None of this is mine. Most of it doesn't even belong to the same people. The only thing that's mine is Maedhros's bitterness towards his father; I've never read anything that says how they reacted when they met again in Mandos but I had a feeling that even though he loved his father very much, Mae'd be more than a little ticked off at him…and maybe even a tad ashamed…ah, just read.

The Recovering Evil Madmen Support Group, Chapter Two: Dead People Society

Coughing into the crook of his handless right arm, the auburn-haired elf stood up, balancing his supple weight against the overturned table. The angel boyishly blinked at him in expectation.

"Um…no, you're right on time, but I think you've got the wrong group…" The elf hoped the angel would understand his language; he had been guaranteed the meeting-room automatically translated all languages for those using it, but if the angel had the wrong number he couldn't be sure if it would work.

"Nope. This is the one." The angel calmly walked in, white toga trailing on the floor behind him. "Messy place, though. At least it's not cramped like the Dark Area."

"It's messy because you trashed it with that explosion," snapped the elf's father caustically. "Now get out. This is a meeting of…"

"I know. I'm one."

"One what?" asked the boy, fingering the device that had made his monster grow.

The angel looked at him, face open and innocent but also slightly hurt. "Why, the same as you, I guess. A Recovering Evil Madman. This is the Recovering Evil Madmen Support Group, isn't it?"

"But…but…" stammered the boy, dark bangs falling into his eyes, "but you're an angel."

A shadow entered the angel's face. "Looks can be deceiving," he replied, his velvet voice now dripping malice. "Remember that, human. I suspect you've prompted the same disbelief in others with that pretty façade." The boy grew rigid, but the angel paid him no more notice, picking a chair up from amid the debris on the ground and sitting complacently down. Gone was the cloud from his face. Blond curls shining, he looked just like a little boy…but there was no doubt in the red-haired elf's mind that this angel belonged here, here in this coven of fallen souls.

Turning to his father, the red-haired elf gestured at the blown-off door. "Father, you have your tools, right? Can you fix that?"

"Can I fix it?" his father asked pointedly. "Years of labor at my forge spent hard in study, the creation of artifacts so magnificent even the Valar coveted them, and you ask me if I can fix a door? I have not grown senile in death, my son." Nevertheless he got up to inspect the door.

Ashen-faced, the boy's gaze followed him. "In…death? You're…dead?"

"As am I," asserted the red-haired elf, "though granted temporary substance for this task."

"I'm dead too," offered the angel, obviously enjoying the boy's shocked dread. "Humans like you killed me."

Whirling around, the boy's blue eyes fixed on the hooded man standing aloof, red-specked handkerchief at his side. "What about you?" demanded the boy wildly. "Are you dead or alive?"

The reply was soft, a bitter yet thoughtful and vaguely surprised whisper. "I'm not really sure. Somewhere in between, I suppose. My case is, and has always been…"-- his eyes glittered within his dark cowl-- "…unique." As before, the boy shrank back. "Then I'm the only one here who's actually…alive?" he asked wonderingly.

"Such is the price many pay for their errors. You were fortunate," said the robed man. "But death will come to you in its own time. Even now, I see…" He turned away, strangely distracted and a little sad-sounding. "Never mind what I see."

This conversation getting a bit too morbid, the russet-haired elf changed the subject just as his father replaced the last screw on the now perfectly repaired door. "As I was saying earlier, welcome to the second meeting of the Recovering Evil Madmen Support Group. My name is Maedhros, and I'm to conduct this evening's meeting. We begin by reciting the pledge. Does anyone need a copy?" The angel walked up and received a piece of parchment from the elf, then returned to his seat amid the rubble.

"Please stand."

Glowering, the angel stood up again. Maedhros's father raised an amused eyebrow. He's enjoying watching me struggle, thought Maedhros. The worse this goes for me, the better pleased with himself he'll get. This must go off well—if only to wipe that smirking smile off his face. His arrogance ruined my life. It will not rule my death!

Aloud, he instructed the others.

"Place your left hand behind your back and your right hand in the air." Maedhros demonstrated, blushing as he raised his handless right arm, sleeve flopping awkwardly but still covering the stump. The other four matched his pose, staring at the empty space where his hand should have been. Swallowing, he continued.

"We will now recite the Pledge." And this will be easy for you, dear father. Oathtaking has always been so simple for you. Lightly you swear, but painfully we fall. Well, this is one oath I don't mind taking. I will redeem this family, even if you don't think it needs to be saved.

Slowly, solemnly, the five spoke to the dimness, the black-robed man stifling a cough in the middle. As one, they intoned.

"I am a nice guy. Not a ruthless evil machine. If I am to change this image, I must first change myself. People are friends, not fools."

"Ah, who're we kidding?" asked the angel cynically, ripping his parchment in two. "They're nuts, the whole lot of 'em. They're all idiots!"

"You are an idiot," replied the dark-clad man in quiet but penetrating tones, like he was pronouncing some supreme sarcastic judgment. The angel turned to him, scowling. "Who asked you?" he asked in an aggravated tone. "And take off that hood! I like to look a person in the eyes when I talk to them."

"As you wish," replied the young man with a strange tone of grim satisfaction, and, shaking his long white hair out of his eyes, revealed his face. Lucemon had a grimace ready to greet the hidden face, but as the man drew back his hood the angel retreated in terror. Maedhros sucked in his breath and forced himself to go on, to ignore the man's coloring and the shape of his pupils. Don't judge on appearances: that must be our moral for today, he thought as he began speaking.

"Now. We are here to hear each other's stories, to help each other climb out of this dark hole into which we have all fallen. We can do it, but only with each other's help. I know it's hard if you're used to being alone…"-- here every set of eyes in the room watching him narrowed, one pair grey, one sky-blue, one storm-blue, and one eerily golden—"but you must all learn to support others and let yourself be supported. Introductions first. When anyone says their name, greet them. I'll demonstrate. My name is Maedhros."

"Hullo, Maedhros," droned the audience as one.

"It has been…" He checked some calculations he'd been doing before the start of the meeting. "…two hundred and forty-eight human years, seven months, and three days, since my last great work of evil."

The strange man clapped softly and sarcastically; the boy stared; the angel cried "Wow! That long?" then fell silent and Maedhros continued, head held high, needing to get his story out in the open.

"For long years my brothers and I fought murderously to fulfill the Oath we swore to our father, that we would reclaim the sacred jewels he made from anyone save us who dared possess them. One by one we fell, until my eldest, though younger, brother and I were the only ones left. Though it looked as though we had a chance, albeit a faint one, to come into our own without further shedding of innocent blood…I convinced my brother it would be better to steal the jewels and run."

Through tear-blurred vision, Maedhros saw his father tense, smolder. Raising his fair flame-colored head higher still, he finished the tale of his last great sin, the end of which he had hidden from his father for nearly two hundred and fifty years.

"So we murdered the guards and fled, like common barbarian thieves. One jewel each we took, the last two jewels for the last two brothers. But…our right to those sacred objects through our many and grievous wrongs had become void. The crystal seared my flesh with unbearable pain, and the weight of all I had done came crashing down on me with the sound of the cymbals of Doom. The futility and blackness of my life, coupled with the physical agony of holding the jewel, led me to take one final life." He paused, almost afraid and hating the memory. "My own."

"I burned to death, burned away as my spirit howled into the Void words of hopelessness and despair. Wailing aloud, I cast myself and the jewel into a fissure of smokes and flames…and awoke in the halls of Mandos, jewelless but burdened with the dark deeds of my dreadful life. Too late have I always repented! When it can do no more good, save no more lives, then, at last, uselessly except to make me hate my Oath even more, am I sorry!" Breaking off, he turned to his father. "All this I suffered, and my brothers suffered, and others suffered at our hands, for the sake of one person's dying wish," he accused icily. "Maintain you your claim that you do not belong here?"

"You took your life? With the Silmaril finally regained? You told me you died fighting an enemy you could never defeat, and cast the Silmaril into the fire to keep him from getting it! You lied to me!" The dark-haired elf's furious voice rang through the chamber. "And you dare condemn me, who only sought to reclaim what was mine?"

"I did not lie, Father," Maedhros said more gently. "The enemy I lost to was the Oath and the Curse."

Silence.

The black-robed man coughed softly into his golden-tinged hand.

Silence.

The boy hugged his little green monster.

Silence.

Meekly the angel put up his hand.

"I'll go next," he offered.

a/n: Wow! We found out a big one character's name! All right! Hey, elves are really melodramatic, aren't they? Come to think of it, every guy in that room has a flair for melodrama…must come with being a Recovering Evil Madman. Or maybe just an Evil Madman, Recovering or no.

Replies to Reviewers:

Mirowood: Thanks again for asking me to Hitchhiker's. I told my family about the "So Long And Thanks For All The Fish" song and they all cracked up. Hope you're a little less lost on this story now…what with the one name being known now and all…find and watch Tsubasa, by the way. It's good. I swear. But the manga's better.

TiggerBaby: Hey, there's nothing wrong with being obsessed with smileys. I myself am addicted to parentheses, Blind Guardian, and elves, yet still manage to live some semblance of a normal life. Glad you liked the story so far, weird and vague and cheesy though it may be. It's going to be weirder. (And cheesier.) (See! Here I go with parentheses again! Is there a Recovering Parentheses User Support Group?)

I found some slight errors in the text of this that I feel obliged to point out but am to lazy to fix. 1.) The correct title should probably be Recovering Evil Madmen's Support Group, with a possessive, but I like the sound of just "Madmen." Plus I'm even not sure about the grammar there. (Not a good thing…I wanna be an English major.) 2.) When the robed man says he has always been "unique," he's stretching the truth a bit…there was that little matter about him following in the footsteps of the evil mage sharing his essence…but more on that later. 3.) Maedhros's brothers did not fall "one by one" in the sense that over time they each kicked the bucket. They all lasted a good long time, then three were killed in the same battle, then a later fight picked off the two youngest. His other brother's still out there somewhere, singing his angsty musician's heart out…

Okay. Disclaimers are done. Conscience is clear. Well, mine is. I can't say the same about these guys!