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Chapter six: The price of change

Recap: "And could you explain what's happened?"

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"What's happened?" the dead-child blinked, tilting his head to one side in what would have been an innocent (and possibly cute) jester, if it weren't for the blood that matted his hair and stained his clothes, dripped from his fingers, and left a trail down his chin. "What happened was payment."

"Payment?" Jamie gasped, anger and sadness boiling up from his heart as he took in the sight of the park once more, eyes glancing over the body of a young girl, the stained head of a teddy bear, the clasped hands just barely visible through the rubble. "Payment for what?"

"That doesn't really matter." Jack interjected, once again securing Rion (who had squirmed out of his grasp) in his cold arms. "Not now at least."

"But—"

"Rion's hurt." But where they would go for treatment, Jack did not know. For the feeling that told him to keep Rion secret, urged him to keep him hidden, just like before. And although Jack had the ability to push the feeling (the strange knowing something) down for Jamie's sake, for keeping his promise with his love, Jack could not find that strength now.

"You were supposed to be caught in an explosion and blown to bits," Jack laughed brokenly, "even though your body would be broken you'd live to suffer under the rubble for a good three days."

The memory, sudden in its appearance, urgent in its presence, sent the lovers reeling from shock, and a great deal of emotional pain (brought on by the series of events that followed the memory, that took place due to said event).

"You cheated Fate." Rion supplied blandly from within Jack's arms, only one midnight eye visible due to Jack holding the child's face to his chest. "You'll notice that those who died here are those that existed during Jamie's original life."

The first question to spring forth in Jamie's mind was, ashamedly enough, how old are you? The second, with a tint of jealously, was Jack knew you even back then? The third, however, flew from his lips, "I don't know anyone here."

But Jack's flinch, the slight tightening of his grip on the death-child, the flickering of his eyes as they shoot from one corpse to the next, face paling more and more by the second, told the new immortal that his lover, at least, knew these people. This was not a good thing, as far as Jamie (or anyone else—if they were telling the truth) knew, he (and his family and friends) where the only ones to reincarnate. The only ones allowed to reincarnate—though, looking back at it now, perhaps that was a foolish notion, after all, he and Jack aren't the only lovers in existence to have a hard life—and he could imagine family members begging for the same thing, being granted the same thing (albeit, with lose of memories on all sides and less crazy wolves and random evil old people).

But, still, surly if something like this was going on (if it was what he thought—and Moon did he wish it wasn't, he didn't want to live with the knowledge that a young girl was born over and over again simply to die—each and every time—in an explosion) then why didn't the Guardians stop it? Why didn't MiM do something about it? Why didn't Jack know?

"Fate can be rather vindictive, and repetitive." Rion supplied, reading Jamie's thoughts (which would have made Jack smile in victory—for once not being on the receiving end—if he wasn't busy staring at the couple who he'd made fall back into a trashcan oh so long ago), "If Fate decreed that Jamie was to die in an explosion and suffer for three days under the rubble, then it better happen—and it would have. But because it didn't—", the boy's way of speaking, Jamie decided as he stared into those ever blank eyes, was disturbing, "—then everyone else Fate declared would die in said explosion will continue to die as such until Jamie dies along with them; exactly as Fate wanted him to die."

"But why me?" Why hasn't anyone noticed?

The boy blinked, midnight orbs shinning, twinkling stars scattered in the dark blue sky, as a small amused smile slide its way across his face (which he'd wormed from Jack's grip as the ex-Guardian stared at the corpses—eyes strangely and uncharacteristically blank), "Does it look like I have all the answers? This world, no matter how long I stay—or how many times I visit—remains a mystery to me."

Before Jamie could question the strange phrasing Jack grabbed his wrist and tugged (or tossed, depending on one's view) the three of them up into the air, the wind swiftly obeying a silent command and sweeping them toward someplace…apparently far away from the scene.

About time, Jamie inwardly groused before he turned to look at Jack, mouth opening in question, only to be shushed by the death-child, small, pale finger to his lips as his head peeked out from the confines of Jack's hoodie, midnight eyes once again void, yet pulsating with some silent power—a command that Jamie wasn't sure he would want to disobey. Stay silent, follow.

Though, really, the child had no need to worry about Jamie following Jack, after all, his love had yet to release his wrist (which, although held in an iron gripe, was oddly comfortable), and Jamie had no intensions of wresting it from him.

Sighing, Jamie looked closely at Jack's face, then back to the child's, then proceeded to sigh again, he'd hoped to figure out the mystery of the kid Jack had left behind for a good fifteen years, hoped to convince him to introduce the child (which, at that time—and man did he feel silly thinking about it now—he had not believed to be a day older than ten—even though the kid was apparently attached to Jack, which would have meant the child was a good, maybe, six, five years old when he left) to the other Guardians—though, truthfully, he should start thinking of them as the Guardians—but what Jamie found instead was…a cause for lots and lots of sighing.

For he too felt the sudden urge to keep the child secret; and even though the child was the only survivor of the explosion, even though he was the only one possibly capable of helping the Guardians figure things out (if they ever told the Guardians, that is), Jamie could not find it in himself to take the child to them, away, perhaps, but not to.

I'd have liked to take that girl away, too, came a random thought, and the memory of the girls corpse made him gag.

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A/N: *laughs* thank you all so very much! Especially the two reviewers for chapter five (I won't name you 'cause you know who you are, and, well, I haven't done that in any part of this series, and I'm not going to start now—at least, I don't recall doing that). Beyond that however, I'm glad that I could inspire some of you to write again, that makes me feel positively giddy.

And, as always, remember the magic two!