Neverwhere Fanfiction

The angel Islington was finally free. After being trapped for over five months, it was glad to leave the cell in which it had been imprisoned. When it finally could walk through a door, it landed on the empty platform of a train station. It was dark, but there was enough light for him to see the sign above the stairs. ''Paddington station'' it read.

Islington didn't know where the station was supposed to be located.

He wondered what kind of station this was: it seemed neither abandoned, like British Museum, nor real, like Blackfriars: instead it was a ghost-station, an imaginary place, forgotten and strange.

It walked to the stairs, but they were completely blocked off with concrete. After a few minutes of thinking how it could get out of the station, the angel heard a rumbling sound combined with a warm wind blowing through the tunnel: a train was coming, or at least passing.

The train pulled in at the station, its headlights were turned off, and there was nobody standing in the driver's compartment in the front. It came to a full stop: all the carriages were dark, and no doors opened.

After a quick knock on the doors, they opened and filled the station with a warm yellow light. The angel entered the empty cabin and sat down on one of the benches, it carefully dropped the heavy satchel it carried on the floor. The doors closed and the train started to move to its next destination.

A couple of minutes later the train stopped and the doors opened as if the angel had to leave here, and so it did. When he got out of the train, it closed its doors right away and started to depart.

This next station looked a lot better, although it was empty like the first one, the lights on the ceiling illuminated the floor below. An empty can rolled over the stone tiles of the floor, set in motion by the wind the moving train created.

The angel walked through the threshold of the exit and immediately set foot in an old sewer. Rats fled for its feet, loudly squeaking and disappearing in tiny holes in the walls. It didn't even notice the creatures at its feet; it was too focused on getting where it wanted to be.

***

Richard and Door searched through the closet in the living room. For each thing Richard found he asked Door if she wanted to keep it, or if they could take it to the market to trade for something more useful. After Door's whole family died, except perhaps her sister, they tried to clean up the house, separating the objects with good memories from those without, while giving the rooms a more modern look. Door wanted a new start, and she didn't want to be remembered of her family every second she was home. In the beginning she had some hope her sister was still alive, but after more than five months of searching for a place her sister could be, Door lost most of her hope of finding her.

While inspecting an old jewellery box, Richard suddenly heard squeaking behind him. When he turned around, he saw a rat sitting behind him on the ground, making gestures with its paws in the air, trying to convince Door of something.

''Are you sure it was him?'' Door asked. The rat squeaked again a couple of times. ''I will watch out, but the market is safe, remember the truce that has been standing for over 300 years. But thank you for letting me know.'' The rat gave one more squeak, turned around and ran away.

''I thought no one could enter this house?'' Richard asked.

''I gave the rats a portable key, so they could reach me if there was something important.''

''You trust them that much? What did they actually have to say that was so important?''

''Yes Richard, I do trust them. They said they weren't entirely sure, but they thought they saw Islington.''