by silverluna
Chapter Two: Light
~@~
Night gave up its cover, surrendering to day. It was like that all the time. In the day she slinked in shadowy hallways, pressing herself against walls. She felt so exposed; in the light—the bright, sunlit days. It was usually this time she took to catch some sleep—but for some reason, she was still awake. The rain had stopped pelting her once she'd crossed into the forest; the trees took it hungrily, stretching the diameter of each green leaf. She almost began to imagine this was her jungle, she the tiger, peeking her green eyes through the green leaves, blending, blending.
"What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What dread anvil, what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp?"
So she moved on, not quickly, but she made her way through. It was only a hiatus of nature, leading her right back to public eye. She only hoped her dark clothes weren't too tattered and homely to draw suspicion. She had no money to buy anything better; no time to shop anyway. She refused to willingly leave proof of her existence—security cameras; her story in so many words written down somewhere; even fingerprints were iffy but sometimes inevitable. She knew wearing gloves in this day and age, time and place, was not considered elegant but snobby. She went without.
She couldn't remember much about her past—it was a speed bump, a blur. She didn't really remember why she was running but she knew stopping meant some kind of failure. Pausing, she questioned that thought but it grayed and curled away from her like smoke. How had she made it to this city?
"Must be the seven league boots," she muttered, not reflecting on why she never grew too tired to run. Her shoes should be in tatters as if she was dancing all night in some secret underground forest with monsters that appeared to be princes. Though they were battered, they held on. Just like her.
She wondered if she could find some substance, something to fill up her stomach just for a little while. Begging drew too much attention. Though she didn't like to steal, sometimes it was just a necessity. Just an apple here from a fruit vendor or a perhaps a bag of McDonalds; the fries were always mostly cold by the time she put them to her lips. She didn't mind. She really couldn't remember the last time a hot meal had crossed her lips.
Discreetly snacking on a pear she'd lifted, she passed a newspaper stand. Usually she kept her eyes down, didn't read newspapers; news was practically irrelevant to her. Today was already translating its secret. The language it spoke was not her native one.
Her eyes strayed to new day papers, idly passing from one to the next. Her eyes stopped, zooming in on one in particular. Her eyebrows shrugged and scrunched, translating the picture on the front page. It was blurry but not unreadable. A dark shape clutching a large, square, metal monster, hanging on for dear life. The little shape clinging was distinctly a girl, on with wind-blown hair.
She gasped, her eyes twitching. This was before the rain. The caption read: Crazy fan out for a piece of stardom? And the headline blared: Mystery Girl Catches a Ride with *Nsync Tour Bus!
Her lips parted, her throat dry.
"Hey, miss," a voice said curtly.
She looked up, startled, and could make out the outline of a bald man with mean blue eyes. Was he sent by them?
"You gonna pay for that?" he continued.
She hadn't realized she'd even picked it up. Dropping her eyes, she mumbled a no. She set the paper down, her heart thudding much faster than its usual rush. Proof of existence. Pinned down. I have to go—
She forced herself not to run, but to casually continue in her original direction. Once away from the newsstand, she walked a little faster.
~@~
"Amateur photographer Colin Worthy captured a few snapshots of a mystery girl clinging to the top of the *Nsync bus," Johnny read to the guys and their security team. "Says Worthy, 'My sisters kept yelling that it was [Nsync's] bus. I was annoyed with their stories, so I finally looked and they were right. But then I saw that some girl was holding on. I thought it might be a good news story.'"
"Must be a slow day," Joey commented, putting down the paper.
Justin rolled his eyes as Chris ranted how he was right that he had heard sounds the previous night.
"Aha! I knew it wasn't just one of those Wizard of Oz dreams!" They all stared at him but he didn't seem to notice.
"Could this be some kind of hoax?" JC asked casually.
Johnny taped the newspaper. "It's a local paper, not a tabloid. I think it's legit."
Justin frowned. "Great. Let's write a news story about what a fan should not ever do to try to get close to us, put it on the front page, and see how many other girls don't try it."
"You really think she was a fan? I mean, that's awfully extreme, even for a fan," Lance wondered.
"What else could it have been?"
Lance shrugged. "Well, Tom said something jumped on the hood of the buss, and then just ran. And we saw what we thought was a girl running into that wooded area."
After a moment Justin added a "So?"
"So, maybe she wasn't a fan. Maybe she just wanted a free ride," Joey tried.
"Or maybe she realized what she was getting herself into," JC mused.
"Or maybe she was going to try to kidnap us," Chris began. They all groaned. He raised his eyebrows. "You don't know. Maybe she was that kind of fan...."
"Whatever was going on, let's hope it was a one time occurrence. Let's hope the press doesn't hound us about something we were barely even aware of."
"Hey, we can always ask our PR girl to keep us posted," Chris commented. They all looked at him. Finally, something worthwhile.
"Hey, where is Andrea?"
Back in her "room" on the bus, Andrea was also reading today's headlines. The girl on the front page was manifested as darkness itself. Andrea didn't feel cold, she felt warm. Her eyes twinkled with a plan.
"Perhaps this girl can be my replacement. She looks like she needs....well, a lot of things. Rest, food, security. Maybe they can protect her. I'm sure she could learn. This job really isn't that difficult....Well, this earthly one, I mean."
"Time, white dove. Time..." the voice chanted.
"Just a little more. I need to secure this before I say good-bye."
"Your ninth year upon this Earth approaches. It is time for you to return. No angel is decreed a longer stay."
She nodded, her soft blond hair moving like a halo around her head. "I know. It was a wonderful stay—nice, to be alive again—to breathe. To love—"
The face of whom she had begun to love shimmered before her.
Angels were not decreed to fall in love. In the place where they mostly dwelled, the upper planes of the sky, love was translated into something deeper, more spiritual. It was not something to give. It was given by the environment, and the angels sucked it like nectar from a flower. No, only as humans upon this Earth was the kind of love she remembered. She was finally learning how to love again.
His face shimmered before her, smiling.
She loved as a human, but she was not. Her nine years of belonging again had passed; she breathed in this air while she could. Fresh or polluted, it was real air.
"Time..."
"I'll say good-bye. There's just one more thing." She reached out for the vision of his face.
The other voice surged: "You mustn't tell him about your love. These humans, their hearts are fragile. you pledge your love and then you leave—it will crush him."
"Won't I remember my love?" she pleaded softly.
"After time, the veldt of your heart will allow you to forget."
But I don't want to forget, she thought desperately. Her one last wish was to always be in love with him. Always. In angel time that was Eternity.
"Andrea?"
She gasped, not even having heard his footsteps. Here he was, her vision of love.
"I'm in here," she called, collecting herself.
He pushed the curtain aside, entering like cupid. He flashed her a smile, and noted the paper. "I guess you saw it too."
Her cheeks flushed with emotion at his words. She pushed it back. This paper's story would make it much easier, not to crush his heart entirely. She nodded, standing up. Her eyes came to his neck, so she craned her neck to look in his eyes. His green, green eyes.
"Hey, the guys are hoping this story won't fan the fire."
"I can take care of it, keep the story cool."
He grinned an amazing smile, shot like an arrow at her heart. Her human heart. If she had not already been translating from this plane, she would have melted. Tonight at midnight was departure.
"Lance?" she stammered.
He turned. "Yeah, Andrea?"
His tongue rolled over her earth name in such a manner that she was glad she had chosen it. On-Dre-a. It sounded like an angel's name. She almost laughed at that thought. Her fingers edged with sweat.
"Lance, I just wanted to tell you that I loved—this opportunity you guys gave me to work with you, and um, and the guys. It's really something that has made me so happy." She hoped her speech wasn't a rant.
He put his hand on her shoulder, smiling. "Andrea, you sound as if you're getting ready to resign. Are you?"
"Me?" She feigned surprise. "I could never. I love you guys too much. I love being your PR girl. You'd have to fire me to make me leave."
Lance embraced her in a quick hug. "That's not going to happen, trust me."
Her human heart almost broke at his sincerity. "Hey, I'm going to try to follow up on this story, 'K?" she said, fumbling for the right words. "Maybe I can find the girl, get a quick interview, and turn it over to the local papers to keep them down for a while."
His eyes lit up. "You're a genius."
She smiled, watching him head back to tell the others. "I'm going to miss you guys so much. You most of all, Lance." Her voice barely reached a whisper. To keep the human heart from breaking, she didn't let it carry too far.