Chapter 22

A/N: I'm not dead yet. Here you are. Enjoy.

One, two, three...they fell one after another in an eerie symphony of explosions. The starless night lit up in rich gold colors, it was almost beautiful. "Quickly! Into the bomb shelter!" My father shouted as he ushered us into the half-assed underground room. It had been made by digging out a large part of the backyard. Not the safest kind of protection, but false sense of security was better than no sense at all.

My mother pulled me onto the old worn couch with her. Thin arms wrapped themselves protectively around me; I felt her whole body shake, and I shook right along with it. Her voice was calm though, and controlled as she whispered words of comfort to me. "You're okay, darling."

"It will pass soon," Came my fathers' weak reassurance. "this is just another drill."

I knew better though. My mother knew better, as did my father. Lying to ourselves was one way of coping with this bloody war. I watched my father with nervous eyes as he paced the small space in front of us.

You're okay, darling." My mother repeated. Her voice soft against my pale blond hair.

I nodded, refusing to speak. They were use to it by now, I was sure. (It had been a week since the last time I'd spoken. Simply refused to do so. Why? Because I felt the need to emotionally prepare myself for what I knew was sure to come.) Well...I knew I was okay. The question was, were they okay? If so, for how long? How long could this old room keep us safe and hidden from the world's cold, watchful eye? I never voiced my concerns.

A twelve year old child would never be taken seriously. Regardless of the extent of his intelligence.

The minutes ticked by far too slowly. I kept stealing glances at the wood planked walls, trying to picture a clock there. Trying to count down the minutes, the hours, we've been stuck in this isolated room.

Finally, when I thought that my mind would surely give way to madness, the "All-Clear" signal sounded outside, long shrill and muffled.

Simultaneously, both my mother and father breathed a sigh of relief. My breath was still caught in my throat.

Once inside I went back to living as if the war wasn't happening. It was the least I could do to make my parents lives easier. Not having them reassure me every two seconds that we would all be okay and that things would go back to normal soon.

The lights were gone and it would remain that way for the rest of the night. So, candles littered every available surface in our living room. A fire burned in our white marble fireplace. It threw my fathers shadow farther out, towards the front door as he paced. His face was half obscured in shadow, but I could see the fear on the other half. I looked away.

His lips moved in silent prayer but I did my best to ignore it. My puzzle was in need of attention and so I intended on giving it just that. I didn't' want to hear the fear reflected in his voice; see it painted on his features. I merely focused on my puzzle and nothing more. Tried to anyway...but the images of my father in uniform kept flitting through my mind like a silent film specially produced just to mock me.

Every available man was to be enlisted into the army. My father would leave at mornings first light. Another reason to hate this pointless little dispute between countries. It was tearing my family apart.

A soft whisper of "Dinners ready." From the kitchen broke us from our tasks at hand.

After glancing at each other for a brief moment, my father and I made our way into the kitchen for our last family dinner. Try as I might not to think of it that way, it was still a solemn event. At that time, I wanted nothing more than to run from the room and never turn back. To leave all these feelings behind and lock them up in a place where I would be certain they would never escape and come after me again. Childish of me, yes, I knew.

Dinner was awkward. My parents kept casting me odd glances from under their eyelashes, thinking I couldn't see the small inconspicuous movements, but I could. They forgot what an observant little boy they had brought up. And they would pay the price for it in the long run.

"Son," I broke free of my reverie as my fathers voice, hoarse and low, echoed in the small kitchen. "Your mother and I have been trying to put this off until the last possible minute, but..." A seconds pause for breath. "but the last train for the country leaves tomorrow morning."

This was it. This was what I had been preparing myself for all week.

My heart was pounding against my ribs, desperate, I was sure, as I was for the escape...the sense of release I so longed for. The next three words were slow and deliberate, as if I had gone years without speaking and had suddenly forgotten how to pronounce them. "I don't understand." Load of shit that was. Yes, I understood damn well. I understood damn well that they were going to load me onto a train with a bunch of other snot nosed brats, and ship me off to some god forsaken farm to lay low until this war was over and done with.

"Safe-Keeping" Was what they called it. Like we were just some objects and not living, breathing human beings. That's a great way to make someone feel safe. Wonderful. Long live the Queen.

"Darling, all the children are being evacuated to the country for Safe-keeping." There it was again. I tried my best not to grimace as my mothers lovely face, tear streaked and pale, transformed into a smile. The kind of smile you get when something absolutely wonderful, absolutely priceless, steps into your life. "Oh, darling...you spoke again. Tim, Oh, Tim did you hear? He spoke."

Tim, my father, wasn't so enthusiastic, but if it pleased my mother, he would put on his best smile and whisper a very convincing "Yes, he did." I knew my father was a lot more worried about the time he would be spending in the army to be bothered with gushing over his only son. Whatever.

My answering smile was so plastic; I bet it would have put Malibu Barbie to shame. It would have to do. I had to keep them unaware of the dark web that was slowly beginning to weave itself together within my mind. My mind seemed to lack the space to allow reason. No, my now narrow mind refused to listen to the part of me screaming that these people, my parents, cared about me. That they loved me. That the only reason they were sending me away instead of letting me stay with them...was because they wanted to make sure I was safe. Because...because they loved me.

No. Fuck them.

To hell with them. That was what my mind kept repeating over and over again like a sick morbid mantra.

Childish? Yes. Unreasonable? Very much so. Did that stop me from wanting nothing more than to hurt them in return for this? Not a chance.

Surely you understand. As a child, your parents are suppose to want to be with you. To want to hold you and cuddle you...and tell you everything would be okay, right? Did my parents not love me? Well, that was the logic my mind kept spewing. And I believed every single word.

Even geniuses make mistakes. What I did...was what I believe to be, my first and final mistake; I cursed my parents to hell, and vowed my revenge on them. Revenge that I knew, deep down, was unnecessary and childish.

- - -

The following morning was as grey and bleak as I felt. Like god was mocking me by turning the world into an over-sized mood ring of sorts. Oh, how I cursed god, whatever god was out there, the world, and every person in it. Angry, yes, I was incredibly angry. It never showed on my face though. My face was as lifeless as the road kill my mother and I passed on our way to the train station.

Murmurs and whispered 'I love you's' bombarded me from every direction as we made our way through the throng of people. Grandparents, mothers...they were all there crowding around the cherry red train, hugging their children and grandchildren, showering them with kisses and sweet nothings. Promising them that all would be well soon and they would be able to be together again.

Pathetic really. I thought they were all full of shit. Their masks were only very well painted on.

"Darling," My mother stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. I turned to face her, my face smooth, expressionless. "d-darling...now you know I love you with all my heart, don't you?" Obviously she wasn't expecting me to answer, so she continued. "Your father and I both love you more than anything. H-he would have been here too...had he had a choice, but you know that he had to leave for the battle field this morning....Oh, Nate, darling please, please speak to me. Say something...tell me you understand what's going on!...please." Her voice cracked as several tears poured down her lovely face.

For a second, I wanted nothing more than to chuck my pride aside and hold her. Hold her and tell her that everything would be alright. She looked so small, so fragile, like a little girl. Anger flooded me once more as the train whistle blew, signaling its final call for its passengers. Shaking my head, I took my carry on bag from her and hung it over my shoulder. With one last look at her shimmering pale blue eyes, I turned and headed for the train. She cried out for me.

"Nate!" I could hear her heart-breaking with every step I took. Dear lord in heaven...I wanted to break. To run into her arms and apologize for being so heartless. So cruel to her when I knew this was not her fault. When I knew that she loved me more than her own life. But I didn't. The sound of the high pitched whistle kept me cold, and emotionless. I stepped onto the train and went to find an empty seat.

Finally, the train began to slowly move out of the station. Peeking out the window, I saw my mothers pale face in the crowd. Her eyes were red and puffy, her hand was clamped down tightly over her mouth as if she were trying to keep from crying out her pain...her agony. Building speed, the train finally was far enough away that my mothers face, lovely even through distraught tears, disappeared from sight.

----

We rode on well into the night. I watched as the dark velvet blanket of night lifted to reveal another grey morning. The only other color in the world was green. The green grass, the green bushes, the green trees. I had thought a lot about my situation during the night, when all the other children were asleep. I came to the conclusion that...well, that I would forget my petty little childish revenge and try to cope with this until the time came when I was reunited with my family once more. Yes. That's what I would do.

A smile twitched onto my lips. The gesture felt odd to me, for I hadn't done so in a while. With higher spirits, thanks to my new decision, I waited patiently as the train whistle blew and began to slow to a stop.

The children began to file out of the train, I followed, feeling a lot lighter than I had ever felt in a while. There was still something deep in my gut that just wasn't sitting well with this whole "Safe-Keeping" crap. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to run from this place to be with my mother. To hug her and never let her go. Tell her I was so, so sorry about not saying good-bye. To tell her how much I really did love her...to promise her I would never hurt her ever again. I was only half listening to the instructions being shouted out at the crowd of children.

My mind was miles from this place. It was still at the very heart of London, with my mother. I had to get away from here if I wanted even the slightest chance of getting back to her soon. And so, with the sudden burst of courage that rushed through my veins, I ran.

I gripped my bag tightly and just ran as fast as my weak legs could carry me. I say weak, because since birth I had always been sickly. The sun bothered me more than it should, so I was almost always inside, working on puzzles and building complicated dice structures.

Though they called for me to stop and to turn back, I kept on running. Already, my lungs burned and my sides ached but I knew I couldn't stop. Not now. Not yet.

My legs suddenly had a mind of their own and they were taking me on a wild journey through grassy fields and woods. I had no idea where I was; where I was going, all I knew was that I wanted to get there. Now.

Blind. I think that's how I managed to keep going. I reached a point in which I saw nothing, heard nothing, just felt. But only pain.

My lungs were on fire, air didn't seem to reach them fast enough to cool them. My legs felt as though they would give out on my at any second, but that second never came. Still, I kept running.

Honestly, how I made it into the small town that, not hours before I had never even known existed, I didn't know. As I said, I was always sickly, so I was surprised and a little amused to learn that I hadn't just dropped dead.

The sounds registered before anything else. The murmur of people as they went about their daily life; whispers as I passed them in the grey cobblestone streets.

Finally, I felt as if I might pass out from exhaustion. My head felt heavy, like lead, and so I let the weight fall forward and let myself be dragged down along with it. I felt myself falling...falling. It felt like an eternity as I plunged into the deep abyss of unconsciousness...but something pulled me back before I could reach the bottom. Something cold.

My pain was numbed with the sudden cold that surrounded my weak and tired body. It was so very cold, like standing in the middle of a snow storm. Not that it was all together unpleasant. Slowly, I blinked my eyes open, forcing them to find some sense in what was happening. Find the source for this wonderful coolness. What I found, surprised me.

Strong arms covered in shiny dark leather encircled me, keeping me still and pressed against a strong chest. My eyes flickered up, only to come into contact with deep blue.

His soft but hard edged features were too beautiful to be human. It was almost painful to look at him. Earlier, when I had been so blinded by my anger, I had cursed god. Cursed him into the fiery pits of hell where I was so convinced he belonged. Yet, here was an angel, holding me above the dark waters of death. I clung to this angel as if he were the last living thing on the planet. Yes, I was convinced this was angel, sent from god to accept my whole hearted apology and to take me back home to my mother.

I voiced my theory.

"Are you an angel?"

The blond beauty seemed surprised for a few short seconds, before he answered in a voice so soft and velvety that I could have reached out and touched it in the air. "No," Then there was silence for two short beats. "You're safe now." He assured me.

Something deep in the back of my mind, shouted at me to get away from him. To run away and not turn back for this was no angel. This was something sinister, evil, sinful. Not that I ever paid much heed to religion, but just picked up on bits and pieces of things I had read in books. I ignored these silly feelings of fear, for they were ridiculous. This man...no, this young boy was not evil.

"Are you sure...you're not an angel?" He had to be. Just had to be. There was no way he was human. My voice was hoarse, and my throat burned with its dryness. I was thirsty.

"I'm sure," Was the instant reply. "I'm not an angel. The farthest thing from it, actually." There was no anger in his voice, no threatening tone, just his simple, sincere answer. Though there was something in there that sounded strangely like self loathing. I couldn't be sure. I wasn't all there at the time. Just barely hanging on to the frail thread of consciousness.

As I watched his lips move, I saw the sharp canines hidden behind them. The fear that I had willed away, blossomed once more, spreading through my stomach and up into my chest, making my heart pound wildly against my skin. The blonds deep blue eyes darted to the place where my heart beat its protest. With great effort, I parted my dry lips to speak once more. "Are you going to kill me?"

"No," He said. "You are safe with me."

And I was. Looking into his eyes, I knew I was.

No matter what he was.

Angel or Demon.

A/N: Okay. So I know Ive been dead for the past few weeks, and I apologize for that. Ive had ZERO time to go out to the Cyber Cafes for updates, so i just kept blowing it off. Now, however, I finally have internet at home which is too awesome for words. Because honestly surviving Mexico without Internet is HELL.

Kay, so about this chapter. As you can guess, the "Angel" Near describes, is Mello. Yes, I admit its a bit confusing, but not so confusing that you shouldnt be able to keep up with it, so thats good.

Near, "Nate" hated his parents only because he thought they no longer cared for him. Yes, after cooling down he realizes his childish mistakes and reconsiders. Tune in to find out the rest of his little twisted past.

REVIEWS would be greatly loved. Now that I have my own computer back Updates will be a LOT faster. So get those reviews in. -sighs- so yeah thats it. Hope this made up for any delay.

Oh! And yes, you read correctly. Nears hair was blond and his eyes were blue.

Matt.