suffer yourself in someone else's stead?"

"I suppose," Juliette's eyes moved to her daughter, softening with affection. "You could look at it like that. She's always trying to save others, to make sure nobody feels left out, ever since she was a little girl."

"How sweet," Cain remarked, but she didn't miss the way he frowned as if in disapproval. "This accident was entirely avoidable," he went on. "The boy was the one who should have been hit. Now she has been instead, and is confined to a wheel-chair for who knows how long? A price she did not need to pay. A pity, really…" He glanced thoughtfully at Angel.

Juliette's eyebrows rose. She said nothing to that. She watched as his phone pinged and he glanced down, blinking, then smirking slightly in amusement as he sent some messages back to someone. She determined that for her daughter's supposed 'boyfriend', he was a bit too laid back and distracted given Angel's present state.

Cain then glanced up at her, and smiled, finishing off his drink.

"I am glad I had the opportunity to meet you, Mrs. Caelum. I can certainly see where Angel gets her beauty from."

Mrs. Caelum pursed her lips. "Thank you for the compliment," she replied tautly. "I think it's best we let her rest now. Thank you so much for stopping by to check on her."

"Of course," he nodded, looking back to the sleeping young woman. "I'm just a phone-call away. Anything you need, call me. I do care very much about her."

"Thank you," Mrs. Caelum said politely again, and saw him to the door.


Two days later, Angel's mother finally confronted her about Cain.

"Honey," she said. "Where did you meet him?"

"At the vet's when I first found Vetty," Angel confessed, lifting a spoonful of chicken soup to her lips. If there was one amazing perk to having her mother around, other than the welcome company, it was that she had a break from doing all her chores, and got to enjoy her mother's delicious home-cooking again. Angel was sure by the time the six months or so of healing were up, she would be several kilograms heavier and none of her skinny-jeans and clothes would even fit her anymore.

"And... do you like him?" Her mother ventured, taking a sip of her hot chocolate as she sat beside her daughter, flipping through a magazine she'd purchased from a local corner shop. "You said you weren't official."

"We're not," Angel lifted her working shoulder in a shrug. "We've been out together a few times. Gone to concerts and clubs and stuff. Nothing major."

"I assume you've kissed?" Her mother's blunt question caused Angel's cheeks to flush deeply. "Since he identified himself as your boyfriend."

"M-mum," she coughed, wincing as she swallowed down a mouthful of too-hot soup.

"It's just a question, and I already see the answer," her mother raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"So what?" Angel answered, trying to play it cool - and failing. After all, her mother had the irritating gift of seeing right through her and always had. "I mean, I was kind of drunk at the time, so it doesn't really count." She didn't want to think the other times counted either, considering they'd only been quick pecks here and there - always initiated by Cain.

"To boys, that does count," her mother pursed her lips. "They're only after one thing at this age, unfortunately. Assuming he is your age."

"But you met dad at my age." Angel pointed out.

"Times were different then," her mother replied. "Of course boys are boys, but this man…" she shook her head, and closed the magazine, turning earnest eyes to her daughter. "Oh, honey," she sighed. "You know I love you and trust you. You're a sensible girl, you've always been sensible, and I hate to intrude, but are you being sensible about this boy? He's a doctor, yes, and he seems charming, but he's very sure of himself, and comes across as a little self-centred."

"You mean confident?" Angel asked. "We have a good time, mum, it's nothing serious."

"Well, that's all very well and good, but does he respect you, honey? Even if it's nothing heavy, he should respect you. Do you have similar values and principles?"

Angel frowned. She thought of the drugs incident, how uncomfortable that memory still was for her.

Her mother pressed, raising an eyebrow at her, "When you were asleep the other day, he was very critical of you helping the boy. Not very compassionate, given he's a doctor."

"He's just upset I got hurt instead of the kid," Angel said. "Sometimes he says stupid things, but he has helped me out a lot, too."

"Helped you in what way?"

"Just, with stuff…" Angel answered vaguely. "When my car broke down. Helping distribute my CVs."

"Baby, boys do that when they're after something." Her mother pursed her lips. "Look at you. You're beautiful, intelligent, amazing. I don't fault him for being interested one bit. I'm just not so sure he's your type."

"Everyone else seems to know what my type is," Angel muttered in exasperation. "What is it, then?"

"Well," her mother ventured thoughtfully. "I'm sure it's someone a bit less… crass than he is? Someone a bit more mature, less arrogant? He's good at his job, I don't question that, but he also just seems to be very… well, showy. Even his worry seemed a little lukewarm. If he really loved you, I'm sure he'd-"

Angel laughed dryly. "Mum, who said anything about love? I mean," she glanced at her mother. "I guess, I just admire how he walks his own path, irrespective of what anyone else thinks. I've never been in love to compare."

"Oh, when you're in love, you know it, honey," her mother replied. "The person is all you can think about. You lay awake at night, and that's all that comes to mind."

Angel was silent. Cain definitely didn't fall into that category. In fact- she stemmed the thought before it could continue, not allowing herself to dwell on it any further.

"He's rich," Angel supplied. "I guess he's used to being in that kind of environment. His father is an oil tycoon."

"But not all rich people are like that, honey. He seems the flaunting type. I don't want him objectifying you. He's already declared himself your boyfriend when you've said yourself you're not official. That's presumptuous."

Angel was silent for a moment. Then she confessed to her mother honestly, "He can be a jerk sometimes. I know he's outrageous and he's loud. But being around him keeps my mind off things."

Her mother regarded her for a moment. "Honey. This isn't the same man you were telling me about over the phone? The one that had you so upset?"

Angel stared blankly at her for a moment, before realisation dawned upon her, causing her embarrassment to magnify ten-fold. "Oh. No. God, no! That's not him. He's nothing like- I mean-" she fumbled, before biting her tongue to force herself to stop talking.

"I just hope this man wasn't a rebound while your feelings were hurt from the other one- what was his name?" Her mother mused. "You never told me."

Angel swallowed, the memory of dark, searing eyes haunting her mind, their intensity inescapably engraved into her memories. "Nobody," she near-whispered, shoving the image of Itachi into the darkest catacombs of her mind. "He was... nobody."

"Well, your brother doesn't like this Dr. Lockwood, either," Mrs. Caelum laughed. "You know how overprotective he gets."

"Gabe doesn't want me dating anyone. Ever." Angel rolled her eyes. "He's worse than dad."

"That's not true," her mother chuckled, a tinkling, pleasant sound. "We all want to see you settled and happy, but with the right man. I just want you to be careful, honey, and to find someone who respects you for who you are, not for shallow, superficial reasons. And not anyone who leads you to do reckless things, either. It's your life and your decision. You're young. There's no pressure to commit to anyone just yet and don't let anyone pressure you to do it."

"Thanks, mum," Angel answered. "But I don't want you worrying about me. This was just an accident. It was my own stupid fault. I didn't have to follow him into the building, but I did."

"You're alive," her mother stroked her hair softly. "That's all that matters. We've all done crazy things in our youth. But, no more construction sites for you in future. There are warning signs plastered all over them for a reason, honey."

"Right," Angel agreed.

"What about work?" Her mother then changed the subject, causing Angel's stomach to form knots of dread. "Have you sorted everything out with them? I have the doctor's sick note here, if you want me to contact them on your behalf?"

"N-no," Angel refused. "Mum, it's fine. Don't worry about it." But guilt was eating her up inside. She still hadn't told her parents that she'd lost her job because she'd chosen to walk out herself. They would surely think her immature, a terrible disappointment. But the secret was crushing her inside and she knew the longer she remained silent about it, the worse it would be when her mother inevitably found out.

"Mum," she blurted out a moment later. "I- I quit."

Her mother blinked at her in surprise. "What?"

Angel bit her lower lip, tears stinging her eyes. "I… walked out. The manager was bullying me and I was miserable and I walked out and he fired me officially hours later." She rambled.

Her mother's blue eyes widened. "Oh, sweetheart…" she exclaimed. "When was this?"

"Just over a month ago," Angel confided miserably. "I was applying for jobs. And now this accident happened, and…" her voice trailed off. "I'm sorry," her voice wavered. "I know I'm a failure. I just want to be happy. I just want to find somewhere where I fit in and belong and… that place wasn't it."

"You're not a failure, honey," her mother shook her head. "You've told me about your boss many times before. If it felt like the right thing to do, then it was the right thing to do."

Angel stared at her in astonishment, relief flooding through her. "You're… not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" Her mother raised her eyebrows. "I'd be a hypocrite, since I walked out of a job too when I was nineteen."

"You did?" Angel gaped at her. "You never told me that."

"It was a summer job," her mother explained. "At a cafe. The manager was an ogre who pestered us girls and I upped and left without notice. Then I went on to secure an incredible contract a summer later. Sometimes disasters are blessings in disguise, honey. You got out of a toxic environment. Good on you."

"But the rent," Angel went on. "I was meaning to find something else, anything."

"Oh, don't worry about that." Her mother dismissed. "Your father will be covering the rent from now on, I'll let him know."

"No, mum," Angel protested. "I really don't want to-"

"Just until you're all healed up." Her mother insisted, raising a hand to quell her arguments. "You can't earn any income right now in your state, anyway. We can figure out the rest later, alright?"

"I feel like a burden," Angel said dejectedly. So much for being independent.

"You're our daughter. You're never a burden, love. It's just a shame that we can't take you back home," her mother sighed. "I'm sure we'd all prefer that. But it doesn't matter, anyway. So long as you heal up. How much is rent a month, honey?"

Angel's eyes lowered guiltily as she confessed the amount to her mother.

"Oh, that's manageable," her mother nodded. "Don't you worry about it."

"How will I ever repay you guys?" Angel's eyes welled with tears. She felt overly emotional, a result of the medication and all the stress she had been under for so long, as well as the relief of knowing that her financial worries, at least, were going to be taken care of by her family. She'd expected her mother to be disappointed, upset. Instead Mrs. Caelum had shown her nothing but kindness, sympathy and understanding.

"I'm sure we'll find ways," her mother laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately. "We funded you for eighteen years before you moved out. What's a few months more, honey?"

"Thanks, mum," Angel whispered gratefully.

"Anytime, love." Mrs. Caelum then rose to her feet. "Now what do you say we take a walk outside?" she suggested cheerfully. "We've been cooped up indoors for a few days, and the sun is shining. How about a walk around the block? I'd like to look around, too."

"Sure," Angel agreed.


Twenty minutes later, her mother wheeled her out into the early afternoon sunshine. Angel inhaled deeply, wrapped snugly in a warm blanket, enjoying the crisp autumn air, turning her face up to the sun that shone in a pleasantly clear blue sky. Given that it was early October, the weather was favourable. Orange and brown leaves lay scattered on the streets, the trees not yet finished with their seasonal shedding. Angel watched as people strolled along, getting on with their daily lives. She already missed walking. To think that just several weeks earlier, she had been just like them, taking all her movements for granted.

Her mother chatted away, admiring the local surroundings as they walked past little shops. Angel listened absently, the soothing movement of the wheelchair soon causing her eyelids to grow heavy, lulling her into a light sleep.

The sound of her mother's voice calling to her drew her back to wakefulness. Angel blinked, once again feeling displaced, not sure how long she had dozed off for.

"Honey?" Her mother's face came into focus, looking at her with concern and affection. "You took a little nap. Are you alright?"

Angel blinked. They had come to a stop somewhere green, she realised.

"Yeah," she said, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. "Just tired, I guess."

"I found a local park nearby," her mother informed her, smiling as she took out a flask of tea and some cakes she'd brought with them. "I thought it'd be nice for you to look at nature. Look," she nodded to the side. "There's a pretty little river here, too."

All remnants of grogginess flew from Angel's mind and she stiffened, immediately tense and painfully aware of her surroundings. Inside her chest, her heart painfully constricted before skipping several beats, quickening in its rhythm as recognition and dread washed over her. Her mother didn't know any better, she told herself. Her mother was only trying to help. She had no way of knowing how much this very spot pained Angel.

It was the very same place that she had been avoiding ever since her final, cruel parting with Itachi. The day he had told her she was nothing to him, not even a friend, merely a means to an end in his investigation.

Angel felt her throat clog with emotion and her eyes blur with tears as she gazed miserably at the rippling water. It was serene, a calming, tranquil sight, and yet she had never felt such unrest. Her gaze trailed over the trees, gently dropping their leaves around them, and before she could stop it, tears were spilling down her cheeks.

She remembered their talks. How much they had meant to her. How much peace they had brought to her, how much of a great source of warmth and comfort it had been, sitting beside him, listening to his gentle wisdom, to the way he made the world make so much more sense, wasting no idle words in doing so. As if he had held the answer to every question, the solution to every problem. Angel blinked through her tears. She knew those had been her own stupid delusions. And yet how could he have put her sister's death so effortlessly into context and helped her with finally accepting it, only to heartlessly cut her off and inform her it had been nothing but an assignment to him all along?

Why had he encouraged her not to give up on her writing? How had that benefited his investigation at all, how had any of it helped him in any way, speaking to a nameless nobody who was so wholly unremarkable as she was? Why her? Why had he showed up in her life, woven a dark enchantment upon her only to abruptly take his leave without explanation? And then choose to reappear, months later, seemingly to judge her actions? Why did he torment her so? Why her?

She loathed the thoughts running through her mind. Still months later, the lack of answers tortured her and she didn't know why. They had barely even been friends. Why did all thoughts relating to Itachi leave her with such an inexplicable, lingering feeling of deep sadness? Was it because she mourned an innocence lost? Because a part of her knew that she had lost contact with someone she had known to be exceptional from the very start? It hadn't just been his dark beauty, his easy, almost regal grace. He was a man who spoke like nobody else she had ever met, certainly nobody around her own age. Humble and thoughtful. A man who was emotionally and intellectually mature far beyond his physical appearance. A man whose soft-spoken, quiet nature had compelled her to think more deeply about things, had helped open her eyes to another way of looking at the world.

That world-view had vanished along with him, leaving Angel with the painful, harsh reality. People took advantage of kind, trusting hearts. Itachi had crushed hers. All the lies. The deceit. The refusal to afford her any answers. The permanent scars on her back, which would always serve as a reminder of everything that had transpired between them.

Why did she still miss his presence, months after he had treated her so terribly? Why did the betrayal still hurt so much, when the friendship had been entirely fabricated by her own naive mind, and he had admitted to not viewing her in the same way?

She was nothing but a fool. She could only hate him - and herself even more, for her lingering stupidity and inability to get over his ruthless rejection. She had been blind, too trusting, too everything around him. Just looking at him had seemed to steal all rational sense from her mind. She hated the effect he'd had on her. The effect he still had on her. The disarming power to still the chaos of her thoughts, and to set her heart racing. Those heavy-lashed, dark, solemn, knowing, intense eyes, that seemed to see right through her, as if they were capable of peering into her very soul-

"Honey?" Her mother, who was holding out a cup of tea to her, frowned at the tears she saw on her daughter's face. "Oh, sweetheart. What's the matter?"

Angel hastily wiped at her face with her left hand. "Nothing," she whispered. Sitting by the river was too much, too overwhelming, too painful a reminder of Itachi and the yawning chasm his absence had left in her life, and yet she wasn't about to tell her mother that, or demand they leave. She knew her mother would get suspicious. She knew her too well. Angel didn't have the heart to tell her. "I'm sorry. It must be the meds."

"Have some tea and cake, love," her mother handed her the thermal cup and placed a homemade blueberry muffin wrapped neatly in a napkin on the blanket on her lap. Angel sipped the steaming tea, trying to fight the tremor that assaulted her fingers. She inhaled slowly again, willing herself to calm down. This was just the spot they had met in, she reminded herself. It didn't mean he was anywhere nearby.

The cawing of a bird drew her attention up to the tree just over their heads, startling her so that she split some of her tea onto her blanket. She found a crow perched upon a branch, tilting its head quizzically at her. Angel blinked up at it. She was seeing a lot of those birds around, including on her balcony at night. She looked away, shrugging it off. It was just a coincidence, she knew. There were a lot of crows and ravens in general in Canterbury.

She munched on her delicious muffin, watching as her mother set down her cup and neared the river's edge.

"Where does this river lead to?" Mrs. Caelum wondered.

"I'm not sure," Angel admitted. "I've never really followed it beyond this park."

"How lovely to have this so close to your apartment, honey," her mother smiled. "It's a lovely spot to read and write and clear your head in, isn't it?"

Angel swallowed. "Right," she forced herself to agree. The horrible irony was that it was the place that caused all peace to elude her.

Mrs. Caelum picked up a stone. Angel eyed her curiously.

"Mum? What are you doing?"

Her mother tossed the stone into the river. "Skipping stones. I've never been much good at it," she laughed.

Angel watched her. "You're holding it wrong," she began automatically. "It needs to be at the right angle, and then you…" her voice trailed off. Her heart lurched at the sudden memory that flashed almost tauntingly through her mind.

A warm, gentle hand, positioning her wrist at precisely the correct angle. Dark eyes meeting hazel. An encouraging nod.

She gulped, blinking back the fresh tears that threatened to well in her eyes. What was she doing?

Stop it, she pleaded to him in her mind. Please. Why won't you get out of my head?

"Like this?" Her mother attempted, failing spectacularly once again.

Angel didn't respond, and watched in silence as her mother continued to try, before she declared defeat and rejoined her daughter, sitting on the grass where they watched the sunlight glisten off the river's surface together.


The weeks passed, and as they did, Angel grew increasingly frustrated by her lack of mobility. Her dominant right hand was completely unusable, and trying to do anything with her left hand resulted in making a mess. She relied heavily on her mother to help her do the simplest things, such as bathing and washing her hair, clipping her nails, helping her dress, and all the other things she had taken for granted before her accident. Mrs. Caelum took care of her patiently, always saying and doing things to help keep her daughter's spirits lifted. But on the days when Angel broke down in frustration, or simply cried from feeling helpless and overwhelmed, her mother was there for her, offering comforting hugs and reassurances that she would fully recover in time.

Cain dropped by often, keeping a close eye on her recovery. After six weeks had passed, he scheduled another hospital scan for her at the two month mark, which was when her bandages were set to be removed to check on the progress of healing.

Angel found that her symptoms had slowly started to improve. The worst of the pain that bothered her at night seemed to have passed. Any lingering concussion symptoms had all but cleared.

She tried to get back into her writing but typing with one hand was slow and aggravating. Angel found she was at her happiest when the rest of her family came around, helping to distract her from her sadness, or when her mother took her for a walk outside. The visits to the river didn't become any easier, but Angel tolerated them, accepting that there was no use in wallowing any further. What was done was done.

And all the while, as time continued to march on, she remained oblivious to the pair of eyes that watched her, monitoring her recovery closely from the trees and shadows.


It had been two months to the day since her discharge from hospital, and Angel was slowly starting to feel more like her old self, at least in the clarity of her thoughts and wakefulness. She no longer took the strongest of pain medication, and found that her sleepiness and headaches had subsided as a result. Her mind felt sharper, and though she still had terrible days where she was seized with anxiety over the worry that her limbs wouldn't heal completely, she tried to maintain a positive outlook. Her friends visited her often, filling her living room with flowers and gifts, noise and laughter as they did manicures, pedicures, played music, watched chick-flicks and rallied around Angel to cheer her up, all the while enjoying the snacks and food served to them by Angel's doting mother.

But there was one face Angel noted the absence of. As she sat amongst familiar friends she'd made in childhood, high-school and university, Angel couldn't help but think of Salt. Her mother had told her on several occasions that Salt frequently texted her to check in on Angel's wellbeing. She had even dropped off some cakes from the cafe outside the apartment, but had chosen not to come upstairs despite Mrs. Caelum's insistence that it would be perfectly fine for her to do so.

Every time her mother mentioned Salt, Angel would feel a deep, twisting pain within her chest. A part of her missed Salt terribly. That she had come so close to losing her life - again - had ebbed away some of the anger she'd felt toward her former best friend over the weeks of her healing. Angel had had a lot of time to reflect on life, and how short and precious it was - how grudges could lead to eternal regrets - but that didn't mean she was ready to speak to Salt or to see her again. Anytime she scrolled through her phone and her eyes came to rest hesitantly on Salt's name, Angel was reminded of her connection to Itachi, Salt's Master, and everything that had happened surrounding him, all the endless, needless lies, along with the ugly confrontation they'd had at the nightclub - and she always found herself swallowing miserably before setting her phone aside.

She refused to tell her mother what the issue was with Salt. She couldn't talk about it without mentioning Itachi, and she knew that if she opened her mouth and told her mother about him, then she would never stop, she would say too much, her mother would know too much, and would probably question her daughter's sanity. She'd already just about managed to convince her mother that she'd gotten tattoos to explain the strange, shadowy marks on her back. She couldn't face telling her mother the truth. That she'd been marked by an enigmatic, supernatural entity who had saved her life following a terrible accident in the sea. It sounded ridiculous even to Angel's own mind. And so she kept it all in, stating that they'd just had a bad fight, and that maybe someday they would fix it.

But as she fell asleep that night, Angel wondered if she'd pushed Salt too far away already for them to ever even attempt a reconciliation of any kind.


He moved as silently as a shadow in the darkened room. Angelissa's mother had fallen asleep on the couch, just as she had for the previous two months, keeping vigil over her daughter. He paused, looking over the woman's sleeping form. She had sacrificed many sleepless nights tending to Angelissa, he knew, but that labour of love was about to come to an end. They had both struggled enough, and he was ready to finish the work he had begun weeks prior that night.

Itachi drew to a stop by Angelissa's bedside, his dark gaze softening as it came to rest upon her fair, slumbering features. Words she had thought out to him weeks before returned to his mind with perfect clarity.

Stop it. Please. Why won't you get out of my head?

Still he caused her unrest, and yet he was powerless to assist her in her request. For she haunted his thoughts in turn, though she did not know it. Had he possessed the ability to do as she asked and stop whatever mysterious force it was that compelled both their musings to turn to one another, then he would have long since done so and spared them both the strife. The only way to truly relieve her of the burden, he knew, was to allow Shisui to erase all memory of him in her mind.

That had been his cousin's wager, and Itachi did not know why the thought of him doing it did not bring him the sense of relief he might have otherwise expected. Was it what Angelissa wanted? To truly forget him? He supposed he could not fault her for that. He knew only that he wished not to forget her.

He observed her grimly for a moment, noting her to be sound asleep. Then, just as he had done many times before over the course of the previous two months, he lifted his hand, resting his index and middle finger lightly upon her right shoulder. From his barely perceptible touch, cool tendrils of shadow seeped through her skin, wrapping around the bones in her arm, slowly working to mend the fractures within. He had done the same thing gradually over many visits, so as to allow a more natural, progressive rate of healing. Already Angelissa's mind was fully recovered. It had been the first part of her he had completely restored, removing all evidence of concussion and bruising, ensuring there were no lasting adverse-effects to her mental cognition and personality.

What remained was to fix the final breaks in her limbs. He closed his eyes, focusing his divine energy. Death maimed, and was not healing by nature, but Itachi was a deity as much as any other regardless of his function, and he possessed in his hands the power to regenerate wounds as he willed. Not as flawlessly as perhaps those forged by light as the Olympians were, whose healing never left behind any trace of blemishes. But enough, certainly, to mend fractured bones. He sent a stronger wave of restorative chakra through her arm, visualising the moment the final cracks in her bone fused together. Satisfied that she would have full control of her arm once again, he opened his eyes, his gaze shifting from her peaceful expression, down to her legs.

His fingers trailed lower, resting over the position of her right hip, concealed to him beneath the duvet cover. Once more he concentrated, seeing the breaks in his mind, channelling soothing, shadow-natured chakra precisely through her hip bone and down the multiple fractures in her leg. The damaged bones merged back together seamlessly, fully renewed.

Itachi then drew his hand back, his gaze resting on her face once more. Her expression relaxed as the pain that had plagued her body these last months finally left her. She released a soft sigh of relief as the underlying tension at last faded from her body. She would walk again by the morrow, and surely herald it as a miracle. Itachi regarded her a moment longer as she settled into a deep, tranquil sleep, that faint breath of gratitude still lingering on his mind.

His gaze then flicked briefly onto Vetty. The feline was curled by Angelissa's side and stared up at him, swishing her tail back and forth, clearly pleased to see her familiar fully restored to health.

'You are kind to her, Lord Thanatos. Kind to ease her suffering', she communicated telepathically to the stoic deity.

Itachi said nothing to that, but answered her with another statement.

'My mother bids you return to the Underworld.'

Vetty yawned, appearing bored. 'I will do as I please,' she answered simply, and snuggled closer to the sleeping mortal, as if to make a point that her place was by her side.

Itachi regarded her silently for a long moment, recognising it as devotion. Then, a few seconds later, he vanished out of sight entirely.


AN: Please be so kind as to leave a review, thank you!