Chapter Two

And it's a beautiful, yet soggy morning here in the Emerald City. Today's high is gonna be a scorching 65 degrees with a chance of rain sometime this afternoon. Let's check out the traffic report, every ten minutes on the sixes here on KISW, Seattle's choice for alternative rock. Hey Mike, how's I-5 shaping up this morning…

Angel's alarm clock woke her up the next morning. Slowly she pulled herself out of bed and headed toward her kitchen. Her programmed coffee pot had just finished brewing, so she found a mug in her cupboard and poured herself a cup. "Wish I had an IV so I could ingest this directly," she muttered to herself while she walked to the front door. She found her issue of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer sitting at her feet out on the landing. She brought it back inside, sat in her chair, and spent a few moments reading the paper before she really "started her day".

An hour later with a shower and a good breakfast out of the way, Angel got on her bicycle and headed for work. She worked as a proof reader for one of the local publishing companies' downtown. It didn't give her much of a social life, but the hours and pay were more than enough compensation. It also gave her enough time for her extra activities, helping Chris keep the Legend true.

For Chris and Angel it seemed like a never ending battle. She enjoyed the fact that the movies were getting the message out, but was disappointed with Peter Jackson and how muddled her Legend was becoming in his hands. The main points were there, but the aura of the Legend was lost. Nothing was better than the written word, and it proved true in this case. She would always be thankful, but like her cousin she would take it with a grain of salt.

Angel entered the publishers' high rise building, pushing her bicycle next to her. The security guard offered her a friendly greeting and she returned the gesture. "Morning Miss Walker. Anything exciting happen this weekend?"

"Not particularly Paul. The same old same old. How was yours?"

"Not that bad. Diana, the kids, and I spent Saturday up in Friday Harbor. We had a blast."

"That's great to hear. I've gotta get to my floor. Send all my love to Diana and the children."

"Sure will. Have a pleasant day!"

Angel smiled at Paul and walked over to the nearest elevator. It wasn't long before Angel stepped onto the sixth floor and walked over to her cubicle. A wave of morning greetings flowed toward Angel while she walked, and she had a cheery smile for all of them. She would never think of herself as the "popular" one of the floor, but everyone enjoyed her company by the water cooler and no one ever spoke ill about the girl.

Angel's cubicle was a homey cubicle. Dried flowers filled a vase on her desk. By her computer monitor were pictures of her family; her mom and dad, older brother and sister, and younger brother. Another frame was filled by a picture of her and her Aunt Lucy at the farm that Lucy lived in up by the Canadian border taken when Angel was a child. Lastly there was a picture of Chris and his brothers and sister taken the last time Angel and Lucy had visited. Lucy was surrounded by her cousins as Angel took the picture. Angel remembered it as one of those perfect moments that don't surface near enough in life.

The day flew by for Angel. The story she was proofing for the publisher was actually good and she was enjoying reading it. The author was very professional and she barely made any changes. It was about family, which made her love it even more. She hoped that her boss would take a chance on this light hearted tale of good family values. Fiction as she saw it was becoming more graphic and perverse, catering to the adrenaline junkie in the reader instead of the heart. As she sat her work down for the day she wished silently that it would make it through the process and be seen by the public.

Riding through downtown Seattle at sunset was almost like a salve to Angel's mind. Watching people go home to their families, their animals, or like her to her empty apartment, put a smile on the still childlike face. She entered her apartment after about a 20-minute ride, her bike in tow. The sun was sending golden beams through her windows and gave the room an ethereal glow. She set her bike by the door and walked over to her answering machine to see if anyone called…

Angel…it's your mother. Sorry we couldn't make it up this weekend, Charlie had a big softball tournament and we couldn't get away. How are you doing? Call me back. Love you sweetheart!

Beep!

Hey Angie, it's Steve! You there? Pick up! Seriously doll, you need to get a life besides that job of yours. The gang wants to go out and do something and we wanted to get your input before we decided anything. We're gonna head out sometime after six. Call me on my cell when you get this. Peace out!

Beep!

Angel love, it's Christopher. Just wanted to catch up and see how you were. Pri was afraid you would be a shambles after the funeral. Call back at your earliest convenience, I'll be willing to talk even if it's the middle of the night.

End of messages…

Looking to the clock on the wall and seeing it was six-thirty, she passed on the idea of going out with her friends. She had no real urge to call her mother, she would just make up more excuses to justify not going to her aunt's funeral, so she decided to call someone who really cared. The number to Chris' cottage in England was on the list next to the phone, so it was no time at all before her voice was being heard across the Atlantic. "Chris, it's Angel."

"Angel dear! How are you?"

"I'm well considering. I miss her though."

"I know you do darling. We miss her over here too. Lucy was an outstanding woman, even if she was misunderstood. Are you taking any time off to tend to yourself?"

"I would, but there are too many things here at home that need my attention. Also, I can't just drop everything and disappear for a week, which is what I know you would want me to do. There's not enough time."

"Ok, ok, subject dropped. I'll just give you the invite dear. When you're ready, I'll have your room prepared."

"Thanks Chris, I might just take you up on your offer sometime in the near future."

Soon Chris and Angel moved from the depressing subject of death to other things. Angel asked about Chris' wife and family, Chris delved into questions about the short stories Angel was working on in her spare time. They would have gone on all night, but it was the middle of the night for Chris and he needed sleep. They parted with kind words and soon Angel was placing the phone back in its charger.

It wasn't long before Angel fell into her nightly routine, pulling a Lean Cuisine out of the freezer, heating it up and calling it "dinner", then moving on to cleaning her apartment. No matter how hard she tried it always looked like "Hurricane Angel" had passed through her home and left it a disaster area. The clothes trail she had left from the night before was still on the floor, so she picked them up and threw them into her washer down the hallway. The desk in her office was covered with piles of books, papers, notebooks, and other such things.

When she put everything away, she went around and opened all her windows. Her apartment became stuffy quite quick because of the old ventilation system in the building. It always smelled like an old library. Sometimes she liked the smell, but there were times like tonight where she wanted everything aired out.

Finally satisfied with her apartment's looks, Angel decided to take a shower and settle in for the night. Unbeknownst to her friends she had a date, a date with her favorite movie Anna and the King. It was one of those chick flicks that pulled at your heartstrings, the ones that made Angel cry.

Angel soon entered her bathroom and let the water run in her shower until it was the desired temperature. When she was finally under the running water, she just let it run. She let the almost scalding heat of the water penetrate her until she felt her muscles being to relax.

When Angel exited the shower she felt refreshed and clean, ready to face anything and everything. She dressed herself in her pajamas and started off down the hallway. Something made her stop though. She heard a sound in her living room, a sound not normal to her apartment, the sound of someone breathing. Quietly she walked back to the hall closet and pulled out a baseball bat, a relic from when she played softball in high school. Again she made her way to the living room and the unusual sound. When she saw the room in full view, she saw a figure looking out the window. Finally finding her voice, she spoke. "Who are you and what the hell are you doing in here!"

The figure didn't turn around, but merely spoke to the window. "I'd put that down Angel Telecontar, wood doesn't stand a chance against forged steel."

A/N: Hey! Well looky here…ff.net if being a pain in the arse. Whoopy! *drips sarcasm* I had all these purdy reviews and they're not up yet! It's no fair, but I'll respond anyway.

WeasleyTwinsLover1112: Ah! Don't sic the "Frying Pan of Doom" on me! Here's chappy two to appease you.

Star-Stallion: Thanks! ME could be SO real! I read once that Tolkien wrote LOTR to replace the Saxon mythology lost by the Norman Invasion…he's so sweet. *hugs JRRT plushie*

Raven-Of-A-Took: Wondering is good! Brings you back for more. I hope this story has a lot of potential. Realistically…I hope ALL my stories have potential. *wink*

AngelQueen: Thanks! Glad you like it!

Dragon Girl: Spiffy! Return readers are awesome!

Rohee: *claps* My story's edgy! Totally excellent! I'm actually writing this in a totally different style than my other ones. I try to do that with my stories…keep things interesting. *wink*