The rich smell of incense and beer filled the air around the girl. Her body, heavy against the` dense, soft pile of furs and quilts, ached from so much activity right after waking up. Her dreams had been nothing but blackness and drops of rich red blood, the smell of sharp cold and iron. But now, despite such fear filling her first few hours of renewed life, a sense of mystical warmth filled her.

Temperance felt her heavy eyelids part against their better judgment, the room dim and lit by a gentle golden flicker. She took a long breath in and felt the oxygen clear her mind. Her fingers grabbed at the furs and blankets on the bed, legs trembling as she sat up. Her clear blue eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the warm glow of the room.

Inside the small cozily tight room was the bed and what felt like the tiniest room in the world. She sat up at a slow, agonizing pace, wincing through the ache in her calves and feet. Finally upright she gave a great heaving sigh of relief. She felt the unfamiliar weight against her chest and noticed she'd developed under the spell of sleep. Her hips were more rounded and her chest more prominent. She looked like a woman. Then again, she was. It felt so strange to go to sleep one thing and wake up another. Then it hit her: she doesn't have any clothes besides the hospital gift shop garb that was already too thin and cheap for her liking.

Testing her weak feet carefully, the ghostly girl stood, bracing herself against the flattened out futon frame. Thankfully the pain was just a faint throbbing by the time she steadied herself. She could see around the room much clearly now. The sky outside was an overcast, smoky grey, casting a foggy light in between the miniblinds over the sink in the micro-kichenette. Curled up by a woodstove was the menacing man, slumbering silently. Seeing him sleeping so quietly took the menace from his being, but Temperance knew to step around him carefully. Rather, stand still. There wasn't anywhere to go. The sum and total of the room was the joke of a kitchen, the lavish, rustic bed, a door that she could only surmise to be the bathroom, the woodstove in the corner, a bookshelf filled and overflowing, and an altar. The altar was covered in tall white candles wrapped in images of patron saints and angels. Short, red glass candles littered their base while herbs hung at the top of the altar over a statuette of a woman holding a young child in her arms, looking at him lovingly with a doe at her hip. It was a beautiful statue, almost one you could touch. Just reach forward and…

Temperance nearly shrieked when she felt the hand grip around her outstretched arm. Her eyes turned to the man who was now up, glaring at her challengingly. She smiled sheepishly, body already shaking. "Morning," she laughed, biting her lip to hide the fact that it was quivering.

There was a tension in the air that had not been addressed. She knew, at the very least, something was uniquely different about Cyclonus and that put her at risk. He could kill her at any moment or someone else could hunt either of them depending on who said what about the circumstances that the two had been bonded by a unique twist in the fibers of fate.

"You do not touch this altar," he said very firmly, voice deep and at such a timbre that it resonated within the young woman's chest. She shuddered, eyes still wide like a doll's as she stared deep into the man's eyes.

Mind abandoning evolutionary caution Temperance's hand, the one not held tight by a frighteningly cold hand, reached up and touched Cyclonus' face. It was icy, but held a curious sensation: stillness. She felt her palm smooth against the cheekbone of his weathered face, fingertips brushing strands of the purple hair away. For a moment a certain warmth echoed between the two, only the gentle warm flicker of candle light and the nearly silenced sounds of breathing filled the air. The man, much older than what his face might allow, could hear the gentle, soothing beat of Temperance's heart, deep crimson eyes half lidding in peace. Her very being seemed to be a gentle lullaby when she wasn't radiating that brilliant optimism. What was this girl?

Before things took a turn for the questionable Cyclonus grabbed her other hand and slowly slid it away from his face. He let her arms rest at her sides as she shot her eyes down to her feet, pale face burning bright red. He could sense that she was used to following her intuition, but didn't think of the consequences. Her full lips parted as if she wanted to say something, probably an apology, but she could only wring her shirt's hem and bob her head left and right trying to find some words.

Thankfully a loud knock rapped on the door, calling Cyclonus' attention. The young woman let a sigh of absolute relief escape her. Then, just as peace had come, it was whisked away by the sound of a slow, impressed laugh. A woman was clapping her hands together slowly, smirking wide in the door of the micro apartment. She elbowed her way past the man and rushed up to Temperance, grabbing her hands.

"Why hello beautiful," she smirked, her full, dark lips parting to reveal a gleaming white smile. "Now, now, Cyclonus, it's not nice to keep your allies in the dark."

"Rewonda," he began, the woman simply clicking her tongue and turning back to the girl before her.

"As Head Director of the Joyless Department has just informed you, the name's Rewonda, surname unimportant," she nodded, Temperance unable to hide a laugh as the girl described her new guardian. "And, who, dearest darling, are you?"

"T-Temperance Gate," she nodded, attracted to the warmth Rewonda was radiating.

"Named for enjoying in moderation and the opposition for excess and luxury, what a find," she smiled wide and knowingly back at Cyclonus. "A beautiful name." Rewonda led her new friend over to the fur and quilt covered bed, both sitting and starting to chat. After a moment of laughter Rewonda, skin warm and the color of the earth, whipped her head back around to Cyclonus, looking affronted. "Tea won't make itself."

He gave a brutal scowl, but she wasn't fazed in the slightest. Temperance was inspired. How did you go up against a man who seemed to make his money on grimacing and brush his bitterness off while getting him to make you tea? What courage!

However, Rewonda seemed to pay her moxie no mind. She turned back to Temperance with a swish of her thick white hair and a twinkle of her own blue eyes. She was absolutely stunning and a vision confidence. What a person to look up to. But the spunky young woman was far more interested in the sheepish one before her. There was something very unique about this one, Rewonda thought to herself. This would be the game changer.

"So, Temperance. Where are you from?"

"Ah… I used to live in the capital, but… I'm pretty sure I'm not in D.C. anymore," she chuckled, rubbing the back of her cold sweating neck.

"Astute observation," Rewonda beamed, crossing her legs at the ankle and sweeping them to the side like a lady. This woman was amazing, Temperance thought. "You're in New York. The Big Apple. But seeing as you didn't know that, now I'm really curious."

Cyclonus turned around and saw the blinking red light on the side of the woman's blue glasses, yanking them off her face and handing her a piping hot cup of green tea. She frowned, pouting and sighing as she turned back to her new acquaintance.

"She's not a documentary subject, Rewind," he snapped, using her code name almost as an insult. "And I told you to stop recording in my house."

"This is a glorified tool shed and hand them back over before you're wearing that hand around your neck."

Suddenly the hostility coming from the petite young woman send a shiver down Temperance's spine, her eyes wide and hands suddenly pressed tight against her chest. What a coin flip.

"No. Cameras," he said firmly, snapping the glasses in his hands. Rewonda sighed and dug around in the inside pocket of her jean vest. She pulled a second pair, whipped them open and slid them onto her face, tapping the sides to indicate that the camera was off.

"But really, how of all people in this fine city, did you find the angriest of them all?"

"Ah… w-well I woke up from a coma, walked down to a garden, and sat next to him on a bench, I guess…"

The silence that filled the room was absolutely record breaking. Temperance stared between Cyclonus who was only sipping his tea quietly and Rewonda who was deciding whether she was going to bust a gut or stare in absolute awe. She scooted a few inches closer in almost near disbelief that she didn't hear the girl right.

"You just… wait, wait… okay, you woke up from… a coma, did I hear that right?" Temperance nodded, slowly. "And then you just sat down next to this," she gestured to the man becoming more irate by the second. "This is a joke, right?"

Temperance didn't understand. Nothing was funny about it and yet Rewonda was absolutely speechless. She finally sighed out a disbelieving laugh and let it roll into a full on cackle. She held her stomach as tears filled her eyes. She hadn't heard such a comical story in a very long time. And yet, no one else was laughing.

"Holy shit," she swallowed. "You're serious. Wow… oh this is great. We have to go out for coffee some time. Oh, but look at you. We need to take this ragamuffin shopping."

"Rewonda," Cyclonus warned.

"What?" She shot back, throwing her hands up in confusion. "She looks like she's rocking sweaty track suit chic. The girl needs some real clothes. How can you deny her basic needs?"

It became a standoff of frowning and unspoken threats, the two realizing just how strangely unfamiliar the noise of fighting was to the girl. Finally, Rewonda's camera light blinking threateningly, Cyclonus gave a hiss of defeat. The girl smirked and turned back to Temperance, hands gripping hers tightly. "Miss Gate, you and I are going to dress you to the New York Nines," she smiled.

When Temperance left the tiny apartment—which, no offense to the nameless, reluctant guardian, was a glorified tool shed—she saw that it was a small, micro-apartment atop a large, antique converted warehouse. Below him was a string of ritzy apartments for the ultra-rich while the bitter old man stayed atop the building with a small garden and gently lit space with the huge open sky.

Rewonda grabbed the handles for the fire escape and took it down, inviting a very wary Temperance to follow after. Some convincing and promises of hot coffee and clothes that fit got her moving eventually. The sky overhead was bright and large, fluffy clouds passed lazily overhead. It looked like a good day to get out of a comatose state and live a little.

Down on the street life buzzed so much that Rewonda had to shuffle the ghost colored girl into a black taxi cab before she could be shoved into sensory overload. She asked by the purple haired pilot wasn't following and the girl only explained that Cyclonus was literally allergic to people. That got a chuckle but not before a very tall, thin bald man sitting up in the driver's side pecked Rewonda on the cheek.

"The light of my life here is going to chauffeur us around and get you out of those sad rags. Temperance, this is Domey."

"Friends call me Chromedome 'cause I'm good at messin' with people's heads," he smirked, golden eyes turning back to the road as he lit a cigarette and sucked it clean down to the filter before flicking it out the window. Rewonda gave him a shove and narrowed her eyes behind the blue visor glasses. He shrugged and pulled out into the wild world of traffic.

All Temperance could think about while Chromedome was zipping through traffic was how wild the world had become in her absence. What else had changed?

Inside the massive thrift store the racks of gently used clothing stretched from the door to the back of the store, overflowing with things priced perfectly for recently woken coma patients. One look up and down the girl and Rewonda had dragged her over to the white and frilly, floral prints and cardigans. She gabbed on about how Temperance glowed with that antique sort of sweetness and her clothes had to reflect that.

"You can't dress a grandma in a pencil skirt and stilettos. It would just look weird."

"Are you calling me old?"

"No, I'm just saying that you're not suited to that man-killer look. You're… cotton candy and bubblegum, not sherry and cigarettes."

Temperance couldn't deny that and besides, the clothes Rewonda… Rewind? Whatever, was piling into her arms were cute. Off white blouses and summer dresses, flats and sweaters. It was just her style. After about half an hour later the snowy girl was shoved into the dressing room with the curtain shut behind her. Rewind told her that she'd stand watch and demanded for every outfit she tried on that she'd see.

Sure enough, the young girl was paraded around in front of the beaming camera-happy woman who, obviously, was recording all of it. She teasingly parted the curtain, earning a shocked squeak from the girl as she jumped back, laughing. Temperance was just too cute not to tease.

Finally, two hours later, they'd checked out. Rewonda insisted upon covering the bill. Partly because she loved to dress up her friends and partly because Temperance was flat broke. After finally gathering the two huge bags full of clothes she ducked over the bags and grabbed an outfit she favored. Rewonda nodded approvingly as she skipped off to change.

Outside Chromedome checked his watch and spat cigarette butts out on the curb anxiously. His foot tapped against the concrete when Rewonda strolled outside with her hands deep in the pockets of her grey Harlem pants. "Look at my angel," he threw his arms out wide, embracing the petite young woman. "Now, I love you with my heart and soul, but Christ, Rewind. You think you two've shopped long enough?"

"Hell no," she chuckled, standing on her tip toes and kissing the man deeply when the door to the massive thrift store opened. Both of them turned to survey the now glowing girl. Temperance was dressed in a dark green sweater with an off white blouse and a black floral print skirt, tan panty hose and penny loafers fixing the outfit in the name of pure preciousness. "Oh god, Domey. She's an angel."

"You sure everything looks okay?" She asked, finally happy that she could walk without wobbling.

"You're a vision," Chromedome smiled, Rewonda elbowing him in the gut. He laughed and held her closer.

"Now," Rewonda smirked, taking the girl's bags. "Let's get you really dolled up."

Cyclonus sighed as he reclined on the top of his apartment, the sun fading into the distance. The night was cool, but it was refreshing. He wove his fingers behind his head and hummed to himself, the hymn soothing his tired eyes. He hadn't slept most of the night, eyes watching the girl like a hawk. A moment of peace was only interrupted by a fitful grabbing at the sheets and furs. Temperance's face had winced, screwing up in pain and a cold sweat as she panted through some unknown terror. Confused, Cyclonus had sat by the bed watching her.

Finally, after a long night she'd slipped back into peaceful slumber. He'd curled up beside the woodstove, scared that she'd had a reaction to the sight throbbing, carnal energy he emitted. But by the morning she was just as elusive and warm as when they'd first met.

The hymn rose into the air gently now, lips parted as the words rolled of his tongue. He savored the sound of the sweet melody, sighing out the frustrations. This girl… he'd sworn to stay far, far away from anyone after he'd washed up against the shores of the beach, his plane sinking shrapnel in the ocean. He never wanted to explain that his brothers had gone down in screaming flames and smoke while he'd been shot out of the sky by a comrade, surviving a crash certainly meant to kill. Or was it to prove a point to that rebellious fighter pilot?

"Your voice is beautiful," a gentle voice smiled, Cyclonus jumping as he saw Temperance peering from over the edge of the roof. She was standing on the ladder attached to the wall, smiling as she rested her chin between her hands.

"You…" He began, staring at her new look. Her snow white hair was tied in a loose pony tail and slid down her left shoulder, her lips glossed gently in a pale pink, eyelashes accented with mascara. She looked even more distinct, a ray of warm moon light amidst a world of obliterating darkness.

"Rewind took me shopping. I met some of her friends and we hung out for a little while. She's very sweet."

Cyclonus scoffed at that suggestion, Temperance frowning. "She's a nosy, overly curious and secretive woman. But yes, her generosity is well known."

"What does she do? You know, for a living?" That was a very good question that had to answered in a gentle manner. How would one describe what Rewind did?

"She collects information and sells it to people who are willing to pay for it."

"Sounds exciting. What do you do?"

With a grunt if disapproval, Cyclonus stood and motioned for her to climb back down. The thin girl jumped down and brushed herself off. She stood back so that the taller one could once more dwarf her. He held the door for her as they slipped back into the apartment.

Inside Temperance had folded her clothes on the bed and organized the shoes beneath them. She was an orderly girl at the very least. However, in the fridge along with a door full of blood packs was something unfamiliar: food. She explained that she had to eat something and blood really wasn't her cup of tea. Cyclonus simply growled and grabbed a bag of blood and went to sit by the woodstove again. Constantly cold, always hungry, and constantly bitter: what wonderful roommate material.

Cyclonus watched as Temperance sat down on the floor close to but still distanced from him with leftover Chinese take-out. There was no microwave or plates, so cold Lo Mein it was. Seeing the sad sight Cyclonus stood and did what he could and made more tea. It was piping hot and smelled rich of wheat and earth notes. She thanked him kindly as she sipped it, watching as the dark man drunk his own dinner.

"So," she said with a deciding sigh. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight."

"No offense, but that is the biggest lie I have ever heard in my short life," she said through a mouthful of noodles. He smiled softly and shook the expression off. No, no attachment.

"When I stopped aging I was twenty-eight. I was born in 1886," he explained in a glum, textbook toned voice.

"So… you're… One hundred and twenty-eight," she counted in the air with a chopstick. "Wow," she said, almost unimpressed. "That's a long time. I'm rather unimpressive compared to you, aren't I?" A chuckle.

"I would be dead if I had a choice." A coldness filled the words that fell from his voice, his crimson eyes fixed on the glow of the woodstove. "I didn't even know I'd stopped living until I didn't die."

Silence replaced the idle chatter once more and finally Temperance sat her food down, looking the man dead in the eye. She didn't know much about him and she needed to call him something other than 'sir'.

"What's your name?"

"Can't remember now, but they used to call me Cyclonus," he whispered, sucking the bag of blood dry.

"Cyclonus," Temperance smiled, nodding to herself. "Thank heavens. I just couldn't take you seriously if your name was Gerald or something."

Finally she got him to laugh softly, her face warming exponentially at the sound of his laugh. So there was some life left in him after all. Finally, nerve built up, she blurted it out. "C-could you sing some more?" He cocked a sharp brow curiously as the young woman stumbled over her reasons. "Your voice is s-so beautiful and I just… I've never heard anything like that before a-and you know… yeah…" He stood to his towering height once more and headed for the door, sliding a black leather jacket around his shoulders. Temperance watched as he opened the door and turned back, eyes gleaming red. She swallowed hard and awaited some retaliation for her discovery. He simply told her to lock the door behind him and not let anyone in who didn't have a key. She nodded slowly, standing and looking at the number of locks. She opened the door to ask which ones, but he was already gone. Thus, faced with thirteen locks of every sort and shape, she locked them all.

The thin girl sat on the edge of the bed and felt how her heart was throbbing, almost winded the glare. It wasn't threatening, but almost watching in a guardian-like way. Nevertheless, something was very strange. About it all, of course, but things were shifting… slowly, glacial pace even, but it was nice.

Just as she was about to lie on her side and try to remember that rich, rolling voice of a song, a pang of pain shot through her heart. She gripped her chest with wide, fearful eyes. Her shoulders shook as she closed her eyes and prayed for a reprieve from medical care. She didn't want to go back to that pale, ghost-filled world swirling with dread. She wanted to stay with the furs and ancient quilts that smelled like smoke and flowers. She didn't want to leave and fade into the background. Not again.