Chapter One

"TRAIN, YOU IDIOT! NO!"

After several nights of fitful sleep, interrupted by dreams of a certain golden eyed cat, I decide that I have to talk to Train. Why would now be any different. I've never had a problem talking to him in the past, in fact, I found it made much easier by his laid back and almost blasé attitude. Something is different about Train, now, though. It's almost as if he is cutting himself off from the rest of the world, consumed by worry, or some other incomprehensible emotion that seems to be eating away at him. I don't understand what he could possibly be worried about. We haven't had any real danger in years.

Ever since we brought down the Apostles of the Stars, we've even become somewhat friendly with Creed, who turns out to have just been a horribly misguided fool, and misplaced though his obsession was, and as dangerous as he used to be, he wasn't evil. He just needed someone to steer him in the right direction. Chronos wasn't that someone, and neither were the people with whom he used to surround himself. Now that he is trying to understand himself, he has become quiet and almost dejected, but occasionally we see him.

Occasionally, my dreams of Train are peppered by this silver haired man. I see him talking to Train, and Train staring back at him, trying to smile, but his eyes never fully trusting the man. I wonder. Does he trust Sven? Does he trust me? I know that I am too close to the subject to discern whether he feels any trust for Sven and I. However, I wish to God that someone would tell me, that Train would tell me. If he secretly is burdened by Sven and me, I wish he would tell us, so at least we could let him go on his own path where he can have the freedom that I know he needs. I love him, and because I love him, I would let him go if he needed me to. It is too late, or perhaps too early, to talk to him now, so instead, I climb up on the roof and watch the stars for the rest of the night until I see the gentle golden head of the sun, poking up above the horizon, dyeing the sky soft shades of purple, pink and gray that seemed to blend together like a watercolor painting.

At this point, I go in and start making breakfast, knowing that Sven will probably be up fairly soon, but when I get inside, I stare blankly at the kitchen table, seeing Train sitting there, drinking a bottle of milk, as usual, and yawning. He looks over at me with those piercing yellow eyes and gives a smile that screams fake. I don't comment on this, but rather ask him what he's doing up at such an hour. After all, he never wakes up before 10, let alone 5. He just looks at me and shrugs. He doesn't ask me what I'm doing up so early. Maybe it's that he doesn't care, but I think that it's because he's still distracted by whatever it is that's been bothering him for days, now. After all, whatever Train is going through won't clear up over night.

"What would you like for breakfast?" I ask with a poor attempt at a smile. Train just looks at me and tells me that he isn't hungry. This is unlike Train. He's always hungry, and yet, it seems to be exactly like Train. Lately, he hasn't been eating much, and he's developed dark shadows under his eyes, likely from lack of sleep. And all the while that this is going on, he's keeping it from us, like a closely guarded secret. He hasn't once mentioned that he's tired or that he's feeling depressed, and he hasn't let it affect his duties as a sweeper, so I doubt that even Sven, Train's best friend, has noticed.

I sigh and go over to the stove, taking out a frying pan and buttering it and then putting two eggs and three pieces of sausage on it. I never eat a cooked breakfast. I usually instead eat a muffin or a bagel, so I never need to worry about such things, but Sven likes his food cooked, so there's always some food like that around the house. Soon, Sven comes down the stairs and sits at the table. Upon noticing Train, he arches an eyebrow. Apparently it's not lost on him either that Train is up early. I resolve to talk to Sven later about Train's strange behavior, and to see if Sven has noticed. I almost feel resentful of Sven. I know that it isn't his fault, and that Train is trying hard to hide his worries, but I sort of feel as though Sven, as his best friend, should be able to pick up on such obvious things. Perhaps not so obvious.

I watch Train silently as I cook, only giving half of my attention to the bacon and eggs, but my full attention to the enigma that sits before me. What is he thinking? What would he say if I asked him for his thoughts? Would he tell me anything? Would he lie? Would he tell me that I should mind my own business…? Not likely? Perhaps he'd pat me on the head like a child and say that I shouldn't worry myself about it. That's another thing about him that annoys me. I'm eighteen, now. I'm not a child anymore. I'm not so damn little that you have to protect me from the big cruel world anymore. I'm old enough to understand what you're saying Train. Stop calling me "Little Princess" and stop treating me like a child! Sometimes you're so infuriating that I just want to punch you, and punch you, and not stop until I've knocked some sense into that thick skull of yours… No. I can't think like that. Train is hurting right now, and it wouldn't make things better to hurt him even more. What am I even saying? Like I even could hurt Train. He was once the best assassin Chronos had, and not for nothing, either. He can do almost anything. Granted, he can't fly like I can, but he has a feline grace about him that I could never hope to match.

"T-Train…" I say slowly, timidly. Train looks over at me vaguely, his eyes not fully focusing on me. I know that he's only half paying attention, but that's good enough for me. I hesitate for a moment, not sure what to say, now that I have his attention. It's like I was able to call him out, but I'm too cowardly to go through with what I wanted to do. I find the words getting caught in my throat and my mouth going dry. It's like feeling Train's ice cold killer aura creeping over me and filling me up inside with chill dread that seems to seep into every pore and freeze me to the bone. I find myself shivering violently, and then realize that I shouldn't be cold. It's a warm day, and I'm in a long sleeved shirt. Train is looking at me expectantly, almost impatiently, or maybe I'm merely imagining the latter. He narrows his eyes slightly and starts to turn away. But I won't let him ignore me. I won't let him get out of this.

"Stop! You will listen to me, Train!!!" I say, a little more harshly than perhaps I intended, because I see him looking back at me again with the apologetic, watery stare of a child who knows that he's been a bad boy. I didn't mean to upset him. I just hate it when he takes me so lightly, when he turns away from me like I never had anything to say in the first place.

"A-alright, princess… I-I'm listening…" he says quietly, almost in a whisper. I look back at him sympathetically, knowing that I was too hard on him. But I compose myself and begin.

"I've noticed, Train that you haven't been sleeping well, or eating in the past week. What's wrong?" I ask. Train smiles at me, sadly and almost… condescendingly. Perhaps he didn't mean it to be that way, but that's how it feels. I hate being looked down upon because of my age. I hate it when people underestimate me because of how I look. Then, Train laughs! Of all the horrible things he could do, he laughs!

"Oh, my. Is the Little Princess actually worried about me? I thought I was your rival…" he says, still in a laughing tone. I blush angrily and glare at him, tears flooding my eyes as I compose myself, once more, to try to be patient with this person who constantly gets on my every nerve. I can't though. I find myself furious, screaming at him now.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN ACTUALLY!? OF COURSE I'M WORRIED ABOUT YOU!! I LO… I-I mean… If you g-get yourself hurt, who will be around t-to provide comic relief f-for the rest of us…"

Finally in control of myself, I take a deep breath, tears still stinging the corners of my eyes. Why does he say these things? Does he enjoy making me angry? Maybe he likes embarrassing me, perhaps he thinks it's funny! Or maybe, just maybe, he really believes that I don't like him. I mean, sure, I've told him that he and I are rivals in the past, but that doesn't mean that he isn't important to me! Why would he think that? I have to find out, so I continue.

"B-but…" I begin, blushing furiously now, but not with anger anymore. "Th-this isn't about me, s-so stop trying to change the subject. What's going on!! I demand that you tell me right now!!" I yell, hoping that perhaps if I use the same tone as before, that he'll respond. Instead, I only make him angrier.

"And if I told you, Little Princess…" he says, not shouting, but glaring at me as though I was the object of his deepest hatred. "Would you understand? What would you, who've lived a sheltered little life in your sheltered little world understand about my life!? You think that you know so much because you've read every fucking book known to man, and now you're probably shocked that I didn't react the way the book told you I would, aren't you!? That just shows me, and hopefully it shows you how ignorant you really are!!" he says to me, his voice rising in urgency and volume as he finishes what he is saying. When he is done, he stands up and storms out of the kitchen and through the front door. I gather that he is going for a walk, but I can't imagine where he'd go at this time of the morning.

I follow him quietly, putting my shoes on, not really caring that I'm wearing pajamas. Looking back at Sven, I notice that he looks as worried as I am. I need to find Train, need to hold him in my arms, comfort him and tell him that if only he would tell me what was wrong, maybe I would understand. He might be right. Maybe I could never understand his predicament. But that doesn't mean that I don't want to try. He isn't even giving me a chance to understand, because he's already deciding that nobody understands him, that Sven and I are just well meaning fools fumbling around in the dark. And maybe we are. Maybe we are fools, but then what is he?

As I fly over the city, I look around at all of the places that could be hiding Train somewhere among their populace. Train has always liked the water, so I decide to start with the docks. It's a coastal town, so the city is right on the ocean with wharves and docks and storage and refrigerating units that hold everything from fish to money to dead bodies, most likely. There's an abandoned section of the docks that's infamous for its high crime rate. Rumor has it that there's at least one murder there a month. Of course, these are only rumors, but I personally have no trouble believing it. The problem is that the docks span the entire length of the city, so I have to search low above the docks, scanning every inch for Train, and he may not even be there. What if I don't find him, and he's left forever? What if he decides that he hates me and that he can't stand to be around me anymore? I could handle losing him if I had to, but I don't think that I could handle him hating me. Maybe I am pathetic. Maybe it's wrong of me to love him, but if it's wrong, then I'm not sure if I want to be right. (A/N: I know it's terribly cliché, but I felt that it went with the situation. Please continue.)

After searching for a few minutes, I finally spot Train and land thirty feet away, hiding behind some crates to observe him. He's got a rope, and he's tossing it up around a hook. He's making one, two, three, four, five... ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen loops and pulling it through. I had seen this knot in a book before. It's the noose, or the hangman's knot. Slowly but surely, it dawns on me, and I kick myself for not realizing it sooner. He's planning to kill himself. I know that it seemed obvious, but I wasn't paying close enough attention. My mind was wandering, and I let myself forget what I was doing. Suddenly, I jump from behind the crates and transform my hair into my nano-knives just as Train is slipping the loop around his neck and tightening it. Everything feels as though it's in slow motion, now. It would be cool if I weren't so terrified. I feel a voice rising in my throat as I scream for Train to stop. He's praying, now. I never knew that he even believed in God, add that to the list of things of which I'm ignorant, and finally, he steps to the edge of the crate on which he's standing and looks down, apparently bidding the world goodbye. Finally, after what seems like hours, and just as he jumps, I scream out, and jump into the air, making wings on my back so that I can fly.

"TRAIN, YOU IDIOT! NO!"

I close my eyes, and all goes dark, both of us waiting for our destinies to unfold, neither sure what was going to happen.