10th April, 2234, Woods Villa, London, Earth

The 17 year old half Stoic, half Human teenager sat on the edge of his bed, clutching the picture of his little sister tightly, as if a gust of wind would carry it away if he should let go. Christopher Woods breathed hard, trying to regain control of his emotions, one of his many limitations of being a mix of two species; one that had no emotion, and one that used emotion all the time. He could feel the sharp, stabbing pain in his newly bruised cheek, a parting gift from his father.

Almost a month ago, Amelia Woods, the eight year old sister of Christopher, had disappeared mysteriously on a school trip to the Mars excavation sites. According to the teachers and supervisors of the trip, when all of the other children had returned to the shuttles Amelia was not among them. Apparently she had left her friends to explore some caves, and was not seen again, and no amount of investigating had produced any evidence to suggest where she had gone...or who had taken her. That's what resulted in Christopher stealing his father's personal shuttle and piloting haphazardly halfway to Mars before being caught by a Federation patrol. Christopher received quite the beating for that.

Since then, Jonathan Woods had hardly come home to the villa, instead deciding to stay at the office days at a time and manage the search for Amelia himself. When he did return home however, Christopher went to bed with a few more bruises. Christopher had decided it was enough. His bag was packed with spare clothes, tinned food stolen from the pantry, all his toiletries, all that remained with the pictures. Finally, he released his tight grip on the picture of Amelia and placed it carefully in his bag. Then, standing up and moving over to his bedside table he picked up the picture frame which held a picture of himself, Amelia, his father and Stoic mother; the only one to remain unsmiling.

Christopher took the picture from its frame and carefully ripped the part of the picture that contained his father and left it to drift to the floor. He then folded up the remaining photo and placed it into his bag. He pulled on his coat, shouldered his rucksack and left his bedroom, not looking back. Christopher walked past his father's home office, its door ajar. He glanced inside and something caught his eye, something in a glass wall cabinet; a pistol. Christopher couldn't help himself, he opened the office door and walked up the glass cabinet. The gun was severely out of date by modern day standards, a relic of the past. It had belonged to his great grandfather, William Green who had fought in World War Three, the last great war on Earth than had cost almost one billion lives. If it wasn't for First Contact with the Stoic race and their intervention in the war then Christopher may not have been standing there, looking at the gun now. He opened the cabinet and took the gun out, obviously it was empty. Upon the side of it was engraved "A light shining in the darkness." He couldn't understand why he was doing it, but Christopher pulled off his rucksack, unzipped it and put the gun inside under all his clothes before turning around…

"Put the gun back Christopher. Now." Jonathan Wood ordered. Christopher's father was standing in the doorway, casting a shadow upon the room and over Christopher. He was a well built man wearing a shirt, tie and black trousers with brown hair with flecks of grey. Christopher shouldered his rucksack again and clenched his fists.
"No" Christopher said, trying to stop the shakiness in his voice.
"What did you say?" Jonathan asked, anger suddenly rising in his voice.
"I said no. I am not afraid of you any more."

Jonathan was suddenly upon Christopher, holding the collar of his coat. "You will obey me!" he yelled, "Or I will-" Christopher's right fist swung upwards, catching his father under the chin. There was a horrible "chomp" noise as Jonathan's teeth smashed together. Jonathan stumbled back, clasping his lower face with one hand, "You piece of-" the second fist smashed right into Jonathan's nose, causing him to fall back onto the floor over the office threshold. Christopher stood staring at his fist, now shaking and white. He had never raised his fists in anger, not once, especially against his father. He had learned that the strength of a Stoic was above that of a Human's, but to knock his father down with two hits with no form of training was impressive.

Christopher, holding his fist with his other hand, walked over to his father who was holding his bleeding, broken nose. Standing over his father, Christopher spoke, "You are nothing compared to me. You are nothing. If you ever touch me again, if you ever do anything to hurt me, I promise you, I will kill you" he then stepped over his father and began walking to the stairs.
"I will find you" Jonathan said after coughing blood from his mouth. Christopher froze at the stairs, and turned his head slightly, "And when you do, this pistol will be loaded" and he swiftly walked down the stairs and out of the front double doors, leaving his father, the past, everything behind.

17th April, 2234, Outskirts of London, Earth

Christopher had been on the run for a week now, and he was out of food. Even though he had packed many cans full of food, he had no basic understanding of how to ration it, eating up to two or three cans a day, and eating them cold wasn't the most appetising, (Christopher had realised hours after running away than he forgot to take any cooking utensils). Barely hours after running away, Christopher's face had appeared on every holo-screen in the city, listed as a "Missing Person." His father's face had also appeared on the screens, with his broken nose, pleading for his son to return home and if anyone had seen him or had any information they were to report it immediately to local authorities.

Avoiding people had been pretty easy, something Christopher had realised, all he had done was stick to the alleyways and empty back gardens. London was a big city after all, and it was easy to lose yourself within that jungle of steel and concrete. Even though he was hungry, and to some extent homesick, Christopher had no intention of returning home to his father. However, his father was a powerful man, being one of the top Councilors within the Federation council and he would do anything in his power to track Christopher down; he had already noted that there were more police shuttles patrolling than usual this past week.

Night was falling quickly, and being out in the countryside at night would leave Christopher to freeze. When he looked behind, Christopher could see the lights of London, the only source of light and warmth for miles. He made sure to avoid all major roads and motorways as he continued northwards, hoping to come across somewhere where he could rest for the night, but even the grumbling of his stomach would have woken the dead.

After walking for another two hours Christopher began to feel tired, and his stomach had yet ceased to grumble. However, looking ahead, he saw the silhouette of a building, quite a small building. Upon coming closer he could see it was a church, another old relic of the past. After World War Three, many people had abandoned such beliefs and Christopher understood why, "How could a deity allow almost a billion people to die within 6 months?" Christopher wondered once in religious education at school. The church was dark, its stained glass windows devoid of light. Deciding it was probably the best place to sleep, Christopher made his way to the entrance, setting his rucksack down and curling up into a ball, ensuring that the collar of his coat was up to keep in the warmth.

And warmth he felt, as a bright light hovered over Christopher. He jumped up, baring his fists, ready to confront whoever it was. Instead, he found himself looking into the face of a smiling man, holding up a lantern. This man's face was kind, and old, at least in his late 60's with steel coloured, parted hair. Christopher noticed the man's white dog collar, a member of the clergy. "Come inside, my child, the night is cold, and you sound hungry" the man smiled. Only then did Christopher realise that his stomach was still grumbling loudly. The old man walked up to the door, holding his lantern high, and unlocked the door. "Come my child, there is food here to revive you, to return your strength. I have plenty to share" the man said, still smiling, as he beckoned Christopher inside. Christopher stood still and wondered whether he should follow, "I shouldn't, this man must have recognised me, he could report me," but the thought of food overcame those warnings, he picked up his rucksack and shouldered it.

Christopher, slowly, followed the old man inside. The old man had proceeded to turn on the lights, illuminating the entire church. Christopher wasn't a big admirer of architecture and design, but even he had to agree the church looked beautiful. Its stained glass windows, depicting various stories in the Bible, seemed to absorb the light and shine themselves. Its altar at the other side of the church was perfectly carved mahogany, with a golden cross standing on top. Christopher turned around to the old man, who was already setting some bread and wine on a table, and observed him. "Surely this man knows who I am? My face has been all over the news," Christopher thought, "I'll eat his food and wait till he's not looking, then I can slip away."
"What's your name my child?" the old man asked politely, turning around to face Christopher.
"C-" Christopher froze, he needed a fake name fast, "Green, Elijah Green" Christopher spoke quickly, thinking about how well the name actually fit him.
The old man smiled "It's a pleasure to meet you Elijah Green, I am Father Sebastian Clifford" and he held out his hand for Christopher to shake, which he did reluctantly.

Father Clifford pulled out a seat for Christopher to sit on, then took a seat himself. Christopher dropped his rucksack under his seat and sat across from Father Clifford. Christopher looked at the bread in front of him, and his hunger overtook him. He grabbed a piece and stuffed it into his mouth, barely chewing, as if he hadn't eaten in years. Then Christopher noticed that Father Clifford was staring at him intently, "would you like to say grace?" he asked.

Christopher stared back, "I don't believe in that stuff" he said with his mouth full.
"I do" Father Clifford smiled, then he spoke "Oh Lord God, thank you for the food upon our table. I pray that you bless my honoured guest and show him the comfort of your love, amen" he he commenced eating.

Both of them ate in silence for a few minutes, while Christopher gulped down as much bread as possible, and for the first time he tried wine. It was sweet to the taste, and it was amazing. Finally, Father Clifford wiped his mouth with a napkin and asked "So, Elijah, what are you doing in this far from the city by yourself?"
"I was running away" Christopher said before he could stop himself, "Shit, now he knows" he thought.
"Running away? How come, if I may ask?"

Christopher sighed, something about Father Clifford seemed trusting, but he couldn't reveal who he really was without risking being caught. "Many children run away, as long as I don't mention any names I should be fine," Christopher thought. Christopher nibbled another piece of bread before speaking, "My father...he's not a good man. He was very violent, and I just needed to get away, to be free from him."
"And so God brought you here" Father Clifford interrupted.
"No God brought me here, it was through my own strength that I came here" Christopher retorted, "if there was a God, I wouldn't have had a monster for a father."
"The Lord works in mysterious ways Christopher."
"Well-" Christopher froze and stared at the wizened vicar, "You knew it was me all along didn't you?" he whispered. Father Clifford returned a nod.

Christopher stood up abruptly, "Don't you dare report me, I don't want to hurt you."
"I have no intention of reporting you" Father Clifford said calmly.
"I don't believe you, as soon as my back is turned you will call the police!" Christopher said with a raised voice, anger suddenly boiling up, annoyed at the calmness of the old man.
"I have no intention of reporting you" Father Clifford repeated, "I too know what it is like to be abused," Father Clifford pulled back his blazer sleeve, unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and pulled it back. Across his arm were deep scars. Christopher pulled back his own sleeve, he had similar scars, the kind made by his father's belt and fists whilst trying to defend himself.

Father Clifford stood up from his chair, "we both know what it's like to have abusive fathers. That is why I will not report you, I want to help you."
"How?" Christopher whispered, his eyes now wide.
"I can take you away from here, far away, so that your father will never find you. I am leaving for Onyx in a week to start a new church there, I welcome the company and I get the feeling you would welcome the escape" Father Clifford explained.
"I...don't know." Christopher replied.
"You have a week to decide, and you may stay here if you like. If you don't want to come, I can give you enough food and money for you to continue onward. Trust in the Lord, and he will take you to the right place…"

Later that night

Father Clifford was the first to retire to bed, to a little room in the side of the church called the Vestry which was closed by a heavy wooden door. Christopher stared at the cross upon the altar, golden with the crucified Jesus nailed to it. "How dare you?" Christopher whispered, "how dare you?" he asked louder. He approached down the aisle towards the altar, "how could you leave me to be beaten by that monster? How could you let my mother die…" Christopher felt the stinging in his eyes as tears began to swell. His Stoic mother had died when giving birth to Amelia, mixed species births were sometimes very difficult.

"And now my sister is gone...what more can you take from me?!" he was suddenly yelling, crying to the cross. "Well come on Almighty Lord! All I have left is my life, strike me down now, just do it! DO IT!" Christopher yelled as he fell to his knees, crying to stop the tears.

He lifted his head to look at Jesus on the cross and spoke, "All that remains is my hate...is there another way to go? The old man offered me my freedom and all I did was become hostile...I feel shamed." Christopher wiped away his tears, and looked at the cross again, "Save me...is there a way out of my hate?"

Then from within, Christopher felt as though a giant weight had left his heart, he felt an incredible sense of warmth, as if a lover had kissed him upon his beating heart. The golden cross seemed to glow brighter and brighter as if on fire, and Christopher felt that fire within himself. "There is another way to go...I must escape my life. Christopher Woods means nothing now! I must begin a new life!"

Christopher stood up, looked at Jesus on the cross and yelled "MY NAME IS ELIJAH GREEN!" as he felt his new life begin.