No time to do my last once over. sorry for the bad chapter. I'll fix it really soon. bye!

WARNING: This chapter contains violence. That's why it's rated T people. -.- (also it contains Cain. The two go hand in hand)

RionXLilia forever. ♥

Word key-

-dono: an honorific. A suffix of respect equalizing to king or queen.


Galerians, 生 存

Ch. 2 Clouded Futures




A very livid boy of sixteen or seventeen stood breathing heavily with his fist in a tiled wall. He pulled it out with great force, sending flakes of ceramic tile flying into the air, hovering for a split second before falling to the ground, shattering into a blaze of even smaller pieces.

Damn annoying leak.

His green eyes were ablaze. He was obviously on edge, having just smashed in an innocent dripping faucet. Although it wasn't so innocent in his opinion. He had been sitting thinking, although Rita would have referred to it as brooding, but what the hell did she know. Anyways, that's when he had started hearing it. A soft, steady noise. Inaudible to the human ear, or almost any ear, the sound half imagined in his head.


It was the ongoing leak of the washroom sink.


It had no worries. It was free to leak all it wanted. No one seemed to care about its imperfection, the defect going unnoticed and uncared for. It wouldn't get scolded for its properties. It wouldn't even be replaced. It worked just fine on it's own.


Lucky bastard. People just put up with it. Just accepted it. It didn't matter if it was slightly flawed. 'So what if they had to tightened in now and again?' they thought. It was allowed all this privilege, all this leeway. And it was a freaking inanimate object. He was a living thing and wasn't granted the same right.


The thing had it coming.

The fuming Galerian closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath in a seemingly futile attempt to calm himself. His anger slowly seeped from him, returning to a low blaze. Rita would be pissed that he wrecked the bathroom like this.

A smile flickered to his face. No, scratch that, a sneer. He had almost forgot. Rita was dead. He almost chucked.

But he was still dissatisfied.

Rita was dead, along with the rest of them, and he had nothing to complain about. Maybe that he wasn't allowed to finish a least one of them off himself, but there was something else. They had been killed by the 'better'.

His fists tightened. The rage he had just managed to quell fired up in him again, consuming his every thought. Rion. He was supposed to be 'Rion'! He would have listened to Mother; he would have killed the human girl on site. He wouldn't have unnecessarily dispatched his siblings the way that his traitor twin had. (At least he wouldn't have without a better reason then Rion did, like they were annoying him or something, not such a trivial thing like trying to kill him)

He hated Rion.

From the very moment of his existence, from the moment his identical DNA was shot into some vile with growing steroids in it or something, from the moment of his simulated conception, Cain had hated him. The 'better'.

Because he himself was 'flawed'


Like the rest of this sick world. Populated with its grubby little humans, the epitome of imperfection. Mother had the right idea to wipe them out and start over; he'd give her that. Mother was the only one truly perfect. She was creator. She was god.

And he hated her for it.

She was able to declare his fate. She had the ability and the right to manipulate him to bend to her slightest whim. God was one to be feared. To be respected.

Cain shook his hand, the last of the white powder on his leather-glove floating to the ground as if a cloud of quickly falling mist. After a moment of lazily dusting himself off, he walked out of the now ruined bathroom. Entering the hallway, the site of a bloody body smashed against the wall barley fazed him.

Hmm. Maybe he had thrown that guard a little to hard when he forced his way past.

Mother wouldn't be pleased.

Cain walked over to the corpse. The face was of a young man. A quick one-over showed brown hair cut short and brown eyes, now turned a faded gray. The expression was that of the rictus of death. His fourth finger on his left hand was adorned with a simple gold ring. Cain smirked at this.

Rigor mortis had begun to set in already, making his next action of bending to rip the finger from the man's hand that much easier. Cain retrieved the ring from the finger before flinging the useless appendage behind him. After examining the band a bit longer he decided it to be too cheap and nicked. He frowned, also chucking the priceless memento behind him, the rich metal making a hollow dong as it hit the floor, vibrating it's last sad tone until it faded to a silent stand still.

The twisted Galerian lifted his foot, pressing it against the face of the dead man, pinning it to the wall he was slumped upon. A sick delighted amusement shone in his eyes, a crazed smile contorting his face.

"Well well, what a cheap man you must have been. Pity Mother doesn't pay much. You may have been able to afford a decent wedding ring. Then at least in would have been worth my time." His eyes grew larger, the blood lust evident in his eyes. "To bad." Cain's heavy black hiking boot pushed hard against the wall, smashing the human skull in the man's head, leaving a bloody seen of gore to slide down the wall. The boy watched, enjoying every moment of it, even if the man was already dead.

A gasp from behind him ended his disturbed bliss. Another soldier watched in stunned disgust at the practice of the "son" of his self-proclaimed ruler and god.

"What do you want?" Cain turned to face him, replacing his foot to the ground, the blood making a print on the iron floor.

The guard in front of him shook himself, trying to regain control of his churning stomach. "It's…Dorothy-dono… she's requesting you."

Cain gave a weary sigh, flicking a strand of hair away from his face. "I suppose Mother would have to stoop to using you servants as her messengers. All her other children are dead." Without another word, the boy walked past the guard and down the hall, his boots giving off a relentless click against the cold hard metal, a trail of stale blood printed in his tracks.

The guard looked on in unexplainable terror and horror. He stood silent and stiff. In a sudden motion, he clasped a hand to his mouth, rushing behind him into the lavatory, retching into the near toilet.




Miles away, a boy made his way down a street, rain trickling to collect in puddles only to be disturbed by his shuffling feet. He was a perfect clone of another with green eyes who at the moment was walking down a metallic hallway to confront a self-titled deity, through besides appearance, not much more was similar between them, especially personality wise. They were born at odds, and this boy with blue eyes brighter then the sky at dawn was in blissful unawareness of this rivalry.

Actually, he was "blissfully unaware" of many things. Though, the things he did know had nothing to do with any form of bliss, more of the exact opposite. His memories were worn, fuzzy. The sharpest of his lingerings still only lasted a few moments, the time set more current, his age closer to the present. Watery images and voices, words undecipherable floated through his mind. Pictures of a young Lilia, her form faded as if covered in a cloud of mist.

Lilia had grown from his small amount of memories. The last time he had seen her had been five years ago, right? Rion hefted the girl he was currently reflecting on farther onto his back. General progress forced her to slip gradually down as she was held piggybacked, her arms swaying limply across his shoulders, crossing laxly about his neck. Rion was thinly built, his frame lanky. His slender hips weren't able to give the correct support to hold her.

So he walked hunched, finding himself looking more then often at the puddles filling the dented ally, always becoming aware and attempting to crane his neck to scan the area as he went. Looking for a form of assistance as well as for potential adversaries.

Time slipped by as he walked, his mind always drifting, attempting to organize his hectic thoughts.

'While Lilia is injured, what is Dorothy doing? I can't continue my purpose until she is back in fit condition, but is all this concern I have right?' doubt rolled through his head as he came to the realization that he cared more for Lilia's well-being then the fate of mankind. At least, that's what it meant, didn't it? Him blowing off Dorothy, putting the event on hold, to take care of the precious person that he would willingly give his life for- wait, was that true? These realizations where starting…and confusing . He found himself discovering more and more every secand, that from the short time he had first truly met her at the hotel, he had grown an attachment that life itself was worth.

'But she's the key.' He justified himself, 'Without her and the program she has, confronting Dorothy would be impossible.' He shook his head lightly. All this emotion was starting to scare him. The feeling was deep, and every time he touched on it he felt like he was falling, sinking into a depth that he was terrified of reaching, not knowing how far it went, not even knowing if it would ever stop.

Right now he was teetering on the edge and it was giving him serous vertigo. So much so that the deep emotion decided to manifested it self as a feeling of nausea. Rion stopped in an attempt to regain a sense of balance that he had somewhere along the way lost.

Something cold slipped down to slap him lightly on the cheek. Rion's eyes moved to the edge of his vision. His startled eyes softened. A piece of Lilia's wet hair had slipped from her head to fall and sling to his face. Lilia's head lolled pressed against the gentle bow of his neck. Her body (And by default, his underneath) was draped in the black poncho he had been able to acquire before going to the Hotel. Somewhere along his jostling of her farther up his back, the hood must have slid from her head.

Rion reached a hand up to correct the exposure, shifting her weight to rely more on his hand still holding her up. Rion was finally able, after a bit of a struggle, to flip the hood back over her head. Hefting her once more farther up his back, he began to walk again.

Did the rain ever stop in this place? The dreary setting was putting Rion in a bad mood, if that was still possible; his mood always seemed to be the same. A determination, one set goal. In fact, that was all he really knew. Not being able to focus 100 percent of his thought on a singular objective left his mind wide open, wondering and lost. He could always tell himself to focus on getting Lilia to safety, to get her help, but there wasn't a set way to go about it, makeing the concept to vague to grab hold of.

Also, it made him by default think of Lilia. It was bad enough having to partially focus on her during their way to Dorothy. She was a necessity,... but she was more. And that deep, deep emotion he was so scared of, scared of what might happen if he let it take him. It was powerful, more powerful then anything he'd ever felt before, and such power terrified him.

Rion had always held life in the highest regard, maybe that's why he was so concerned for Lilia. Of course, how could he say that? How could he claim that virtue and yet, here he was, killing people. Well, not many were people. 'No,' he corrected himself, 'what do you call the guards and doctors at the hospital? They were living, natural humans.'

'If not twisted and corrupt.' A part of his mind sneered.

'No!' he shook his head. 'It's wrong, don't try and justify it!'

'Really? I don't think anyone will miss them. They didn't seem like the type to get attached to others or vise-versa. I say good riddance to em'. They would have done the same to you.'

'No! Killing is wrong!'

'Self defense, will that one work? Or how about the fact that they were doing terrible experiments on other humans. Can't exactly defend a race that's turned on itself.'

'No, your wrong!' Rion had stopped walking. He was now shaking his head viscously, his teeth clenched tightly shut. 'I'm part of that race!'




It couldn't be. He was human, he was! The experiments gave him his power.

'Do you really believe that?' the voice was becoming more and more venomous with each word.

"No! I am Rion!" He had let the last part slip out vocally, his voice snapping him out of his almost trance like state.

He stood in the rain a moment. The droplets pattered lightly on all surfaces in site. Dull light glowed from all around them, the moon nonexistent in the clouded sky. Rion pulled his head back, face upturned to the troubled sky. The rain fell to him, running down his carved features in rushing streams down his face.



Rion's heavy eyes widened at the sound of his name. Her voice had almost been unable to catch in the soft patter of the downfall. Lilia? Was she awake? He craned his neck in an attempt to see her.

Lilia's head was buried deep in the crook of the back of his neck. Her arms had slid back and now gripped his shoulders with such force that needles of pain shot down them in currents. She was shaking uncontrollably, and Rion could now hear her gasping breath.


She began to cough and her knees buckled, her body slipping from the support of his. She slid from his back, descending ever closer to the cold hard ground of the avenue.

"Lilia!" With a sudden adrenaline rush and a grace that surprised him, Rion turned instantaneously to catch her in his thin arms before her seeming fragile body hit the unwelcoming earth. She lay limply in his careful grasp. Her head was thrown back and lolling, gasping in air that didn't seem to reach her lungs.

Rion was at a loss. What should he do? His face turned into a painful grimace. Damnit. Damnit! He didn't have clue. He could tell she needed help, needed oxygen, but how was he supposed to fix that?


Rion looked up, searching the area as if for a sign of what he should do. The streets stood empty and dark. A lamppost flickered a few blocks down, casting it's yellow halo on the street as if in an attempt to communicate in Morse code.

Lilia took a sharp intake for breath and held it. Suppressing coughs, Rion was frightened she'd suffocate herself. When it seemed as if she could hold her breath no more, the coughing stopped, and her body went limp in his hands, her low, shallow breathing the only proof of her life.

Rion looked blankly at her pale face. The rain fell feely on the two, and in the minuets they were exposed they were both soon a great deal wetter then before. Silence lengthened as the relief seeped into him. It looked like she definitely had some internal injuries, maybe even possible a lung puncture. She needed to see a doctor. Rion blinked twice, tried to get his brain in gear. All that was running trough it was 'Thank God. Thank God.'

'Enough.' He told himself. He took a deep breath and his mind began to clear. A sudden exhaustion hit him full force. The full power of it knocked the air out of him, and for a second his legs threatened to give out under his and Lilia's combined weight. What had caused him to feel so…drained? Stress? Possibly. All the stress he had been through lately was more then a bit excessive. It had barely been one day since he had woken from the hospital and was welcomed into a life he never lived. And Lilia, she needed a break. All the bouncing she must had endured from their not exactly smooth journey was aggravating her damages. It was time to call it a night.

Rion scooped the rest of Lilia into his arms, bending and grabbing the black poncho that had fallen of them during Lilia's attack. He stood and searched with weary eyes the streets in front of him. None of the houses looked abandoned and absolutely none of them looked remotely hospitable. Rion let out a sigh before deciding for the ally behind him.

A ledge of emergency ladders provided a very thin roof in the dead end, and Rion leaned heavily against the wall, slipping slowly into a worn out slump. He rested a brief moment before placing Lilia gingerly down beside him. He sat and breathed heavily. Why was he so tired? Sure, today had been demanding, both physically and mentally, but really, why was it so sudden? Rion glanced over to the resting form of the girl lying down next to him. He sat there and stared at her. Was this an effect of the link they shared? She had spoke of it, and Rion was becoming more and more aware that he could almost feel her presence in his mind. Was this what Lilia had experienced for him? If so and he was this tired, Lilia must be absolutely beat.

'She's getting wet.' He thought plainly. And she was. Being unable to support her own weight in her exhausted state, instead of propping her up in a sitting position against the wall, he had laid her to the ground. The small barrier between them and the rain was thin, and Lilia's sprawled form was half-in and half-out of the safe shadow of the stares. Rion reached out and attempted to lean her against the wall. Lilia stayed put a moment before her upper torso slid, and Rion soon fount Lilia's sleeping head on his shoulder.

Rion froze for a moment. For reasons he could not see, he somehow felt this was something significant. But what was so significant about it? She was using him as a form of support for her weak body. Was he reading into it as she was relying on him? He was the only thing left between her and the dark doors of abandonment. But, such a thought, abandoning Lilia, made him physically sick. No, wait, he was synthesizing this much to deep.

Sleep. If only he could sleep. But no, such a luxury of rest and absent of thought would not come to him tonight, nor anytime soon in the foreseeable future as it stood. Rion had a serous case of insomnia. So severe in fact, that he maybe only slept a couple hours a week, technically insubstantial for a human.

'That's true. No human can live off such miniscule sleep hours.'

Rion cringed at the acid in the voice. He just wanted it to go away. But from the moment of his wakening he had felt the tug, the nagging of the feeling, the voice, that whatever force put him on this earth, or granted him this curse was not the results of seeming random experiments on human test subjects.

'For now.' He told himself. He opened eyes he didn't know he had closed. His eyes wandered to the girl next to him. She looked cold. His last bit of logical thought draped the poncho over both of them. He let his arm fall bonelessly to his side with a light 'thud'.

'For now…let me be human…' he let himself be drawn into a meditative like state as his eyes closed. Numbers and collected data flying across his shut eyes. 'For now, …let me be Rion…please…'

Rion could hear, he could smell and he felt the chilled wind and still falling drizzle. He was awake, but resting. No, Sleep would not take him on its sweet journey tonight. Thoughts were too abundant for that.


Wow. Like, nothing happened in this chapter. Great Kami, that must have been a bore to read. Gomen! I promise things will start heating up in the next chap! Did you like my portrayal of Cain? How'd I do? Fit his personality? Personally, he's a fun psycho to write for. It' almost 2 A.M and I only got five hours of sleep last night, so I'm out for now. Sorry about this chapter. Like I said, it's late.

Please review anyways. Why? Because I love you guys. I really do…-hic-

(This is a sleep-deprivation high.) (I have never heard of that) (Well, ya learn sumpthn' new every day!)

Ja ne!


Oh! Thanks bunches to those who reviewed. You all get cookies! –gives cookies- THANK YOU AND GOOD–NIGHT!