Warning: Blood and violence below. If you have not read my other fic Center of the Sun, then things might get a little wild for you. Keep in mind this is based after a third world war, and what would have happened if Hitler had been successful in his ideas of a 'perfect' world.

Tears From the Moon

Chapter 5. Revolutions Uprising

The paranoia is in bloom

The P.R. transmissions will resume

They'll try to push drugs, keep us all dumbed down

And hope that we will never see the truth around

So come on

Another promise, another scene, another

Packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed with all the

Green belts wrapped around our minds and endless

Red tape to keep the truth confined, so come on

They will not force us

And they will stop degrading us

And they will not control us

We will be victorious, so come on

Interchanging mind control

Come let the revolution take its toll

If you could flick a switch and open your third eye

You'd see that we should never be afraid to die

So come on

Rise up and take the power back

It's time the fat cats had a heart attack

You know that their time is coming to an end

We have to unify and watch our flag ascend

So come on

They will not force us

They will stop degrading us

They will not control us

We will be victorious, so come on

~Uprising by Muse

The change of the season shifted over the nation, and Jem was enchanted by the campus as the trees sparked to life in beautiful outlines of crimson and gold. Autumn was much the same in China, but here, in the destructive city, the small little refuge of trees somehow made it all the more enchanting. The air was cold enough now he needed a coat, and his father's old uniform jacket served him well; though the fabric was thin it was military issue and strong. It sheltered him well and filled his heart with pride every time he wore it. In the breast pocket he kept his father's old watch, and though it no longer worked, Jem felt it warm in his hands.

Jem's first class of the day was the longest, and the lectures could stretch on for hours. Through the day he found himself walking this path too often, and when the sun warmed his face through the red leaves Jem thought of home. In his heart there wasn't space for sorrow, but when he thought of his loving mother he sheltered her image deep behind his closed eyes.

Jem didn't sleep well in the dorm, and he didn't know what kept him up more; the guns firing in the distance, or the heavy moans of lovers in the rooms around him. All he knew was that he always felt the weight of it when the week was coming to a close. With his lunch finished, and with the warmth of the high noon sun, he found it easy to stretch out in his father's coat over the grass. He curled on his side against the base of the tree, and though he felt so very small-he felt sheltered and safe. It would not be long before he found himself dreaming.

He was home again, standing with his father, watching the wind blow through the tall grass. He could hear laughter over the misty mountains, and could see his mother with the cool waters over her ankles as she waded through the silver springs. Lovingly she beckoned him to join her, and her laughter was so musical it was hard to resist. However, that sinking feeling of regret came with the desire to step into the water, and he turned over his shoulder to look back at the man who in reality he had never met. In his dreams, Jem had conversations with this man as if he was standing right there. And when he woke in the morning he always felt his chest ache.

In this dream he watched his father stand still while he joined his mother, and when he called out after him his words were silent. At first, it felt as though it were a jest, and at any moment his father would stroll along behind him. Yet, when Jem felt his heart stop he felt his mother's cold hands clasp around his wrist. The fear on her face tore the skin away from the bone, and her mouth cracked as it parted to scream.

The fear took Jem, but when he turned once more to look over at his fathe,r he watched his father's chest explode with bullets.

Startled awake, the first thing Jem noticed was how dark the sky had become, and with the night still too far away he narrowed his eyes in confusion. The wind was violent and the air, now cold without the sun, caused Jem to shiver in the oversized uniform coat. It took him a few moments to even remember where he was, but when reality swept through his clouded mind he started to sit up. His hair was wild atop his head, having fallen over his face while he slept, and now in the violent wind it tickled his lips.

Everything was quiet save for the brewing storm, and not a single soul was in sight. His heart pounded against his chest too afraid to move, but knowing the deep feeling of dread that harbored inside him belonged to the past. The fear shifted over the way he stood, and now upon his feet staring at the open courtyard he had never felt so small.

Through the glass of the cafe no one sat behind tables, no gossip spilled from lips untamed, and even the station behind the counter was abandoned with the door unlocked. Franticly now, he searched for life and felt as though the air had been taken from his chest. The recreational area outside the dining hall had half eaten lunches, and still fizzing soda cans littered the ground as if they had just been left. Bookbags and sweatshirts were tossed on benches, while little bits of paper danced in the wind. Where was everyone?

Frightened, Jem pulled his coat around him tighter to fight against the bitter cold on the wind, and the sinking freezing feeling of truly being left behind tore at him. In memories best left forgotten he recalled what the revelation said of the Rapture, but did God even still exist in this land? Perhaps, he had been left behind, but as quickly as that thought took him it left again to rejoin his fear. Finally, he flattened his lips against his mouth, and pushed into the wind to return to his dorm, feeling foolish to think that life could be taken in a blink of an eye.

Jem made his way through the campus growing more and more desperate as he went, and called out for anyone who would hear him. However, only the broken laughter of the autumn air would return his pleading. Slowly, he made his way to where the rest of the world began; the break in the outside world and the university. Ever since the time William had brought him from the train he had been too afraid to venture very far, but never did it fail his curiosity wondering what was beyond. The streets of London in all the history books had always spoken of how rich they were in diversity, and how families from all over the world would journey here just to see what it was like to be so free, but ever since the third world war, nothing had been the same.

His thoughts shifted, suddenly, when the cry of a large black raven pierced the darkness, and flew from his perch on one of the stone arches. The leaves had all dried up, and what remained came down in a fury from the bird's movements through the trees. Its heavy black wings beat wildly even after he landed. Perched there, upon the back of the stone, Jem felt its large black eyes on him, pinning him to where he stood. The heavy black beak looked as though it could take a finger or two, and the creature's talons caused the stone to flake beneath its strength. With every step that brought him closer, Jem slowed enough to listen to the bird, and somewhere in his blatant calls he thought he heard the raven pleading for him to turn back. Yet, not even this omen could drown out the sounds beyond the university's walls.

Jem could hear the streets full of voices, and instantly relief washed over him. He heard them in songs, singing together the praise of the fallen, and he wondered at the meaning. His silver eyes ran over the faces, but found no one that he knew. He saw men in black coats as long as his, and on their arms a band with an open eye symbol he had known to be called-fearless. Through the wind he watched them carry on through the streets like some great victory had befallen, but all Jem could tell that was in the midst was the crumpled...broken...bodies.

Blood. The streets ran with blood, heavy and hot the air smelled of iron. The heavy black sky was not to be blamed by the rain, but the ash and soot from the corner church that burned, and the songs were nothing now but the fearful cries of the fallen. He felt sick, but even more so he couldn't turn away.

Jem's whole body froze, and the air left his lungs as he gasped at the sight. He feared greatly for what was to come, and his muscles hurt from the tension building as he felt himself unable to move. He felt the way his heart burst inside his chest, and how the blood quickened his pulse. Despite his instincts to run, he simply stood his ground, but when he was finally able to free himself from the fear—heavy-half-covered-dirty hands fell like stones on his shoulders holding him in place. He carried the weight of the worlds it pressed down on him, and Jem's breath slowly pulled in.

"God please," he cried, and felt the blade at the base of his spine. Jem didn't know when he had started to cry, but shaking now the tears collected in his eyes; unwilling to fall just yet. "Please let me go." His voice was so small that it was almost missed, but the other man ignored it instead.

"Didn't you hear the sirens, Soldier?" The man's voice was cold, and alarming in the way it made him feel as though he should have been on his knees. It had the thick deadly sounds of demons, but the tormenting warmth of an angel—hope; Jem wondered if he spoke like that on purpose just to taunt his soul, but all he could do was shake his head feeling the edge of the blade run up his spine. It pressed against his coat, but didn't cut just yet.

"I-I'm..not..a soldier, Please." Jem's shoulders shook just like his voice, but slowly his hands came to fall beside him as if preparing to strike back should the man leave room for an attack.

"Where did you get the coat, pretty boy?" The man spoke like a viper, but moved like a panther slow and deadly. His long legs were captive inside skinny black jeans, and the back of his calves brushed by the length of his long trench coat that made him appear like a watchman in the night. Jem knew not of his name, but once his eyes traveled up to the man's face he could find familiarity in it. He knew him from the station, and in the way his hair was styled he knew him to be the martyr the rumors made him.

They say he's a tall man, with black hair, and the devil's eyes.

"It-its my father's," Jem inhaled as he clutched the front closed, and continued only when he saw the blade, blood stained and rusty, was not alone. His other held a revolver, fully loaded, and clipped with bullets that would bare Jem's name should he step out of line, "Was." Jem breathed his correction, "Was my father's."

"Oh?" A coy smirk played across the thin lips of the man that behind him had an entire army of souls who looked half dead-forgotten. "Did he die, Sweetheart?" The forced compassion in this man's tone made Jem's skin crawl, but the way his eyes shone like a cat's in the dark made it freeze over again—devil's eyes. He was tall and thin, but not the sort that one would think him weak. No, this man breathed the very essence of strength and with it exhaled fear.

"He did," came Jem's answer, and his shoulders stopped their trembling long enough to set in harsh, rigid, manners. He wasn't about to let this fool bait him into anything he wasn't willing to give.

"Ah," the cat like man said again, "I could even wager in the war? What say you?" The dark man turned to look over his shoulder to those who watched with half pleased, demented, smiles, and revenge on their faces. "And a student I see." His half gloved hand pointed the dagger to Jem's neck where the small medical cross of his profession stood proudly around his pale throat.

"I..I am." At that Jem lifted his chin to get away from the knife, and he continued, "My Father was a physician, and I...I plan to be one too. Now please let me go, I have committed no crime." The Underground King, could admire the show of strength, and fire inside this little touch of white in a very black world. However, he too had a reputation to keep, and with the signal given the Forgotten moved from beyond his shoulders to surround Jem. The youth felt as though he was swimming, and the waters had become dark and dangerous with that of the deadly beasts.

"You think so?" Came the stranger's reply pulling him back in, and all of those who surrounded them started to laugh lightly. "Forgive me, but the rules are when lives are taken from me, I take them back. Did you not hear of the eleven killed this very day, my friend?" The cat eyed man asked as he made his way around Jem's shoulder's once more to taunt him further, "Three killed because they had lost their faith in God, four because they refused to believe a church should hold such power as to control how much food a family can get, and the rest?" Magnus stopped, taking hold of either side of Jem's waist, and pulled his frail little body back against his own, "Because they loved true to themselves, and not what rules would condemn us to." Meaning they were gay, Jem could relate. He had never felt attracted to a woman like he did a man, and perhaps if his life was not dangling before him, he would have thought this crazed man handsome.

Jem's heart raced again in this man's arms now, but still his eyes were mindful of the rest around him. He noticed that some wore masks, while other's exposed their face for the whole world to see. The eyes that looked at him seemed starved, and their feast was that of his skin; their wine his blood. Jem was done crying, but he was shaking like the autumn leaves clinging to his life like clinging to the branch unwilling to die just yet. He had gotten too far, but finally when the cold dagger came to his neck he closed his eyes with a gasp.

"Bane!" A voice boomed through smoke covered evening in the way that only the most feared could, and in that Jem felt the dagger fall swiftly . "Unhand him!" The voice was familiar in that sort of warm way that Jem associated with the French, and when he saw Jean-Luc his heart soured.

The tall Frenchman pulled from the darkness as if the smoke had been a veil that fell from his face, and little wisps of it touched his hair like long fingers combing desires through the shoulder length silk. His monarch, aristocratic, features were set stone as if carved from sculptors hands; too perfect to not be made of fine marble. He was a timeless man of years gone by, and even with his thin pale lips flat with anger he was beautiful. The long black cloak the Frenchman wore on days it was cold like this, reminded Jem of the wings of the raven he had seen earlier as it swelled with the ferocity of his steps. However, it was his captor's turn to feel the fear he had felt while watching the raven pass by.

"Oh, Professor…I was only having a little fun," the cat like man grinned, and Jem felt his anger rise. How dare he make such a face! He had half a mind to clock him when released, but when he did feel the man release him, all he could think about was closing the distance between he and his professor. Jean-Luc was happy to receive him, but he did not take the youth into his arms like Jem expected—wanted. Instead he used his cold fingers to tip Jem's chin back to examine his face. There was fear and part shame there upon the boy's white brow, but he was not hurt.

Jem looked up, and felt his face get hot with the touch, and prayed Jean-Luc to not notice how he blushed. He wanted to run to his room, and for the first time despite his first week he wanted to go back to China. However, when Jean-Luc's voice broke through his thoughts he was amazed at how truly intimidating he could be when he was angry.

"How dare you. You know the rules," the Frenchman hissed, and despite the aid of the walking cane he stood taller than Magnus-a feat that hardly ever happened, but even before the Frenchman; Magnus could stand his ground.

"He was out after the sirens, I promise you that," Magnus returned, and narrowed his eyes while twisting his lips into a coy smirk.

"He is a student. Students are off limits to your political wars," came Jean's answer, and the hand that held his family's crest embedded in silver fell on Jem's shoulder, the ring glinting in the light. Jem fought the urge to curl into his broad chest, and even worried his bottom lip while looking up at the much taller men as they argued. "There are limits to this madness, Magnus. I will not tolerate you toying with my students."

"He is a student in a soldier's coat, Old Man. That forfeits those rules." The unwritten unspoken rules that had been what kept sanity in the city almost seemed as if they shouldn't matter anymore; students spared along with the elderly, and children. However, the King had gone mad, and every day more and more innocent lives were taken simply because they 'were not perfect'. Hilter had been sane enough to keep it a secret from the rest of the world, but the old English King killed them on the streets for all to see; and the world could only watch powerless to his madness. The war had taken its toll on them all, and for the first time Jem wondered what side his father had fought for. He loved this coat, but when Jean-Luc's fingers tightened over Jem's shoulders he wished to be free of it. Jean-Luc held him out of fear now, because somewhere Magnus was right. Jem was wearing a military issued coat.

"He didn't know," came the now quiet voice of his Professor, and Jem could almost swear it sounded like he was begging. He wanted to turn and fight Jean-Luc on his words. He shouldn't beg! Not for his life. No, not even his own life was worth listening to Jean-Luc so desperate. "It won't happen again."

The Underground King gave Jem a dark look, though with the coy grin that brought life to his cat-like eyes he felt relief wash over him. "Make sure that it doesn't." With that Magnus touched Jem's chin before he slipped his fingers gently over his flushed cheek, and Jem wanted to turn away from the touch. "My...you are a beautiful one." Something in the way Magnus looked at him made him realize that there was a kind soul beneath all the blood, but when he looked over his shoulder to one of the masked men Jem felt sick. The eyes that looked at him through the black fabric could have easily belonged to Will they were the same color, but William wouldn't be out here like this. No, over the past few weeks Jem had noticed a change in his classmate, and Will cared suddenly. He listened to Jean-Luc's lectures, and learned. He met with Jem often to work on their project, and sometimes would even sit with him at the dining hall. More and more they were growing together, and he couldn't stand to think of him here. However, Jem felt sick in this moment. He felt as though every time William had to leave so suddenly he knew why, and a great part of him wanted to break from Jean-Luc to rip that mask right off that face. Yet…he was young, and innocent; and quickly put away the notion.

William wouldn't do something like this, would he?

"Take him back, Jean-Luc, and perhaps teach him how the world really works, hmm? Such an innocent thing, I'd be afraid of what would happen." The cat eyed man spoke over his shoulder as he slipped back into the crowd, and the sea of people would part to take him—pulling him back Underground, where he himself had been condemned because he loved another set of blue eyes; ones almost the same color as William's.

Finally, they were gone, and Jem felt himself able to breathe again. He felt sick, faint, and wanted very much to just find somewhere dark he could lay down. He noticed that with the fading figures so too did the streets start to fill with soldiers, and this was when Jean-Luc would shelter him beneath his dark wing to lead him away from the gory battlefield. It was clear they had much to talk about, but all Jem could think about was how haunting those blue eyes had been.

A/N: First I would like ton say thank you to Ky, for all you do. I plan to marry her, and her Beta services are more than just fixing typos. Thank you.

Second, I would like to make it known that if anyone does not understand what is going on please feel free to ask me. I know Center of the Sun is a beast and a bit confusing at first, but if you can't tell what is happening(or just don't want to read CotS) I will happily help you. These stories mean a lot to me because they could very well someday happen. The government shouldn't be able to control who we love, or what faith we follow. We are all equal in every way, and it shouldn't matter if we love a man or a woman. It should not be a crime, but in this fic it is. People are killed for less.

I'm so proud of NY, and this is the first chapter I have put up I have been able to express it. Thank you.

Finally, forgive the lateness of all my updates. I've been very busy, and I know everyone else is too. I can always tell when you all are busy by how fast(or slow) the hit counter goes up, or how many reviews I get each chap. Please leave them. They push me forward, and I want to publish someday. I'll dedicate the book to you all!

Thank you, and watch for CotS's update sometime soon. Just need mojo to finish. So review please. I need the push.