Twelve years. Exactly twelve years. That was all George could tell himself as he lay there in bed on that dreary morning staring at the clock that told him in bright red numbers that it wasn't even five in the morning. But he could already hear the rain pounding against the window. This was the first time in twelve years that it had rained on that day and that just proved to make his mood even worse because this was the first time in ten years he had been miserable over the date.

There was no comfort in the arms around his waist that morning, no solace in the face pressed against his back. He could see the boyishly round face in his mind's eye and while on a normal morning, rainy or not, he would smile at the image and even turn to look at it, all it did that rainy morning was make him more miserable.
This wasn't like him, this wasn't anything like the toy maker who made it his goal to wake up each morning with a smile.

But today, he felt grey. Twelve years worth of suppressed grey that was just floating to the surface. Could he make it through the day with a smile?

George sat up and pulled out of the hands that had been cradling him. He put his elbows on his knees and hid his face in the confines of his hands, dark brown hair falling to frame it like a fancy picture of despair on the wall. He heard the angel he loved moving on the bed, propping himself up on an elbow and rubbing one eye with his other hand tiredly.

"George, what's wrong?"

He shook his head. "I'm not feeling well." He even sounded grey. He wondered if the guardian angel that shared his bed would pick up on it.

"Do you need your pills?"

Again he shook his head. "No. I'm going to call Margret." He stood up and that began the events of that day. "Go back to sleep."

"It's only," Zephan paused to look at the clock," five in the morning. She's not going to be awake."

"Then I'm going to the bathroom." He could feel the tension in the room. Of course there would be tension and of course the angel would have picked up on the grey.
"I'll be fine, I promise. I've got too much to live for." He turned his head and gave just the smallest of smiles then walked out of the room.

Zephan, slightly alarmed by the way his human was acting, sat up and began going through his mind all of the things he could think that could be upsetting the toy maker. He knew that the human wasn't sick, if he was Zephan would have known right away being his guardian angel and all.

There was a red flag in the back of his mind and he ventured towards it, finding it and reading over the information kept there; old information that he had filed away because it didn't seem to be needed any more. But it seemed that today it was going to be needed. Twelve whole years later.

The boy faced angel decided to wait for George to come back, then they would talk about it.

About ten minutes later George came back into the room, his hands still slightly damp from washing them, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Zephan pulled himself across the bed, his golden wings shaking a bit to loosen up the matted feathers.

"I called Margret and left her a message on her cell phone. Hopefully she gets it."
Zephan nodded.

They were silent. George rubbed his palms together in awkwardness, wanting to talk about it then not at the same time. But he knew he'd have to say something.

"My parents died today. Twelve years ago."

The angel nodded. "I know." He reached over and took one of the hands that belonged to his human, stopping the nervous rubbing. "I had… forgotten because it hasn't bothered you in a long time. I guess it's over due."

Why was it bothering him? He had come to accept his parent's death when he turned eighteen, just after the second anniversary of their death. He knew that his parents wouldn't want him to dwell over the dead as they never had with their respective parents. Sure it was a sad thing to think on but as long as you remembered them in their fondest then it was like they weren't dead after all.

And even then, all the way back then, he knew he wasn't alone and never would
be. Though back then he thought it was because his parent's spirits were around him. It helped him cope and move on to better things in his life, like his store.

"I was um… thinking of going to their grave today." He nodded. It had been ten years since he had last been. Normally when he wanted to remember his parents he would light a candle in front of a picture of them that he had in his living room and that was far as it went. But he just felt like actually seeing where they were buried, where they were put to their final rest once more. It was the least he could do, right?

Zephan looked up, his blue eyes bright in their confusion. He knew it had been a long time. Well, to a human it was a long time and because of what he did as a job, he knew the length of the years just not to the extent that a real human did. Though it seemed recently, ever since he found George had stitched his own wrist back up, that time had grasped its quick pathway again and there wasn't enough of it to spend with the human. His chest tightened and he swallowed hard.
Maybe he should talk the toy maker out of going to the graveyard where humans were buried. It would just prove to depress the angel and he couldn't afford that.
He didn't want to think of George in terms of when he would die. He wanted to think in terms of the time he was alive and how many minutes and seconds he could spend in the love that they shared.

But if George wanted to visit his parents, then who was Zephan to stop him from doing so? He wouldn't step in the way of this closing that it seemed his human needed so badly today.

"You'll have to dress warmly and don't forget your pills," the angel told him with a small smile.

George looked up from the floor and smiled as well. Maybe he could survive today with a smile after all, though he didn't much feel like smiling. So he let the smile melt off of his face and he leaned his head onto the boy's shoulder. He couldn't seem to bring his mind to wrap around the fact that Zephan was in fact older than him and had never really been a boy. But he looked so young like he had barely just turned seventeen, still a boy. Though that thought did make him feel dirty as a twenty eight year old man sleeping in the same bed as the angel if he was just a 'boy.' So he tried not to think of him as such.

It was nine in the morning by the time they were halfway to the graveyard where Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins were buried.

The ride was silent, neither of them wanting to talk for their own reasons. George was in his own reserve about this, being outside in the rain not helping his mood any more. And Zephan was becoming more and more nervous the closer they got to what was so pleasantly called Crescent Lawn. His wings had stiffened behind him, the gold fading some from the white feathers.

Fifteen minutes passed and George switched lanes and exited the highway. There never was much traffic even during rush hour. That was one reason George stayed in the state he did.

"Are you all right?" he finally said as he pulled into a parking spot at the Crescent Lawn Cemetery.

Zephan was stiff, the golden feather sticking out at odd angles in his stiffness. He looked over at his human and forced a smile. "Sure… just… peachy." He gave a nervous chuckle and undid his belt. He opened the door and stepped out into the light rain.

George just watched him then shrugged and grabbed the flowers and umbrella in the back seat before he got out of the car and locked it up. He opened the umbrella over his head and looked around the all too familiar place though it had been a decade since he had been there.

"George?" The voice was small and a bit meek. "Can I have one of those flowers?"

The toy maker turned to look at the angel and nodded, pulling a flower from the bouquet. "What do you need it for?" He handed the flower to Zephan who took it with a grateful smile.

"I um… have another human who was buried here a while ago."

George could feel a pang of jealously shoot through his chest. "Another… human?"

Zephan nodded. "He never knew I was there and I did my job up until the end."
Zephan saw the frown then quickly jumped forward with further explanation. "It's not like that! I've only ever loved one person and that's you. He was a job, someone I was assigned to and I did my job. He died of old age in his sleep a little over a hundred years ago." He sighed softly in relief when George relaxed.

"Ok." He nodded. "My parents are just over there," he turned and pointed towards
a weeping willow, "under the tree." He was surprised that he still remembered where they were but he just assumed that it was like riding a bike: once you learned you never forgot.

Zephan nodded. "I'll meet you over there in a little bit. I have to find where he was buried."

They parted ways and George found himself under that tree. He set the umbrella on the ground, letting the drops fall into his dark hair from the tree above him. The sound of the rain falling around and hitting the grave was almost calming. Almost.

"Hi Mom, Dad." What was it with people talking to headstones? He walked forward and set the flowers on the ground. As he studied the tombstone, he noticed the two pictures engraved, perfect depictions of his parents cut in stone. "Sorry it's been so long." What did he say now? Did he just stand there and continue to talk to the slab of stone? Should he go off and try to find Zephan? The graveyard wasn't all that big really. Why had he decided to come here in the first place?
He decided to tilt the umbrella and sit on the plastic like material between the thin metal arms.

"So um…" he looked around then back at the tombstone. Their names were written beautifully below their pictures, followed by their dates. "I fell in love; though you probably already know that, sitting up there. But uh… what you probably don't know is that he's my guardian angel. He's I guess the reason I didn't get in that car with you that day you…" He stopped talking and pulled a small bottle from his pocket, twisting the cap off. He didn't want to continue, though his mind continued down that path and that path didn't end in a very nice place.

Zephan had found the old and breaking tombstone of the man he had been charged to over a hundred years ago and set the single flower down. His hair was matter to his head and water dripped down his face. Maybe he should have asked for an umbrella as well as the flower. Too late now.

Zephan gave the old grave a moment of silence before he walked off, heading for the willow tree that George had pointed to. But the greeting he got when he got there was not something he had been expecting.

"Hey." He smiled and nodded towards the tombstone, "Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins."

George didn't bother to turn his head to look at the angel who stood there waiting.

"George?"

"Why?" was the croaked answer he got.

"Why… what?"

George still didn't turn. He looked almost childlike as he sat there on the edge of the umbrella, dark hair made darker by the water constantly falling on him. "Why didn't you save them?"

Zephan became confused. "It doesn't work that way." After all these months he was only now getting these questions?

"You could have saved them. Or you could have let me go." He stopped and shook his head. "No. I'm glad you saved me, but it's your fault they're dead."

The angel wondered if George had brought some alcohol with him and was talking in a drunken stupor. That would have made it hurt a little less. Zephan had heard stories like this, though they were few and far between. Why didn't the guardian angel save their cat? Why didn't the guardian angel keep their daughter alive? Why? Why? Why? Why them and not me?

Zephan sighed and looked down. He knew better than to think that the toy maker was drinking alcohol. It wouldn't work with the medication he was on.

"I couldn't stop what happened to them. They weren't mine to protect."

"Why do I have a guardian angel and they didn't?"

"I don't know." Zephan was becoming annoyed with the questions. This wasn't part of the job. For a brief moment he wished he had never become visible to the human but he shoved that thought away quickly. He didn't need to jinx anything and become unseen to the man again just because he was slightly annoyed.

"Do you know anything?" George got up from his seat and stalked over to Zephan, towering over him.

The angel did his best not to cower from the man that was almost half a foot taller.
And he could smell alcohol.

"My parents are dead because you couldn't do anything. You don't know why I'm stuck with you and they were left unprotected. Since you don't know any of that, tell me why the drunk that hit them that night is still alive! Tell me why he walked away with a broken arm and got out on parole the other day. Tell me that, Zephan!"

"I don't know, George! I'm not in charge of the rest of the world, I can't play with fate! All I can do is take care of you!"

There was a loud smack followed by a squishy thud as Zephan hit the ground. He brought his hand up and held his cheek where it was stinging from the contact it had just received. Zephan looked up at his human with large blue eyes.

George looked down into the innocently shocked expression of the guardian angel on the ground. He was breathing heavily, pain rocketing through his chest. But he continued to stare at the boy on the ground.

What had he just done?

"Oh my god…" he said softly as it fully dawned on his inebriated mind. He took a step towards Zephan. The guardian flinched away, hand still on his cheek. "I… Oh god, Zephan, I didn't…"

He was slowly beginning to see the green grass through the angel's body and he
fell to his knees, grabbing his arm. "No, please! I'm sorry!"

He grabbed at his chest with his free hand and he fell forward, leaning against the slowly vanishing Zephan.

"Don't… don't leave me…" he said as best as he could, gasping from the pain. He released his shirt and reached into his pants pocket for his bottle of nitroglycerin pills. He fumbled with the bottle, trying to get it undone. "Stupid… child protection…"
He fell onto his side, his head passing through where Zephan's knees had been. He convulsed in pain and dropped the bottle.

A hand appeared and wrapped around the bottle then popped it open. In front of George's eyes he watched a set of bent legs form, the man they belonged to sitting on his knees. One hand dipped under his head and shoulders and lifted him from the ground.

"Calm down. You'll be fine."

One of the pills was pressed against George's lips then into his mouth.

"Swallow."

He did as he was told. This would be an ironic place to die. He couldn't help but think it. Dying there on his parent's grave… well they wouldn't have to take him far to bury him. He had his own plot next to his folks so he knew where he would end up. It was a grave with a view and protection from fading in the sun unlike the other graves in the graveyard.

He chuckled softly, realizing yet again that he was a toy maker with an obsession with death.

Zephan smiled softly, despite his cheek still stinging. Everything was going to be all right.

He put the bottle of pills down and reached into George's pocket and pulled out the cell phone that laid buried there and pressed three numbers and put it to his ear.
He spoke to the woman that answered and in minutes time, sirens filled the air.

"Everything is going to be all right, George."

George sighed. "I don't like hospitals."

The angel laughed softly. "With how often you're in them…" He smiled at the sight of his human smiling.

Despite what had happened, Zephan still loved the man. He had a feeling that he shouldn't, but he did. He knew that George didn't mean it. It wasn't in his personality to hit someone let alone do anything else harmful to anyone.

Three paramedics jumped out of the back of the ambulance and ran over with their equipment, pushing Zephan out of the way.

George reached out to the angel, not wanting to be away from him. His chest tightened with guilt as he noticed the slight swelling on Zephan's face and he arched his back as his heart did what felt like a million back flips in a second. Then he fell flat on his back, not moving.

"I don't have a pulse." One of them said and Zephan panicked. This wasn't right, it couldn't be. Zephan had stepped in and stopped his from dying, he had called the paramedics, given him his pill…

"Warm up the paddles."

The first man nodded and flipped a few switches. The high pitched squealing sent Zephan's heart going at the speed of light.

"Is he going to be all right?"

One of the three paramedics, the only female, stood up and made a sign to the ambulance. A man in the front seemed to be making a call. She turned to Zephan.
"Is he on medication?"

Zephan nodded. "I think he has a medical alert necklace…"

"Found it!" The first man called as he ripped open George's shirt and pulled the necklace off, turning it over while the second man stuck the pads to the human's chest.

The woman took the necklace and read it over. "Has he had any alcohol recently?"
Zephan gave a short nod. "I-I think so." Oh no. The alcohol had mixed with the pill… he had messed up again when all he was doing was trying to help and do his job.

The woman didn't say anything farther. She shoved the necklace in her pocket and ran over to the second ambulance that had just pulled up.

Zephan watched with wide eyes as the paramedics sent a shock through George's body. He couldn't die, not here, not now.

"Still nothing."

"Up the voltage."

A dial was turned and George's body jumped again.

Everything seemed to slow down as the guardian watched helplessly, waiting for the man to say he had something. He cursed himself for messing up this bad. He had let these humans see him so he couldn't just vanish and start his human's heart manually. Tears fled down his cheeks, causing the one to sting just a bit more.

"I've got a pulse. Hey! Get that stretcher over here a-sap!"

Zephan relaxed slightly and a stretcher was carried across the grass and past the tombstones. They lifted George and strapped him down then carried him back.
Zephan followed after.

"You're going to have to ride in the other one, there's no room in here." The woman said and led the angel to the empty ambulance. "We'll take you to the hospital he's going to. Don't worry, everything is going to be all right."

Zephan nodded mutely, his eyes glued to the other vehicle that was driving away now, sirens blaring louder than before it seemed. He got into the other ambulance and sat back, in shock.

The ambulance he was in started and chased after the other one with sirens going.
The woman began asking him question.

He couldn't concentrate on them. All he could think of was how he just seemed to keep messing up. All he was doing was trying to help, do to right. That was all.