Farfarello walked slowly into the church, listening to his footsteps echo.  It was completely empty that night.  Or so it appeared upon first glance.  Farfarello noticed that there was actually a small figure crouched in front of the alter, head bowed.

     They didn't look up when Farfarello stopped a few feet behind them.

     "God isn't listening."

     The figure's shoulders hunched at those words.  Then, "Sometimes is better to pretend."  Their Japanese was stunted and they spoke with a strange accent.

     It was an accent Farfarello recognized immediately.

     "Ye are worshippin' a false God," the Irishman said in English.

     A soft intake of breath as the firgure turned slowly.  "Ye sound like an Irishman... are ye...?"

     "Aye."

     "Ye must be forgivin' me if'n I dinna seem to be lookin' at ya.  I canno' see..."

     Farfarello's single brandy colored eye narrowed as he sized up the stranger.

     Short, curly red hair framed a child-like face with a pert nose and a liberal dusting of freckles.  The young woman's unfocused eyes were a bright green.  They reminded Farfarello of Schuldich.  Only this girl's eyes were much more innocent.

     The girl shifted uncomfortably.  "Ye are starin' at me... 'tis unsettlin'."

     "Hm.  What are ya doing so far from home?"

     "I could ask you the same thing.  But I came here b'cause my da' died here comin' on five years ago.  Wha' about you?"

     "Work.  And hurtin' God," Farfarello responded mechanically.

     The girl blinked.  "What?  Why?"

     "...He lies.  He killed my family."

     "And He chose for me t' be blind, but I dinna' hold it against Him," she said softly.

     The Irishman fell silent.

     "It's Christmas Eve, ya know.  Maybe ye should forget tha' ya hate... 'tis no' a time to be thinkin' of revenge."

     "'Tis good a time as any."

     "Nay... I lost my da' and my sight, but tonight I'm gonna forget it... maybe you should too," she suggested.  There was another long pause in which neither one spoke.

     The young woman sighed.  "Maybe ye'd stay here and talk with me for a little while.  It's been so long since I spoke with someone from Home..."

     Farfarello shifted, looking down at her.  "Ye don't know me.  How d'you know I wont kill ya?"

     The woman smiled faintly, showing no traces of fear.  "I don't.  Maybe ye're holdin' a knife right now.  But... I don't think you'd kill me."

     Then you're very naive...

     She heard the faint rustling of cloth and inconspicuously let out the breath she'd been holding.  Ever since the strange man had entered the church, she had felt a sense of dread.  His move confirmed her suspicion.  He had indeed been holding some sort of weapon.

     "Ye are right, this time.  I wont kill you.  But what made you trust me at all?"

     She let out an almost nervous laugh.  "I dinna trust you.  I was hoping that I was right... sometimes all I have is my faith.  But what brought you to a church, if ya dinna belive in God?"

     "I believe in Him.  I just happen to hate Him, too," Farfarello said flatly.  Something was perturbing him greatly.  He didn't know why he had stopped in the church.  Something had drawn him there... perhaps a memory of what used to be.

     "Oh... well, what's yer name, stranger?"

     Another long pause.

     "Farfarello."

     Green eyes blinked.  "Dante's Inferno," the girl muttered.  Then, in a louder voice, "'Tis an interestin' name.  I'm Shannon..."

     "Were you always blind?" Farfarello asked suddenly, before he thought about it.

     "...Nay... I remember when I was little... what it was like to see the sun rise... and the colors.  I was blinded in a car accident.  Drunk driver.  My sister's in a wheelchair for life now..."

     "What do ye miss the most?"

     Shannon closed her eyes, a strange smile playing about her lips.  "The sky at dusk... all those beautiful colors.  The sunset was like blood... strange, that I always loved it anyway..." here, she trailed off and laughed softly, almost musically.  "And I miss dancin'... 'tis hard to do when I canno' see where I'm puttin' my feet."

     Farfarello nodded absently.  He could almost picture the pixi-like girl dancing, and he suspected she would be good at it.  "I don't remember much about home..." he mumbled, "No sunsets where I was..."

     "Oh?  How so?" Shannon asked, tilting her head.

     The golden eye blinked and Farfarello realized that he had spoken out loud.  "They had me put away in an asylum."

     This startled Shannon into silence.  When she finally spoke again, it was in a timid voice.  "Forgive me... I shouldn't have asked..."

     Farfarello shrugged slightly.  "You did.  But it doesn't matter, anyway.  Tha's behind me now."

     "Is it snowin' tonight?" Shannon asked softly.

     "Aye..." Farfarello answered slowly, watching the woman with his good eye.  Slowly, he drew the knife out again.  He was bored, and 'small talk' no longer interested him.  He took a silent step forward, holding the point of the dagger scant centimeters from her throat, mildly amused by the fact that she didn't notice.

     He's closer now... holding something close to my neck... oh god, he is going to kill me, isn't he??

     "You're bein' very quiet," Shannon said in a shakey voice.

     The tip of the knife touched her exposed throat.  "...God will cry for you, Shannon.  The blood of those who believe in Him is sweet..."

     The space of a few heartbeats past.  Shannon was almost too afraid to breathe.  The protest she had been about to voice died in her throat.  He was going to kill her... on Christmas Eve.... in the church...

     "I wont beg for me life," she said softly, "But... why me?  Why now...?"

     Farfarello eyed her with indifference.  "It could have been anyone."

     Unfocused green eyes closed.  "No... no, there's a reason for this, isn't there?  Oh my... the church... the eve of Christ's birth... are... are you the Angel?  The... the Angel of Death...?"

     That caused the man to pause for a moment.  The Angel of Death.  Was he?  Maybe... he could be...

     "You've finally come to me, haven't you?" she asked in a hollow whisper, "Oh... finally... I've been waiting for you..."

     Waiting...?  So, you want to die tonight, little lamb?  It can be arranged...

     "Just one request, before I am to go... let me see you... please..."

     "You're blind," Farfarello pointed out bluntly.

     A faint smile touched her lips.  "Aye, but I can see with my hands... 'tis how I create an image of someone..."

     The madman shrugged.  This was the most interesting thing that had happened that day, and he decided there was no harm in letting this strange young woman "see" him.  After all, she was willing to die by his hand.  The Angel of Death...

     "Fine."

     Slowly, Shannon reached out.  The fingers of her right hand brushed Farfarello's cheek.  She traced the curve of his cheek bone, and felt a scar there.  Her hand moved up farther and brushed the fabric of his black eyepatch.

     "Ye're missin' an eye...?" the woman asked softly, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

     "...If your right eye should cause you to sin, cut it out..." the madman whispered.

     Shannon felt a cold shiver run down her spine, and moved her fingers across the straight bridge of his nose, then down over his full lips.  She felt another scar running from his bottom lip down his chin.  What has happened to him...? she wondered as she began to form a picture of him in her mind.

     The tips of her fingers hand already brushed the soft, cropped hair.  "Tell me... what has happened to yer face...?"

     Farfarello smirked darkly.  "These scars I wear proudly... each one o' them hurt the Father of lies..."

     Shannon's fingertips brushed over the worn collar he wore around his neck, and she tilted her head quizzically, but did not ask.  Slowly, she let her right hand drop back down to her side.  "Ye must be quite a sight, Farfarello..."

     The Irishman said nothing for a long moment, and just looked at the young woman.  He had never had a victim so willing to die before... it was very odd.

     "I'm ready t' go now..." Shannon said softly.

     Farfarello nodded, pressing the knife to the side of her neck.  "Together, we'll make God cry..."

     The woman gave a start when she felt the knife suddenly withdrawn as the "Angel" stepped back.

     "Shannon!  There you are!" a voice called, sounding mildly irritated.

     There was a pause as the owner of the voice looked at Farfarello.

     "I only wanted t' go to the church for a little while, David," Shannon murmured, letting out a sigh.

     "Come on.  You know I worry when you disappear... let's go home," the man said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

     Shannon looked in Farfarello's direction.  She stepped over to him quickly, before her brother could lead her off, and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in the madman's ear, "Another time, then, dark one.  My time will come..."

     "Too bad it wasn't tonight," Farfarello mused, turning to leave.  He decided that perhaps he would find someone else.  Somehow, his lust for blood had been calmed for the moment, and he didn't particularly feel like having to kill the woman's friend as well.

     But he hoped he would find her again...

     "Who was that, Shannon?" her older brother asked, watching the frightening looking man leave.

     "'T'is no' important, David," the young woman said softly, pulling the hood of her coat up, "Let's go home."

     David frowned slightly, but looped his arm through his sister's, and led her back outside.  And they walked through the snow back to their hotel.

     And Shannon prayed that she would meet the stranger, Farfarello, again soon...

~owari~

Author's note: Well, here it is.  Not sure if I'm all that satisfied with it, and I wanted to have it posted by Christmas, too!!  But I lost the Internet.  Review it, and I'll be very, very happy! ^_^ Bai bai!  And merry late Christmas, minna-saaaaaan!