When he arrived at the aerie, Gabriel and Alex were in the middle of an argument, and they didn't even notice him until he stood right in front them. The lower angels had scattered upon his approach, they knew better than to attack him in his brother's house, and Furiad had merely followed him without trying to stop him. When he saw him, Gabriel raised his eyebrows, but didn't even touch his sword. Alex moved a step backwards, astonished.
'Michael!' Gabriel said, his voice full of glee. 'Have you finally come to your senses and decided to join me?'
Michael didn't look at him, couldn't stand to look at him. He knelt, and held his swords out in front of him. 'I have come to surrender.'
'Surrender.' Gabriel seemed puzzled by the notion; maybe he was looking for an ulterior motive. Gabriel would certainly have an ulterior motive.
Gabriel had played him, Michael knew this now. It was shameful how easily his brother had manipulated him. Michael was the one who had led armies in the past, a master strategist, he should have foreseen Gabriel's plans, should have had his own plans to counter them. He hasn't seen anything, and he had no plans at all. He had put all his hope in a volatile and fragile human, with the vague notion that his father had plans he had yet to understand. He failed, completely and utterly, and now he had to face what he had wrought.
Michael remembered standing in the desert, looking at the sky, searching in vain hope for something that wasn't there, answers that eluded him, eluded him even now. He had been tempted to ask his father why he made him such a weak thing, why he placed this burden on him when he could not carry it. In the end, he had not asked anything, he had just knelt in the sand and wept. He knew the answer to his own question. God had not made him fail. He himself had created his failure.
He had been too sure in his belief that he had overcome his nature, arrogant to think that he had changed. It had been easy to believe that human nature no longer bothered him when he lived among riches, on top of a tower, far away from all their failings. Of course he had known there was evil; he would have had to be blind to overlook David Whele's intrigues and the cruelty of the V system. He had convinced himself that he had accepted that, that he knew humans were not perfect, that they had great capacities to both good and evil. That he could love them. It was easy to believe when their evil did not touch him and those he cared about. Michael had never really cared about humans; it did not matter to him if they hurt and killed each other. He cared about them in an abstract sense, because he had learned that it was the right thing to do, because it was the lesson his father had taught him. He protected Alex because he believed that it was what his father would have wanted.
He knew what he had felt when he had seen Louis on that table; an angel, tortured and defiled. He had never felt anything like it for any human. In that moment, he would have happily destroyed all of them, purged his father's creation of these creatures he had never really understood.
If Alex had not stopped him, maybe he would have.
It was then that he had known that no matter what lies he had told himself, he despised them. He had always despised them. He had never understood their purpose. They were vicious, corrupt, twisted. They did not try to follow God's wishes, they even denied his existence. They were driven by short sighted and selfish desires, and butchered creation for their own, immediate gain, even if it harmed them as well as everything else in the long run. It did not matter to him that they did not know God as angels did, they should have followed his wishes simply because they were, because it was the natural thing to do for any part of creation. This willful evil of humanity enraged him, and he had never understood why God had made them this way.
A long time ago, in a desert surrounded by dead bodies, God had tried to teach him compassion and mercy. Had tried to teach him the value of humans, teach him to love them. He had only learned that this was what God wanted him to do. He had convinced himself that he had learned the lesson, when he had learned nothing. He had never really fought Gabriel, because he understood Gabriel better than he ever understood himself. Gabriel understood him better than he understood himself, which had made it easy for him to manipulate him. Michael had fumbled along, trying to do something he knew was the right thing, but he had done it without conviction. He had failed, not because he was flawed, but because it had not been his true desire to succeed. He had failed, because he had already failed years earlier, because he had failed to become the angel his father had wanted him to be.
The very thing he despised in humanity, the failure to follow God's wishes, was what he himself was guilty of. Maybe that should have made him understand them better, but it only made him despair.
Michael stared at the floor, and avoided to look at both his brother and Alex. He felt Gabriel taking his swords out of his hands. 'I'm glad you came to me, little brother,' Gabriel said, and Michael suddenly realized that it had been a mistake to come here. Gabriel would not help him. He would use his weakness against him, believing himself to be righteous. He started to rise, but Furiad and another higher angel pushed him down. Gabriel smiled, a compassionate, loving smile that frightened Michael. 'You always belonged to my side. I have missed you. Together, we will be unstoppable.'
Alex suddenly stepped forward, and Gabriel looked at him like he was a dog that had learned an unexpected new trick. 'Yes?'
'You want me to work with you to decipher my tattoos.'
'Something you just passionately told me you will never do.'
'I changed my mind,' Alex said steadily. 'I will do it, but for a price.'
Gabriel laughed. 'You really think you are in the position to make demands?'
'Yes.'
Gabriel stared at him for a moment, and then he smiled. 'Very well, maybe I'll indulge you. What do you want?'
'Michael,' Alex said, and Michael looked at him, because he could not resist. Alex' face was unreadable. This was a different boy from the one he left in Vega, a more mature one. Michael couldn't tell what he was thinking, and he was almost sure that Gabriel couldn't either.
'You cannot seriously think I will give you my brother,' Gabriel said angrily, but Michael could tell that some of this anger was pretense. Gabriel was thinking about it.
'I think my tattoos are your only connection to your father, and you will do anything to decipher them, even give me your brother,' Alex said calmly. 'I will not kill him, I promise you that.'
Gabriel's eyes widened, as if that thought hadn't even occurred to him. Maybe it hadn't. He couldn't know how much Alex must hate Michael now. He probably never considered that his human guest might try to kill an archangel in front of him, even if said archangel was his enemy. Gabriel thought it was obvious to everyone that archangels would never kill each other; it was one of his few weaknesses.
'Of course you won't,' he said, making that very thing obvious if Alex hadn't known it already. He paced up and down in front of them. 'You want to punish him,' he said, and Michael could see what he was thinking, it was terribly obvious now, and he hated himself for not seeing it before. Gabriel would do it, because he believed that this would increase Michael's hate for humans, would bring him closer to Gabriel. Gabriel knew that Michael would never blame him for what would happen to him, because Michael loved him as all archangels loved each other. Michael would forgive him because he had no choice. Gabriel believed that Michael would naturally blame humans instead, and a few days ago, maybe he would have. However, his new insight had made him realize something else, something he had not realized before. In God's absence, angels were as fallible as humans. His brother might believe himself to be righteous, but his actions were motivated by hubris and envy. More than that, Gabriel did not realize that this was what Michael wanted, that he had come here to be punished. This was something that surprised Michael, because Gabriel was usually so insightful about his motives, but it seemed he was blind to his self-loathing. Maybe that was something he could not comprehend. Michael wondered what Gabriel thought of his appearance in the aerie, if he had truly thought Michael would join him, or if he merely thought he was lost and looking for direction and comfort.
'Very well', Gabriel said, and Michael forced a surprised and hurt expression on his face.
Gabriel smiled at him. 'Don't you think you deserve to be punished, little brother? After all, you gave me a lot of trouble.' His voice was playful, teasing. He did not take Alex seriously, he was sure nothing Alex could do could ever really hurt Michael. He was wrong in that, too. Michael realized that it had been destined to turn out this way, that it had always been Alex who should punish him. Maybe that had been the true reason why he had come here, a silent hope for this outcome.
The higher angels closed manacles of empyrean steel around Michael's wrists, and he didn't fight them. 'Bring him to the Chosen One's room,' Gabriel said, and Alex looked for the fraction of a second as though he wanted to protest, but it was gone before Gabriel noticed it.
Furiad and the other angel dragged Michael through the fortress, until they reached a room with a heavy metal door. They chained him to the wall without a single word, and left. Michael could feel their contempt. Furiad had respected him once, but he had lost all this respect with his defeat. He had not expected anything else. Michael curled up in a corner next to the heavy steel ring that bound him to the wall, and studied the room they had brought him to. It was a nice room, with chairs, a table, a large bed, and a number of bookcases. Far nicer than anything Alex ever had in Vega. At the same time, there were obvious reminders that this was a prison cell, reminders which were surely not accidental. Steel rings in the walls, bars in front of the window. It would have been difficult to escape this place if he had planned to try. Michael tugged at the chains. He might be able to pull them out of the wall, if he really tried, but they would weigh him down if he tried to fly. The higher angels would catch him if he tried to flee, and it would be difficult to fight them with the chains and without weapons. He had trapped himself. He smiled wryly.
Gabriel would scorn him if he knew that he hadn't really been thinking anything when he came here. He had merely sought out the one place that might end his pain. He had even thought of going to Vega, surrendering to Becca's successors, but the thought of what Gabriel would do to them if he found out had stalled him. Gabriel himself was the logical alternative. How would his brother react if he knew that?
Michael closed his eyes. He felt tired, incredibly tired. Through all his existence, he had always known he had a purpose. He had always known that his father would catch him if he fell. Now, he was falling and there was only emptiness.
He opened his eyes and stood up when the door opened. Alex stepped in and closed the door behind him. He looked at him for a moment, and then he suddenly stepped forward and embraced him. 'Michael… I'm so glad you are alright.'
Michael stiffened. This wasn't right. He studied Alex, but there was no sign of deception, no sign of hatred. 'Why?' he asked.
Alex considered him. 'Why am I not angry at you? I was angry, Michael. Part of me still is. But what Becca did was despicable. I understand why you flipped. I'm glad I pulled you out of it. I was a V1, alright?' he continued as Michael didn't react. 'I've seen people lose it before. It's always ugly, but there is usually a reason. You had a reason.'
He forgives me, Michael thought. This is not right, this cannot be. This was like the boy in the desert all over again. He fell to his knees and started to cry.
'Michael!' Alex said, stunned. He knelt next to him and embraced him again, held him until Michael stopped crying.
'I failed you,' he whispered. 'I raised my sword against you. You cannot forgive me.'
'I already have,' Alex said.
Michael fought his tears back. 'Why?' he sobbed. 'Why?' If he could only understand why, maybe he could change what he was. Maybe if he could understand this strange behavior of humans, he would understand their purpose, and he would finally be able to be what his father wanted him to be.
'I just have,' Alex said, and Michael could tell that he could not really explain it. 'Isn't that what's the right thing to do?'
Yes it was, and yet he could not understand it, and Michael felt that this was a fatal flaw in him. If he was God's angel, shouldn't he understand compassion? Shouldn't he understand grace? The answer came to him in a sudden revelation, and it made him want to destroy something. No, because God was grace and compassion. He created man in his image, but angels, angels were created for a different purpose. They were never supposed to feel mercy. If he wanted to understand, he had to become more than what he was, he had to trust that this was his fathers will. Trust him blindly. He suddenly remembered all the arguments angels brought before God, their failure to understand mankind. Angels had never understood what it meant to believe without knowing. What it meant that humans had a choice to believe, and how precious that choice was. How difficult and at the same time, divine. It was in this moment that he realized that God was NOT gone. What was gone was the angels' knowledge of God. They were no longer able to sense him, and so they had unthinkingly assumed he left them. They had failed to believe. They had all failed. And what had they done?
Michael closed his eyes, exhausted. 'I don't want your mercy,' he said bitterly. How could he accept mercy if he would have bestowed none? In his whole existence, he had never disobeyed, he had always done what he thought was expected of him. He had to trust that there was some sense in this horrible test, but his faith failed him, and that alone, he felt, deserved punishment. He had been vain, and arrogant. He had sinned, and in his mind he deserved extermination as much as he once thought humans did. It is God's grace, he thought, precisely because it is undeserved. Do angels receive God's grace? How can they, if they never chose to believe?
Alex stroked his head, as if he was a lost child. An angel, millennia old, and he was nothing but a lost child. Alex looked at his arm and frowned. 'You want me to hurt you.'
'Please,' Michael begged. He couldn't explain how much he needed to be hurt, and he hoped Alex would not ask him to explain it. He was already hurting, more than he had words to say, but if he was punished for his failures, maybe he could be redeemed.
'Alright,' Alex said slowly, and got up. Michael looked up to him hopefully. Alex was still frowning, but he looked around the room, and finally his eyes fell on something and he smiled. He bowed down and picked something up, and when he straightened Michael saw he was holding a whip. 'Gabriel left this a few days ago. He said it was to remind me how you used to punish me. I think it was a threat, but he must have realized himself it wasn't a very effective one. As I remember, your whippings never had much impact on me.'
'I whipped you because your disobedience infuriated me, and I enjoyed hurting you,' Michael said. It's an easy confession to make, one of his lesser sins.
'Really?' Alex studied him. 'You hid that well.'
Michael wrapped one of the chains around his right arm. 'I hid many things.'
'Do you agree to a whipping?' Alex asked.
He looked at him. It was an odd question to ask, asking him to agree to his punishment. 'Yes,' he said. He got up, and bowed over the table.
Alex grabbed a pin from the table, and used it to open Michael's chains. It was so ridiculously simple that Michael wondered if Gabriel had planned this, if this was his test for both of them.
'Take off your jacket and your shirt', Alex said, and Michael obeyed and bowed down again, grabbed the edge of the table. Without the chains, this felt different. He couldn't hide from himself that he wanted this.
'How many lashes do you think you deserve?' Alex asked.
'I don't know.' He really did not know. He felt that any number he could say would be inadequate.
'How about ten?'
Michael shook his head. 'Are you patronizing me?'
'Alright, how about ten for each person you killed. Fifty.' There was a cruel edge to Alex' voice.
Michael wanted to tell him that he had killed far more than that, but Alex knew this. He nodded instead.
When the first lash hit his back, it cost all his willpower to keep his wings in and prevent them from protecting him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This would be about control. How fitting. It was control he lost in Vega, control over himself and the urges he had failed to acknowledge.
The first few lashes were merely a burning sensation, leaving hot trails across his back. After the first ten, Alex stepped up to him and touched one of the welts. 'You are not healing.' He sounded astonished that he even left a mark.
'Because I don't want to,' Michael said. Humans didn't know how many of the angels powers depended on belief, on faith. An angel who stopped believing he was invincible could be defeated by anyone. The human's belief that angels were strong and could resist their weapons gave them that strength. Gabriel was a master of using that to his advantage.
After that, Alex' hits became stronger. It was after the twentieth lash that Michael felt something shatter. It was a dull pain at first, which became stronger after another lash, and another. Soon, the pain was agonizing. By then, he knew what it was, but said nothing. An angel's wings were strong as steel outside of his body, but retracted, they were vulnerable and fragile. Relatively speaking, that is, because he was still invulnerable if he wanted to be, and a weak hit like a human's could have never hurt him. Usually.
This time, he was not invulnerable, and after another lash he could not help but scream.
'Michael!' Alex called out, concerned. 'Do you want me to stop?'
'No!' Michael clenched his hands around the edge of the table. 'Don't! Don't stop!'
Alex hesitated a moment, but then he continued, and didn't stop, even though Michael screamed again and started sobbing. He lost count of the lashes, and finally, he lost his self-control. 'Step back!' he screamed, and luckily, Alex did it immediately, with the fast reflexes of a soldier.
His wings whipped out, and it was more painful than any of the lashes. They hang weakly from his back, useless now.
'Oh my god,' Alex shouted, horrified.
Michael clutched the table, breathing hard. 'I'm sorry,' he said, trying to regain his control. 'Just give me a moment.'
Alex stepped in front of him and clasped his hands. 'Michael, are you crazy? Why didn't you say something? No, scratch that, I know why.' He sounded angry. 'Your wings! You can't seriously expect me to continue, now that I know!'
'Please,' Michael begged. With a sob and a near scream, he managed to retract his wings again. 'Please.' He repeated the word, until Alex finally stepped behind him again and continued.
His hits were gentle now, and Michael bit back his screams, pretended there was no more damage. It was not true, of course, even the weak lashes broke what was already fractured. Some of the lashes were stronger, too, Alex was emotional, and he sometimes lost control of the whip. There was another crack beneath his shoulders, and Michael felt that something shattered beyond repair. They would heal of course, he always healed, but…
'This was fifty,' Alex said, his voice strained. 'Let me see them now, let me at least set them.'
'I can't,' Michael said. He slid down from the table and lay prostrate on the floor. The pain was still there, dull now, a steady throb over his whole back. He wondered how long it would last. He felt oddly peaceful. His craving for punishment was gone, this was indeed enough, this was exactly enough. He felt grateful, and he said it. 'Thank you.'
'What do you mean, you can't?' Alex sounded slightly hysterical, and Michael felt sorry for him, he hadn't wanted to hurt him again.
'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I'm sorry, please, Alex, don't worry.'
'What…do… you… mean?" Alex hissed.
'One of the last lashes broke the scapula… I can't unfurl them,' he said silently.
Alex knelt next to him and touched his back carefully. 'No, Michael… I can't have done this… Please, try! They won't heal right if they are not set!'
'I know.' He didn't try. He was resigned to this.
'This wasn't supposed to really hurt you! I wanted to help you, not damage you. Please, Michael… Please try.'
Alex was crying, and Michael suddenly realized that this was hurting Alex more than him, that he was still selfish. He took a deep breath.
'I… as you wish, I will try…'
It was the single most painful thing he had ever done, and they only came out partially, so Alex had to pull at the broken bones to get them out all the way. Michael screamed himself hoarse, and lost consciousness at one point. When he woke, his wings were stretched out on either side of him, tied to wooden splints that were once parts of the table. Alex must have a knife, he thought, and he saw it then, the broken piece of Furiad's blade. Alex had had the means of killing Gabriel all this time, he realized, but he decided to let him live. The thought humbled him. I hope you can forgive us, father, he prayed. He had never really prayed before, because once upon a time, God always answered, and then, he had believed him gone. A prayer was an act of faith, and he had had none.
Humans are capable of grace, he thought, and he smiled at the thought. He finally understood. It was only now that he truly realized why Gabriel was so very, very wrong, and it saddened him how this would hurt his brother.
'What do your tattoos say?' he asked.
Alex watched him, dry-eyed and thoughtful. 'They make no sense. All they say is 'he who is', and then they change to 'he who was' and then they change to 'he who shall be' and back again.'
Michael smiled. 'I understand them just fine. What they are saying is that angels are fools.' He chuckled, but that sent waves of pain through his back and he stopped.
'I won't disagree,' Alex said, and Michael chuckled again and then clenched his teeth.
'I'm very sorry, Alex. For everything I did to you, and also for what I made you do just now. I was selfish. I have always been selfish, and it is to my regret that you suffered for it.'
'I have forgiven you,' Alex said, and Michael knew that he meant it, even though he didn't understand that.
'I know, and I'm grateful.'
Alex knelt next to him and carefully moved a hand over his feathers. It did not hurt at all. 'I would have missed your beautiful wings.'
Michael had to close his eyes, because there was a sort of reverence under the mocking tone that he absolutely didn't deserve. He had never before understood the people who were praying to his brother, but he understood now – humans had believed in angels for hundreds of years, and they had always believed that angels were reflections of God, that they were ultimately benevolent. Despite everything, this belief still persisted. Despite everything, they still believed in God, and prayed to him. He had seen it, and he had always before pitied them. Even the belief in the Chosen One seemed more real, and he had encouraged it, because he knew it was real. Now, he wasn't so sure.
He had made so many wrong decisions, and he now prayed that he would finally make the right one, that God would guide him to do the right thing. It felt odd, because it had never been a question before.
He opened his eyes. 'Let's talk about what we are going to do about my brother.'