Disclaimers: All characters belong to rightful owners.
Story concieved by Lee.


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Maybe it was asking a little too much to expect Darran to remain calm at that. The barrel of the gun snapped up with a convulsive jerk, now pointing directly between Dante�s eyes.

"Explain to me," the assassin murmured coldly, eyes narrowed and just shy of the feral glare from before, "exactly how you expect to win an apology with _that_." Raping Para? Killing kids? Oh yeah, oh yeah, he was calm. Cool as fucking ice. This kid wasn�t gonna end up with a bullet in his brain, but he sure could use a couple broken bones. "Dunno what your problem is and I couldn't care _less_, sick fuck. I don't know _where_ the fuck you get off assuming I'm like your little buddies off the street, but I'll tell you right now it's false as hell, though I don't expect you to have the brains to figure that out." Or believe him.

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"Oh yea. I can tell it's false as hell..." Dante snorted as he gave his eyes a brief roll. Still, he did tense again as the gun was once more leveled at him, but he wasn't about to back down. Not on something like this. Stupid pride, sure, but there were a few things he couldn't just lie back and take; threats-- imagined or real-- to his family was amongst this.

"You'd never _dream_ of doing anything as bad as that, right?" He snorted, his voice all but dripping sarcasm, at this point. A sneer at his lips, he raised the knife, again, but, as before, he didn't make any sort of threat with it; it was simply there and ready should it be needed. Not that it'd do him any good to the assassin's gun. "Not a sainted, sweet, innocent guy like you. As for having the brains to figure it out, well, I've never been renowned for my smarts, as hard as that is to believe..."

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"Yeah," Darran snapped, trying to stay _just_ pissed. Pissed was fine, pissed meant trash-talk, and it wasn't until he went silent again that opponents of Tiger Claw really needed to worry. So, perhaps unfortunately, he just went with whatever was in his head, no matter how bitchy.

"See, I'm pretty well fed up with your whole self-righteous, don't-approach-the-altar thing. I'm not saying I'm good enough to marry Para or something. I'm not even _talking_ about what I am or am not good enough for. But what I am saying about _you_ is that you have no goddamn right to tell me who I may or may not hang out with, on my own time, in public. And frankly, you're no older than Para." Whatever age that might be. Shit, he still didn't know, and he was damned if he was going to stop and ask this bastard now. "You've no more experience than her, really. All you can claim is that you've hung out with shittier people, so this somehow gives you the goddamn right to screen for her. It doesn't. But it sure as _fuck_ means that this whole conversation is pointless, 'cause kiddo, I'm not going to try to suck up to you. I'm not going to try to change your mind about me. I'm Tiger Claw; he kills. But when I'm not working, I'm just looking to hang out. Now, your sister's really cool. I think we'd probably have a lot of fun clubbing together. And just by the way, I say clubbing, I _mean_ clubbing-- for a fuck I would go to a slut."

Taking another step away from Dante, Darran lowered the gun and met him squarely in the eye. "But, whatever. I'm not going to change your mind and at this point I don't really care about that.

"I've got places to be, kiddo. Things I really gotta do. It's been about as fun as an early visit to hell."

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"Yea, I'm no more experienced than Para and the only advantage I have is that I've been with shittier people..." Dante snorted at this, but, as Darran again removed the gun, he, too, tucked the knife back from whence it had come. At this point, he didn't see any need to use it and, beyond that, it was starting to seem that any attempt on the asshole would be nothing but wasted effort. If the fuck just wanted to walk away, then that was fine; just as long as he never came anywhere _near_ his sister-- or the rest of his family-- again.

"Yea, fine." He shrugged as he let his _expression form back to its familiar smirk. Flipping a bit of hair away from his face, he flipped something of a wave at the jackass. "I'm sure you got things to do, people to shoot and I'm sure that's a thousand times more amusing for you than this. Just stay the _fuck_ away from my family and we'll never have to see each other again. Kinda simple, huh?"

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"Don't think so," Darran muttered dryly as he turned away. Stay away from Para? Yeah, sure, 'cause he definetely needed this asshole telling him what he could or couldn't do. And anyway, what were the chances he wouldn't run into this punk some night? Dante himself had said they had some similar clients. "Nah, with my luck, I'd say it's pretty likely we'll meet... sometime. Better hope it's not when I think it's gonna be."

But really, by now all he wanted to do was go get Kein and get the hell home. Without waiting for the other's reply, Darran walked away... though, to be sure, his ears were listening hard for even the slightest indication that Dante might be preparing to attack him from behind.

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Naturally, the lighting of the city's Christmas tree was to be the highlight of the day's ceremonies and, as dusk settled, things began to get underway. As the crowd assembled, they were serenaded by soft Christmas hymns and carols, all being sung by a choir of the city's finest voices, and, as a prelude to the ceremony's beginning, there was a rather lovely piano solo played by the son of the town's founder. Once all this was finished, all were offically welcomed by the Mayor, then there was a blessing by a priest from a local church, and the usual round of speeches, offerings of thanks, and well wishings. Of course, the most anticipated moment came last and, just as night fully fell, the tree was offically lit in a wash of festive colors and soft glittering stars. Though that was the end of the offical program, there was still music provided by the choir, as well as snacks and things still being handed out by kind volunteers from the schools and churches.

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As the last applause for a beautifully played piano piece died away, Umed nodded a little, smiling softly. "I'm sorry I was running late," he apologized to his two companions, "but at least we met up in the end." To Sophia alone he added affectionately, "And aren't you glad you came, now?"

Sophia looked from one man to the other, her face expressionless. Glad? She couldn't say. In the span of one day she'd managed to see as much evil as ever; indeed, maybe things had been even worse than usual. A criminal trying to molest her teacher. Two boys who seemed fine seperately, but vowed to kill each other and indeed, acted like lunatics in each others' presences. Anger everywhere, fear, and the event that still made her stop short, that unexpected memory of...

But-- the day hadn't been _bad_. She'd been able to take Mr. Alraune out of Barano's clutches, which was very good. She'd met Lukas, who had been nice to her. Even though his friend Sam's behavior had seriously alarmed her and provoked Alexei, it was better to be forewarned than caught entirely unawares. Yes-- it would be good if she could look up those two, Alexei and Sam. There certainly seemed like the potential for some problem there, and Sophia knew quite well it was better to try to prevent such an occurance than rule on it afterward.

And the rest of the people she'd met that day? Kisoku, Tesu, Nathan and Thalia had been among the briefest of her contacts, so she accepted them for what she could guess, that they were simply citizens trying to live as well as possible. Dante worried her, a little: connected to Barano and such an obviously angry person besides, she might meet him again where she'd rather not, be it in a photograph as grisly evidence of murder or the very one between two guards. But he'd tried hard to distract his pimp from Mr. Alraune-- and very few people were entirely irredeemable. Maybe if she ever met him again it would be under better circumstances than she imagined.

Finally, her gaze rested on the tree just as it was coming to life, a few spots of light flickering in before the entire tree glowed. Gazing at the outermost branches, light shooting out into the darkening sky, Sophia answered softly: "Yes. I suppose it was a good thing I came."

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Having lost Sasurai in the throng surrounding him, Lemuel stood alone as the last notes of the beautiful hymn spun out into the night and, arms wrapped about himself, he found himself quietly wishing that either his new friend or Master Barano were with him. Of course, one could simply credit that to his general dislike of crowds, but it was also simply what felt right; the music, the cheer, the joy in all the faces, it all made it seem as if it were a sin to stand alone in all of this.

Frowning at this thought, he lifted his hand so as to play with a stray curl of his hair as he silently scolded himself. After all, it wasn't like he had so much to complain about. There were many in this city who had it much worse than he and it wasn't even like he was truly alone; he did have Master Barano and the others at the club to keep him company... even if Master Barano may be disappointed that he had been with someone else this afternoon.

Rather sharply, he winced to this thought and, as if to punish himself, he bit hard enough at his lower lip to draw a small streamer of blood. That was the very last thing he wanted, to hurt or to disappoint Master Barano; he couldn't imagine what he'd do without the man in his life and just the thought of it made him all but drown in anxiety. If there was only one wish he could make...

Even these thoughts trailed away, though, as his eyes widened under the blooming light of the tree and, transfixed with wonder, he stared as at the beautiful sight with all the glee of a young child. The first thoughts, of course, were of the beauty of the spectacle, even as he lamented the fact that he didn't bring his sketchbook with him; it would have made a lovely painting. Still, even for the joy, he felt a small tug of regret that he was viewing it alone.

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Parajo muttered a rather colorful curse in Spanish as she tried to find a decent vantage point for her brother and herself. Being as short as she was, even if she put Cordy on her shoulders, neither would be able to see much. All seemed absolutely hopeless... until she spotted a conveniently placed bench.

Giving a rather triumphant cry, she climbed atop this and, once she placed Cordy on her shoulders, she was fairly sure that the younger one, at least, would be able to see all that there was to see. As Cordy hummed along with the chior, Para smiled, but her thoughts soon went back to the two men they had just left.

Of course, she knew that it was probably foolish to tell Darran that she wanted to see him again when her brother was so adamant about the issue, but, well, she failed to see what was so bad. So what if Dar was a little older than her? It wasn't like it was a big crime or anything and it wasn't like he was a pedophile or... or child molester or something. In fact, Dar was one of the nicest men she'd met in, well, quite some time and he gave no indications of having ulterior motives; or, if he did, then he was just responding to all the flirting that she was doing and, even so, he was nothing but a gentleman. Still, when he had started to fight with Dannie, it was the oddest thing, but...

Shaking this thought aside quickly, she frowned slightly. Of course, Dannie was only looking out for her, but she was _sure_ that he had overreacted... just as he usually did. She may have a bad track record, but she was old enough to be able to see a spade for a spade. Sometimes it could be so frustrating...

The soft sound of her brother's pleased giggle yanked Para from her thoughts and, lifting her eyes, she found a rather happy smile at her own lips as she watched the lights slowly bloom. It was hard _not_ be optomistic under the sheer wonder of the season and, letting her smile grow, she found a new resolve to meet up with this Darran Isanyeti again, no matter what it might mean.

"He was a good man..." She intoned mock-gravely to Cordy as she easily lept down from her perch on the bench. As she walked along toward the Park's exit, she put an extra skip in her step so that Cordy'd be lightly bounced on her shoulders, but she briefly found herself wondering if she should go see what was happening with Dar and Dannie. Of course, this thought was quickly dismissed; they wouldn't want it. They have their thing to work out and, besides, it wasn't something which Cordy should see. Plus, she had to get back so that she could make dinner for her siblings and, if necessary, to track down Tana.

"Ah, Cordy, I think they'll be the death of me..." She sighed as she reached up for her brother's hands. Of course, the grin at her lips as she said this was a bit incongrous. "Still, I think I could get them to get along! The great matchmaker and all-around wonderful Parajo Delvidrio will not fail!"

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His hands shook. Though he had done this any number of times since he was quite young, his hands started to shake just as soon as he sat down upon the piano bench and, almost immediately, the shaking spread to the rest of his slight frame. Of course, to an outsider, it would just seem that he was taken with the cold or, perhaps, that he had a bad case of stage fright. The real reason, though, was quite different.

Adiv Baara, the only son of the missing Prometheus, played the pieces set before him as beautifully as ever and, not once, did he let show the fear, the pain, the anxiety which had seized him; he'd become something of an expert at doing this and even those closest to him could never even see a hint of it. Of course, this was fully intentional as he knew just how much it'd hurt his mother if he ever so much as hinted that he wished to stop.

As his hands came to a still over the keys, he noted how they still shook and, closing his eyes, he drew an unsteady breath. Though he loved the lights and the sound of the music, he wanted nothing more than to be away from all this, to be back in his warm room with all his books. It was comfortable there. It was safe. Still, these thoughts were gone as he felt a hand on his shoulder and his startled cry was only stopped by the familiar perfume now just barely noted from behind him.

"You did wonderfully, Addie!" Majeeda Baara exclaimed happily as she gave her son's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You get better every time you play. I'm so proud of you!"

"Thank you, momma..." Addie murmured as he slowly stood to his feet and, though it was likely hidden by a fall of hair, he mirrored her smile, softly. It was why he could continue to play, that smile. For that, he'd do almost anything, go through almost anything.

"We should probably go, now..." The woman murmured as she glanced to the crowds. Though it had been years since that nightmare, she was still loathe to leave her son unguarded in public places and, to her mind, shadows were lurking everywhere. Still, despite that, she would do anything to keep them from taking anything of hers again. "Unless there's something else you wanted to do?"

"Ummm..." Addie glanced around, consideringly, at the various sights, but nothing particularly drew his attention. Smiling a bit, he shook his head. "No, that's okay. I think I'd like to go home..."

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As the music and lights washed over him, Nevan delighted in the feeling of his arm securely around his love's waist as well as the soft weight of his daughter on his hip. It was perfect.

A splotch of crimson on ivory.

Once the tree was lit and the singing through, they'd walk back through town and, stopping at the store, they'd let Elle visit with Santa Claus.

A doll's face, perfect and beautiful, cracked into grotesque fragments.

Then, it'd be off to home and, once the little girl was securely tucked into her bed, he and Oriel could curl up on the couch in front of the fire.

Two forms curled in the semi-darkness, the large overlying the small, and their surroundings completely broken, but no moreso than the pair.

With a soft moan that was swallowed by the cheery sounds of the choir, Nevan winced fully at this and, placing a hand over his face, he swayed a bit on his feet. Too much. It was too much to think of this, yet he didn't know how he could forget... or if he'd even want to do so.

Ori. Elle. Vaughan.

Their memories were so close on nights like this, as were the nightmares. Still, even these were peppered with the more cheerful, the more beloved memories of Christmases past and it seemed that they were interminably intertwined; he couldn't sacrifice one without losing the other.

"Are you okay, Nev?" Gleda's cheerful tones pulled the man from his thoughts and, once he had uncovered his eyes, she blinked into these same. "If you're tired or anything, you can go home, you know? I think we're about through..."

"I'd hate to leave you with all the cleaning up..." Nevan objected as he tried to force up a quick smile. "I'm sure that I can stay a little longer."

"Nonsense!" The woman chirped as she shook her head. "Sammy's here, so he can help me pack away whatever's left and, beyond that, there's nothing to do."

"I don't kno--" He began to protest before the woman gave him a mock- severe glance and shook her finger at him.

"I won't hear it!" She scolded teasingly before letting this melt into a gentle smile. "G'on, Nev. Go home, take a nice hot bath, and just relax. I'll see you in school, okay?"

"Alright. Thank you, Gleda." Nevan capitulated after a moment's thought and, offering the woman a smile, he headed out of the Park. Still, before reaching his apartment, he paused in front of a familiar window display and, after only a moment's hesitation, he headed inside.

Perhaps, he would buy that doll, after all.

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Sam really didn't have a good, solid reason for it. One would expect that he'd want to do exactly the opposite, considering all. Still, even in just the one day, opposites became the norm and the usual became the unusual.

How could life twist so suddenly, so drastically?

Coming to what must be the very outskirts of the Park, Sam sat himself upon a patch of dry ground and, drawing his legs to himself, he rested his cheek upon his knees. Of course, he felt a bit bad for abandoning Gleda and his friends, but he didn't much feel like being with _anyone_ at the moment. It seemed to be another of those 'get as far away from civilization as possible' moments and, thought that, too, was drastically against his norm, it was too strong to be ignored.

Still, even for his distance, he could still catch faint whispers of the music every now and again, though he'd really rather not; for once, he couldn't see any cheer in them and the more religious hymns seemed to do nothing but irritate him.

What the hell was so great about this God, anyway? What did _He_ ever do? Why did everyone always fall over themselves for _Him_? Why was _He_ the only one to ever get recognition?

It was stupid and it was unfair. He changed His mind on a dime, but everyone was supposed to fall on their knees before Him. He could change favorites like others change socks, but He expected everyone...

Wincing, Sam stopped himself short.

No. Just... no. Those weren't his thoughts. That wasn't how he was and it was just a bit too close to the thoughts that Lucia woman had stirred in him. Still, she must be mad. It wasn't like junk like that really happened. No. No. _No_. There was a rational explanation.

There _had_ to be.

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-Why's everything happening so quickly?- Thalia thought to herself as she watched Charlene weave around the crowd of children. It seemed like only yesterday that she held her little baby in her arms. Now, here she was, three years later-- a little lady. With all the nights she had been putting in lately, it seemed as if her little girl was slipping away from her faster and faster. Soon she'd be going to school. How long would it take her to figure out what her mother did for a living? How long would it take for the corruption in New Eden to steal away that glimmer of innocence in her eye and the hope in her laugh?

"Thalia... Thalia?" Nathan repeated for the fifth time. The ceremony for the most part was over, and with the rate that Charlene had been running around all day, she was bound to pass out as soon as she stopped moving. "You there Thalia? You think we should head back now?"

"Hmmm... Yeah, sure," Thalia mumbled as she snapped out of her daze. "Charlene!" she called out to her daughter. The girl was distracted by a young woman she recognized from Sunday mass. By the way she was dressed, she seemed to be volunteering for the event. Charlene waved farwell to the woman and ran to her mother's call, carrying a think object in her hand. It looked like a paper doll-- one in the shape of an angel.

"Uncle Nat! Uncle Nat!" the toddler chirped as she ran to the two adults. "This is for you, from the lady. I know you don't like birds. Want me to rip off the wings?"

"That's okay, Len-len," Nathan said as he kneeled down to accept the gift. "It's fine as it is. I'm not afraid of angels."

"A lady, huh?" Thalia said as she took the child into her arms. "Well, your Uncle Nat sure is popular today, isn't he?" she smirked as the young girl nestled her head onto her shoulder. "Unfortunately, we're going to have to go home now before he makes some more 'friends.'" She didn't get a response or complaint, however, as the young girl fell asleep within seconds. "Let's go, Romeo."

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Nathan smirked as he followed. Looking down at the angel, he noticed that there was writing on the back of the angel. "Before them the earth shakes, the sky treamles, the sun and moon are darkened, and the stars no longer shine. The Lord thunders at the head of his army; his foces are beyond number, and mighty are those who obey his command. The day of the Lord is great; it is dreadful. Who can endure it?" He quickly turned back to the crowd to look the young woman who had been speaking to Charlene, but she was nowhere to be found.

"Nathan, let's go! It's getting dark, and we can't walk by ourselves." Nathan reluctantly continued walking, stuffing the angel in his pocket. The battle was just beginning.

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Apparently abandoned by his companions, Tesu stood unobtrusively at the back of the crowd, listening to the soothing sounds of the carols. Too short to see much of the actual ceremony from his current position, he stood, hands jammed into his coat pockets, watching the crowd from behind the fall of his bangs. All these people... so happy in their normal, every day lives... what was it like to be them? To have a home... a regular, crappy paying job... a family? To have your body belong to yourself alone, and not auctioned off to the highest bidder night after night?

The thought caused the dancer to wince visibly, although no one in the crowd of holiday revelers seemed to notice. He was already late for his shift at the club...Ausar, no doubt would have his usual punishment waiting when he finally returned... *if* he returned...

Dove grey eyes blinked behind large, darkened lenses; *if* he returned? What was he thinking? Where else did he have to go? Nowhere. It was either back to the Guild, or back onto the streets... and the youth simply couldn't face the latter option... not again. There was no way out, not for him. He couldn't even read or write, so he couldn't even hope to get a lousy job at a fast food restaurant, much less anything decent. And without a place of residence, he couldn't hope to get *anything*. No... he'd have to go back; there was no other way... Maybe someday...

A soft, almost reverent murmur rippled through the crowd, causing the boy to look up and over the heads of the other onlookers, he saw the brilliant, multicolored glow of the tree lights and the bright shimmer of the star at the very top. Slowly, he removed the dark shades he was still wearing, even though night had already fallen, and fixed his eyes upon the star. It wasn't the evening star - wasn't even a real star - but it was the only one he had at the moment. His lips moving almost silently as they formed the words, "I wish... I wish..." his soft voice lost in the murmur of the crowd.

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At some point during the cookie distribution, Lukas noticed that Sam had, for want of a better word, disappeared, and as soon as he could decently do so, made his excuses and apologies to Gleda before leaving the booth to see if he could find his friend. As he picked his way through the holiday revellers, he thought with some disgust that he could have passed right by his friend forty times and not seen him, the park was that crowded. With a small defeated sigh, the Cajun gave up-- after all, it wasn't as if Sammy was in any danger; the blonde probably just needed some alone time... it *had* been a pretty weird day, after all...

Not in the mood for any more 'Christmas cheer', the redhead left the park just as the tree lighting ceremony was beginning, the music seeming to almost chase the youth from the area. Damn... he'd really wanted to talk with Sam after things had calmed down a little, too. Well... maybe he'd try to phone him later... hopefully, he wouldn't have fallen in with another one of his adoring fangirls or boys by then... The thought caused the corners of usually smiling lips to draw downward in a deep frown. Yeah... he had to do something about that too... he didn't think he could take much more of watching his 'best friend' panting and drooling after everybody... except himself.

Shaking his head to clear his endlessly tailchasing thoughts, the Cajun suddenly discovered that without intending it, his footsteps had automatically directed themselves toward his oh-so-happy home. As he stood out on the sidewalk for a long moment, his cobalt blue eyes glittered with something closely akin to hatred as they fixed themselves on the Southern Gothic nightmare of a house that his dear Maman had forced them all into. It was stupid to blame a house-- even an ugly one-- for all the troubles his family had recently experienced, but he could date all the tension in his small family almost to the day his parents had closed on the damn thing.

Shaking his head again, the Cajun youth slowly walked up the driveway to the side entrance, quietly opening the door and listening for the sound of angry voices. The house was, for once, blessedly silent and he entered, stealthily slipping up the back stairway and heading up to his room. He neither knew nor cared whether his parents were in or not, or why they weren't yelling at each other any more. Maybe they'd finally killed each other, he thought cynically, and in that frame of mind entered his third floor sanctuary. After closing the door securely behind him, he toed off his shoes and headed over to the bed, grabbing his old six string on the way over. Sitting on the mattress, he leaned against the headboard of his bed and began gently plucking at the strings, coaxing an old, somewhat soothing melody that Pere had taught him in happier times. A look of intense concentration on his face, he continued to play softly, letting the gentle notes ease away his troubled spirits.

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In the midst of all the frenzy of little children seeking Gleda's fresh baked cookie goodness, it took Kisoku quite a long while to notice that both his friends were gone. However, the tiny faces-- and tiny outreached hands-- kept coming, and the blonde found it impossible to pull himself away.

He supposed that he was better off without his the company of friends for the time being. It had been a long day... a long and _trying_ day, as it usually was anytime he ran into Kein. But no-- today was worse than all the other days. Not only did he run into the Montague heir, but Sam hadn't been himself all day. And to top it all off, he and Lukas had had that fight...

He sighed, shaking his head. There was a lot for him to think about. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that things were not going his way. He helped clean up and packed things up for the woman that had been and always would be a second mother to him. He smiled warmly at her before tapping a kiss on her cheek. "You have a safe trip home, Gleda. And thanks for the free cookies! Wouldn't be the holiday season without them!"

With his goodbyes said, he made his way away from the Tree Lighting festivities. He wasn't more than twenty feet away from the cookie stand when he caught sight of a familiar face.

Nazoko stood away from the rest of the crowds, under the shadow of a tree. The young Capulet couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as he made his way over to his cousin. Even from a distance, Na-chan knew something was troubling Kisoku. She drew him close to her in a tight hug, whispering into his ear. "There's a car waiting for us. C'mon, let's get you home."

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Alexei and Erik watched the ceremony with a certain aura of sadness about them. There were unshed tears in the boy's mismatched eyes as he watched the joyous crowds, all so happily unaware of the evil that surrounded them.

"They do not realize..." he whispered, and the wind seemed to murmur its agreement. They were all so innocent. He wished he were equally unaware and that his beloved Sergey were beside him, sharing in the simple beauty of the tree lighting and the hymns.

He turned his glance down to the cactus in his arms. "Yes," he whispered, "I am ready to return home, as well."

Boy and cactus walked off, leaving the scene of holiday cheer behind them.

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Arvel heard the songs drifting towards him on his way home. He turned to look off in the direction he'd just left, wishing the magic of Christmas would stay all seasons instead of vanishing the moment he returned to Shangri-la.

Jeremy tugged at his arm, hurrying him along, "C'mon, Arvel, we gotta be back b'fore Stubby eats my jacket!"

With one last whistful glance Arvel followed his friend home.

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Shittsui Barano pulled his fur jacket tighter about him. Even in these crowds he felt cold. He was looking forward to a night of sitting by a warm fire with a steaning mug of hot cider and a pretty face to keep him company. His employees were off and he'd lost the cute blonde to that girl's meddling, but he could always call up Lemy. He knew the boy wouldn't refuse him. Unless his mousey little friend persuaded him to do otherwise... with a sour grimace the pimp strolled out of the park, away from the crowds.

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No, Dante had no intention of attacking the asshole from behind. Really, all he wanted at this point was to get back to the comforts of his apartment and forget all about this hellish day filled with high-and-mighty businessmen and violent perverts. Whatever tomorrow held couldn't be _half_ as bad as today had been. Turning on his heel, he quickly made for the nearest Park exit.

He didn't want to be in the Park anymore with its various festivities and its sickening cheer. He wanted to be back in his quiet apartment, maybe curled up on his couch with a nice bottle of something strong. That'd probably help the aches and pains, as well as the memories, since his stomach and ribs were starting to smart quite badly at this point.

"Fucking assassin. Fucking businessmen.." He muttered to himself as he carefully curled an arm around his middle. Not that he wasn't used to these things, but to have to face them even on a day off...

Shaking these thoughts away, Dante quietly let himself into his apartment, and, shrugging out of his coat, he immediately went to fetch a nice bottle of whiskey. This in hand, he plopped onto his couch and, snatching a bottle of pills from a nearby table, he popped a few of these, washing them down with a long swig from the bottle. Laughing faintly, he waved the bottle in a mock-cheery arch as he laid a forearm over his eyes and, smirking, he muttered the the emptiness of the apartment.

"Merry _fucking_ Christmas..."

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"About damn time," Kein called out as he identified the figure walking towards him in the gathering twillight, "guess things went pretty well with that girl, huh?" Then his eyes widened as Darran walked into the range of a streetlight... and at what he saw, he burst out laughing.

"Or... maybe not..." he managed, snickering at Dar's entirely annoyed face. "That looks a little ugly, there..."

"Alright, alright," Darran muttered sheepishly, swatting Kein's hand from the impressive bruise purpling nicely on his jaw. "If y'must know, we were getting along _great_. But she's got a brother, see, and he and I... didn't get along so great."

"Oh really?" Kein asked, still grinning but entirely serious about his next question. "Do I need to send cleanup?"

Dar only barely stopped himself from wincing at that. Surely he wasn't _that_ out of control... right? "No, no, no bodies. Nothing like that. He had a knife and I had a gun, so we agreed there wasn't much point in continuing the conversation."

"Huh... but you did say you and the girl were getting along? So how'd she take that?"

With a regretful sigh, Dar raked a hand through his hair. "Dunno, dunno... I mean, we were all set to go clubbing together and everything, but hell... I got into a fight with her brother." He winced and shook his head a little. "Doesn't look so good."

Kein nodded and threw a companionable arm around his bodyguard's shoulders. "Well, maybe we can find her number for you anyway, huh? C'mon, war hero, home. I'm hungry as hell."

Under Kein's arm, Darran had to smile, just a little. It _was_ a damn shame he'd lost his chances with Para, but at the end of the day... girlfriends, boyfriends, they came and went. What he had with Kein-- that was real, it wasn't going anywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps it was the slight breeze or perhaps she had been cursed with unnatural good hearing. Either way, the sound of choirs singing in the distance carried to where she was still sitting on a park bench. The tears had come and long since stopped, lines of ruined mascara the proof that they had been there.

She shivered, whimpering powerlessly as hymn after hymn hit her like tidal waves. Hundreds of voices singing... happy... hypocritically proclaiming their love for God. And He... He loved them more than they deserved. He loved everyone more than they deserved-- except, of course, for her. After all the lonely months of solitude in this wretched mortal world, she finally had her answer. He didn't want her back in Heaven.

This was the conlusion that she had made sitting all that time on that lonely park bench, yet still a part of her wanted to believe that it wasn't true. If she could prove herself, He might still learn to love her again. She pulled her knees tightly to her chest, burying her face in the fabric of her pants. She just wished she knew what He wanted of her...

Did He want her to succeed? Did He want her to fail? Did He want her to disappear from His life forever? Once again, her body was seized by heaving sobs. She didn't know how many more tears she could cry before she simply evaporated... was this suffering that she felt all a part of His grand design?

And even over the sobs she could hear them singing: "Christmas Eve will find me, where the love light gleams. I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams."

~~~~~~~~~~End~~~~~~~~~~

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