Hey! Immortal x Snow with a fanfic here! All forms of constructive criticism will be accepted with open arms. (-:

It was an ordinary, almost eerily silent morning in the Superhuman Research Institute when Allelujah Haptism opened his vivid, metallic-colored eyes as he awakened from the gentle embrace of peaceful slumber. He smiled contentedly as he yawned, stretched his arms high above his head, and then leapt out of bed. The young boy quietly slipped out of his room and hurried down the long passageway, eager to see the one person he cared about: Marie Parfacy.

I wonder what Marie wants to do today, Allelujah contemplated as he made his way down the hall. I'm sure it'll be fun!

Allelujah was hoping that the paralyzed young girl would ask him more questions. He loved hearing her quantum brain waves reverberate inside his head, naively inquiring about things that she had never seen or experienced (rain or the sky, for example). When he told her about them, she would marvel with innocent awe at his carefully calculated answers, and that made Allelujah's heart smile.

When he reached the tall, double doors that led into Marie's room, he called out to her, his speech colored both through his voice and quantum brain waves.

"Good morning, Marie!"

Allelujah pushed the heavy doors open. The room still came close to blinding the young boy's gold and silver eyes with its bright white scientific instruments, and it still had the dull, worn out essence and scent of a research lab, and the stillness was almost agonizing, but it didn't deter Allelujah. To him the room was special and precious, all because of the one girl who was there. Allelujah cheerfully speed-walked to the long, transparent glass case which contained the young girl who brightened up the room with a kinder light, one that was nowhere near painful. He smiled at her sightless eyes, which were the color of sunflowers; her moon white tresses spread out behind her head; and her long, shadowy eyelashes. He found himself imagining once more how it would feel to have those bright eyes stare at him with comprehension, and how soft her hair would be when he stroked it and pressed it to his face, and what it would be like to have her eyelashes delicately tickle his cheeks.

"Allelujah?"

Marie's "voice" was as soft and young as ever; and yet it still made Allelujah's body want to shiver with delight when he heard it. He loved the way her quantum brain waves altered and painted his name: they caused it to sound gentler than a zephyr on a cool morning. He enjoyed the way they made his own name taste different on his lips—tangible and sweet, as though he could not only taste his name, but Marie's as well, and her name tasted better than anything Allelujah could visualize.

"Hi Marie!" Allelujah pressed his warm face to the cold glass, clouding it up as he spoke. "How are you?"

"Well, you're here, so I'm not alone."

This simple sentence invoked a warm sentiment inside the young boy—it was music to his ears.

"I'm not alone because you're here too!" He desired to take the young girl's numb, delicate hand and press it tenderly to his heart. He would make her frigid skin (he thought that it would be cold) warm, and let Marie feel human contact and internal warmth.

"Allelujah, that makes me happy." If she could smile, Marie would have been beaming. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Marie."

"What did you dream about last night? I can't sleep, and I don't know what it's like to dream."

Her telepathic voice sounded slightly sad when she said that she couldn't dream, and so Allelujah promised in his heart to describe his dream to Marie as colorfully as he could.

"Well, I was lying down in the deep snow"—Allelujah smiled as he remembered the day he explained to Marie what snow was and her awed brain waves as he described it to her—"and it was really, really cold, and I was all alone. The snow was blowing in my face, and there was ice freezing my body. I couldn't see anything because there was too much snow, and I couldn't hear or feel anything. I couldn't move, and it ached so much. I called out loudly for help, but--"

"Allelujah," Marie whispered softly inside Allelujah's head, "I don't want anything bad to happen to you…"

Allelujah wanted to hold Marie close and tell her that nothing was going to happen, that he was all right. But, of course, he couldn't. Not through physical gestures that she could neither see nor feel.

"It's okay, Marie. It was just a dream, and the next part is happy," Allelujah reassured her in a soft tone that translated into his brain waves.

"Okay."

"So, I was lying there in the snow, and suddenly, there was a really pretty, bright light. The ice and snow melted, and I was standing in a field of bright yellow, white, and light pink flowers. I could feel the sun warming me up. And then, I saw an angel in the sky smiling at me."

"Allelujah?"

Allelujah stopped his story.

"Yes, Marie?"

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you, but what is an angel?"

Allelujah paused as he pondered over Marie's somewhat surprising question and the matter at hand. To explain to Marie what an angel was, he had to have a solid definition in his own mind. But what was an angel to him?

The young boy was suddenly reminded of the angel in his dream. She was beautiful, with eyes like the sunrise and hair like the moonrise. Her smile was gentle, kind and loving, and Allelujah just knew that Marie's smile would look like that if she could smile. She smelled exactly like the flowers Allelujah vaguely remembered from days long dead, and, when Allelujah reached out to touch her, her porcelain skin felt just like the warmth Allelujah prayed that Marie could one day feel. The voice he heard her speak in—a real voice cascading from her mouth—sounded like the voice of stars: sweet, tender, and delicate, melting like liquid gold.

Allelujah then looked at the girl in front of him, and with one loving, affectionate gaze he had decided upon his definition.

"Well, an angel is someone who always makes you feel happy, no matter how bad things are or how bad you feel; someone who gives vision to your eyes even when you are unsure of what to do; someone who makes even the most distant hopes and dreams tangible; someone who allows to hear everything you want to hear. An angel always comforts you and makes you feel unafraid. An angel would do anything for you and would be happy doing it for you. She—or he—is always there for you. And"—Allelujah smiled—"An angel is someone who loves you no matter what."

It was Marie's turn to absorb this new knowledge and reflect upon it. She knew how it felt to be happy and sad, to feel fear and tranquility, and to be comforted. She knew someone who banished her old feelings of fear and sadness, and sowed happiness and peacefulness in her heart. She knew someone who would do anything for her, and she in turn would do anything for that person. Someone who was her eyes, her sense of touch, and her ears. And there was someone who she knew would always be there for her. Someone who she would always love no matter what.

"Allelujah?" She said his name softer than ever.

"Yes?"

"Are angels beautiful?" Marie queried. She had not, of course, ever seen an angel, but an image of one was now formed firmly within her mind.

"I think so." Yes, they are, Marie, because you are so beautiful.

"You must be so beautiful."

And Allelujah felt his heart break with love for the sweet, innocent young girl who was Marie Parfacy.

"Allelujah?"

Marie looked up at Allelujah as the two of them walked together along one of the Ptolemaios II's many halls. The hall was bright white, and yet not blinding, and it smelled slightly like a research lab, but not to an overwhelming extent. There was silence except for the vague sounds of Lockon's Haro in a distant room and Allelujah and Marie's quiet conversation.

"Yes?"

Marie smiled gently. His voice sounded exactly the same to her now through loving speech as it was through sensitively resounding quantum brain waves all those years ago, and he fit the image in her head that she clung to for years and years.

"You are so beautiful."

Allelujah wrapped his arms around her and held her warm body close to his chest. Against his face, Marie's hair was smoother than glass, and the ticklish, light-as-air butterfly kisses he felt tracing the contours of his cheekbones were softer than he could ever have imagined. Words were not needed: Both Allelujah and Marie understood and remembered fully the conversation from all those years ago.

And they both smiled as they let themselves lean on each other, Marie embracing the man who once—and still—was an angel to her, and Allelujah holding close the innocent girl who gave him the will to fight—to once more protect his angel.