Wait whaat? Did I just update within a month? I don't know though, it's a pretty short chapter this time. The good thing is, something does happen!

Chapter Seventeen

Mathias could not stand the feeling of hopelessness. He did not like staying still, did not like being helpless and motionless and useless. There were only a few times in his life when nothing he had done would make any difference, and it always ended in him losing everything. When he had fought back, however, there was always something he could gain, something for him to conquer, to kill, to save.

Of course, the first time he had actually killed someone was during the Fall, but the first time he felt a hint of death on his hands was when he was eight.

The other boy deserved it though. Sometimes Mathias still thought that he should have stabbed down harder and just killed the other boy.

But killing was never okay, it was never the solution, although more often than not, it brought good fortune of some kind.

Even now, as he rested beside piles of corpses, cold blood soaking into his skin, he could not feel remorse for the killing. It was difficult to be ashamed of something that had provided your every need.

"Mathias."

Lukas stood in the doorway, taking in the bloodshed in the Prison. The crimson emergency lights casted grotesque shadows on the walls, staining the blood black and hiding the corpses. He noticed, however, Milen, a lonely, broken figure sprawled in the middle of the hall, a single clean hole in his forehead. Lukas felt a pang of regret, but then he spotted Mathias.

Mathias had always stood out somehow. In a crowd, whether it was his towering height—enhanced by his sweeping hairstyle—or his loud voice and goofy grin, he was always immediately noticeable. There was simply something about Mathias that never seemed to quite belong.

But now, amongst the rows of dead, Mathias seemed to have melted into the background. It didn't seem right that somebody who was always so lively would fit in so perfectly with the dead, but it took Lukas some effort to find Mathias, and for one moment, he thought that he was actually dead.

But then Mathias stirred, and called in a weary voice, "Lukas?"

"I'm here." Lukas made his way carefully towards the shadow leaning against the wall. Each step took all his will, and it left him panting and dizzy, his legs feeling like they were about to buckle any moment. At one point he nearly tripped, and one of the cuts on his back reopened, blood soaking into the bandages and sending spikes of pain down his spine.

Except Mathias looked worse. Ugly bruises were forming, a revolting purplish shade in the red lighting, and there were several small cuts that had scabbed over but left little patches of dried blood on his face; he had a split lip, and one eye was already swelling shut. His left hand was thrown out to one side, and Lukas could see that it had been crushed and broken into an unrecognizable lump of bloody flesh. Remembering the blood on Magyar's heel, Lukas felt bile rising in his throat, but quickly forced it down before he hurled all over Mathias.

"I got your hairpin." Mathias offered it to him, and Lukas carefully clipped it back in place.

"Are you okay?" What a stupid question, he admonished himself. Of course he's not okay.

"I'm fine." But Mathias was stubborn as well, and Lukas knew that if he said that he was fine, then he was going to act fine until he was too broken to do so.

"No, you're not." Lukas gave him a sharp look, which Mathias defiantly returned with one and a half eyes.

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I—"

"I," Lukas interrupted, "am not having this conversation with you right now."

"Why not?" whined Mathias. "We haven't had this conversation in such a long time!"

"Not true."

"True."

"Not true."

"True."

"Not true—you wouldn't remember it either way."

Mathias had the decency to pout. "Who said that?"

Lukas wanted to cross his arms, but knew that that would just stretch his wounds more, so settled with an incredulous glare. "You said that. Last month."

The amnesiac frowned. "I don't remember that."

Lukas rolled his eyes. "You don't remember anything." Gingerly, he sat down opposite to Mathias—more like fell to his knees and tried not to jostle himself anymore than necessary.

"That's not true either."

Lukas was about to retort, but Mathias's expression made him pause.

"I remember things, Lukas." Mathias spoke so matter-of-factly Lukas almost believed him. But when he shook his head slightly, Mathias insisted, "I remember, Lukas. I am remembering."

Lukas paused. "What do you mean 'you are remembering'?"

"Come," he said instead, patting the empty space next to him. "Come sit next to me."

Carefully, Lukas scooted next to Mathias and landed heavily on his bottom. He did not relax against the wall, but braced his hands on his knees and sat stiffly there.

"I don't remember things," said Mathias, "but doesn't mean I don't remember anything at all. After all, nobody remembers everything."

Lukas nodded slowly. This Mathias was strange to him. He had never seen Mathias so grounded and real. "Then what do you remember?"

"I remember…" Mathias closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. "I remember the New World. I remember that day you got mad at me because I tried to cook eggs and nearly made the kitchen explode. And… that time while we were watching 'Sleeping Beauty' and you said that it was disgusting to kiss someone you've never met before, but I remember that the first time I met you, I wanted to kiss you." He opened his eyes, and they were strangely bright and clear when they turned to Lukas, who was praying that the red lighting would cover up his blush. "I remember when you told me that true sadness was not the urge to cry, but an emptiness that seems to swallow you whole. I remember you, Lukas. I don't remember anything else but you. I don't want to remember anything else but you."

Lukas thought that he was enraptured. He stared into Mathias's dark eyes, felt like he was falling into those deep, star-filled orbs. He could see the world in his eyes, a world he had never seen before, a world that was either Heaven or Hell, and when Mathias kissed him he thought he could feel hellfire searing through his blood but there was the sweet nectar of paradise on his lips and bliss on the tip of his tongue. He felt like he was falling, but falling into the sky, past the clouds and through those layers of thin air, into breathlessness, nothingness, a vacuum filled with the unknown beauties of another world.

They broke apart with a pained gasp. Lukas had leaned too far forward, stretching his wounds, and he had forgotten about Mathias's split lip, which the other boy was now licking testily at, frowning unhappily all the while.

"Eh." Mathias shrugged as Lukas threw his head back, and for the first time in a long, long time, he laughed. He felt like he was entering a high that pushed back his pain. It pushed away everything, scattered every thought save for Mathias.

"Lukas," Mathias whispered, a beckoning call, and their lips crashed violently: desperate, ravaging beasts craving for a drug only the other had.

Mathias cupped his good hand behind Lukas's head and Lukas in turn wrapped his arms around the other boy's neck. They were crushed together, pressed so tightly against each other that it was difficult to imagine being apart.

"Mathias," Lukas murmured against his lips, "What is the New World?"

Mathias pulled the other onto his lap so that they were now completely intertwined, tangled in the invisible threads that tied them together.

"This," he whispered, "This is the New World."

Lukas shuddered against him, and they deepened the kiss. He felt Mathias's cool hand venture up his shirt, cold fingers brushing over his hot skin and lingering on the edges of his bandages. Mathias nipped on his lip, making him yelp, then began to trail burning kisses from the tip of his mouth, across his jawline and down his neck. Lukas moaned, feeling like he melting, arching his body when Mathias bit down on the spot where the neck met his shoulders.

Mathias seemed determined to explore every inch of Lukas's body. His hands were wandering again, this time downwards, gripping his hips as they pressed even more tightly together. His thumbs hooked over the waistband of his jeans, and Lukas was suddenly jerked back into reality.

"Wait—," he gasped, but broke off when he felt Mathias's hand slip under. Want was an aching throb pulsing through his body, but he forced himself to say, "Mathias, we can't do this."

"Why not?" Mathias mumbled distractedly, still nuzzling his neck.

"We're—oh God," Lukas moaned, then wriggled around a bit to attempt to dislodge Mathias. "There are people waiting for us outside. We can't have—we can't do that in the middle of a hallway filled with dead people." He gestured around them for emphasis.

"Why not?" Mathias seemed genuinely puzzled this time.

"Because…" Lukas struggled off Mathias's lap, stumbling awkwardly to his feet. "We just can't, okay? I don't want to do this. Not here, at least."

Mathias, following Lukas, clambered wobblingly to his feet. He was grinning widely, his split lip seemingly to have nearly disappeared, and the other bruises and cuts appeared to have faded somewhat as well.

"There are people waiting for us?"

"Yes, the people who got me out."

"Who are they?" Mathias slung an arm over his shoulder, then drew back quickly when the Lukas hissed and twisted in pain.

"They are—Mathias! Your hand!" It was true that the lighting wasn't all that great, but Lukas had been relatively certain that that hand had been crushed into a bloody pulp.

And yet there it was, clearly not unscathed but obviously functioning as Mathias flexed his fingers experimentally.

"A little stiff," he declared. He noticed Lukas staring at him, bewildered, and added a bit defensively, "What? I heal fast."

Lukas shook his head. "Nobody heals that fast."

And now that he mentioned it, that swollen eye was already gone, and most of the bruises on his face were nearly unnoticeable. How did this happen? When? This wasn't the first time he had seen Mathias injured, except—he realized suddenly—never had Mathias's injuries been so obvious. They had always been somewhere that could be hidden under a sleeve and forgotten; they had never been so out in the open until now.

And almost before his eyes, the cuts continued to fade into angry red lines, and dead skin began to flake from Mathias's healing hand.

"How—?" Lukas was stunned. "Had it always been like this?"

Mathias shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know."

"Do they leave scars?"

"I don't know." Mathias examined his hand. "Maybe a bit."

"Can you…" Lukas hesitated. "Can you heal other people?"

"I don't know," repeated Mathias. "I've never tried."

Almost as if understanding the conversation, the pain from his unhealed cuts seemed to flare up suddenly.

"Can you, though?" Lukas insisted, feeling incredibly selfish. "Try, I mean?"

"I—," Mathias faltered. He looked confused, and was searching Lukas's face, hearing the hunger but finding no signs of it. "Are you okay?"

This time it was Lukas's turn to stumble. It was such a simple question, yet something so unlike Mathias to ask

No, I've never felt so much pain in my life. I've never felt so broken, not even when I saw my parents' throats slit and their murderer standing over them. Heal me, Mathias, he wanted to beg. Heal me.

"Yes. Yes, I'm okay."

Mathias beamed. "Should we go?" He sounded as if the conversation just now had not happened. Who knew—maybe it didn't. Maybe Lukas had overexerted himself enough that he had started hallucinating.

Dazedly, he nodded, and allowed himself to be led towards the exit by Mathias.

The door slammed open quite suddenly, making both of them jump. At the doorway stood Feliciano, wide-eyed and panicked.

"Lukas!" He sagged with relief, then promptly burst into tears. "I'm sorry! I wasn't paying attention! We were waiting and waiting in the car, then we hid when we saw Magyar come out, and then when she was gone we went to check on you and you disappeared!"

"I—"

"You were supposed to stay there," Feliciano continued to wail, stomping his foot in agitation. "Milen was supposed to fetch Mathias and—oh mio Dio, lui è morto."

Lukas did not understand Italian, but he could guess what Feliciano just said, judging by how he was now staring, horrified, at Milen's body. "Feliciano, it was an accident."

"Calm down," Mathias suggested.

Feliciano spun towards him, and jabbed a finger at his face and nearing stabbing Mathias in the eye. "Did you kill him?" he demanded.

"No?" Mathias did not seem to understand who exactly Feliciano was referring to, but the Italian did not notice. He had already turned his attention onto Lukas.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. He had practically carried Lukas out of the Prison after all, and was clearly doubting that Lukas was managing to stand without too much support.

"Yes," answered Lukas.

"You look a bit pale. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," Lukas repeated firmly, wondering how many more lies he would have to tell today.

In its own way, Paradizo was extremely old-fashioned.

Created and based in Europe, it had rapidly spread east into Asia and south into Africa. Although in the end, Paradizo's quest into Africa ended in Egypt, it managed to stretch itself far into the East, digging fingers into most Asian countries, even some that were in the middle of a civil war—Paradizo was created for orphans anyways, and where better to find orphans than in a war?

Perhaps that was what made it ironic when the Fall happened. The civil war that had dragged heaven into hell was sparked by the very orphans Paradizo had worked so hard to help. Of course, some of these orphans had also fought very hard to protect Paradizo, but it was so easy to sin.

It was so easy to fall.

Strangely enough, Paradizo had never really reached into the Americas. The first contact the United States had with Paradizo was when—allegedly—the Magician of the North had quit the organization and moved there with her husband and children. No one was certain of this though, especially since most people did not even believe that the Magician of the North even existed. She was a myth, a simple story to scare children.

But Mathias knew that she was real. He had met her once, in a distance from the orphanage, as she talked to her father about something. There had been a very small child settled in her arms, and it had hid its face in her light hair, little hands fisted tightly in its mother's shirt. All Mathias had been able to see of it was a blue T-shirt and a head of pale-golden curls.

She exchanged a few words with her father, glanced in Mathias's direction, and left, the child still hidden against her.

Of course, he didn't know who she was then, but had learned soon enough. Even so, he never saw her again, even as her stories continued to intrigue him. She was the best of the best, after all, and Mathias wanted to be the best. He had dreamed that he would meet her again, and maybe ask for advice, but she had disappeared, the last hint of her trail in America. That was what made him so intrigued by the land across the sea, the land of possibilities and opportunities, the land untouched by Heaven.

Paradizo, in its old-fashioned way, had its own name for that land: the New World.

The rumor going around hell was that the Magician of the North—if she had even existed in the first place—was dead, that China himself had killed her. Her entire family had been slaughtered with her, their bodies left for Paradizo to find like a declaration of war.

Mathias remembered the golden-haired child clutching its mother like a lifeline. In another universe, maybe the Magician of the North would have come into the orphanage with her father and visited the children, allowed her own child to leave her grasp to play with others its age.

But in this world, they were all dead. The sky had fallen, and it—Mathias didn't even know if the child had been a girl or a boy—was just another tragedy of war, another ghost that would echo unendingly in Mathias's life.

Though in Hell, it was not so difficult to meet a ghost.

Well, a very little something happened, but something nonetheless.

Thanks for reading, and please Review!