Chapter 8

A/N – Wow, finally got this chapter done! Sorry for the long wait. This chapter is dedicated to Milla – hope you had a jazzy birthday, dahling!

Disclaimer – Once again, Christian and Olivier belong to Baz and Rebecca belongs to me.

Olivier didn't stop running until he reached his home nine blocks away. His head was swimming, not from all the running, but from the angel he had just encountered.

Maybe angel wasn't exactly the right word to describe Rebecca. She is... unique. A rare find. Someone you just don't meet everyday. He could figure that out by the few moments he knew her.

Olivier leaned against the doorframe to his house. Little raindrops began to fall from the sky. Why all the tears? he wondered.

He turned round, his head full of thoughts of Rebecca, but his heard dropped through the ground when he saw a single candle flickering through the window.

His father was home.

Olivier took a deep breath, turned the doorknob, and walked into his hell of a home.

Christian sat at the table, slumped over a bottle of absinthe or something equally toxic. He didn't look up when Olivier walked in. Olivier walked over, took the bottle from his father, and promptly poured it out the open window above the table. Christian shifted in his seat and raised a pair of bloodshot eyes to Olivier's face. "You didn't go see your mother today."

"I went this morning," Olivier said shortly. He turned and leaned over to wash his face in the basin.

"You usually come with me..." he said slowly.

"Well, I didn't want to today." Olivier tried his face with a cloth on the table and picked up the bottle. "Where did you get the absinthe?"

His father didn't answer. He just stared out of the window.

Christian's family has given them money every month for food, clothes and whatnot. But Christian always seems to get to it first and spend some of the money of drinks. Olivier can usually use most of the money before Christian wastes it all.

Olivier walked over to the open door of their bedroom. "'Night, Christian."

~

Olivier walked quickly from school, holding his books close to his chest, trying not to be noticed. He had worked hard today, trying to keep his mind off things. Olivier loved getting lost in his books and his work no matter what other people thought. Christian wasn't home when Olivier woke up but he knew he was out at the graveyard. Christian usually mopes for about a week and –

"James!"

Olivier groaned inwardly and started to walk faster.

"James, why aren't you listening to me?"

Olivier heard footsteps behind him before being shoved to the ground.

"You listen to me, James!" Walter Williams' face appeared in front of him as Olivier rolled on his back.

"Why should I?" Olivier scowled. He picked himself up, only to be pushed down on the gravel pathway again.

"Whatcha got here?" Walter picked up a pad of paper Olivier had dropped and flipped through the pages.

"Leave it, Williams," Olivier warned. He picked up the rest of the books on the ground.

Walter shook his head. "No, I think I'll keep it for a little while."

Olivier lunged for the pad but Walter jumped out of the way. He had grabbed his collar and fell, bringing Walter down with him. Olivier snatched the pad out of his way and threw it behind him. Walter raised his fist and it came down again, smashing Olivier's nose. Blood spurted onto his shirt and into his mouth.

"Stop it!" cried a voice behind them.

Olivier punched Walter in the stomach and he fell down onto his back.

A pair of hands grabbed Olivier by the shoulders and pulled him away from Walter. He jumped to his feet, turned around and saw Rebecca standing behind him with a very frightened look on her face.

"Rebecca!" Olivier said through the blood pouring from his nose.

She didn't answer, just started picking up Olivier's books. Walter just stood there, watching Rebecca, with his mouth handing open. Then Rebecca turned on her heel, grabbed Olivier by the arm and pulled him around the corner of the school building.

"Rebecca, what are you doing?" Olivier insisted as she kept walking along the side of the school. She stopped at a staircase and forced Olivier to sit down. She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to Olivier.

"So I suppose we're even now, right?" Rebecca said lightly, her hands on her hips. She sighed loudly. "Now you're probably wanting me to walk you home, right?"

Olivier laughed into the handkerchief. "You're amazing."

She grinned. "I know."

He offered her the bloody handkerchief to Rebecca. "Do you need this back?"

Rebecca wrinkled her nose. "I don't think so..."

"How far are we from your home?" Olivier asked. "I'd like to get cleaned up a little."

"Oh, you're bleeding again!" she exclaimed. He put the handkerchief to his face again. "I don't live too far away from here." She picked up his books and began to walk off the campus of the school.

"You don't mind me coming over for a little while?" Olivier asked, catching up with her.

"No, Armand might though," Rebecca replied.

Olivier let his hand drop from his face momentarily. "Armand?"

"He's my cat."

Olivier grinned. "Where'd you come up with a name like that?"

"Ever read Camille by Alexandre Dumas?" she asked.

"Only a hundred times," he said.

"Really?" Rebecca exclaimed. "You don't seem like the kind of person who would like it!"

"I love it."

"Why?"

"Well..." Olivier never really told anyone before. "It reminds me of my parents."

"Your parents?" Rebecca gave him a curious look.

"Yes."

"Do you mind me asking why?"

"Yes."

Rebecca stopped momentarily. "I'm sorry."

Olivier sighed. "No, I'm sorry. That was rude. My mother used to be a... kept woman in Paris. She and my father fell in love even they weren't allowed to."

"How come?" Rebecca asked.

He hesitated. "... I'm not sure."

There was a long, awkward pause.

"How did your mother die, Olivier?" she asked softly.

"Consumption," Olivier answered. "While we're on the subject... what about you?"

"My parents died in the war," she explained slowly. "My father was in the military. A bomb dropped in our neighborhood a few years ago and our roof collapsed on my mother."

Olivier gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "Rebecca, I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It's not your fault. I've actually been pretty lucky. A friend of the family's, Jonathan Myers took me in and let me live above his bookstore. It used to be an office of some sort so it's fairly large."

"That's good," agreed Olivier.

They turned a corner, and Rebecca said, "It's right up here." As they approached Myers Books she fished a key out of her pocket. Rebecca inserted it into the side door of the shop, opened it, and they walked up a long flight of stairs. There was another door at the top and they walked into her apartment.

Olivier was amazed at the size; it was about the same as his house. There was a small cast-iron stove in the corner and a basin next to that. In the opposite corner there was a bed and a tattered, old love seat. A chair and a dresser were next to the bed under the window that looked out onto the street. A small black and white cat sat curled up on the bed lifted his head as Olivier and Rebecca entered.

"Hello, Armand!" Rebecca exclaimed. She took off her jacket and set it on the bed. Leaning down, she gave Armand a kiss on the head. "You can wash your face in that basin over there."

"Thanks." Olivier quickly washed his face, making sure all the dried blood was gone from his face. He took a cloth folded next to the basin to dry off. Rebecca was sitting on her bed with Armand in her lap. Olivier walked over and sat on the old loveseat. Armand immediately leaped up out of Rebecca's lap and lunged for Olivier's leg, claws out.

"Ah!" he howled, jumping out of his eat. Armand was still attached to his pant leg.

"Armand," Rebecca giggled. She gently plucked him off of Olivier's leg. "Aww, he likes you!"

"Likes me?" Olivier gasped, rubbing his leg. "He just tried to pull off my leg!"

Rebecca grinned and scratched Armand behind the ears, causing him to purr loudly. "Armand only bites the people he doesn't like."

Olivier saluted Armand. "I'm honored."

Rebecca nodded. "You should be!"

"Rebecca," Olivier said. "Have lunch with me tomorrow."

She raised one eyebrow suspiciously. "Why should I?"

"Because I want you to!"

"I suppose that's a good enough reason..."

"It better be!" Olivier said accusingly. "Oh wait, do you have school tomorrow?"

Rebecca shook her head. "Don't go to school – I'll be working."

"Okay... I guess I can skip school for you," Olivier winked.

"Oh, don't do that!"

"Why not? I don't want to go anyway," he said. "How about I pick you up at twelve?"

She sighed. "Okay."

Olivier stood up out of his seat and stuck out his hand. "Tomorrow at twelve then!"

She shook his hand. "You better not be late!"