Part XXXII: Breaking the Ice


The jingling of keys brought Salt's nose out of the book she was reading to distract herself. Had Levi already returned from dropping off Angel? Seeing Levi's figure in the doorway, laying the keys down on the sideboard, she rose to her feet and took a few steps toward him, before stopping suddenly in the middle of the room.

He had heard everything about her circumstances from her already, but now he had seen it as well. Seen with his own eyes that she was anything but human. That had to be different, right? From simply hearing it? Did that change anything?

When his piercing grey eyes lifted from the sideboard to catch her own, pinning her in place as they always did, through no effort on his part, her breath caught in her throat. His gaze wandered down her form, before coming to rest on her side.

He approached her wordlessly and when he came up against her, so that she could look right into those misty, silver irises, she forgot entirely whatever she had been contemplating before he had closed the distance between them. His long fingers trailed up her hips, reaching for the hem of her white, oversized T-shirt. His touch was practical, succinct and yet it sent a shiver across her skin.

Pulling the soft jersey fabric upwards, his hands came to rest on either side of her ribcage, keeping her shirt in place as he held her at arm's length. His eyes trailed over the faint scars that still marred her skin and Salt averted her gaze, a blush dusting her cheekbones.

She knew his movements were objective, clinical almost, as he got a better look at where the wound had been. Levi was either on or off with a very clear distinction between the two. At the moment, as he frowned and traced the scars with elegant, gentle fingertips, he didn't have a thought in his head besides her injury, she knew. Unlike Levi, however, she was more like a flame - sometimes a raging inferno, others flickering low like a candle, but always burning for him.

"Isn't this faster than usual?" He murmured quietly, finally breaking the silence as his brow furrowed in thought.

Salt cleared her throat, attempting to keep her voice steady. "It is," she agreed, "I'm wondering what happened, too. Was there - did Angel say anything about someone else being there?"

"No," he answered evenly, pulling the hem of her shirt back down to cover her. "Why? You suspect something?"

"Not really, I mean, Thanatos could have healed me, but I don't think he was there and it would have been out of character for him anyway." She dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"How so?" He questioned with a frown.

"I don't think he would intervene unless I was dying or he wanted to teach me a lesson," she explained.

"Lesson?"

"Yeah, it's happened before."

"At the beach?"

"Yes."

Levi paused, considering, "What was the lesson?"

"Oh, you know… that I'm not human, not to get so freaked out over everything because I can always heal. Be more willing to take risks."

"More willing to take risks?" Salt missed the note of irritation in his otherwise cool voice.

"Yes. He's not wrong," she added, seeing his expression, "If those dogs had gotten you or Angel we wouldn't be standing here right now, having this talk."

"Has it always been monsters? Your 'alleycats' too? Were they shitty two-headed zero-brained dogs?" Levi scowled.

"Well, they were… more like birds. But yes, generally monsters so far." Salt provided lightly.

"I don't like this." Levi sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the ground beside her.

"Why not? What part?" She looked up at him earnestly and his steel-grey eyes shifted to meet her dark brown, consuming irises. Eyes that could swallow him whole.

"Why does it have to be you?" He muttered, annoyed.

"Why not me? Who else could do it? Who better to protect Angel than me?" She countered.

To this, Levi said nothing. He still remembered the days she had clung to him, weeping bitterly, claiming the responsibility was too much for her to bear. That Angel would die and she would be helpless to stop it. He recalled the night she had returned with her shoulder torn open, the day they had come back from the beach and she had been so anguished - paralyzed with terror. Apparently, she had been hurt that day, too, but Mr. Grim Reaper had healed her, somehow.

Why was she expected to let herself be torn apart again and again - simply because she would heal? Surely, that didn't mean it hurt any less? And it didn't sound like this shady character appreciated any of the sacrifices Salt was making. It didn't sound like he could be trusted with Salt's safety at all. He recognized the mysterious man's decision-making. Salt was disposable, to him. A human shield - or a whatever she was … nymph-shield.

"What happened to you on the beach? Before you were healed?" Levi wanted to know.

"Uh…" Salt evaded, her mind feeling thick and numb. There was no good way to tell Levi she had lost an arm. No way to mention it at all. She could only imagine how angry he would be and she was not at all inclined to see it.

"You hurt your arm, didn't you?" Levi narrowed his eyes, already seeing Salt's fingers inch towards her shoulder as they always did when she was nervous. Ever since that shitty day.

With a jolt, Salt drew her hand back. "That was ages ago, it doesn't matter anymore."

"Let me be the judge of that," Levi retorted, stepping closer.

Salt automatically drew back, "I … um…" She retreated as Levi approached, thinking frantically of a believable lie. A way to lessen the impact of what had happened.

When her heels bumped into a dresser behind her in her mindless retreat, she almost stumbled over it, but Levi caught hold of her elbow and pulled her back to safety.

"Out with it," Levi demanded, his intonation even. He never needed to raise his voice to capture her attention.

"Uh, well… it was kind of… snapped off." She floundered, wincing as she recalled the way the vine had cleanly whipped through her arm - skin, flesh, bone and all.

Levi froze. Remembering the almost psychotic way Salt had taken to clinging to the limb, her traumatized demeanor - it all suddenly made sense. A dim emotion flickered briefly in his grey eyes as he reached out and held her shoulders, gently stroking his thumb against her phantom injury.

"And that Reaper-guy healed you?"

"Yeah, told me to stop thinking like a human."

"Tch." As much as Levi bore a grudge against the mysterious stranger, he could not deny that he owed him a debt of gratitude for healing Salt, regardless of the reason.

"What were those black vines you were using to fight? Why couldn't I touch them?" He questioned instead.

"The shadows?" Salt replied, "Thanatos gave them to me. I told you about them. I suppose mortals would call it… umbrakinesis? Or something like that… I read it somewhere."

"Shadows?" They had felt so cold, gripping tightly onto Angel, but impalpable between his fingers. Certainly not like regular shadows that one passed through without being any the wiser.

"Yes, they belong to Lord Thanatos."

"Show me." Levi's demand was met with surprise, but Salt bit her lip. She hoped Thanatos wouldn't mind her using her powers without any real danger at hand. Would he even know? Probably. There was little that escaped his notice. It made no real difference to Salt. It wasn't like she was going to say no to Levi, regardless of the death deity's disapproval.

She lifted her hand, palm facing upwards, and summoned into existence a faint wisp of shadow, hovering over her outstretched hand like the flame of a lighter.

"This…" Levi began, regarding the shadow tendril with veiled curiosity. "... is what you're made of?"

Salt had never thought of it that way before. That the shadows she wielded were her own very essence, but it was true. She nodded her agreement.

Levi lifted his hand over hers, observing the way the wisp of shadow separated around his hand, floating past it, between his fingers, intangible to his touch. The tendril was freezing cold, but provided no resistance, his hand passed through it until it met Salt's own, smooth palm. He closed his hand around hers. She claimed to be a shadow, and yet - she was tangible, she was warm, she was entirely different.

"You were pretty cool out there," Salt offered with a small smile.

Brought back to the present, he held her hand firmly. "Yeah?" he asked with a raised brow as he lifted his gaze from her hand to the open admiration written in her expression. He knew Salt held him in ridiculously high regard, but he never tired of hearing it - within reason.

"I would have lost her back there without you. Thank you so much for your help. Really. It makes me feel like… I should have confided in you a long time ago," she confessed sheepishly.

"You think?" Levi drawled sarcastically, driving the point home.

Salt merely nodded, embarrassed. All her concerns now felt so insignificant, in retrospect.

"You weren't too shabby yourself," Levi returned the compliment, pulling her in with his free hand to kiss the top of her head.

"That's how it has to be, working together. Don't forget it," he reminded her earnestly.

"I won't," she promised, her eyes fluttering shut in his embrace as she squeezed his hand fondly.

They were a team. Angel was safe, the crisis had been averted. They were friends again, not to mention, both of her dear friends had accepted her for who she was.

Life was good. It truly was, for once.


A little over an hour later, Angel found herself standing outside of her apartment building, looking up at the window that led to her bedroom.

Levi had dropped her off, at Salt's insistence and despite Angel's protests. His parting words, a reminder not to take no for an answer, she had acknowledged with a nod before bidding him goodbye.

Her heart was full to the brim with a multitude of feelings. Regret, guilt, grief… but also gratitude, love, and despite herself, hope. Reuniting with Salt and Levi had felt like coming home - long overdue. Who was to blame for everything that had happened? Part of her blamed herself and another… she frowned and tore her eyes away from her window, making her way to the front door.

Itachi - for all his wisdom, for all his grace and elegance, for all he seemed to have all the answers, had simply refused to allow her the simplest solace of knowing what was going on in her own life. Had forbidden Salt from revealing it - even going so far as to threaten her with death! Angel shook her head as she unlocked the door, unable to make sense of it. What could possibly be so important? What could warrant such drastic measures?

With a sigh, she took the stairs to the seventh floor, trying to both push her thoughts away and sift through them at the same time. Exhaustion both mental and physical left her feeling weary and weak. She wanted nothing more than to fall into a long and deep sleep. Perhaps an endless one. Angel bit her lip and shook her head. No, she could not succumb to such thoughts. A long one would do.

Unlocking the door to her apartment she stepped inside and shrugged off her jacket, stepping neatly out of her shoes as she hung her keys on the key board. When she turned towards the hallway she froze, seeing Vetty sitting in the darkness in the middle of the hallway, her black, bushy tail swishing back and forth.

It was an ominous image and Angel took a deep breath, banishing her nerves. Salt had said Vetty was alright in the end, hadn't she? That must mean she had been wrong in the beginning, right? An inkling in the back of Angel's mind told her that surely, Vetty, too, was somehow linked to the supernatural, for it was only when Vetty had made her sudden appearance in her life that all this chaos began. One near-death experience after another, as well as her meetings with Itachi… it had all begun when she had picked up one cold, wet kitty in the rain.

Angel didn't want to believe that Vetty was anything other than what she appeared to be. She had been a constant source of comfort throughout these past few months. She was familiar, affectionate, and Angel registered dimly that in her heart of hearts she considered the two of them as something of a small family. If Vetty was anything more than a simple cat, Angel didn't want to know it. Not now, at least.

"Evening, Vetty," she greeted quietly, "Sorry I'm late." She petted her cat briefly as she passed by, on her way to her bedroom. She pulled open the pajama drawer absentmindedly, removing the first thing her hands grasped, a soft, silky white mid-length nightdress that grazed just above her knees. Changing into it, she tugged the thin straps over her shoulders.

"I made up with Salt," she mumbled, collapsing face-first into the mattress. She turned her head to the side and released a long, weary breath. "I don't know if that's good or bad news for you."

Vetty hopped up onto the bed and curled against Angel's side. Angel lifted her hand, recognizing Vetty's unspoken demand for more petting. "It's good for me, though," she whispered.

She was so tired, she needed nothing more than some sleep at that moment. Too many thoughts were swirling through her mind just like the many swirling vortexes that had sought to capture her and - do what? Crush her? Transport her somewhere else? Kidnap her? What would have happened if she had been caught in one of them?

She didn't want to think about it. She told herself to sleep as she squeezed her eyes shut, scarcely noticing when Vetty leapt down from the bed until she heard the cat mewling miserably in the distance.

Angel blinked, the sound bringing her back to consciousness. With a groan, she pulled herself up. What did Vetty want now? Why had she left at all? Angel stumbled out of her bedroom, making her way in the direction she had heard Vetty's voice.

"Vetty," Angel complained, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she approached the balcony doors the fluffy cat was pawing at, "What do you want?"

She unlatched the glass door of the balcony and pulled it open, allowing Vetty to escape into the cold night air.

The frosty winter air swirled into the living room curling around her bare calves, breathing a ghost of a chill across her skin. Wrapping her arms around herself, Angel stepped out onto the balcony, suddenly taken with a desire to see the starry night sky. She ignored the chill of the icy tiled floor and approached the railing.

Snow had fallen while Angel had been at the tea shop and the frosted landscape was a wonder to behold. The snow lingering on the many buildings, on the forest treetops, and on the nearby roads glistened in the moonlight making for a surprisingly bright night. The crisp stillness in the air that accompanied freshly fallen snow was soothing to her mind that had up until that very moment still been racing to connect all the pieces of her shattered life.

With a sigh, she leaned against the railing, ignoring the sting of the icy metal as she lifted her eyes to the sky overhead. The stars above shone crystal clear in a black velvet sky through the still falling flurry of snow. Angel took a deep breath of the clear, winter air, cherishing with almost an air of desperation the fleeting moment of serenity.

Turning her head towards Vetty she froze in place as something else caught her eye. Only a few feet away, perched on the very same railing she was leaning on, was a crow, angling its head curiously to meet her gaze with glittering, black eyes.

Angel sucked in a cold breath. Why were the crows always lingering by her? On her balcony? She had never seen them by her neighbors. And yet, everywhere she went it seemed a crow hovered nearby. On her way to work, on her way back home from the Hidden Leaf, even here in her very own four walls. What could it mean? Was it somehow related to all the supernatural mysteries surrounding her as of late?

Suddenly she recalled with startling clarity the moment by the riverside when she had found Itachi standing still, his head angled towards the crow on his shoulder almost as if in communion with it, before turning and meeting her eyes with his own dark, impenetrable gaze.

Were the crows somehow connected to Itachi?

No sooner did the thought strike her than the crow flapped its wings, suddenly taking flight and swooping down into the treetops beyond. Angel rushed forward, clinging to the railing and leaning over the balcony to better see where the bird had disappeared to when a startled gasp escaped her lips.

There, just beyond the beginning of the forest, a pair of glowing crimson eyes stared back at her from the shadows. She supposed she had ought to feel frightened, terrified that those bloodshot eyes were staring back at her from the darkness, but she felt nothing of the sort. She recognized those eyes, despite herself, despite the distance.

There was a tenderness in them, a wistfulness, a mournful longing - for what, she could not say. The silhouette the eyes belonged to, cast in shadow, only confirmed what she had suspected. It was Itachi. It had to be.

She was overcome by a myriad of emotions. That familiar gaze, fixed on her so powerfully, that it contradicted almost every word that had crossed his solemn lips. The intensity within those irises that assured her she had not mistaken his identity, filled her with a longing she could neither describe nor rationalize.

Fear lingered somewhere in the back of her mind, warning her that she had been hurt once and she could be hurt again, if she failed to distance herself from him. If she failed to wall off her heart as she had ordered herself to do more times than she could count.

But that voice faded in light of the hope sobbing in her chest, pleading with her to seek him out. He was the only one who could make sense of it all. His words alone were the ones that had given her solace, offered some reprieve from every grief that had tormented her up until the day she laid eyes on his ethereal, aristocratic figure.

He was as seductive as darkness, and shrouded in mystery, and although every rational thought pointed to the logical conclusion that he was dangerous, that he could not be trusted - she did trust him. She trusted him with a foolishness, a naivety that caused her stomach to turn in self-loathing. She trusted him with her life, if need be. In that very moment, finally meeting his eyes again, she thought she would not even mind if he were to take her soul if it meant he would finally look at her properly again, offer her wise words of comfort again in those low, delicate tones that had always washed over her with the peace of gentle ocean waves.

She admonished herself for the foolish instinct that roared to life within her. The instinct to cast herself over the railing - straight into his waiting arms, surely? She cursed herself for a fool. Cursed her heart for a traitor, and in that moment of distraction, the glowing red irises blinked out of existence and the silhouette disappeared.

Aghast, she turned helplessly in search of him. She had not even had the chance to speak a single word to him! To ask him a single question! But he was nowhere to be found. Nothing but falling snow and bare trees and abandoned roads met her searching hazel eyes.

All at once, a flurry of black wings lifted up from the forest below as a murder of crows made their way through the snowfall in a direction she clearly recognized.

"The river," she breathed, both hopeful and terrified all at once. But there was no time to waste. If she waited too long, he might disappear entirely, never to be seen again. There was still so much left unsaid between them. Even if he chose to hurt her again - she shuddered at the thought - she would let him. Just one more time. Once, was all she asked.

She whirled back into the apartment, not even bothering to shut the balcony door as she sprinted to the coat closet, withdrawing an oversized, tan faux-fur coat - hoping that the shaggy fur would keep her warm enough despite the thin fabric of the slip she wore, because she had no time to change into something else. She stepped into a pair of fur-lined tan boots and tore open the front door, flying down the stairs.

When she burst out of the apartment building, the winter wind immediately rose up to meet her, an icy gust tearing at her wavy brown hair, but she paid it no heed. She raced down the side road between the buildings - the one she knew led into the park and inevitably, to the river. That fateful place that had changed so much. Where she had both found peace as well as heartbreak.

Her own voice seemed to shout into her mind. He had threatened to kill Salt! He was dangerous - she knew it, she felt it, the apprehension he kindled to life within her seemed to be etched into her very bones. And yet, she could not bring herself to truly lend ear. She had so much to say. She wanted so badly to hear his answers. She wanted just one more conversation like the many they had shared at the riverside. One that would put everything into perspective. One that would breathe new life into her very soul.

She heard the snow crunching underneath her boots distantly. Her chest heaved with exertion as she did not let up her pace, eager to reach the riverside as quickly as possible - before he disappeared.

When she finally saw the body of water approaching she slowed to a stop and turned desperately, her eyes seeking him out like the damned sought salvation. She pulled her coat closed as she whirled around, hoping against hope to find him. Panting, her breath left her in cold puffs of condensation. She bit her lip, her eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to calm her racing heart.

He wasn't there. Of course, he wasn't. What had she been hoping for?

She felt a sob bubbling within her but she choked it back. What was there even to cry over? They were nothing - as he had said. Not friends, not even acquaintances.

An assumption on your part.

She felt the icy winter air sting at her bare calves but ignored it as she turned towards the river. Her eyes widened in surprise and her heart skipped a beat at what she saw.

A familiar broad back. A billowing black cloak. Long raven hair bound in a ponytail, the soft strands blowing gently in the wind.

"Itachi!" The cry burst from her lungs before she had even put conscious thought to it.

He walked over the river's surface, the ice beneath his feet obviously thick enough to support his weight. Angel could not find his footprints in the snow that had fallen over the frozen river. Had they been filled by the falling snow already? He paused for a fraction of a second - so briefly she might merely have imagined it - before continuing on his way.

"Please!"

Angel approached the riverside, pausing just before the ground gave way to ice.

"Don't shut me out!" she called. "You know things. You know everything and I know nothing. That's just the way you wanted it, isn't it?" She pleaded, clutching her hands to her chest.

"Everything -" she sucked in a breath. "Everything has fallen apart. Is this how you planned this? Is this what you wanted for me?"

When he refused to answer, refused to stop, refused to turn around - she let her hands fall to her sides in defeat.

"I killed a man," she whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her across the distance, her own guilt and regret finally pouring from her trembling lips, as her eyes filled with bitter tears. "I'm just like you now. Don't turn me away anymore."

Unexpectedly, his footsteps stopped but still, he did not turn.

"To cherish life, but be the one to have taken it," her voice escaped her throat in a tortured whimper, "I understand."

She lifted a hand to her mouth, desperate to hold back the sobs that demanded release when slowly, Itachi turned in the distance.

Her mind blanked, her heart raced in - what was it? Hope? Alarm? Anticipation? How could he have possibly heard her? His aristocratic profile came into view, what she could see of the tip of his straight nose, his full, solemn lips, his smooth, angular jaw. His regal stature, his imposing figure, his hair darker than night and smoother than water.

But most of all, when he angled his head towards her and met her eyes with an onyx gaze that sucked in everything around him, leaving nothing and no one but that impenetrable gaze that seemed to command her very being, her very self seemed to fade from existence. Why did he have this effect on her? Why was she so drawn to him? Why did all rationality flee her when she was faced with him?

"Death lies not in your hands."

His voice - still so familiar after all the time they spent apart - dark, imposing, hypnotizing, was a comfort to her even as she failed to understand his meaning.

"It does," she protested tearfully, lifting her pale palms up to his midnight gaze. "I killed him, Itachi. It was me. I killed a man." She choked out the words she had not even wanted to think to herself. Speaking them aloud tore at her heart, syllable for syllable. "Why? Why is all this happening to me? What have I done, to deserve any of this? Please!" she sobbed, her voice breaking in anguish. "You're the only one who can help me understand. You have the answers, I know you do! Please, I'm losing my mind."

"You are not the bringer of Death," he repeated, his voice carrying clearly over the frozen river despite the gap between them. "You are merely its witness."

"What?" she questioned, hiccupping as she wiped at her eyes. "What does that mean...?"

"Return," Itachi's smooth command reached her ears in oddly rhythmic tones, putting her in a daze that almost had her turning on her heel mindlessly. "This is not your place."

The syllables rolled in and crashed against her ears in waves, settling over her mind like a layer of fog, confusing her. She needed to return to her apartment. She lowered her gaze, confused and torn even as she automatically turned away. Angel saw her apartment door clearly in her mind's eye and recognized it as her destination.

The snow crunching beneath her feet was all that broke the silence and Angel bit her lip, wanting to cry aloud. It wasn't fair!

What wasn't fair?

She wanted to see him, to speak with him! She had told herself she wouldn't back down. Hadn't Salt and Levi told her not to take no for an answer? Whatever else had happened, whatever he had done wrong, she couldn't blame him quietly without at least once bringing everything out into the open. She had only seen him for a moment. She wanted to see him. She needed him. She didn't want this! She didn't want to go home!

With a great burst of resolve she came to a sudden halt, wrenching herself back around with furious determination, only to find he had disappeared even further into the falling snow. Like an ethereal ghost melting away into the night.

He was going to disappear forever.

With a desperation like a physical ache, she cast all doubts from her mind and chased after him. The thick ice beneath her feet held her weight. She slipped on the smooth surface of the frozen river and nearly fell, but caught herself and pushed on.

"Wait!" she begged. "Itachi!"

It happened too quickly for her to make sense of it. The terrible, bloodcurdling screech of ice cracking, the whirl of Itachi's cloak billowing around him as he slowly turned towards her, just as the ice gave way, meeting his dark gaze for a fleeting instant before her body plunged into the freezing waters below, her hand outstretched for him as he stood mere feet away from the opposite riverbank.

The frigid waters stabbed against her skin with the pressure of a thousand icy needles. She gasped in response at the mind-numbing cold paralyzing her body and her mouth filled immediately with the freezing water. Opening her eyes, she saw the glistening moonlight fading on the river's surface as she sunk ever deeper into it's icy depths. She could not bring herself to move. There was no way to fight her way back to the surface.

It was all over. She was dying and Itachi would watch her lose her life unmoved, with his back turned. Perhaps it was better this way. A life for a life. Those who have killed should die, wasn't that what she had always said? Maybe she would finally find peace on the other side. She watched the bubbles escaping her lips, even as the pressure on her lungs increased, and closed her eyes, resigned to her fate. Too exhausted, too hurt to fight anymore. She had suffered enough, and willed the nightmare she had been living in for months to end.

Something grabbed onto the back of her coat, yanking her backwards with force and then she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist, hauling her up out of the water and onto cold, solid ground. She gasped and coughed to fill her lungs with oxygen, feeling a hand cradling the back of her head. She clung thoughtlessly to someone as the winter air assaulted her, her nightdress glued to her wet skin and her coat heavily saturated with water. It was pulled off her body a second later, and the cold bit into her bare skin before she felt the warmth of dry fabric drape over her shoulders.

The arm that supported her to sit upright, warm and firm in its hold, did not leave her side. Blinking through her blurred vision, Angel opened and lifted her eyes to find Itachi was holding her close against his chest, the chest she was clinging to. Those onyx eyes that transfixed her as he beheld her down the length of his nose were aglow with something akin to anger.

"I- Itachi," she stammered, her teeth chattering violently, "Y- you saved me."

"Silence," he admonished, clearly displeased although the word was spoken softly. He took in her appearance as he knelt by her side on the ground, her wet hair plastered to her skin, her complexion tinged blue with cold, her lips purple and trembling, and frowned in disapproval. Why had she chased after him? How had she broken through the layer of illusion he had cast on her mind to ensure she returned safely home? Why did she continue to be so reckless with her own safety?

Angel had so much to say, but she could hardly piece her thoughts together. She was numb with cold and closed her eyes, huddling against him with her face buried into his chest, trembling uncontrollably. She couldn't feel her limbs and breathed in short, erratic gasps, her body going into shock.

She felt a large hand settle on her chest, just over her heart, where the organ fluttered in a desperate effort to pump blood through her frozen from. Slowly, warmth seemed to pool there, before traveling outwards across her chest and down her limbs until the shivering ceased and she felt none of the cold that had robbed her of her breath. A pleasant weightlessness came over her instead and her eyes fluttered open, to find Itachi leaning over her, his ebony eyes only inches away from her own stunned, hazel irises.

"You saved me," she repeated in distant wonder, unable to fathom how he had taken the cold away. "You keep saving me, so why…?"

Gingerly, she lifted a hand, too overcome to consider the inappropriateness of her actions, and tentatively cupped his cheek, wanting to feel that he was there and as alive as she was. He froze and held her gaze, allowing her simple touch.

"Why do you push me away if you keep coming back to save me?" Her whispered anguish was reinforced by the sheen of tears he spied in her eyes.

"..." He offered no response, his lips pressed thinly, his heavy-lashed gaze burning into hers, displeasure still evident in them.

"Tell me you were lying," her eyes searched his forbidding, ebony irises, hoping to find any trace of the emotions that pained her, reflected back to her. "Tell me you were wrong. Tell me you didn't mean it," she breathed, hoping against hope for her words to find their way into the recesses of his heart as tears blurred her vision. "That it wasn't an assumption."

"Angelissa," hearing her name spill from those elegant lips at last, in that mesmerizing voice, after so long, sent a thrill through her numb heart. "You know not what you seek."

His hand lifted to take firm hold of her own and draw it away from his face. Her fingertips brushed against his golden earrings as they came away. His cheek was smooth and warm, the strands of hair framing his face tickled the back of her hand. He was so real, so close - and at the same time, so impossibly distant and foreboding. What could she do to bridge the gap between them? Was there any hope at all?

"Then tell me."

A moment's silence stretched between them like an eternity, as Itachi held her imploring hazel-eyed gaze. She could almost see him weighing her request.

"Please." She entreated tearfully. "Tell me who you are. It won't change a thing. Tell me why it is that things only make sense when you're here. Why do I only ever feel alive when I'm with you?" Her hushed request met his ears like a fatal verdict.

Itachi's eyes traced over her tormented features. Her sincere words stirred within his chest a feeling that he had tried to bury away and yet it stubbornly refused to be uprooted from the deepest chambers of his heart. She knew not what she said. Shisui's gentle wisdom replayed in his mind. The many tribulations Angelissa had had to face, causing him to waver in his resolve. Knowing what he knew about his identity, his role, and the path he pursued, it was wholly irresponsible to burden a frail mortal with that knowledge. But was it more irresponsible than leaving her to her own devices and allowing her to stumble into one catastrophe after another?

The truth of what he was, the magnitude of it - although she hoped for it to be the answer that would allow all the pieces to fall into place - in truth, it was more likely to be the revelation that shattered her very being beyond repair. Those wistful eyes fixed on him in something akin to a prayer would never again look at him the same way.

The moment she discovered that he, himself was the object of the hatred she harbored in her heart, she would never again cast eyes upon him but with fear and disgust. It was an inevitability, and yet - it was her good right. It was time, he knew, and he could no longer delay it, ignore it. She had already grown so entangled with his realm there was no real hope of returning her to the life she had once known.

Angel's eyes widened when, instead of pulling away from her, Itachi leaned in even closer bringing his lips to her ear. "Will you bear it, Angelissa?" The murmur against the skin of her ear caused her to shudder.

No. A voice protested within her. No, run away. You can't handle this! It isn't safe! Angel could not place the alarm shooting through her veins with an unparalleled urgency. The little, foreboding voice begging her to rethink. She cast aside all her doubts and met his eyes with bold determination.

"Yes."

She was a fool, Itachi thought to himself. There was no other explanation. Surely, she, like all other mortals, had a soul that recognized him. A soul that warned her of the danger his presence indicated. Why did she not heed that warning? Why did she still seek to be close to him?

It was time to put an end to matters once and for all. Time to put an end to her misdirected affection and replace it with the hatred he was truly deserving of.

He hesitated uncharacteristically, then fluidly rose, pulling her up to her feet before drawing away from her. She stood unsteadily, hugging herself, wondering what the sudden distance meant. There was a flicker of cold detachment in his eyes, as if preparing himself for what he knew was to follow.

A last cry of alarm screeched through her consciousness. Warning her that it was the last chance she would get to take back her words, but Angel stubbornly ignored it, spellbound as she watched Itachi's elegant, ringed fingers lift towards his mask, dispelling it in a cloud of golden dust that floated away amongst the falling snow.

He withdrew his hand, revealing his face in its entirety to her wide eyes and the moment her gaze fell on his unmasked countenance, she froze. Realization shot through her with the force of a lightning bolt and the air instantly stilled in her lungs, catching in her throat. She knew who he was. She must have known it all along. She had felt him in the air of the hospital room as Evangeline drew her last, dying breaths. He had been on the wind blowing past her at her grandfather's funeral. He had called to her from the open grave when her grandmother passed shortly after.

He lingered amongst the shadows. He was poised between her body and her soul, between each inhale and exhale - ever ready to claim what was his at a moment's notice. She recognized him clearly - had come to know him intimately.

How could she not know death?

Angel stumbled backwards, her mouth falling open, her eyes widening further in horror as a silent scream strained to tear from her throat, unable to drag her unseeing eyes away from the face he had revealed to her. She fell to the surface of the frozen river, terror sparking through her trembling body, screaming at her to run. She scrambled backwards and back onto her feet, gasping hysterically, and cast one last anguished look at him before turning away and bolting across the river's surface, skidding unsteadily as she ran.

Death. He was Death.

Death had come for her. Had held her close. Had conversed with her, a sure sign that she was next on his list. Death was finishing what it had left undone for so long.

The frenzied thoughts ricocheted around her head, filling her with mindless, suffocating, blind panic, the likes of which she had never felt before. A choked sob erupted from her throat and she pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a fearful cry as she fled from him. If he heard her, it was over. He would swoop in and claim her life. She was doomed.

Run! Run! Don't turn back!

She pushed herself further, her eyes blurring with tears. It didn't matter how swiftly or how far she sprinted, it seemed as though she couldn't escape fast enough.

Never see him again!

The stray thought pierced sharply through the thick fog of horror clouding her mind, causing her numb legs to falter in their movements. She blinked, exhaling as a sudden realisation struck her. If she ran from him now, she would never see him again. He would leave and never return - and she would never have her answers. Somehow, she felt it in her very bones, knew it in her blood.

But he was Death! He had been Death this whole time. Responsible for all the suffering on earth. He was going to tear the breath from her lungs, the soul from her body!

Death, himself, is your protector.

Her mind spun, reeling from the implications of his identity. She didn't understand it. Why had he chosen to stay and speak with her, so many times? Why had he been so kind to her? So gentle? Why had he just saved her from the ice? What was going on? Why her? She didn't understand.

She shivered violently from head to toe and shook her head. No. It didn't matter. She didn't want to know!

Still, her feet finally trudged to a stop. She knew, instinctively, that leaving him now meant they would not meet again, she would not have an opportunity to talk to him again, even if she called out to him until her throat bled.

He had just saved her life. He had been kind. His wise, mournful eyes appeared in her mind's eye. He was lonely. He was suffering. He was Itachi. Why was Death so sad?

She hadn't realized that tears of horror were streaming from her eyes, but she wiped at them now and turned, despite the instincts shrieking in her mind, to face him. He stood where she had left him. Shrouded in the mist, on the opposite riverbank. His gaze was solemn, resigned, as he watched her go.

There it was again. The sorrowful look in those cold, ebony eyes that made her feel he had been wronged, somehow. Angel released a quiet sob. She didn't want it to be true. She wanted him to be anything else. And yet there was no escaping the truth.

Her heart raced erratically, pounding against her ribcage as if to punish her for even considering returning to his side. But she turned towards him fully, pressing a palm to her chest, hoping to subdue the stabbing pain there. She forced one trembling footstep after another back in his direction.

He was Itachi. She could not run from him. He had never hurt her. He never would.

But he was Death. She needed to escape. He was the cause of all the pain she had known in her life. Death was ruthless. Death had no mercy.

Torn, and perplexed beyond measure she ambled slowly towards him, moving forward with difficulty, wrestling with instinct and free-will. Now and again, she froze in place, half turning to escape again, to ease the stabbing pain in her chest, the breath arresting in her lungs in protest, but bravely she pushed on.

He watched her approach in disbelief. How could she fight the natural instinct of her soul demanding she escape him for her own self-preservation? His lips parted slightly in silent astonishment.

When she finally drew close to him once more, she trembled from head to toe. From her lips to her fingertips. Her pupils were dilated and her short, ragged breaths indicated she was close to fainting from shock. Still, her tormented eyes traced his features, awe and confusion in conflict with the unconcealed emotions of terror and dismay that were palpable in those hazel irises.

She found him to be beautiful. Even more so than she had ever suspected or imagined. Those long-lashed onyx eyes, the lovely shape of them. The smooth forehead, the high cheekbones, the aristocratic, straight nose, the full, solemn lips. He was as regal and elegant as he had always seemed. Hauntingly beautiful. She could not tear her eyes away from him, looking from feature to feature in entranced bewilderment, even as every second spent gazing upon him caused her heart to accelerate until it reached a dangerous threshold.

She would not hold out much longer. Itachi noted the signs - the erratic heartbeat, the short gasps, the unfocused eyes. Her soul knew what he was and she, herself, had recognized it beyond a doubt and yet, for some unknown reason, she fought against every instinct to come back to him. Why?

Angel swayed unsteadily on her feet and he reached out to catch hold of her. Enough. He could no longer stand to allow her to be tortured by her body's reaction to his proximity. She refused to heed her very soul's warnings and had chosen, against all reason, to return to him, her Death. To approach him and be near him. A feat that should have been impossible for a mortal, even more so for one who so openly feared and hated Death as he knew her to do.

His dark gaze caressed her features, from the furrowed brow to the tearful, hazel eyes, to the quivering lips. This familiar face that had haunted him in his solitude, one he had thought would never be his, was still, despite everything, turned towards him hopefully, seeking his nearness.

It defied logic. It claimed his heart with a possessive force that caused him to banish all other doubts he'd had pertaining to the nature and sincerity of their attachment firmly. Angelissa had chosen to return to him, knowing what he was. She had stumbled straight back into his arms, of her own volition. He refused to release her. If she could bear the crushing weight of the budding affection that had been firmly planted within his being from those very first days together at this riverside then he would not withhold it from her any longer. If she could accept what he was, then he would move heavens and earth to make her his. Provided that was what she wanted.

The chaos reigning within her form was the result of her mortal nature and it was well within his abilities to quell her suffering. He reached out with his mind, tapping into her heart as he brought his face closer to hers. Be at ease, he commanded wordlessly.

Angel's wide hazel eyes met his in surprise as he held her close and closed the distance between them, brushing his lips gently against hers in a feather-light ghost of a caress. Her eyelids fluttered closed. He was warm - not cold as she had always imagined death would be - and the fleeting touch of his lips were just as soft as she had imagined they would be. A tingling sensation sparked to life in every nerve ending of her body. All rationality flew from her mind as time and space seemed to come to a standstill.

The fear and horror, paired with the agony that had been coursing through her, all faded into nothingness as a calm serenity settled over her instead. Her heartbeat slowed to an easy rhythm, and her lungs stopped seizing. Warmth spread through her as her muscles relaxed and her mind cleared.

What was known by mortals as the "kiss of death" was one of the most merciful ways to take a life. Never an actual kiss or meeting of lips, on the rare occasions Itachi employed this technique, it was no more than a hovering over his victim before they fell into a peaceful, eternal sleep and their souls extricated themselves from the afflicted bodies, coming humbly into his obedience.

Compelling Angel's body into a relaxed state, easing her torment, Itachi's lips hovered just over hers, the first time he had ever allowed them to brush lightly over another's, an instinctive action fuelled by the urgency to soothe her suffering. When he sensed her soul stirring to rise up to meet him, however, he drew quickly back.

Angel's eyes fluttered open, her mind dimly descending to register what had just happened. She blinked up at him, suddenly aware of their proximity, of his hands resting on her shoulders, even as his intense, onyx gaze passed over her in concern.

Words failed her. Her mind was still in a pleasant, distant buzz far removed from the situation at hand. She met Itachi's gaze but could not recall quite why she had been in such a panic only moments before.

"You know what I am," Itachi voiced quietly, a statement more than a question.

Angel nodded, finding her voice with difficulty, "Death."

She knew that should have horrified her, but at the moment, her mind caught up in a blurry haze, in an unnaturally relaxed state, she struggled to connect the words she had spoken with their meaning.

Itachi nodded, noting with satisfaction that she was conscious and sentient, albeit in a hyper-relaxed state that would likely fade with time.

"Your kind knows me as Thanatos." He offered in explanation.

At this, Angel's lips parted in surprise, "Th- Thanatos?"

Thanatos? She blinked, stunned. Like the greek god of death? But that wasn't possible. She furrowed her brow in confusion, her mind feeling muddled, oddly lethargic. Salt had called him Thane. Angel distinctly remembered her stumbling on his name more than once. Was this the terrible reason why?

How could it be? That was just a myth, wasn't it? And yet, Itachi merely confirmed with a subdued, "Yes."

She gaped up at him in open-mouthed astonishment, as clarity slowly clicked into place in her sluggish thoughts.

"Thanatos? But he's a- then you're a… a…" she fought her way out of his hold, stepping backward, struggling to clear her mind. "A god?" she breathed, both in awe and in dread.

Itachi returned her gaze steadily, neither confirming nor denying. He was loath to set her into a state of shock again so soon after the initial shock had not even worn off.

"Are you?" she pressed, and at length, Itachi nodded.

She released a shaky breath, rocked by the revelation. She might have once dismissed it as an impossible claim, and yet she knew without question, her soul had known without question, that there could be no doubt over his identity. She buried her face forlornly in her hands.

"Oh no…" she whispered. Of all the things she had thought him to be - werewolf, vampire, some kind of dark sorcerer… a god had never even crossed her mind.

Itachi watched her silently, he could not help but be somewhat bemused by the fact that the knowledge of his divinity seemed more difficult for her to accept than the nature of his role.

"Angelissa," he called her attention, as he laid a gentle hand back on her bare shoulder, prompting her to lift her head, helplessly drawn into his dark gaze. "Return to your home. Seek rest. If you so desire, we may speak in the morn."

Rest? She lowered her hands, her eyes flicking back to his unmasked face incredulously. How could he possibly expect her to sleep now, knowing what she did?

"No, please, I…" she felt oddly tongue-tied by the enormous weight and magnitude of the realization that she was in the presence of an actual deity. She wondered how many foolish slip-ups, how much disrespect must have crossed her lips in the past. She recalled the incident outside of the nightclub and was gripped by the sudden desire to throw herself back into the river. To think that she, an unremarkable nobody, had been keeping company with a literal deity for so many months!

"I need to know," she began tentatively. "I… I mean- about everything that's been going on."

Itachi nodded in understanding. "Then let us converse elsewhere, lest you fall ill," he offered. He extended a hand towards her and Angel took it hesitantly, a blush crossing her features as she wondered - was it blasphemy to touch the hand of a god? Surely all her opinions and feelings toward him and thoughts about him had bordered on blasphemous-

She had scarcely finished the thought when she found Itachi pulling her in close, before sweeping her up into his arms and leaping into the air. She shrieked in surprise, arms tightening around his neck instinctively as she clung to him. It was something akin to flying and her wide, disbelieving eyes watched the landscape beneath them pass by like little more than a painting. She watched her tan fur coat on the ice shrink into a dot before it disappeared from her sight entirely.

Alighting on the railing of the balcony, Itachi set her gently on her feet. Angel was suddenly hit by a bout of deja vu as she realized, this wasn't the first time she had soared through the air this way with him.

"It wasn't a dream..." she breathed in wonder as Itachi descended smoothly from the railing as well.

"You saved me before, didn't you? And brought me up here?" She held his gaze imploringly, desperate for answers and something softened in Itachi's eyes at the sight. It was as the nymph had said, depriving Angel of answers seemed to have broken something within her. He had only sought to shelter her, and had not anticipated the unexpectedly cruel consequences his silence could have had on her.

He nodded in confirmation, "Indeed."

She blinked at how readily he answered her but he gestured towards the open balcony door. "A change of attire is in order. The cold does not agree with you."

She hesitated, looking up at him and wringing her hands as if she feared he would disappear the minute her back was turned.

"I shall remain to answer your questions on your return," he lifted a hand and with a slight gesture of his fingers, the lights within flickered on. Angel blinked in astonishment, wondering how he had done that, only to recall that he was a deity, after all. She supposed for him, nothing was impossible.

"You have my word," he added, at her lingering, fretful expression.

She turned from him, to the now-lit apartment, and back again, before nodding and heading inside to change into something warm. She found Vetty in her bedroom, her eyes bright, tail swishing enthusiastically back and forth. Angel gulped, staring at the dark-furred cat for a long moment, before shaking her head. She couldn't think about Vetty right then.

When she returned to the balcony doors, her hair dried and neatly brushed, dressed in black sweatpants and a green turtleneck sweater - not the most fashionable choice, but the warmest thing she could find in her closet - she found him still standing on her balcony, looking up into the starry night sky, his arms crossed over his chest. She stared at him in muted silence for a long moment, until his head turned toward her.

"Uh…" Snapping out of her senseless gawking, she gestured vaguely over her shoulder with a thumb, feeling awkward, flustered and highly self-conscious. The magnetic weight of his stare was as exhilarating as it was disconcerting, and she kept averting her gaze uncomfortably elsewhere. "Would you… like something warm to drink? I mean. I don't know if that's something you do, but..." When he simply stared at her, Angel realised she was rambling nonsensically, and fumbled embarrassedly, "Um. Would you mind if I just popped to the kitchen and…?"

"As you please, Angelissa," came the smooth, quiet response.

"Right," she gave him a strained smile. "I'll just… I'll be right back." With that, she turned swiftly away and all but dove into the kitchen, relieved to have a moment of breathing space. As soon as she was alone, she exhaled and lifted her hands to her hair, pulling frantically at the freshly brushed locks.

Oh my God, she thought to herself, battling with the returning flood of stunned, disorientated, overwhelmed thoughts. Oh my God, you idiot! He's a god. He's an actual god! You stupid, stupid fool!

She bit her lower lip and paced left and right restlessly, before turning to her fridge. She savagely tore the door open to retrieve a carton of milk. Filling a small saucepan with the drink, she set it on the cooker hob before gripping tightly onto the counter, sucking in a slow, deep breath, as if that would help to anchor her to a reality that seemed to be floating in an incoherent, dizzying blur all around her.

The world was changed forever. She would never again be the same, knowing what she now did. To think that she had been conversing with a real deity all along! A powerful immortal! It defied all disbelief. And he wasn't just any god. He was Thanatos himself. The greek god of death. Not a legend, not a myth, but an existing entity and he was standing right outside on her balcony.

It was madness. It was impossible. It was happening anyway.

Her heart had started to pound again, returning to an anxious, agitated rhythm. Whatever he had done to numb her senses clearly had begun to fade. She dazedly recalled the transient brush of his lips against hers, in a gesture that could not quite be realised as a kiss, and felt her pulse flutter. Heat flushed into her face. He'd done it just to calm her down, she told herself. To stop her from hyperventilating and fainting, some kind of strange magic. That was all it had been. And now the effects were wearing off. Her entire body was jangling with nerves, stretched taut, leaving her feeling nervous, highly strung.

The god of death was on her balcony. Death himself! The end of all things. The reaper of souls. She gulped, overrun with a trepidation she could not shake, feeling fine tremors returning to her fingertips. Itachi had never lifted a hand to harm her and yet she could not help her body's reaction to his proximity. Terror and dread whispered through her blood, filling her stomach with clenching knots of nausea. He was the very embodiment and personification of all that she feared. One day he would take her own soul. How was she supposed to accept that, to compromise the enormous significance of that in her head? When all her survival instincts screamed at her to place as far of a distance between them as was physically possible, to flee?

He was nothing at all like what she had expected the angel of death to be. Nothing like the insulting, ghastly depictions of a skeletal Grim Reaper that humans liked to portray in popular culture. Was Death so magnificent in form with eyes as black and alluring as night so that it could steal away all resistance when a mortal's final hour came? But for all his dark beauty, this was the very being who had cruelly taken her sister and other loved ones away, leaving behind pain and broken families. Her heart raced, realising what that meant, and that he knew everything there was to know of the afterlife. It was no wonder that he had spoken of Evangeline's death with such certainty. He had been there. He had witnessed it all.

If Thanatos from greek mythology was a real entity… then did that mean an actual Underworld existed, too? Angel's thoughts were reeling. The world was spinning violently beyond her control around her. She stood by the sink, nails digging into the counter, staring unseeingly out the kitchen window, horrified, amazed to be in the presence of an actual deity, and deeply mortified in equal measures.

A god! How stupid must she have appeared to him? How insolent, speaking in anger to him, raising her voice, demanding answers? How immature and uncultured and utterly pitiful must he consider her to be? A mere silly, overly-emotional, impulsive child, in comparison to his quiet, effortless, unruffled elegance and endless wisdom. Angel internally groaned to herself, wishing the ground would swallow her up whole. She had never even stopped to consider him being an immortal of sorts. Not that she could blame herself; it wasn't exactly the most logical, rational and immediate conclusion that came to one's mind.

And yet it explained everything. Suddenly everything about him, the intrigue and mystery surrounding him, made sense. Why Salt was so afraid of him and couldn't defy his orders. Why he had the ability to command her. Why Angel herself had gotten such strange, mixed feelings about him and the unmistakable air of danger he radiated. Why he wore the concealing mask. Why he seemed so much wiser beyond his years. Why he had sought to keep a firm distance between them, cut her off and refused to offer her so many explanations. Why he had never disclosed his age.

Just how old was he? Angel's eyes widened at the unsettling thought. Surely hundreds and thousands of years? He was Thanatos. And he was standing right outside on her balcony.

What did that make Shisui, then? She thought of Itachi's easy-going cousin. Did deities really have relatives and families?

She gulped, struggling to process it all. It was too wild. Too much. She couldn't handle it, knowing that supernatural things were real when the entire world lived in ignorance and dismissed them all as myths. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she'd really drowned in the ocean on that day, and this was all just some crazy illusion-

No, she censured herself, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. She couldn't freak out. Not now. Not when Itachi was here at last, had finally stopped evading her and was finally willing to give her answers. Hadn't that been all she had ever wanted? She could do this. She had to know.

The sound of the milk boiling over the edge of the saucepan snapped her out the riotous cacophony of her hurricane thoughts.

"Shit!" she hissed, snatching the pan off the hob before switching it off. Spatters of milk flew onto the sleeve of her top in her haste and she bit her lower lip, instantly moving to wash off the stains. The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself any further in front of him. What he had to think of her already was surely terrible enough. She had laced her fingers through his. Spoken so freely to him. Pressed herself boldly, brazenly up against him and taunted him outside the nightclub.

'Who do you think you are? God or something?' Her words spoken on that night returned to haunt her, biting her with bitter irony, leaving an awful taste in her mouth. What an utter fool she had made of herself in his presence. It was a wonder she hadn't instigated his wrath at all. But perhaps she had.

Perhaps that was the very reason why so many unfortunate and terrible things were happening to her? Was she being punished? Would she go to hell? Was he the one who decided the resting place of souls? She scourged through her spinning thoughts, trying to recall her knowledge of Greek mythology. No. Thanatos only took souls, didn't he? Then he wouldn't judge her, would he? But hadn't she sinned? Surely she had, if not to his face but in all her private thoughts, cursing him and hating him for the pain he had inflicted upon her?

For the way she had been unable to banish the memory of his piercing eyes from her mind? Surely that was sacrilegious and a great sin?

To think that she had wanted them to be friends! No wonder he had shot her down. An idiot. She was nothing but an idiot. But she needed to get it together. She'd spent long enough making her drink. It was undoubtedly rude to keep any guest waiting, let alone a literal god. Stirring the contents of the mugs, she then placed them into a tray and loaded a plate with an assortment of cookies. Surely she was in shock, she thought to herself, blinking numbly down at the tray in her hands. She was offering the god of death cookies. The bizarreness of the situation would have made her laugh - if she didn't feel like she was on the verge of hysterically weeping.

She had thought he was some kind of mafia member. An assassin. A private-detective. How sightless she had been. How clueless and ignorant. But she saw it so clearly now. Of course he was a god. How could he possibly be anything else? He was perfect. Too perfect to be human. She ought to have known the moment their eyes first met. Everything about him was regal, poised, dignified, otherworldly, flawless, gorgeous. He was just completely-

Stop, she censured, scowling at herself. You can't seriously be thinking that way! He's the freaking god of death. You need to be respectful, and mind what you say, and try not to humiliate yourself anymore than you already have, you moron.

Could he read her thoughts? Suddenly she found herself wondering. Had he caught onto all the times she'd gaped at him? Stared at him? All the times she'd internally found herself admiring him? Horror filled her at the inappropriateness of it all. Her cheeks felt like an inferno had roared to life within them and she was mortified beyond measure by the actions and contemplations of her formerly ignorant self.

Stop panicking! She exhaled, willing herself to calm down. Somehow, yelling furiously at herself helped. If he was mad about anything, and wanted you dead, he would have already killed you, she thought. I know it's crazy and none of this makes sense but it's happening and you need to deal. Just freak out some more later after he's gone. Now, get a grip and go get your answers!

Angel nodded to herself, her heart hammering in the base of her throat as she lifted the tray, only to hesitate, her resolve wavering. Her legs were rooted in place by the

apprehension plaguing her body. Go, she compelled her feet to move, and with a deep breath, she exited the kitchen and returned to the balcony door where he patiently awaited her. She swallowed nervously at the sight of him and closed the door behind her with her foot as she balanced the tray of hot cocoa with marshmallows and cookies in her hands.

Itachi turned at her entrance, his eyebrows raising slightly at the offering she carried.

"Um… do you drink hot cocoa? I thought it would be nice… for the cold." She suggested nervously, glancing up at him but never holding his gaze for more than a few seconds at a time.

Nice… for the cold? Really, Angel? She thought to herself in dismay. He was a death god! He probably didn't even feel the cold. So much for not doing or saying anything else that would make her appear even more ridiculous in his eyes.

Itachi hesitated only slightly, before taking the proffered mug, white porcelain with the bold inscript "Me? Sarcastic? Never." Angel only seemed to recognize which mug she had just offered him in the moment he took it from her hands. Her hand hovered uselessly in the air, wanting to take it back, before she gave up. What was done was done.

"Would you like to sit?" Without waiting for an answer, she placed the tray on the small coffee table she kept outside and moved it, before pulling up two foldable lawn chairs that she kept for whenever she had company. Itachi watched her with an indecipherable expression, keeping his amusement to himself. Her awkward attempts at hospitality were endearing and he nodded before accepting the seat she offered him.

It was surreal - ridiculous, even.

There she was, your average twenty-two year old mundane, run-of-the-mill girl with no outstanding qualities to speak of, sitting beside a literal deity, none other than Thanatos, himself, the illustrious, if not unrelenting, god of death, sharing hot cocoa with marshmallows on her balcony. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe all the insane events of recent months had finally cracked her sanity.

She chanced a glance at Itachi, who had curled those long, ruby-ringed fingers around the porcelain handle of the white mug she had given him and lifted it to his lips. Those lovely, warm lips that had brushed against hers only moments - No. She was doing it again. A furious blush burst to life on her face and she was thankful for the cover of darkness. What was she doing? Of all the stupid things she had done in her life, crushing on Death himself had to take the cake.

She watched him take a small sip from the steaming beverage and noted with fascination the briefest flicker of a pleasantly surprised expression before his usual placidity masked whatever emotion had glimpsed through. Was he partial to sweets? Angel's mind was reeling. How could he be the embodiment of all she feared and loathed, the personification of the worst thing imaginable - to her mind, at least, and at the same time have so many admirable, endearing qualities? He was wise, kind, merciful, tolerant - and he had a sweet tooth. She had to be dreaming, but the biting cold of the night air stinging her cheeks convinced her of the contrary.

The smooth planes of his handsome, sculpted face, his raven hair flowing smoothly over his shoulders, his golden earrings glinting in the moonlight - there was no way her mind was adept enough to conjure such a lovely vision. It had to be reality. Without the mask, he was even more alluring, even more regal, even more hauntingly enchanting. It was impossible to tear her eyes away from him. When he lifted his own long-lashed eyes from the chocolate concoction in the mug to return her stare, her heart seemed to stop entirely. He was Death, all right. Or she was absolutely hopeless.

Angel cleared her throat, abruptly bringing her mind's senseless rambling to a stop. She could not allow this to continue. She could not think of him the way she once had - a secret companion, one she could bare her heart to, one whose trust she hoped to earn. Any foolish delusions of one day growing closer to him, of there ever being anything between them, needed to be mercilessly uprooted from her mind entirely. He was a god. He was Death. Surely, she needed to repent for whatever indecent fantasies she had dared to entertain so far?

Itachi waited patiently, allowing her to sort her thoughts, to decide which of the many riddles in her life most urgently needed answers. Despite everything that had occured, everything that confused her, one fact unsettled her so greatly she blurted the words before she could think better of them.

"Did you threaten to kill Salt if she told me the truth?" She turned concerned hazel eyes on him, hoping he would negate her query, but the unimpressed, even expression with which he returned her gaze made her heart sink. It was so sure a confirmation she did not require the response that followed.

"Yes."

Angel averted her gaze, the simple answer bringing the reality of their situation more clearly into perspective. This was who he was. Snuffing out a life - no matter how precious, no matter how purehearted - was a matter of course for him.

"Why?" she found herself asking, her voice strained with emotion. After everything Salt had done, after she had so selflessly imperiled her own well-being, her own wishes time and time again for Angel's safety, what could she possibly have done to warrant such a cruel threat?

She could not disguise the disappointment in her eyes as she clutched her steaming mug of hot cocoa in both hands, staring unseeingly out at the landscape beyond the balcony's barrier.

"She is governed by the dictates of our realm," Itachi provided evenly, as if that statement was all the explanation needed to justify the murder of her best friend.

Our realm, Angel registered dimly, signified yet again a secret world that only Itachi and Salt knew of, one she would never belong to and could not ever hope to understand. Was it something she had no choice but to accept? Was it really something to take as lightly as Salt seemed to be taking it? What role did she play in his world?

"If you're a god, then what does that make Salt?" Angel wondered, "Some kind of goddess? But no, wait - that can't be right. If she was a servant, then…"

"A lampad. A nymph of the Underworld." Itachi answered openly, filling in the blanks for her.

"A nymph?" Angel echoed, her eyes going wide with astonishment. Salt? Her best friend? She had been forced to accept that Salt could not be human, but to think she was, in fact, a nymph of the greek underworld was mind-numbing. No wonder she had always spoken so self-assuredly about death, and had known so much about the Underworld and ancient greek mythology. She had first-hand experience. She knew what was on the other side.

"But nymphs are goddesses in their own right, aren't they?" Angel ventured. "At least according to what I've read. They're minor nature goddesses, right?"

Itachi was silent for a moment. Although Angel's conclusion was technically correct, it did not reflect the complexities of underworld politics, nor the complicated hierarchical structure that determined Salt's actual standing in their realm.

"That is correct, in theory," Itachi answered vaguely. There were more pressing matters at hand.

"Then why would you threaten to kill her?" Angel pressed.

Itachi lowered his long lashes as he considered the young mortal. "Such is the consequence for defying orders."

"Defying orders?" Angel repeated numbly, "Why did you order her to keep me in the dark in the first place? We're friends, that's not how our relationship works!" She caught herself, realizing she was raising her voice. Was that an unforgivable offense?

Angel took a deep breath to compose herself, and continued. "Our entire friendship nearly fell apart because of those orders. Not to mention, all these secrets very nearly cost me my life more than once. This… not knowing anything," she trailed off and sighed miserably. "It's been terrible. It's made me doubt my sanity. As you can see, I'm fine, even knowing what you are, so why wouldn't you just be honest with me from the beginning?"

Itachi watched her eyes light up with that familiar fire and recognized the turbulent emotions she struggled to rein in. A desire to protect the nymph, a righteous indignation at what she had been made to suffer, and subdued hope for an answer that would help her make sense of his decisions.

"It was imperative that you resume a mortal life. Involvement with our realm will not serve you." He spoke in even, low tones that seemed to make the very air stand still around them but Angel refused to be mollified.

"I was already unable to live a normal 'mortal' life from the very first time you touched it." She countered, struggling to keep her voice steady, to avoid any show of disrespect despite the deep hurt the simple statement conveyed.

Without further clarification, it was understood that she was not referring to their meetings at the riverside. No, from the first time he had come to take away her sister's soul, she had been left in a state of perpetual confusion and longing. Always seeking answers that nothing living could give.

"You've been on my mind every day for years," Angel continued shakily, referring now, to his role and not his person. "Every day I've asked myself why you do the things you do. You were my first thought in the morning, and my last thought before going to sleep. Why would you want to keep me ignorant? I've never believed that a lie could avail any purpose that the truth wouldn't serve better."

"So it would seem," Itachi answered softly, "and yet, the mere knowledge of it nearly killed you. Do you suggest it would have been better to burden you with that knowledge from the outset?"

"I… I mean," she faltered, remembering how terrified she had been, how she had thought her heart would stop - how it very literally had seemed to be failing. "You could have explained it to me slowly. Or let Salt tell me. But because I didn't know anything, I pushed her away, and I kept getting caught up in dangerous situations like an idiot because I didn't know I had anything to watch out for. I was angry with you, angry with her, angry with myself. This has all been so unnecessary."

She finally lifted her head, wanting to see if any of it dawned on him. Was he aware how much being kept in the dark had tormented her? How it had led her down a dark and twisted path she had nearly lost her life to on many occasions?

A twinge of regret glimmered in his dark eyes, and he angled his head to meet her upturned gaze. "I did not account for your fortitude," he acknowledged, and the compliment flooded her heart with warmth, the simple words beginning to dissolve the bitterness that lingered there. That wasn't right. He couldn't - shouldn't - be able to wipe away the past few months of suffering with a few words of praise. And yet, it was a literal god that had complimented her resolve and the knowledge of that rushed straight to her head. She was sure she had grown two inches from his words alone.

Angel bit her lip. She refused to back down. The very resolve he had complimented seemed to fly out of her head every time he opened his mouth. She needed to pull herself together.

"Keep the nymph by your side. She is in my service." He continued, his advice so intent it was almost a warning.

Angel bristled, "The nymph has a name. She's my friend. You've known her even longer than I have, you can't tell me you don't know her name."

When Itachi did not immediately answer, she pushed further, "And what do you mean in your service?"

"She has been assigned to protect you, in exchange for tolerance for her continued presence on the surface, for the time being."

Angel's mind reeled. Was that why Salt had befriended her? Was that why she was protecting her so desperately? And if she failed… did that mean she would have to leave everything behind and return to the underworld? Doubt reared its ugly head and Angel shook it off. No. Salt's tears were sincere. She had chosen Angel over Levi more times than Angel could count. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding.

"When was this arrangement made?"

"In the springtime," Itachi answered. The relevance of the query was lost on him, but he had determined to give Angelissa whatever answers she desired. To humor whatever questions she might ask. It was high time.

Springtime. Angel frowned, awash with renewed guilt. It was just as she had suspected. Salt had sought out her friendship almost four years ago now with sincere intentions. It was only after Angel had led Itachi to the raven-haired woman that her presence on the surface had come to his attention and she had then struck up a deal with him. Whoever had been the first to propose it, it didn't surprise Angel that Salt had accepted. She would have jumped at the opportunity to protect Angel and had, in Salt's mind, the added benefit of being able to remain on the surface.

The memory of Salt's recent injuries flashed through Angel's memory. None of that would have happened if Angel hadn't inadvertently brought the two of them face to face with each other. But why had that intervention even been necessary?

"Why do I need to be protected? What are these unnatural… things that are after me?"

The silence that followed was charged and heavy. His unfathomable onyx eyes met her burning hazel irises, demanding answers she did not know he was in no position to give.

It was the crux of the situation. The axis this combined madness spun on. The very mystery he had ventured to the Fates to try and resolve. The riddle he turned over in his head endlessly all hours of the day and night only to produce the same silence he was now forced to face her with. He had not come any closer to uncovering the truth behind why what was likely a powerful, underworld force was so insistent on capturing an unassuming, helpless mortal.

Why this mortal, in particular? Surely there were countless others? Ones that did not find themselves in his personal protection? But no, it was something about Angelissa herself, that made her the target of this elaborate plot. But what? The eyes that looked up at him hopefully were brilliant, sparkling with the purity of the heart she bore within and yet, undoubtedly mortal. Even the soul connected to her body, hung by the frailest thread to her form. No more than a gesture, or a glance was required to separate the two. Who, then, would go to such lengths to acquire her and for what purpose?

Angel paled at his prolonged silence, at the contemplative shadows she registered lurking in his dark eyes.

"Oh, my god…" she breathed, sucking in a sharp gasp. "You don't know."

Salt's reassuring words, and the knowledge of Itachi's identity had given her the impression that somehow, somewhere, he had all of this under control. He knew what was going on and it would only be a matter of time until the situation was resolved. Hadn't Salt implied as much time and again? That Itachi had all the answers?

But this - the knowledge that whatever hunted her was even beyond his scope of understanding, that even a literal deity had come up empty when trying to figure out the chaos that hounded her every step, brought the reality of the perilous situation she found herself in crashing down around her with terrifying clarity. She tried to remember how to work her lungs as her mind spun with the implications of that horrifying fact.

"Angelissa."

That familiar baritone calling her name brought her back down to the ground and she turned wide, fearful eyes to him. He reached over and took the now cold mug of hot chocolate out of her hands, setting the cup on the side table.

He reached out for her hand, and when he closed his hand around hers, warmth spread from the point of contact. He was doing it again, she realized. Regulating her heartbeat, calming her nerves. It seemed to be an ability unique to death.

"Your opponent is as yet, unknown," he confirmed quietly. "But I am your guardian."

Death is your protector.

She nodded quietly, touched and comforted. Trying not to let her mindless attraction to him worm its way into her thoughts again.

"There are certain precautions you must take," he continued gently. "Do not avoid your friend." Angel listened intently, not registering the change in wording he had chosen to refer to Salt. "My crows will always be nearby. If you sense danger, you need only reach out to them and help will arrive."

"Okay," she whispered.

"Should you catch a glimpse of scarlet eyes, you must never look into them." He paused, before adding, "Unless they are mine."

Clinging to his hand, Angel suddenly recalled the many times she had thought she had seen traces of red swirling in onyx irises. When Shisui had approached her, speaking in low, hypnotic tones before Itachi stopped him. That day on the bridge. And… there was another incident, one she couldn't clearly recall. How many times had she seen those red eyes?

"What are those eyes? What do they do?"

"It is a technique unique to the Uchiha, the deities of the underworld. The abilities can vary, depending on the user. Mind control, hypnosis, or the casting of illusions… it is a dangerous technique to be the victim of."

She met Itachi's gaze, still spellbound by the sight of his achingly beautiful, unmasked face. Those unfathomable, Stygian irises that seemed to pierce right through her. She had glimpsed them glowing red on occasion, but she never got a good look at them.

"Can you show me?" she requested, her voice almost tiptoeing hesitantly.

Itachi considered her request - the oddity of the fact that she wished to see his sharingan directly after he had informed her of the danger it contained. What had he done, he wondered, to so earn her trust?

He blinked slowly, redirecting the energy in his chakra pathways towards his eyes and when he directed them to meet her gaze, her lips parted in surprise.

Angel couldn't believe her eyes. She leaned in closer to get a better look at his irises, glowing red in the darkness, except they weren't only red. There were three black flecks as well, spaced evenly around the pupil. There was something haunting about them, as if they were all-seeing, as if they could bore into her very soul - and yet, they were undeniably stunning.

"Wow…" she breathed, mesmerized, not quite aware of the fact that she still held his hand and was now leaning into his personal space.

Itachi held her gaze and the scarlet hues faded slowly from his eyes, swirling away into nothingness. Angel grew suddenly aware of their proximity and quickly put distance between the two of them, releasing his hand in the process.

"So," she began, trying to mask her embarrassment. "When you say it depends on the user, what do your eyes do?"

"I command illusions," he answered simply.

"Illusions…" Realization dawning, Angel mulled over what this new information meant. "So, that day on the bridge… that's what you did…?" she began slowly, recalling the sickeningly sweet smell of the roses, the lilting tunes of the birds as cheerful as bells ringing, the flocks of hummingbirds. It had been a pleasant vision, albeit so intense it made her mind spin.

The slight angle of his head confirmed it. She wondered why Itachi had chosen to show her that specific illusion.

Everytime Angel thought back to the site of the collision, all she could remember was that weightless sensation and that endless garden. She had thought she had been losing her mind. She had been unable to come up with a single explanation for the loss of her memory - or why her mind had instead conjured up an image of Itachi and the intense, overwhelming beauty of a painfully vivid flowering field instead.

He had done it out of kindness, she suddenly realized. To spare her the sight of the carnage beyond. To protect her from further trauma resulting from his involvement in the human world. Tears stung at her eyes as she understood the gesture. The kindness behind it. He had not intended to make her question her sanity, or to drive her to despair but that had been the inadvertent result.

She dropped her gaze to her feet before whispering, "Thank you. I understand why you did what you did and yet… do you have any idea what that did to me? I thought I was going crazy, that I was hallucinating, and you let me believe that I had invented your presence there. I wish… I just wish someone had explained it all to me and not let me wander in confusion."

Itachi watched her despair in silent contemplation. Some confusion, he knew, was to be expected and yet, he had not anticipated for his silence to induce this degree of anguish in her. Angelissa was clearly not one to shrug off inexplicable events and move forward. She dwelled on them, lingered on their meaning to the point of obsession and for all of her sharp intellect, her mind could never have produced the correct answers without Itachi providing them.

He could empathize with her frustration. He knew what it was to chase answers that were always just beyond your reach. What it was to be left with riddles that always seemed closed-ended - no way out, no way in, no solution at all.

She sniffled, trying to banish the sudden, overwhelming emotion. She pushed on, determined to clarify everything now that they had started sorting through it. "And those marks on my back are - I mean you… you somehow healed me, didn't you?"

Itachi nodded. "Death's hand is not meant to heal," he admitted. "It could not but leave a mark."

She nodded, wiping her nose with the back of a free hand. She wasn't Salt. She wasn't going to have an emotional breakdown over this, she censured herself. A part of her was still angry - the part that recalled how scared she had been, how much she had cried, how desperate she had been for answers. Another part of her - the more rational part, she reluctantly admitted - recognized that he had indeed been watching over her, as Salt had suggested. He had been looking out for her, seeing to her wellbeing, both physical and mental, this entire time. Had likely saved her life more times than she could count and was, even now, invested in uncovering the mysterious forces that threatened her.

Itachi lifted her mug from the table and held it in his hand for a moment, before handing it back to her. Angel accepted the cup automatically, only to blink in surprise when she found the hot chocolate was steaming once more. He must have somehow heated it with his powers. Yet another touching gesture she could not make sense of.

A lengthy silence passed between them as they watched the snow fall and Angel sipped quietly at her hot chocolate.

He was an endless paradox. He was Death - protecting her, healing her, being kind to her. Where was the Death she had grown up fearing? The one who had so cruelly taken away her sister and her grandparents?

"Why did you have to take my sister?" She asked so softly, she scarcely heard herself. She refused to look at him, for fear she would lose her nerve, but Itachi observed her solemnly.

"I do not choose the time of passing. A soul's end is determined by the Fates. I am merely a collector of souls at their designated times." His quiet explanation fell soothingly on her ears. So, he had not chosen to take Evangeline. He had not been the one to decide she would die. That simple knowledge was a greater relief to Angel than it likely should have been.

She lifted sorrowful hazel eyes pleadingly to him. "You're a god! Can't you decide what to do? When to do it? Couldn't you have spared her life?"

"Even immortals must abide by the dictates of the roles to which they have been decreed," he murmured in answer.

She considered this, astounded to learn that immortals were seemingly not able to act in complete freedom as she would have assumed. "And...if you refuse?"

Itachi was silent a moment, recalling the last time he had attempted such, before answering, "No action is without its consequence."

"And one day," Angel began slowly, her lashes lowering in acceptance of the inevitable, "You'll come for my soul as well." She bit her lip, before continuing, "All that lives must die."

They were his own words, spoken in a time past, that she was echoing back to him. Itachi fell silent, neither confirming nor denying her claim. It was an inevitability. He was well aware of that fact and yet, what would he truly do if and when he was required to claim her soul?

As he watched her quietly, reflecting on their ill-fated relationship, she spared him the trouble of answering as another thought occurred to her.

"Do you know how much time a person has left?" She set her mug down. "Can you see it? Do you know how much time I have?"

Itachi shook his head in answer. "That is the domain of the Fates. To spin the thread of life, to measure it, and to cut it. I am merely a servant of their wills."

Angel listened in awe. Thanatos himself, the great god of Death, considered himself as nothing but a servant. His limitations clearly frustrated him. Then, the Fates were the ones who decided when a life would come to a close? Her research had not followed the Fates too closely, and yet, the concept was familiar.

"So, it's all real. The Underworld, the Fates, and… Olympus, too, then, I suppose?" She asked Itachi, who nodded in confirmation. She quietly exhaled, as her mind absorbed the new reality she had been thrust into with absolutely no warning. "This is the truth of our world," her amazed, hushed whisper floated between them, "and it's all been reduced to a myth?"

"Even so," Itachi commented. "The gods continue on."

Angel shook her head in amazement. "This is so much to take in, knowing that all the myths are real. I never would've imagined..." her voice trailed off.

Truth was stranger than fiction, and the truth of her circumstances. The truth of their world and the myriad gods and goddesses who ruled over it had become little more than stories people told one another for fun.

"Oh," she pressed her hands to her burning cheeks as a sudden realization hit her, "I'm so sorry."

Itachi returned her gaze, nonplussed. What was there to apologize for?

"I didn't mean any disrespect. I never thought -" she buried her face in her hands, mortified beyond measure once more. "Oh, I'm such an idiot."

Agitated, her head shot back up and she turned towards him, "I'm so sorry for sharing my stupid story with you. I couldn't have known any of this was real."

A small, bemused smile found its way to Itachi's lips. "Your story did not offend. Quite the contrary."

"Hades," Angel wondered, "Does he exist? Do you know him? Does he rule the Underworld as the myths say?"

"I know him well," Itachi answered kindly. "He is my brother. But no, he does not rule over our domain."

"Your brother? Your brother, Sasuke?"

"Indeed," Itachi agreed. "That is his true name."

True name. Hadn't Shisui and Salt said something similar about Itachi? About Itachi being his true name? Was it a personal name as opposed to the name ordained by his role? She supposed as much.

"Then, do gods have families, too?" she wondered aloud.

"Most do," Itachi confirmed.

"And Shisui? What is his role in the underworld?"

"He is known among men as Hypnos."

"The god of sleep," Angel elaborated, to which Itachi nodded.

She leaned back in her chair, mulling it all over. Her entire worldview had been set on its head. And where did she fit in, in all of this? An unlucky flea caught in a colossal spider's web. A lamb among giants. Was it her fate to live out a brief and meaningless life, only to have Itachi inevitably collect her soul at the end of it? To venture into the underworld and be judged and sent to… what would her place be?

The question weighed more heavily on her mind now that the underworld's existence had been established beyond a shadow of a doubt. The turbulent events of the past twenty-four hours, the mind-boggling revelations that Itachi had gently conveyed to her, one after another, had distracted her from the events of the past few days but they had become an inextricable part of who she was.

The man that had lost his life at her hands had overwritten her identity. He had blurred over her past and future until she was nothing and no one but a girl who had killed. Surely, whatever fate awaited her in the afterlife would reflect that?

Tartarus.

She shuddered. It was only right. She had taken a life, she should pay with her own. She felt her heart begin accelerating again as she considered where her final destination would likely be. An equally as horrific thought crossed her mind. Was Itachi the one responsible for directing souls to their final resting places? Would he be the deity who would consign her to hell itself?

Itachi picked up on her agony. On the grief radiating from her very soul. He recognized the telltale signs that a state of panic was steadily consuming her, although he could not decipher what turn of her thoughts had prompted it.

"Angelissa."

His voice cut into her thoughts, drawing her attention back to himself once more. The words tormenting her mind spilled from her lips before she could stop them, even as her shoulders trembled at the mere thought.

"Is it you?" She could not banish the tremors in her voice, "Will you be the one to judge my soul? Are you going to send me to hell?"

"That," Itachi spoke slowly, ensuring that his words reached her, "is not your destination."

"No!" Angel's throat constricted with grief, her voice choked. "It is. I - I've killed a man. You know this. You have to. You know better than anyone."

She clenched her fists in her lap as tears pooled in her eyes. How could she have forgotten? Whatever else she was, whatever else was going on… there was a life on her shoulders. There was blood on her hands.

"He was out of it. He was just trying to protect his territory. I - I overreacted, and I … shoved him into the wall. You were there, weren't you? You saw it all, didn't you? You must have, when you took his soul? Please, tell me I don't need to explain more than this."

Tears spilled over her cheeks as she confessed to her sins. Who better to confess to than a literal god? Who could better pronounce judgment over her? Who else could finally ease her conscience by giving her the chastisements she deserved?

"Mortals may bring about injury," Itachi answered, "But they cannot summon death. Nor end a life. Death is a thing ordained. It cannot be delayed, nor hastened."

"But, I…" she lifted tearful eyes at him, asking him to understand, without words, that she was well aware of the tainted state of her soul.

"Angelissa," when he spoke, it was almost in reproach, "You desire justice. Will you accept my judgment?"

Her breath caught in her throat. The moment was upon her. Whatever warmth she had imagined there to be between them, whatever friendship she had hoped for, it all faded into the background as a stone-cold reality showed its granite face. He was a god and she was a mortal. The two of them would never be more than that.

But that meant that he could at last pronounce his verdict and free her of the guilt that tormented her. She was ready to face it. She had to be.

"Yes," she could only whisper the single syllable, but it was nearly lost to the sob that followed it as further tears flooded her eyes.

"You protected yourself. As the instincts the gods created you with, commanded of you. You are neither a murderer, nor a killer. You will not face your afterlife as such. The man you speak of, lost his life due to the will of the Fates. It was a thing ordained."

She blinked up at him, confused, and opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke before she could.

"Thus is my verdict."

To question him now, would surely amount to blasphemy, would it not? After he had asked her directly, if she would accept the judgment he pronounced?

She was no killer. That was Itachi's verdict. The judgment of Thanatos, the God of Death. She sobbed bitterly, as the guilt that had lodged around her heart like ice slowly thawed and gave way, allowing her to breathe freely for the first time in days. She could not but gasp for breath as she wept incessantly in relief, finally releasing the pent-up emotions that had tormented her very being every waking moment since she had looked into those lifeless eyes.

She did not know how much time passed, it could have been minutes or hours that she cried bitterly. The entire time, Itachi remained at her side, a quiet, comforting presence that lended her strength, even without a word spoken.

At length, her sobs subsided, as all grief did, even from the hearts that clung to it most adamantly. The snow, she realized, had stopped falling at some point, and the sky had brightened considerably. She was sure her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen as she sniffled, still afflicted by the hiccups that followed after a bout of tears had come to an end.

Turning towards the park, and the river that flowed somewhere among its trees, she saw the sun just peeking out from the horizon and blinked at it in astonishment. Had they talked all night? Whiled it away, lost in conversation?

She turned towards Itachi and saw him sitting beside her still. His posture unchanged, clearly not tiring. He returned her gaze, and his long-lashed ebony eyes were void of pity. They were honest and understanding and saw her, she had always thought, as she truly was. Despite the knowledge of what he was, despite how impossible she knew it to be, she still craved his company. Still wished for more evenings like this one, where she could pour her heart out to him and have him make sense of all the senseless things life liked to throw at her. It was selfish, she knew. A sentiment he did not reciprocate in the slightest, and yet… he had chosen to keep her company by the riverside. And hadn't he done the same once more, here on her balcony, engaged in conversation until sunrise? Didn't that have to mean something? Or was she imagining it, again?

"I don't understand," she admitted quietly. "Was I the center of your investigation? You were trying to figure out what's after me? But I wasn't of any use at all when it comes to that. Why did you come and meet with me so often at the riverside? We talked about all manner of things but rarely ever did we mention the strange things going on. What… was the purpose of it all?"

She was dismayed to find that yet another stray tear had managed to escape her eyes and reached up hastily to brush it away, but before her palm connected with her cheek, she felt a gentle fingertip on her skin. A caress as faint as the fluttering of a butterfly's wing. She lifted her eyes to Itachi in honest surprise and watched, spell-bound as his finger came away from her face, his forbidding, dark gaze fixed on the teardrop resting on his fingertip.

He lowered his hand with a brief frown, as if the teardrop had offended him, as if it represented his failings. "Angelissa…" he murmured quietly, turning his all-consuming gaze onto her.

"It was never your assumption."

The words found purchase in her heart and settled there with finality. They were words she had longed to hear, but had never dared to hope would be. Itachi was not one to revoke his words, once spoken, but here he was, doing just that, for her.

It was not her assumption. The friendship between them, the mutual understanding, the craving of the other's company. She hadn't made any of it up. He wanted to spend time with her as much as she did? Did he also mean that he felt the same attraction that she- No. She stemmed the thought. That was impossible. And yet, the implications of his statement, the fact he had said it at all… a thousand butterflies seemed to flutter in her ribcage. She was certain, she, too, could take flight if she would only attempt it.

Her hazel eyes were awash with emotion as she turned them on him, and Itachi reached out, despite himself, to tuck a stray strand of chestnut hair gently behind her ear. She stilled at the unexpected touch, feeling as though her heart had stopped all over again - this time for entirely different reasons. She had much to say, it was brimming in her eyes, and yet, words failed her.

"Take your rest, Angelissa. Until we meet again."

She had not known the sweetness of the word "again" until it fell from his lips. The hidden, underlying promise - that she would not need to chase him, that he would be there for her, that another meeting between them would be inevitable - filled her heart with warmth.

She nodded, overcome, and at a loss for words.

"You too. It's been a long night, you must be tired." She offered politely, missing the way the corner of his lips turned upwards at the suggestion.

"Then I shall leave you to your rest," he answered, rising smoothly to his feet.

"Wait," she said. He paused, angling a glance back toward her.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, meeting his eyes directly. "For saving my life. For telling me the truth. And… for your protection."

She recognised that without him, she would have already likely been dead. The irony of that was not lost on her, now knowing what he was, who he was.

He inclined his head in silent courtesy.

"Good night, Itachi," she added, rising as she gathered the mugs. By the time she turned to finish her farewell, he had already disappeared without a sound from her sight.

She sighed, understanding now that with him she probably needed to expect the unexpected.

Dawn was reclaiming the sky, and very early risers, like her friends at the tea shop, were likely just getting started on their days. Could Angel possibly sleep with all the information buzzing around in her head that she knew she would continue turning over now that she was finally alone? She doubted it, and still, she stood transfixed, her eyes trained intently on the spot where Itachi had stood only moments before.

"Until we meet again," she whispered to the sunrise.


AN: Review or bust, guys! XD