My brother was an angel, and one of my most vivid images of him was the way his beautiful, beautiful wings would spread, wrapping around me when it was cold, or when we were afraid.

Sentinel. I can always recall the sound of his voice, and when I look in the flames of my candles, I can see his face too.

He had always been full of light.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth and I decide not to fight it—there is no one here, and the comforting darkness is wonderful cover.

Ironic, how it’s here, in the darkness, that I can safely smile at my memory of his light.

I just tightened my arms around him and tried my best to be comforting. "It’s okay. We’re safe here. No one will find us here." For a moment I congratulated myself on how well I concealed my own uncertainty, my own fear. The voice and the words which came out of my mouth sounded true and full of conviction. I liked it like that. If it comforted him, then I’ll speak this way forever, regardless of what I really felt.

Gently, softly, I patted his back and the two of us rocked unconsciously back and forth, a lulling rhythm that was hypnotizing. "We’re safe here," I repeated, filling my voice once again with unfaltering certainty. I had to let him believe that, so he could make it through this night.

If only I could believe it myself.

We must have been carefree and fearless once, but I can’t remember exactly when. I’ve heard about mortals, whose lives only span a few brief years before they peter out. I’m glad my brother and I aren’t mortals. . .otherwise we would be dead before we were free.

And I won’t have that. So far our lives had been one long escape, twisting and turning and somehow always winding up back where we had started.

I looked down at him, nestled up against me for warmth, and I knew that this life wasn’t for either of us. We deserve better. One day, I’ll get both him and me out of this poor excuse for an existence. We’ll escape this prison.

I shivered, and tightened my arms around him, but trying not to wake him at the same time. It was too cold in the little cave, and I didn’t want to use my powers to warm the place, since it’s too noticeable. I’ll have to do with the shivering.

I smiled down at his bowed head, and looked toward the cavern opening. And then I gaped, because unwittingly, morning had sneaked upon us, the soft light of gold and rose pink floating through air to dance on the cold stone floor. I could see the muted gray-blue of the daybreak sky slowly giving way to those tendrils of color, and I remembered that the little cave we spent the night in was near the top of this mountain.

It was so beautiful. . . .

I nudged my brother gently and whispered, "Look!" Slowly his eyes fluttered open. Gently, I sat up and helped him sit up as well. Yesterday had been rough for him.

"Look," I repeated, smiling. "It’s morning."

The smile that spread slowly across his face had been just as warm and lovely as the sunrise.

The downside to this is that time won’t help to dull the pain of memory. Every time I think about what happened, it’s torture all over again. I can’t forget. I keep reliving it, like an eternal nightmare.

For the higher calling of maintaining balance. For my duty. For all those things, I sacrificed the one person who understood me, the person who comforted me just by being there, smiling his smile, warming the world with his life.

I had to put my duty over the one I had sworn I would protect. Everything moved so quickly that day, I didn’t even get a chance to say "Goodbye."

Or "thank you." Or "sorry."

I wish I could see him again, just once, if only to say those simple words. He didn’t seem angry with me when he. . .when he left, but I don’t know. I want to see him, to make sure.

I wish I knew. Maybe if I knew what he said, I could. . . I would. . . .

Forgive myself?

Convince myself that my decision was the right one, that I had to break the promise?

What did you say? What did you want to tell me?

I nearly jump right out of my seat, and wonder exactly when he would muster up enough decorum to actually knock before he came in. Probably when mortals stop dying. And for that untimely interruption of my thoughts, he deserves an annoying answer. "I’m sitting, Charon. And I should be asking you that question."

I hear the barest rustle of fabric, and then his shadow is looming over me as he stands behind my armchair. There’s the faintest hint of a smirk in his voice as he tells me, "You seem unusually out of sorts."

I don’t look up. Normally I would answer him, or tease him about dropping his work to visit, but now I’m not in the mood. He chose a bad time to come; I don’t like having people see me with my guard so completely dropped. Even if it’s Charon.

But because it’s Charon, maybe he would know the answer to my question. He had been there, and he had been an observer. Maybe he heard what I was unable to hear.

"Charon?"

"Hm?" His voice was neutral.

"I was thinking about…"

"Your brother. I know." I tense like a taut rope when I hear him. It takes all my self-control not to give him a look of total shock. "What about him?"

I am not in control of this conversation, and it…well, strangely enough, it annoys me. But I shrug the feeling off. My question is infinitely more important. "On the day he…" It’s a lot more difficult than I expected to say the word aloud.

"Died. Yes?"

I scowl at his complete insensitivity and am glad he can’t see my face. "When it happened, Charon…my brother was trying to say something to me." My voice deserves to be congratulated. It’s slipped back into my usual assured manner, where it belongs. "Did you hear? Do you know what he said?"

Quiet. And then… "It’s not important."

An altogether overpowering surge of anger rushes through me and I snap, "Well, it’s important. . .!" before I rein in my emotions and manage to finish in a calmer voice, "It’s important to me, Charon."

"It shouldn’t be," Charon snorts, and I finally look up, ready to tell him to get out. But there’s something…different in his usually derisive eyes. "Sentinel, the winds Satan created were too loud, and if you couldn’t hear, I couldn’t hear either. Obviously."

I suddenly feel deflated. It was pretty obvious, but I still hoped. . . .

"But why should you care that you didn’t hear?" Charon continues, "It’s not important, Sentinel, because it should be obvious. Again."

I resist the urge to stare at him and ask, "What?" stupidly. Instead, I keep silent, because Charon sounds like he’s about to say more.

"You honestly couldn’t figure out what he wanted you to know?" My colleague continues to ask skeptically. "That’s not like you. You’re supposed to be the astute one."

"I’m sorry I’m not as astute as you are," I answer him, suddenly feeling tired. He can be so difficult. If he didn’t know, that’s fine, but did he really have to. . . .

"That’s not what I was saying," Charon paused, as if considering how to word his next sentence. That isn’t like him; he usually blurts out whatever his thoughts are regardless of how others felt. What did he want to tell me? "I think," he finally began quietly, "that he knew you were going to act like this. So what ever he said, it was to convince you not to act exactly the way you’re acting now."

"What, missing him?" I can’t help but sound bitter.

"No, sulking."

All my defensiveness slams up and I turn around, my eyes narrowing. How dare he? Doesn’t he even think about how much this hurts? "Oh, you never sulk, Charon. You’re the epitome of maturity. Funny how every single time there’s a social gathering, you do your best to ruin everyone else’s mood, as if no one else had a right to enjoy themselves if you’re unhappy, and you tell me I sulk? At least I…" I stop, mortified and astounded at my outburst. What happened to my self-control?

I have no right to say such things to him just because I’m upset. I’m not the only one who’s suffered. Charon didn’t have an easy life either…

He was right. I’m acting like a spoilt child and I’m surprised he’s not already on me with a scathing comment or another. Turning away, I control the flush that’s trying to take over my face and apologize listlessly. I’m so embarrassed…

Charon is quiet for what seems like an unbearably long time, and he succeeds completely in making me feel as petty as I’ve been acting. They say before one’s best friends the mask is taken off; with Charon this is completely involuntary. I like my mask. I want it on… with Charon somehow I’m always telling him things, somehow I can’t hide my bad moods or my moments of childishness.

But at the same time… at the same time…

"You’re ranting at me," Charon’s voice floats to my ear and it’s not annoyed or angry, it’s amused. "The master of self-control is ranting at me?"

I open my mouth to say something and no sound came out. Well, obviously he isn’t offended, and obviously I’ve completely misunderstood his silence because I was too busy feeling uncomfortable… The corners of my mouth quirk in a self-deprecating smile; I’m certainly not living up to my reputation today. And since I’ve completely destroyed my mature image for the time being, I might as well retort immaturely. "It’s not as if you’ve never complained to me about one thing or another."

Charon snorted.

…at the same time, I’m glad he’s my friend.

"Charon?" I begin, and this time I put all the sincerity I can muster into my voice. "I’m sorry about what I said." Then I laugh lightly and add a reason for my behavior, "Thinking too much does this to me."

I sense his movement and decide that he must’ve shrugged. A moment later a pale blue orb floats lightly past my face and I catch it, more out of instinct than out of an awareness of what I was doing. He’d brought another tainted soul for the demons outside. "That’s for you. I have too much work to be staying…" There is the slight, barest rustle of his black cloak as he turns to leave. I stare at the soul in my hand and smile a little. Just like Charon to not acknowledge an apology. Just like Charon, to be uncomfortable about being comfortable with someone… I’m like that, myself.

"Sentinel." He pauses, and I straighten, listening to whatever he has to say. "I think your brother wanted you to live without hating yourself. And… I have to say I agree with him."

I don’t turn around, and I don’t need to, because he’s vanished, leaving the realm of darkness in which I work.

My brother wanted me to live without hating myself. Charon wants the same thing. I want to live… and I don’t relish hating myself. Leaning back in my chair, the soul in my hand shimmering in iridescent colors despite its tainted state, I heave a sigh and look into the flames of my candles.

I can see my brother’s warm, gentle, happy smile there…

Sentinel…

Yes?

I just want you to know that… your life is important. Don’t spend it all on me… Be your own person. Live. Live your own life.

…I’ll try. I’ll try my best.