A/N: PG for death. This is another early one, but I sort of like it...*shrug*
The rain beat a steady tattoo, softly muffled by the tall, green, tree. The silvery-gray droplets fell
mercilessly to the muddy earth. The already-lush grass growing wildly in the field swayed in the
breeze. In the center of the meadow an ever-green tree stood, tall and proud. Under that tree, a
petite red-head sat, leaning against the trunk. Her face was twisted into an expression of
sadness and confusion. Puzzlement had wrinkled her brow. She propped her elbows on her
knees, which were pulled up under her chin, using her hands to steady herself. Sighing, she let
her thoughts wander back to the day before. She remembered it so clearly, and wondered what
she'd done wrong.
"I'm an angel," she had said. She remembered the soft glow of God's love that had surrounded
her. "My name is Monica. I've been sent to tell you that God loves you," she had continued.
Monica smiled sadly, recollecting how her assignment's eyes had widened in disbelief, then in
fear.
Amber had stuttered, "What do you want with me? Has God sent you to punish me for this?"
Here, Amber had motioned to the shiny black pistol lying on a wooden table next to a lengthy
suicide note. Beside the note, an empty liquor bottle rested. She had been drunk, and couldn't
think clearly. Monica had tried to change the young woman's mind, but no matter what she had
said, no matter what Truth she spoke, the angel couldn't change Amber's stubborn
determination to kill herself. Monica had known that there was no use when she had seen
Andrew, the angel of death, walk away sadly. He wouldn't be needed - the devil would send
some one of his own to claim her soul. Monica had hesitated, feeling that she couldn't leave
Amber in her condition, but knowing that there was nothing else to do for the girl. She had just
turned away when she had heard the shot.
Now she was sitting against a pine tree centered in a grassy field during a thunderstorm. It was
so strange, she mused, that for some humans it only took the Light, and the words 'God loves
you' to change their entire lives, but for others - like Amber - no matter what was said would
help. Monica wondered why God even bothered to send them on missions that would end in
tragedy and failure. Tears began to flow down her cheeks, blending with the rain already
wetting her face. She bent her head, her mussed auburn hair dropping down, spreading across
her knees, which were covered by a long dress. The outfit was silvery-gray in color, merging in
with the rain and wind. She cried and cried, her sobs lost in the roaring wind and pounding rain.
She was getting soaked, and she knew it, but she didn't care. The cold precipitation felt like
pure ice to the skin, but she didn't care. Didn't care, she thought. Amber didn't care what would
happen to her. So many people had tried to get through to her - so many angels. Why, Lord,
why? Why even bother at all? Monica's anguished thoughts tortured her; she struggled with
them as the mouse struggles with the cat, once captured and only used as a play-toy. She barely
looked up when she felt a comforting presence standing in front of her. After waiting a minute,
the figure dropped down to his knees beside her. His honey-blond hair was hanging in his caring
eyes as he studied Monica's slouched form.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently. In response Monica nodded mutely. When she finally did
glance his way, he was shocked to see the intense sadness and guilt in her deep brown eyes.
"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.
Monica turned towards him. "Andrew - I'll be fine. I just needed a little time to think. That's all."
With those words, she turned from him, staring blankly into the sheet or rain. The branches
above her were doing a pretty good job of protecting her from the storm, but it still leaked
some. One drop came through, hitting her squarely in the face. She started, then relaxed as she
realized that it was only a raindrop.
Andrew sighed. "Monica." He spoke tenderly. "It wasn't your fault - you have to know that."
She rolled her eyes. "I know it wasn't my fault," she said. Then she swallowed. "I - I just
thought that I could have done more to stop it."
He put his arm around her. "There was nothing you could do. You tried, but she wouldn't
listen." He shook her by the shoulders gently. "You did your best. That's all that counts."
Monica slowly looked up at her friend. Her eyes were still filled with sadness. "But Andrew -
you know how much it hurts to lose! It's not just for us that we're fighten' for; it's for God, and
for all the lost souls out there." She gestured helplessly to the wet world around her.
Andrew pulled Monica close to him. He rested his chin on her head, and she leaned back into
his arms, tears beginning to flow again. "Monica," he whispered into her ear. "You can't save
them all." She nodded slowly. He smiled, encouraged, thinking that now she might understand.
Suddenly he realized that the rain had tapered off. "Look," he said softly. He pointed off to the
east. "A rainbow."
She slowly looked up. "A rainbow," she repeated. "After the rain."
"That's right," Andrew replied. "God can turn anything into something beautiful. This time it is a
rainbow." A small smile crept to her lips. "There is always a rainbow after the rain," he said.
Falling silent, he watched the rainbow take on more color, and twist into a perfect arc. He
realized that Monica was watching it, too. Andrew smiled. The Lord always knew exactly what
to do for His children.
The rain beat a steady tattoo, softly muffled by the tall, green, tree. The silvery-gray droplets fell
mercilessly to the muddy earth. The already-lush grass growing wildly in the field swayed in the
breeze. In the center of the meadow an ever-green tree stood, tall and proud. Under that tree, a
petite red-head sat, leaning against the trunk. Her face was twisted into an expression of
sadness and confusion. Puzzlement had wrinkled her brow. She propped her elbows on her
knees, which were pulled up under her chin, using her hands to steady herself. Sighing, she let
her thoughts wander back to the day before. She remembered it so clearly, and wondered what
she'd done wrong.
"I'm an angel," she had said. She remembered the soft glow of God's love that had surrounded
her. "My name is Monica. I've been sent to tell you that God loves you," she had continued.
Monica smiled sadly, recollecting how her assignment's eyes had widened in disbelief, then in
fear.
Amber had stuttered, "What do you want with me? Has God sent you to punish me for this?"
Here, Amber had motioned to the shiny black pistol lying on a wooden table next to a lengthy
suicide note. Beside the note, an empty liquor bottle rested. She had been drunk, and couldn't
think clearly. Monica had tried to change the young woman's mind, but no matter what she had
said, no matter what Truth she spoke, the angel couldn't change Amber's stubborn
determination to kill herself. Monica had known that there was no use when she had seen
Andrew, the angel of death, walk away sadly. He wouldn't be needed - the devil would send
some one of his own to claim her soul. Monica had hesitated, feeling that she couldn't leave
Amber in her condition, but knowing that there was nothing else to do for the girl. She had just
turned away when she had heard the shot.
Now she was sitting against a pine tree centered in a grassy field during a thunderstorm. It was
so strange, she mused, that for some humans it only took the Light, and the words 'God loves
you' to change their entire lives, but for others - like Amber - no matter what was said would
help. Monica wondered why God even bothered to send them on missions that would end in
tragedy and failure. Tears began to flow down her cheeks, blending with the rain already
wetting her face. She bent her head, her mussed auburn hair dropping down, spreading across
her knees, which were covered by a long dress. The outfit was silvery-gray in color, merging in
with the rain and wind. She cried and cried, her sobs lost in the roaring wind and pounding rain.
She was getting soaked, and she knew it, but she didn't care. The cold precipitation felt like
pure ice to the skin, but she didn't care. Didn't care, she thought. Amber didn't care what would
happen to her. So many people had tried to get through to her - so many angels. Why, Lord,
why? Why even bother at all? Monica's anguished thoughts tortured her; she struggled with
them as the mouse struggles with the cat, once captured and only used as a play-toy. She barely
looked up when she felt a comforting presence standing in front of her. After waiting a minute,
the figure dropped down to his knees beside her. His honey-blond hair was hanging in his caring
eyes as he studied Monica's slouched form.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently. In response Monica nodded mutely. When she finally did
glance his way, he was shocked to see the intense sadness and guilt in her deep brown eyes.
"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.
Monica turned towards him. "Andrew - I'll be fine. I just needed a little time to think. That's all."
With those words, she turned from him, staring blankly into the sheet or rain. The branches
above her were doing a pretty good job of protecting her from the storm, but it still leaked
some. One drop came through, hitting her squarely in the face. She started, then relaxed as she
realized that it was only a raindrop.
Andrew sighed. "Monica." He spoke tenderly. "It wasn't your fault - you have to know that."
She rolled her eyes. "I know it wasn't my fault," she said. Then she swallowed. "I - I just
thought that I could have done more to stop it."
He put his arm around her. "There was nothing you could do. You tried, but she wouldn't
listen." He shook her by the shoulders gently. "You did your best. That's all that counts."
Monica slowly looked up at her friend. Her eyes were still filled with sadness. "But Andrew -
you know how much it hurts to lose! It's not just for us that we're fighten' for; it's for God, and
for all the lost souls out there." She gestured helplessly to the wet world around her.
Andrew pulled Monica close to him. He rested his chin on her head, and she leaned back into
his arms, tears beginning to flow again. "Monica," he whispered into her ear. "You can't save
them all." She nodded slowly. He smiled, encouraged, thinking that now she might understand.
Suddenly he realized that the rain had tapered off. "Look," he said softly. He pointed off to the
east. "A rainbow."
She slowly looked up. "A rainbow," she repeated. "After the rain."
"That's right," Andrew replied. "God can turn anything into something beautiful. This time it is a
rainbow." A small smile crept to her lips. "There is always a rainbow after the rain," he said.
Falling silent, he watched the rainbow take on more color, and twist into a perfect arc. He
realized that Monica was watching it, too. Andrew smiled. The Lord always knew exactly what
to do for His children.