This fanfiction is my first Miracles fanfiction and is done for The Mango Challenge.

Summary:A glimpse into Alva’s past - Who was the original Mango the Bloodhound? Done for the Mango Challenge.

Disclaimer: Does it LOOK like I own Miracles? ... I didn’t think so.

Mango the Bloodhound

“Mama?” An eight year old Alva snuggled into his bedcovers.

“Yes?” A tired, pale Nathalia Keel poked her head around the door.

“Can you read me a story, please?”

A cute little smile spread across the small boy’s face as his mother picked up a small volume from the bookcase and sat down on the bed.

Nathalia stroked her son’s hair and gave a small smile.

“Alright, Alva,” Nathalia began, opening up the book.

“This is a story my father read to me when I was your age.”

“Really?” Alva said in awe. “Wow!”

Nathalia gave a laugh and kissed Alva’s forehead.

“Okay, let’s start...”

Nathalia cleared her throat slightly.

“’Once upon a time there was a boy, a girl, and their dog. The boy’s name was Alex, and girl’s name was Sam, and their dog was a bloodhound named Mango.

Sam and Alex loved Mango and took great care of him.

Mango was very clever.

He could stand on his hind legs, shake hands and talk to Alex and Sam!’”

“Wow! I wish we had a dog that talked to us, Mama!”

Alva whispered, eyes wide.

“Well, sweetheart, maybe we will get one someday, huh? Would you like that?” Nathalia asked. Alva nodded eagerly.

“Keep readin’, Mama! What happens next?”

The little boy’s eyes were bright, and Nathalia was glad that she’d made her son happy, and especially since just an hour ago...

Nathalia turned the page.

“’Mango was a very good dog to Alex and Sam, as as a treat, they would often buy him ice creams.’”

“Just like you, Mama!” Alva chirped.

Nathalia smiled.

“’And in return, Mango told them stories! Stories of magic and dragons; of knights and mermaids and princesses!

Alex and Sam loved Mango’s stories. But one day, Mango told a slightly different story.’”

Nathalia let her son turn the page while she brushed a lock of her short, dark hair out of her eyes.

Alva stared in amazement at the colourful pictures, beginning to suck on his thumb again.

“’Mango told a story about a boy named Alex and a girl named Sam and their dog named Mango.

Mango said that he loved Sam and Alex very much and that they were his heroes.

Alex and Sam hugged Mango tightly.

“Oh, Mango!” Sam laughed, “You’ll always be our hero!”

“That’s right.” Alex smiled happily. “We will always be there for you just like you will be there for us!

The end.’”

“Oh, Mama - You’re my hero!” Alva giggled, holding his mother’s hand.

“You’ll always be my Mango,” Nathalia replied, squeezing her son’s small hand.

“My little hero.”

Alva turned over in bed and winced a little as a bruise his father had given him was nudged slightly.

Nathalia noticed though. Mother’s always notice the little things in life.

She sighed, and hugged Alva carefully.

“Goodnight, ‘Mango’.”

Alva yawned cutely.

“Night-night, Mama.”

Nathalia turned out the light, exiting the bedroom and closing the door.

Only minutes later, Alva heard crashes and his mother’s screaming coming from the kitchen. His father was yelling, and Alva - afraid - could hear his father’s heavy footsteps approaching his room.

The door burst open, and suddenly David Keel was standing drunk over Alva’s trembling form.

David raised the broken Vodka bottle, already smeared with Nathalia’s blood, and --

Alva Keel awoke with a start.

Cold sweat was dripping from his forehead and tears were streaked down his face.

He brushed the roughly away, and sat up, turning on the light.

A groan and slight shuffling.

“Keel?...”

Ah. That’s right; Paul had crashed the night there. He hastily rubbed his face dry.

“What’s up? ... It’s like... One in the morning...”

“Apologies, Paul.”

Alva put on his socks and shoes and pulled on his jacket, now fully awake.

He slipped a photograph from the bedside table into his pocket and took a white rose from the vase on the dresser.

He turned off the light and hurried downstairs, letting himself out into the cloudless night.

The local park was open all day around, and a slight breeze ruffled Alva’s hair as he sat down on a park bench and took out the photograph.

It showed him and his mother. His mother was pulling him to her side, and they were sharing a laugh together.

Alva shut his eyes sadly and crushed the head of the rose in his palm, and opening his hand, allowing the petals to flutter away in the wind.

Alva began to cry again.

“Oh, Mama...” he whispered sadly. “I miss you so much...”

“You’ll always be my Mango. My little hero...”

-Owari-

A/N: Some children suck their thumbs, and usually the case is that they are insecure.

Happy holidays from Madja.