A.N. EDIT: So I went back and changed this from 3rd person to 1st. I just left like it suited the situation and atmosphere better. I'll probably switch between 3rd and 1st a lot, due to the erratic nature of this story and it's main chatacter(s).

Part One: Chapter One

Start On This Hallowed Path

"We were two broken kids, living in a broken home. All we had was each other. Sometimes... sometimes I would make-believe mama actually loved me. I'd pretend she named me Chris.. cuz it was my father's name, and not some man she slept with once for money then forgot about. I'd pretend she... she'd loved him, and they'd, ah, planned on running away together. But then he'd died, and my heartbroken mama named me after him, because she loved him, and loved me. But, buuut.. she didn't. She never loved me."

1992

"Stupid bitch!" I ducked my head as Paul once more kicked me. I bit back any noise as his boot made contact with my ribs. The impact was enough to make me bruise, but I would not give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

"You stupid fucking bitch!" Paul roared in his drunken stupor. Meryl laughed from her seat on the shitty couch, a beer in her hand sloshing around. Several more empty bottles lay at her feet.

I refused to look at my mother, knowing I would get no help from the woman. Meryl was perfectly fine with her boyfriend beating the shit out of her daughter.

Paul stumbled back, his face red. With one last insult, he leaned forward and spit on me. The alcohol soaked spittle hit me in the face. I barely flinched as I lay on the stained carpet.

Loosing interest in his girlfriend's spawn, Paul fell back on the couch and started to grope Meryl, who drunkenly giggled in return.

His attention finally away from me, I crawled to my feet and left the room as quickly as I could.

Only once I was inside the 'safety' of my room did I let myself break down. I collapsed in a corner and silently cried in the dark.

I was there for only a minute when the window to my shared room creaked open. Teary eyes, I glanced up to see a lithe form crawl through the beaten hole.

"J-jack..." I sobbed. The boy's dark gaze snapped to my. Immediately he rushed over. Gently as he could, Jack lifted me and carried me to the small bathroom. He flipped on the light and closed the door with his foot before setting me down.

He gently removed my top to check the damage done, leaving on my simple black bra. The left side of my chest was covered in bruises and several shallow cuts. The rest of me was littered in scars, some newer than others.

Jack pulled open the cabinet under the sink to take out their small first aid kit and started to dress my wounds with expert hands.

"I'm so sorry I wan't here." He whispered as my best friend patched me up.

I shook my head. "It wasn't... your fault." I murmured back, eyes shut tight in pain though my voice was even.

"I could have done something." He argued half heartedly.

"No, you, mh, couldn't have. Your father's... too deep in, the mob. Fighting back would just...just get us both killed." I slurred in my broken speech pattern. Ever since I got my head bashed into a brick wall, I had trouble speaking normal, slurring my words together and pausing at random moments.

"I jah-just can't believe my mother sees anything in, mh, him..." I flinched when Jack poured some rubbing alcohol on one of my deeper cuts

Jack laughed bitterly. "She's as fucked up as he is. But if those two hadn't... you know, we'd never have met." He pointed out.

"Yeah." I murmured. "Always a silver lining, mh, even if it's more of a grrrey-ish brown..." I laughed brokenly.

"Where, erm, where were you?" I mumbled.

"Work." He whispered as if ashamed. Knowing him, he was.

I tapped his cheek none-too-gently. "Hey, you, um, stop the self pitty, got it?" My tongue ran over my teeth. "You kill people for, mh, money." I shrugged. "Doesn't, ehm, bother me." The first rule of the Narrows was kill or be killed. Especially for a mob kid. To make your way in the underworld, you had to do what you were told, and in Jack's case it was being told to shoot. In a dog eat dog world, you pay your rent in blood. It was either take out enemy thugs, or Paul would take out Jack. Such was our life.

Jack shook his head. "You're crazy Chrissy."

"Guilty as charged, but you are, erm, too." I frowned at his downcast expression. "Why so serious Jacky-boy? Put a smile on that face." I reached up with a pale thin hand and gently flicked his nose. He gave me a twisted smirk, his Glasgow grin making it look even wider.

"That's, erm, that's better. I hate seeing you frown. Promise me, mh, promise me you'll always smile."

Jack sighed, but the smile didn't leave his face, just for me. "Fine." Always for me.

"Pinky promise?" I asked innocently.

Jack rolled his eyes and held out his pinky. "Pinky promise." We hooked pinkies.

"Remember Jackie-boy, you gotta break your, erm, pinky if you break your promise." I wiggled my pinky finger for emphasis.

"Sure thing Chrissy-girl."

I pulled my lip between her teeth, suddenly nervous. My miss-matched eyes locked onto Jack's almost-black ones. Slowly, nervously, I leaned closer. He didn't pull back, but neither did he move forward. Throwing caution to the wind, I leaned forward all the way and our lips softly touched.

It was the first time I'd ever kissed anyone, in all my fifteen years. And it was... wonderful. Slowly, Jack started to return the kiss. My lips moved against his scarred ones, the sensation igniting goosebumps along my arms.

Carefully raising my hand, I took hold of the back of his head, twisting my hand in his sandy blond-brown hair. Jack responded by drawing me closer.

We slowly broke apart, eyes lidded. Jack wrapped his arms around me and pulled me on his lap, where we were content to just sit and be held.

Jack ran feather-light touches over me scarred wrists while I gently ran a thumb across his Glasgow grin. In the nine years I'd known him, he still refused to tell me how it had come to be. I didn't really mind. I had scars of my own that I didn't want to share about.

"We'll get out. I swear, someday we'll get out." Jack murmured beside my ear.

We would, just not now. There was too much risk, too much danger. We knew, if Jack ever hinted at leaving, I would be killed. Paul had always made that clear. I was Jack's weakness, and I hated it.

"One day." I agreed. "One day we'll, eh, kill them, and we'll be free..."