Angels In The Dust

I. An Encounter in the Rain

I watch quietly as the rain beats down onto the cement step that I'm sitting on. At least my head is covered by the newspaper I found abandoned near the stairs... Looking through the rain, I shiver and huddle into myself, wishing that he would get here already... Closing my eyes, I sink my head down onto my knees.

A gentle hand touches my shoulder, making me gasp slightly and look up. As my eyes meet his gentle blue ones, I can't help letting out a sigh of relief. Finally... I give him my best pathetic look -- not hard to do with rain running down your hair, soaking through tattered jeans and a dirty T-shirt that had once been white, but was now a rather unbecoming shade of gray. I absolutely hate being dirty, being cold. Such annoying sensations... I notice, in that instant that I truly recognize him, that he resembles his true self almost too much. He should not look so similar, considering that he is a human... How can he still posses those too-blue eyes, and that warm golden hair? But he isn't the same. Now, he is just an exceptionally handsome, clean cut teenager. That's all he is. That's all...

I sense him looking down at me from under his umbrella with a very concerned expression on his face... In a soft, tremulous voice, I ask him, "Do you know where my brother is?" He gives me a startled look, before he shakes his head. I smile up at him in an innocent manner before sinking back down into my crouch. "Thank you, then. Bye bye!" I close my eyes, as if I'm going to bide out the storm, and wait. He doesn't disappoint me...

"Well, you're not going to stay outside in this rain, kid. Come on-" He takes my hand and heaves me up from the rainy steps. Slowly, he walks down and then leads me to a comfortable little house a few streets away. I look up at him with grateful eyes. Again, it's not much of a pretense -- I really do hate being wet.

"I'm home, mom! Are you in?" I don't hear anyone, so I look up at him. He sighs and mutters to himself, "Must still be at the hospital...", before he smiles down at me and shoos me into the house. Once in, he takes me out of the wet clothes and plops me into the bath while he towels his too-short blonde hair off.

After getting me dried off and dressed in pajamas a bit too large for me, he sits me down at the table and warms up some things from the fridge in the oven. He puts the food in front of me, and watches as I demolish what he's put onto the table. Quietly, he asks, "My name is Micah -- Micah Galen. What's your name and why aren't you with your parents?"

Gazing up at him with a guileless expression, I answer, "My name is Kyrie Amano... Mama and papa went away a long time ago..." I pantomime looking down sadly and sneak a look at him through the short curtain of my hair. He's buying it... just a little more should be enough. I close my eyes and manage to squeeze out a few tears -- enough so that he notices as they splash against my hand.

Micah frowns and says, "That still doesn't explain what a little boy is doing by himself in the middle of a rainstorm. Didn't someone take care of you?" I give him a pleading look and pad over to the pile of clothes that I had been wearing -- looking, I'm sure, unbearably cute in my oversized pajamas.

Digging through the pile and searching just a bit longer than necessary, I finally pull out a battered photograph and a few letters. I have to remember to be just a bit pathetic. I walk back over to the table and hand them over to Micah wordlessly. He looks through them, noticing the battered condition and the different postmarks the four envelopes have.

Looking up at him in with a hopeful expression on my face, I ask him, "Could you help me find Tomas? He was the only person who cared about me at the orphanage... He said that he'd be my brother and take care of me, but-" I avert my face and look down at the floor.

I hear him sigh in consternation, before taking a closer look at the picture. From a few years back, it shows a young man smiling in the sunlight -- a rather flattering picture. I look back up and give him a small, trusting smile, to which he sighs again.

Putting the picture down, he asks in a rueful tone, "I bet you don't have any idea where he is either, do you?" Of course I did, but I wasn't about to tell him that... I shake my head in a sad manner, and then smile softly at him again. Watching his defenses crumble, I can't help wondering how he could have remained the same after so long...

"Okay!" Micah pushes himself up from the chair with a determined look on his face, and then looks around sheepishly. "Although not quite right now, kiddo. All right?" I grin up to him with shining eyes, and he picks me up and places me on his shoulder. Going into his room, he places me into the bed, and tucks me in before he turns off the lights and closes the door.

As I close my eyes, I hear the sofa bed in the living room being opened and hold my breath for a moment. Soon, I hear the soft breathing of a person sleeping, and I finally relax. It had gone well, our first meeting. He hadn't suspected a thing... I had barely done anything except radiate a bit of helplessness and the inclination to 'trust this poor child.' I really am going to have to thank Ariel for teaching me that particular "trust me" trick... that is, if I ever saw-

No use going there. No use at all. I can't help sighing as I push myself off of the bed. Looking down at myself, I shake my head. I hate being a child. Even if this illusion is close enough to my true form for me to be somewhat comfortable, it just makes me feel ridiculous, considering how old I truly am.

Still, I had worked hard to make this particular form convincing. A small child, with dirty blond hair just a bit uncut and grown out -- just right for a boy who had been by himself for a time. The hair was unruly enough to give a certain elfin waif-like look to the rather fragile face, which was dominated by large pale blue eyes. A little underfed and tired looking, but still cute as hell...

This had to have allayed any suspicions Micah may have had. I can't help but chuckle as I look up at the sliver of a moon in the night sky. Since when had he ever suspected? He had always been too kind.

Micah... my brother. Michael, in another life, another time. But part of it is that he will always be Michael, no matter what form he takes, no matter what form he's forced into next. A never-ending cycle because of a single betrayal... I close my eyes resolutely, and go back to the bed. No use going there either. That particular thought had run its course many times before -- too many times, perhaps.

Still, perhaps I do him an injustice. He was the kind Michael, to be sure, but only to me and a few others... well, and to all those mortals he called his responsibility. To almost everyone else, he was not so easily manipulated or won over. But if you knew which buttons to push...

Looking up at the ceiling, I try to think of the other player. Considering I know exactly where Tomas is, the only thing I need to do is push Michael -- no, Micah. I must remember that for all intents and purposes, he is Micah. All I need to do is get him to "find" Tomas for me... I have never done this before, calculating to bring them together. It's a novel experience.

As I drift to sleep, I wonder how long it will take one of the Watchers to find me. Somehow, I can't get myself to care anymore. It's been too long of a duty, too long of an injustice. I would almost embrace the punishment in exchange for the shattering of the cycle...

I can't help smirking at my own pompous thoughts -- I sound just like Michael when he'd been in a lecturing mood...