In this chapter we introduce some new characters you just might recognize from Essence. If you've been reading Essence, and you wish for a surprise, go ahead and finish Essence first. This is a pretty thick backstory about one of the major characters whom I love a ton! Legion, for those of you concerned, plays a huge role in this fanfiction. Not so much in Essence, unfortunately.

Chapter Three: Dreaming

"You were chosen."

"You are special."

"Your destiny awaits you."

"Remember us, Legion."

Joe gasped and snapped open his eyes. He was panting, sweat dripping down his face. Always, that same dream haunted him. Those mysterious, drifting voices echoing in his mind. The image of him, standing over hundreds and hundreds of bodies. Him, standing victorious, eyes concealed by the shadow cast by his hair, balancing a knife upon his finger…a wide, evil smile on his face.

"Deep breaths, Joe," he whispered to himself. "In…out…in…out…" Slowly his heartbeat resumed normal pace. He wiped the sweat off of his face with his sheets (oh, his mom would throw a fit about it later) and sighed.

Who was Legion?

It was only 1:33 AM in the morning. He groaned quietly to himself, cursing this mysterious "Legion" for disrupting his sleep for at least the five billionth day in a row. He flopped back onto the comfortable and inviting sheets and flipped over his pillow to get a side that wasn't drenched in sweat.

It was a stranger. A stranger stood in front of him. Who was that stranger? He stepped forward, trying to get a closer look at whoever that unknown person was, but then that person began to step away.

He followed, and the stranger stepped into a single halo of light. He was…unlike anyone that Joe had ever seen before. His head was tipped up, as if looking for the source of that beautiful light, and his eyes were closed. His blonde-brown hair tumbled over his shoulders in a golden cascade.

There was a strange white line that crossed his face from cheek to cheek. It was glowing, glowing with its own faint light.

"There are three in the Holy Trinity."

The voice! Where was that voice? It sounded familiar, so familiar…

Legion!

Joe tried to find them, the Legion, but they could not be found. Were they hiding? Were they hiding in that inky darkness that was night? Were they hiding away from the halo of light that surrounded this stranger and rendered him an angel?

"There is the wisdom. There is the power. There is honor. Together, there is the Holy Trinity…"

The stranger's eyes opened and Joe looked up in surprise. He was staring straight at him, and his eyes glowed yellow. He held out a hand, as if asking Joe to take it, but then he clenched it into a fist and from it a tongue of fire rose through the sky and spiraled towards heaven.

"The shifter is wisdom. The bandit is power. The warrior is honor," said Legion once more. They sounded as one, yet there were so many voices…so many voices… "Of sun and moon, her sight shall be unlocked. Of her heart, his wounds shall be healed. Of his redemption, he shall become bold. For even as we speak, even as the realm of dreams—so pure, so holy—continues in its own dimension, a shadow grows. The shadow shall infiltrate us all, even ourselves…Legion…and all shall be consumed with darkness and all shall come to have their hearts forcefully closed and their memories and emotions purged from their very being. That shadow is stretching its ruthless claws over all the universe, and soon it shall reach even the purest of dimensions, that where the spirits speak to us…that of dreaming."

Joe felt a chill rush down his spine. Legion's voice was so deep, so slow, so…ominous. It was almost as if this Legion was truly prophesying a dark and horrific future.

"The drinker of spirits and the light of darkness must join…night and day must join as one. They must become the center of the Holy Trinity and restore balance, lest all that is old be lost and all that is new be never made. For balance is the string of love, the string that connects all things, past and future, there and here…person to person…creature to creature…world to world…dimension to dimension…reality to the ethereal. Then all shall be saved and all shall be made new when the time comes for the new order."

Joe was being pulled towards the light. He tried to struggle, to fight, but it was in vain. Now he stood, facing that stranger with the tongue of flame, the burning eyes, the line across his face glowing with its own pure light.

The stranger seemed to reach into his own heart and pull out a swirling circle of fire. He offered it to him. "Drink," he hissed.

Joe couldn't speak, but he refused to take the fire from the stranger's hand. What if it burned him? What if it consumed him whole?

"Drink! Kill! Destroy," the stranger commanded. "Take the fire, unleash your wrath. Drink your fill."

There was a flash of light and Joe summoned the fire and let it rush through the darkness. He heard distant screams of agony, wails of fear, voices pleading for mercy…he rushed towards those voices, a sick satisfaction and burning passion rising within him.

Bodies. Bodies scattered everywhere. Men and women, children, infants, the elderly…even the odd dog or cat. All were devoid of life, wide, unseeing eyes like glassy, foggy orbs. He felt a wide, evil smile pull at the corners of his lips and he let himself grin.

If he had seen himself, he would have seen that his eyes were red like blood.

He lifted his hand. His palm glowed with red light. Slowly he piled the bodies together into one big mass of death. There was no blood…they had all died without a single blemish to their bodies…and yet, they were dead. Healthy, but dead.

He stood on top of the pile of bodies, holding tongues of flame, sucking them into his own soul and relishing in the power he was obtaining. His delight almost sickened him, but heck, what was he supposed to do? He loved it, loved stealing away the lives of others. It gave him a sense of power, of control. And he savored it, the taste of blood. As he took the tongues of flame, the metallic taste of blood washed over his tongue. He smacked his lips and smiled again, eyes narrowed and glowing in the night.

"The calling shall reach his ears," Legion murmured.

"Joe! Joe!"

Joe awoke again and found that he'd been clutching at his chest with his hands. His mother shook his shoulders. "Are you okay? Honey, are you okay? You were screaming. What happened?"

Joe found his voice and then found that he was panting. "Nightmare," he gasped. "Had a nightmare."

"Okay honey." His mother gave him a kiss on the forehead. "It's 6:30 AM, so I'm going to go out on my morning jog. You go back to sleep, okay? It's summer. You can sleep in." She smiled her beautiful, jewel of a smile and kissed him on his sweaty forehead. "Shower when you get up, okay? When I come home I'll have to wash your sheets again. You've been having nightmares for a while, haven't you?"

"I…I guess so," Joe stammered.

"It's all right, baby," said his mother soothingly. "Just relax. And once you're up, try not to spend your whole day playing video games. School might be out but you have to keep yourself from forgetting what you learned, okay? Go back to sleep."

"Okay, mom. Love you." Joe yawned.

"I love you too, baby." Then she left and Joe sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest. He looked over to the small table next to his bed and turned on the lamp. Next to it, gleaming cold silver, was a small knife.

He reached over and took it and pressed it against his left index fingertip, gasping quietly as the skin was broken and crimson red blood pooled around the sparkling blade. A slow smile spread across his face as the cold feeling of pain washed over him. He pressed his fingertip to his lips, turning them bright red, and sucked the blood out of the shallow cut. An involuntary sigh slipped out of him. It was a sigh of satisfaction. Blood…

He carefully licked the small tinges of blood of the knife blade itself and then placed it back next to his lamp. Underneath his bed were some drawers. He opened up one and took out a small little safe. Around his foot was an anklet with the key. He unlocked the safe and took from it a sheet of paper with names written on it and a red pen. Plenty of names had already been crossed out, but there were still a good fifteen more to cross out before he'd have to go find new names to cross off.

He yawned and turned on the TV that was opposite his bed and mounted on the wall. It was a rather large TV, although he didn't know the size. His father had always had a fondness for nice, large, flat screen TVs.

His father…

With an angered, almost feline hiss, he punched the wall and then reached for the TV remote, sucking on his now throbbing knuckles.

If only his father hadn't been driving on the interstate at the normal speed limit, abiding all the laws, a year and a day ago at exactly 6:34 PM and 15 seconds…and 3 milliseconds. If only a driver high on crack hadn't come driving down the exact opposite way at almost double the speed limit, unaware of what he was doing. If only the other drivers hadn't been as agile as they had been, pulling over into other lanes or onto shoulders to avoid the crazed man. If only he had been rumbling down a different lane.

…If only…

But nothing could be changed. They had collided, head to head, and the only survivor had been him.

Perhaps that was why his mentality had been altered. Perhaps the sheer degree of the crash's devastation had been enough to drain him of emotion, of any will to live on his own, without support…and forever too.

He lazily pushed the power button on the TV remote, closing his eyes and stifling the tears that threatened to surface. You didn't succeed in life by crying.

"In this morning's breaking news, yet another body has been found…"

A cruel smile touched the corner of his lips.

"The body has been identified as a male and it has been determined that his wife lives near the subdivision of Lucky Springs. She says that his name is Gerome Sanders. If anyone has information or witnessed this incident, please contact the police…"

All Joe could think about was the blood, the sweet taste of blood.

"So far investigations have shown that Mr. Gerome Sanders died from anywhere from five to seven stab wounds, obviously done with a knife of some sort with not too big of a blade, single edged. If anyone has any information, once again, please contact the police so that they can discover who has become Lucky Springs's new serial killer. Thank you. Now onto Barner for the weather…"

Joe looked at the video shots of ambulances and the dead body of "Gerome Sanders" and sighed, relaxing back onto his bed. So far there had been five killings only but a mile or two from Lucky Springs, occurring anywhere from daily to every three, four, or even five days. Of course he knew exactly when these things happened…he watched the news…

He was the news.

Father…this is for you…this is for you…

After all, he didn't have the list of names for nothing.

He looked at it again and inspected it more closely, making sure that his chosen had reasons to be on there. He was very particular with his meals, as he liked to call them. After all, the innocent had done nothing to deserve anything.

Unconsciously the knife blade drifted down his arm. He gasped with pain, the tip of the knife jerking and ripping out a small chunk of his flesh. The pain spiked as skin and tissue ripped away, followed by a spray of blood across his arm and cheek. He licked the blood off his face with his lips and then rubbed the rest onto the back of his hand and licked his hand. As the pain slowly winded down, he pressed his mouth against the wound and sucked, drawing the blood out of the broken vessels until he bled no more. An involuntary moan of satisfaction left his lips as he drank. Once he was sure the wound was clean (clean in his opinion, at least), he got out his laptop and turned it on, hoping for something interesting online—be it Facebook or Gmail. Even Twitter would suffice if someone was online…at around seven in the morning.

He chuckled under his breath, licking some stray drops of blood off his lips.

As the laptop booted up, he looked outside.

The sun was rising.

Dad, have you gone? Have you become a star in the night…to fade when the sun rises? Are you there?

He connected to his home Internet network, mustering all his mental strength and shoving away any thoughts related to his deceased father out of his mind. He didn't want to think about it. Not now.

He opened up three tabs—Facebook, Gmail, and Twitter. After all, if he was on all three, the chances were three times higher that someone would be on and willing to say hi.

The computer beeped, signaling that someone had tweeted him on Twitter. He looked. It was Lee. Not too surprising.

"HI!" Lee typed.

"Hey there, Lee," Joe replied, feeling a small smile form. It was one of the only few serious smiles that could ever been seen on him—most would always have a shade of cruelty and bloody joy behind them. This one, for once, was happiness and nothing but. Just a little.

"You're up early."

Joe had to laugh at that one. "So are you."

"Well, I had homework that I have to finish because today I'm going to go out to the park to run a couple miles. You, on the other hand, have no reason to be up early!"

"Who says I don't have plans? Besides, I've been dreaming again," Joe typed back defensively.

"Dreams? Of that thing you called Legion?"

Of course Lee knew. Joe facepalmed himself. He had told Lee personally a few days back when the dreams (or nightmares, whatever they were) had first started. Why was he so surprised that Lee seemed to know more than he should?

"Yes, Legion appeared to me again. And so did someone else."

"Someone else? Oh-ho, was it meeeee?"

"No, you dimwit."

"Awww!" Lee then proceeded to insert an animated crying face.

"It was someone with the spikiest blonde-brown hair I've ever seen with yellow eyes and a funny-looking white line across his face. You've never heard of anyone with yellow eyes, have you?"

"I think those are impossible in the human genome," came Lee's very thoughtful reply.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, but it was still there. Anyways, I've never seen him before, and there wasn't any name. Then Legion said the usual stuff…all the mysterious crap, you know," Joe typed slowly, unsure of how to word it. It was hard to explain the stuff Legion said. He knew what Legion had said to him, yet whenever he prepared himself to tell someone else, the words simply slipped away.

"I know what you mean. Legion's been appearing to me too. I keep forgetting to tell you though…eh, sorry."

"Legion talking to you too?!" Joe felt his jaw drop.

"Naw dib, that Legion thing has been saying things to me too. I wish I could tell you, but I can't. You wouldn't suppose there's a CONNECTION, would you?"

"Shut up, you arse." Joe facepalmed again. Lee was the comedian.

"Oh, but you never know."

"I said shut up."

"CONNECTIONS!" Lee typed back. He then proceeded to spam the word "CONNECTIONS!" over and over again. Joe's laptop began beeping as if it was a timed bomb.

"Will you STOP making my computer beep and my Twitter tab freeze?" Joe typed back furiously.

"I still think there's a connection," came Lee's triumphant reply.

"Maybe there is, how would I know?"

"Oh, mom's telling me to go get breakfast. Catch you later, Jojo."

"Don't call me that!"

But by then Lee was already gone. Joe yawned and stretched his back. If anyone was the master troll, it had to be Lee. No one else could troll like Lee. Refined, yet so, so annoying. He knew exactly how, when, and how hard to push the buttons.

Like his father…

He couldn't stand it anymore. His mom wasn't home yet and probably wouldn't be for at least another hour—she liked to take long walks—and so for now, he was alone. He got up, swore harshly as he bonked his head on a shelf, and then ambled aimlessly out of the room.

His feet carried him into his mom's bedroom and stood him in front of her full-body mirror. He looked up, bringing his face into the light that filtered in from the window. For a moment he appeared as a ghost of some fallen angel, but then he collapsed in front of the glass onto his knees, his hands against his reflection.

"Why…?" he gasped between sobs as the tears that had threatened to surface finally trickled down his cheeks. "Why did you leave?" He stared at himself, his mind reeling. "Come on, dad, tell me." He tilted his head to one side, a cruel laugh forcing its way out of his throat. "You tell me why you decided to leave me. Why you decided to be the faithless demon you are!" As he spoke, his voice rose until he was yelling. "You won't stop bothering me now that you're dead, will you? You're dead and I can't kill you myself. I wish I could, but I can't. Get out of my head! Get out of my head!" He leaned his forehead against the mirror, crying brokenly.

"Don't cry."

He looked up. "Who is it?" he rasped.

It was a girl that stared back at him. She had fiery hair that seemed to be alive, cast with a copper glow in the early morning light and bright sapphire eyes, and a voice that could have charmed the birds out of the trees. "Don't cry," she repeated gently. She sounded like an angel, an angel who had come to watch over him. Was she?

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Ruflorrin."

Ruflorrin.

The most beautiful name he had ever heard.

"Ruflorrin," he murmured underneath his breath. Slowly the tears stopped falling. He curled into a ball, wishing for that strange girl, Ruflorrin, to speak. To use that beautiful voice. "Ruflorrin," he whispered. "Ruflorrin."

The girl smiled. "Never lose hope, Joerfin Windwaker. Even in the darkest of nights, there is a light. When all seems lost, there is a way to be found. When all have abandoned you, always there will still be someone that loves you. When all the good has gone from this world, always there will…be you."

"I'm not Joerfin," Joe replied quietly. "I'm Joseph."

"Joerfin. You are Joerfin…last of dance. Song of the moon, whisper in the darkness, lightning strike, strong wind. That is who you are." Ruflorrin's eyes gleamed with determination. "Destined to find the truth. Destined to know. And yet…" Now her gaze become more inquisitive, as if she was examining closely some foreign object. "…destined to suffer…and be honored by the most high for your suffering."

"What are you talking about?"

Ruflorrin stepped back. "I speak of what you already know. The knowledge is there, I am simply summoning it. Open your mind, Joerfin. Deep inside…we have already met. Deep inside…we were destined to meet. All paths one day converge to a single destination, Joerfin. Look inside you. Drop the barrier you have uplifted around your conscience. You fear, Joerfin. You fear the unknown. You fear your own past, you fear the future. Do not be afraid, for the One watches over you always…now and forever. You are you and forever that will be. Be true to yourself. Who are you, Joerfin? Fulfill your identity…live. Now and forever, live, Joerfin. Though you are a thief, one day you will be a giver, a savior. Though now your soul longs to fill itself with blood, one day that will no longer be. Free yourself, Joerfin. Let go of what has happened, let go of the wrongs that have been committed, for they are in the past. Joerfin, I will see you again."

Then Ruflorrin took one more step back. Joe blinked and he was staring at his own reflection again. He touched a fingertip to the mirror. His reflection did the same.

"I am Joseph," Joe murmured, staring into his own eyes. "Ruflorrin, I am Joseph. I dream of Legion, of a strange man with yellow eyes, always offering me blood and telling me to drink, as if he is the manifestation of my own desires, chaining me and refusing to let go of me. I dream of bodies, dead bodies, bloodless, lifeless. I dream of crimson raindrops that pour from the silver cloud that becomes the tip of a knife, gleaming in the moonlight. I wish for the rain to cover me, to drown me. I wish…that the moonlight would spear my heart, cleave it in two. Then it will cease beating and I will be freed from the shackles that they call living. To go my own way. To have my vengeance against the one who has left me this way."

His eyes were cold and drained of all emotion. They seemed almost dead.

The phone began to ring. He was brought out of his own innumerable thoughts and reached for the phone that was right next to his mom's bed. It was a bed that had been built for two people, not one…

He shoved the thought out of his mind and pressed the talk button. "Hello?"

"Is this Katherine Waverly?" came a weary, exhausted voice. Male. A distinctly male voice. Joe couldn't tell if it was anyone he knew. The voice sounded rusted, almost. Old, rusted, worn, and rough. So rough that he couldn't identify it.

"No, this isn't. This is Joseph, her son," he replied shakily. "May I ask who this is?"

"May I leave a message for Miss Waverly?" the stranger asked.

"…May I ask who this is?" Joe repeated.

"I am someone she knows. This is confidential information, young man. Will you pass on a message to your mother telling her that what she has been waiting for will arrive right outside the Blue Sky subdivisions, right where the main subdivision street intersects with Deer Parkway?"

"Yes sir, I will."

"Thank you. May I have your name again?"

"Joseph." By now the voice was beginning to sound familiar, but Joe still couldn't put a finger on it. "Do…do I know you?" He couldn't help it. The question simply slipped right out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"Maybe you do know me, Mr. Joseph. But maybe you don't," the stranger said enigmatically. "All the same, thank you and goodbye."

"Joe? Honey, what are you doing in my room?"

It was Katherine.

"Someone called," replied Joe, hugging a pillow. "Mom, someone says that something you've been waiting for is going to arrive outside where Blue Sky subdivisions meets with Deer Parkway."

Katherine immediately paled. "Th-thank you, honey. I'll be right back then." She grabbed her purse from the top of her dresser and ran out of the room.

"Joerfin, you'll want to brace yourself for later."

Joe whirled around, heart thundering in his chest, expecting someone to have somehow gotten into his house.

But instead, it was just the same angelic stranger, Ruflorrin, pressing her hands against the mirror as if it had another side to it.

"You are the scariest human I know," breathed Joe, relaxing and standing in front of her. He longed to reach through the glass and pull her out so that he could talk to her, person to person, face to face. "What brings you back?"

Ruflorrin leaned close against the mirror and unconsciously Joe followed suit. She half-closed her eyes and whispered, "Who says I'm human?"

Then Joe realized that he was about to bonk his face against the glass and he abruptly took a step back. Ruflorrin retreated a small distance too. Was there disappointment in her eyes?

"Joerfin, do not let anger come to you."

"What brings you back?" Joe asked again.

"I am your guardian," Ruflorrin replied. "What makes you think you're the only world that exists and breeds life? There are dimensions different from yours with life beyond your imagination. You may not consider it life, but a ghost, but for us, we are alive."

"What is life?" Joe said quietly.

"It is. It simply is. What is love?" Ruflorrin asked in return. She smiled and answered it for him. "It is. It simply is. Joerfin, I chose to become your guardian and for a reason. That reason, I have yet to be able to fathom, but I know it was the right choice." Ruflorrin's fingertips stroked the glass of the mirror and Joe felt as if she was touching his cheek. "I know it was. You need someone that can guide you in the right direction, that can reassure you of a beautiful future. I will do that. I promise you, Joerfin."

"Oh, Ruflorrin, a question!" cried Joe suddenly, mentally smacking himself for not

having asked earlier. "What is Legion? And do you know of anyone with bright yellow eyes?"

Upon hearing the words "yellow eyes", Ruflorrin's eyes seemed to widen with surprise and fear. But she was quickly able to hide her emotion once more and said, "That will be difficult for me to explain, Joerfin, as you won't understand most of it. Still, if you wish for an answer, I will give you one to the best of my ability." She placed her hands above her breast and said, "Inside all things, permeating all things, moving among all things. That is the Original One, the One who watches over us all, the One who guides our hearts and weaves our fates into an intertwining tapestry of life, of death, of cycles, of predictability, and of surprise. All things are forever connected through the One, for the One resides in us all. All things, every living being, every object, every spirit that has gone onwards, the One exists. The Legion are related to him. There is a prophecy, a prophecy created long ago by the Universe, that has summoned the Legion to one day take the One and create from what as of now is of everything, to something that is. A being, a true being, that embodies the One. That embodies all of the One's majesty, purity, strength, grace, and love. That is what Legion has been assigned. Legion is powerful. They are the messengers, brought upon the winds of fate into the dreams of the chosen. They speak, but in a language we cannot understand, in riddles that we cannot unwind until fate itself unwinds. That is Legion."

"…Legion sounds powerful," murmured Joe.

"Why do you ask?"

"Legion appears to me in my dreams. Every night, the Legion says the same thing, over and over again. I would tell you, but whenever I try to get the words, they seem to fall away and I can't reach for them at all," Joe explained.

"That is Legion," Ruflorrin replied. "As for the man with yellow eyes, he is part of the same prophecy that Legion seems to be calling you to…I think. I cannot answer certainly who you dream of. But I am sure that if the One has planted that figure into the spirit realms that you visit by night, then there is a reason and you will know soon enough."

"Thank you," said Joe, although he wasn't quite sure what to make of Ruflorrin's enigmatic answers.

"Have I given you much to think about?"

"You have, Ruflorrin, you have."

Ruflorrin laughed quietly. It sounded like a trill from the purest, most intricately designed of instruments. Joe longed to hear it again, but he blinked, and she was gone, replaced once more by his own reflection.

It was then that he was aware of the phone ringing again. He looked at the Caller ID flashing on the screen. It said: KATHERINE CELL. Joe pressed the talk button nonchalantly and said, "Hi mom, what's there at the intersection between the subdivision and the parkway?"

"Y-you won't believe this, honey," stuttered Katherine's anxious voice.

"Is something wrong?" asked Joe, unaware that his feet were carrying him back to his bedroom. When he realized what was happening, he found himself looking at the bunk bed. He slept on the bottom one. And the top one…

Years ago—he had forgotten just how many—he had had an older brother.

"Joe, how many times have I had to tell you that the sine of ninety degrees in the unit circle is one? Come on, you know this, you know this. Look at the coordinates in the unit circle. Zero. One. The order of the trigonometry is cosine, and then sine. So what's the sine of ninety degrees?"

Flustered, Joe replied automatically, "One."

"Yes, that's it. Now, over here, it's a 30-60-90 triangle…so the formula for the length of the legs is…?"

"Honey? Honey, are you there?" came Katherine's frantic call.

"Oh, sorry. Slipped into space," Joe grunted, running his hands along the wood where his older brother had scratched at the support beams with a kitchen knife out of pure anger and an inexplicable hopeless grief.

"Oh, okay." There was a pause and Joe anticipated for his mom to say more. She did. "Honey, you wouldn't believe it. After three years (so that was the figure)…after three long years, finally…oh, Stellen, he's come back…"

It felt as if an ice cube had slipped down Joe's chest. "Stellen?" he whispered.

"Yes, honey, Stellen."

"Why has he come back?" Surprisingly enough, Joe didn't feel any sort of joy or excitement at the thought of his lost brother returning. In fact, he was angry. Angry that he had woken up one morning three years ago to find that Stellen had abandoned him and his family without so much as a warning or even a note explaining why. Angry at himself for having long forgotten the existence of his older sibling, the one that he had grown to rely on so heavily…angry at Stellen…angry at himself…

"We're almost at the doorstep, sweetie pie," said Katherine in a strangely delicate, sugary voice that threatened to burst with happiness. "I just had to tell you…just had to…"

Then he remembered Ruflorrin, telling him to keep his head, to keep his shirt on…he sighed, letting himself deflate. "Thanks for telling me, mom," he said, unable to force any happiness into his voice.

"O-okay." Katherine now sounded slightly flustered but hung up.

No sooner had Joe put the phone down that he heard a deep, world-weary voice call to him in a semi-tired, semi-excited sort of way, "Joe! Joseph!"

Remember, Joerfin, how all once was.

Ruflorrin!

Joe looked wildly around but didn't see her. Could she still talk to him…in his head?

He heard footsteps coming upstairs. They were light and slow, as if the person was being cautious, attempting to come up without being detected. Maybe this was out of fear. Joe couldn't be too sure. He turned around and saw what seemed to be an older, taller carbon copy of himself walk towards him.

Maybe not so carbon copy-ish anymore, he thought on second thought. Deep inside his other's blue eyes, he detected a hopeless weariness and knew that his inexplicable grief would never leave him. Joe walked up to him slowly, unsure of what to say. And even if he had something good to say, his tongue was seemingly frozen in place and his vocal chords refused to obey his orders.

Stellen, he thought. Stellen's hair, only a shade darker than his own, tumbled over his shoulders in a golden cascade and fell to around the middle of his back and framed his face with bangs that almost obscured one eye and covered the eyebrow of the other.

Automatically he took another few steps closer, although he moved slowly and hesitantly. After this many years, would Stellen still remember him?

Of course he did, Joe chided himself mentally. He had just called his name but a minute ago. A few minutes ago, maybe? Time seemed so blurred. It was as if he had stepped into a portal of the past, before Stellen had left so unpredictably and for no obvious reason. But then, it wasn't unlike him to always have those mysterious reasons of his own.

He looked into Stellen's sad blue eyes again and saw that they were sparkling with tears. He couldn't help it. He ran towards him and threw his arms around his neck. "Stellen," he whispered. "Stellen."

"Joseph," Stellen replied back quietly, embracing him as well.

"Why did you leave?" Joe choked through tears that threatened to surface.

"I couldn't stay." Stellen's voice shook as he cried softly onto his brother's shoulder. "I was drained, drained of all will to live…I had to go somewhere, somewhere where I could be alone to find myself. Who I am, who I was, who I want to be…only then could I return and know my purpose…" His arms tightened around Joe. "I am back. I may not have discovered all the answers, but life for me has rediscovered its purpose."

"I missed you." In Joe's mind he could hear the strange, cryptic, incomprehensible echoes of Legion. He made out the words fallen and chosen but other than that he didn't really make out much.

"I…missed you too…" Stellen straightened up and pressed his lips against Joe's cheek, giving him a tender kiss. "I'm so glad that I can see you again…look at how you've grown…look at how you've…grown…" He looked behind himself. "I have to go see mom, Joe. She wanted me to make sure that I showed my face to you first…see how you'd take me…"

"I can't just kick you out of the house," said Joe, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Yes, I have questions. But I know that in time I will know the answers myself. And, Stellen, no matter what, we're related. I can't start a blood feud now, that wouldn't be the best of ideas." He smiled and punched Stellen lightly in the chest. "Things will resume what they once were, right?"

"Right, Joe." Stellen went back downstairs.

Joe sat down on his bunk, looking up. He closed his eyes, letting the light filtering in through the window shine upon his face. Cast in the beautiful light that gave him almost a halo and threw golden shadows upon his shoulders that appeared to be a pair of enormous wings, he became an angel.

Stellen came back upstairs after having his face drenched by kisses from Katherine. When he saw Joe, fixated in his own personal moment of peace, he stood by the doorway, watching him longingly, as if his younger brother had attained a state of mental security that he himself had never been able to reach. He reached a hand into his jean pocket and tightened his grip around some object that was in there. There was an almost inaudible click that he heard as he did so. He exhaled slowly and gazed upon Joe again, his face hidden, half in the shadow cast from the doorframe.