Boot heels tapped softly on the concrete sidewalk.  His stride was missing some of its easy grace, some of its sleekness.  It was a subtle difference, a slight stiffness to his steps.  It hadn’t even been three weeks since...  but Angel knew he couldn’t remain bedridden until bones knit and flesh healed.  The money that had been left behind, that little wad of something he’d seen on the tabletop, it had carried him so far, but it wouldn’t last forever.  So the last few nights, he’d been going back to work.

Long, fingerless gloves concealed the fading bruises on his wrists and hand.  The surface cuts on his features were nearly closed, standing out against his dark skin.  His eyes were rimmed in black khol, his silky hair pulled into a tail on top of his head.  His clinging wardrobe was suitably androgynous, the only true evidence of his gender being the flatness of his chest.

The streets were familiar.  Perhaps not very welcoming, but familiar.  He could navigate them in his sleep.  He knew each street light; which ones worked, which did not.  He knew which intersections saw the most traffic.  The air was cool and damp.  It would be a good night.

“Angel.”

A faint grimace crossed his features at the sound of his name, and he slowed his pace, eyes flicking to the side, just as a pretty female approached him from the left.  Or... she would have been pretty. This life had a way of aging you.  One could see where beauty once was; her hair was a mass of bouncy black ringlets, and her lips were full and had a natural pout to them.  Angel knew for a fact that she had a dimple in one cheek.  But thick layers of makeup, false eyelashes, and a tarnished stud in the side of her nose made her appear worn out, as though she was trying to put a mask on her tiredness, a type of exhaustion that had nothing to do with a need for sleep or rest, but a weariness with life that Angel knew all too well.  She was almost theatrical in her exaggerated mannerisms, the obviously practiced sway to her hips, and the pencil-thin stiletto heels she wore.  If Angel could spare pity for someone, he would feel it for Jezabelle.  

“Jezz.  What are you doin’ here?”

The woman shrugged nonchalantly as she fell into step beside him, dragging hard on a cigarette.

“Nobody’s seen you for a while.  We thought somebody dropped your carcass in a dumpster.”

The scowl on Angel’s face changed to a sneer, and he fanned a hand in front of his nose to disperse the thick cloud of smoke that was exhaled with her words.  Flashes of red made his eyes seem to glow in the city’s evening light.

“Yeah you wish.  What the hell Jezz, go get your own corner.  Nobody’s gonna hire me if you’re hangin’ around here.”

“Oh boo hoo, you’re not the boss of me.  How come you never told me how many people come through this side street?”

“Duh.  Because I didn’t want you to know?  Fuck off, Jezz.”

“Who the hell pissed in your cereal, tonight?  I just said you’re not the boss of me.”

Jezz flicked her hair over her shoulder with a disdainful sniff and tapped the ash from the end of her cigarette onto the ground.  She was unperturbed by Angel’s demeanor, which irked him even more.  He was getting a headache just listening to her.

“Yeah well watch me fuck your shit up six ways from Sunday, then see who the boss is.  I said go away.”

“Or you’ll what?  You think I’m blind, Angelcake?  I can see the bruises on your face.”  She smirked at him, and gave him a once-over with a seemingly knowing eye.  “What, you backtalk someone and get jumped for it?”

“Sure, we’ll call it that.  But we both know you....”  Angel came to a sudden stop, blinking, looking around, and glancing over his shoulder.  He had the distinct sensation of being watched.  There was a shadow that drifted in the light of the moon, between street lamps placed too far apart, between shreds of cloud that dappled the sky... and then... nothing.  Nothing was there.  He frowned, and looked forward again.  “You can’t take me.  Even on your best day, and my worst.”

“Uh... Angel?”  Jezz gave him a skeptical glance, noting his distraction.  She too, glanced over her shoulder, brows furrowed.  When she saw nothing there, her expression turned to one of distaste, as though unable to believe that she’d looked for herself. 

“Yeah?”  He favored her with another scowl, but his eyes flicked over his shoulder once more.  Not even a shadow this time.  But there was something so familiar.  In the air, on the breeze.  And not for the first time since he’d gone back to work; it had happened almost nightly.  It was closer now, than it had ever been, as though the presence of his female counterpart and his frustration had drawn it near.

“Oh hah that’s what’s going on.  You got hooked on shit, didn’t you.”

“As if.”  he snapped, suddenly turning to face her again, eyes flashing crimson.  The look on his face was vicious enough that Jezz stepped back with a frown of her own.  He couldn’t maintain eye contact, though, and he glanced back yet again, which caused her to gawk more than a little.

“You sure?  You’re actin’ like a paranoid freak.”  Her tone was practically mocking him, as though she were looking for something to hold over his head, to gloat about.  Knowing her, that was probably exactly what she was looking for, Angel thought sourly.  He really didn’t want to deal with her anymore tonight.  He hoped… he hoped he might know what that feeling was, why it was familiar, and he had no desire to keep wasting his time with a woman he didn’t even like, when he could instead find out if he was right about what, or who, might be watching him.

“Yeah I’m sure, bitch.  Now shut the fuck up, and go away!”

Angel fit actions to words, then, and not only gave her a none too gentle shove away from him with one hand, but he increased his pace to carry himself away from her, that much faster.  He turned into a side street, ignoring the bewildered look on Jezz’s face as he did so.  His breath was coming hard. The color drained from his skin with the stitch in his side and the ache in his hand.  He’d used the wrong one to shove her.  He shook the offended limb, as though to shake the pain from it, and slowed his angry stride.

There were no street lights down this narrow passway.  Only one lamp glowed over a doorway, but the rest of the alley was cast in darkness.  He came to a stop directly under this singular puddle of light, and took a deep breath.  The ache in his side remained, but it had faded to bearable levels already.  He closed his eyes, then turned aimlessly in place, seeking to isolate it: that presence.  He knew it.  Then he stopped, and faced the spot where the shadows were deepest.  His eyes opened, hazy orange like a sunset over the ocean, and one corner of his mouth curved up in a smirk.

“I know you’re there.”  His tone was light despite that he had projected, to ensure he would be heard.  Amused and curious, rather than accusatory.  His head tilted, watching calmly.

Sure enough, he heard the soft clink of chain, and a shadow detached itself from the rest.  He moved just enough into view that Angel could see one shoulder, an arm, and part of his face, silhouetted against the darkness, as though he was afraid to step into full view.  Even half-hidden, Angel knew who was there, who was watching him cautiously, tense as a bowstring, as though he was prepared to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“You got too close this time, huh?”  Angel murmured, remaining still, where he stood.  

Dallieh shifted slightly, enough that Angel could see his head turn towards the main street, and look back.  His startlingly blue-green eyes shone in the darkness like a cat’s, catching the reflection of the light Angel stood beneath, but he remained silent.

“Why are you following me?”

Dallieh still said nothing, standing so still that Angel was afraid he’d vanish if he looked away.  So he took a slow step closer, watching for any sort of reaction.  He wasn’t surprised to see him straighten up, so Angel paused, waiting for some of the tension to ease.

“You said your name is Dallieh.... right?”

A long pause.  Then the sound of a soft breath taken for speech.

“Yes.”

“Heh... so you didn’t forget how to talk, after all.  Good to know.  Gonna come out where I can see you?”

Angel’s voice was low, sounding bemused, and even though his eyes were still showing shades of orange, flickers of green crossed their surface.  Another moment of hesitation, and then Dallieh took a step forward.  He was no longer hidden in the shadows, but his fingers twitched at his sides, like a nervous dog might shift its front paws, waiting for the first sign of danger.

The silence between them lengthened, as Angel studied Dallieh, eyes flicking over every detail, as though to commit it to memory, and Dallieh fought the urge to take to the sky.  Finally, Angel took another step forward.

“Why did you save me, Dallieh?”  he asked.  He turned his head enough that his gaze was from the corner of his eyes, rather than directly staring. More slow steps.  Dallieh didn’t move. Angel stopped where the light began to yield to darkness, barely an arm’s reach from the one that had saved him from what could have been certain death.   “No-one does something for nothing.”

The man before him swayed as if he’d just been struck. He was about to run. Angel was sure of it. He was rocking on his heels preparing for the moment when he would leave. He looked down at the ground between them and Angel thought he saw him shake his head, just a little as if he were trying to dismiss some concern that nagged him. His hands clenched at his sides, shifting once more, nervously, before he glanced up again. The look of pain in his eyes hit Angel like a wall even before his words, which were spoken so quietly, but loud enough for him to make no mistake.

“I didn’t do it for nothing... I did it for you.”

Angel had no time to react as he felt strong arms encircle his neck and shoulders in an embrace and Dallieh buried his face in the smooth line of his hair as he held him. Every bit of him went rigid as flashes of color danced through Angel’s eyes. This... this was not what he’d expected. He didn’t know what to do with this. Slowly he began to soften. His brow furrowed as he focused on making his body relax around him. There was something so comforting about this, just this simple act of being held. He closed his eyes and turned his head, just a little so that his face was against Dallieh’s neck. His smell made Angel feel somehow warm. It was the smell of the wind, like a thousand midnight fires, the dew drenched earth, and the light taste of electricity in the air. He took a deep breath and tentatively brought his arms forward tracing the lines of muscle up the back of the man who held him to feel his dark ruddy hair. Angel wasn’t sure of when it happened, but he became aware that he was holding onto Dallieh with almost as much desperation as he was being held, his fingers coiled in his hair.

“But... I am nothing. You need a better reason.”