A/N: Hello, my dear readers. I'm sad to say that this is the final part of my story. It actually covers several events, but they really shouldn't be separated.
Once again I thank my reviewers and all those who put my Heaven for One in favorites and alerts.
So, enjoy. (Oh, there is some really non-explicit mature content – you can miss it if you blink :P)
***
"Hey, Luc."
"Balthazar. What a surprise! And here I thought you fly too high for us now."
"Come on, don't tell my you're offended…"
"Offended… Oh, if only you were still under me…" significant pause full of malicious intent. Then a head-shake. "How did you manage to pull this off?"
"It's my little professional secret. But I've actually flew by here not just to show off my new position. We need to discuss some things."
"Is that so?" affected surprise, "And what brought you to this hydrogen sulphide smelling place again?"
"Don't be a smartass, Luc. This talk is long overdue, but I've been silent before because I couldn't suggest anything constructive. Do you still remember what started in all, Luc? What we wanted before we were forced into this position of eternal evil, that stuck to us so tightly that we forgot everything else? For so many centuries we've been the jailers for those whom we yearned to give the freedom of choice…" an imploring look. "Now we finally have a chance to change it all."
The drawn-out silence is half surprised, half amused.
"And here I thought that you were simply head over heels for that boy."
A penetrating glare with a hint of censure.
"Just like your enemies upstairs, you forget that every significant act generally has more than one motive."
"Well, you're quite the schemer, I'll give you that," a smirk, "Very well, you can count yourself forgiven for conspiring to overthrow my rule. Though I highly doubt that you've expected to end that far up the ladder when planning all this."
A thoughtful look.
"All's well that ends well."
A chuckle.
"Have you visited your beloved yet?"
A negative head shake.
"How so? Afraid he'll kick you out? I bet he's dying to know what was that all about."
"Stop taunting me."
"Don't chicken out now! I bless you on behalf of all Hell. In the worst case I can help you nurse your wounded soul."
"That's encouraging," gloomily, "But let's get back to business…"
***
I appear in John's apartment without prior notice. Actually, I considered ringing the doorbell but was stopped by fear that he will simply refuse to see me. So I just soundlessly materialize in the middle of the room – the only one in his apartment.
It's my first time here: in the past I was deterred by protective symbols on doors and windows. I must admit, this room begs for a serious makeover. But that's not the point.
John sits at the table engrossed in contemplation of a cigarette pack.
"Going to start again?"
In curing him of cancer Luc made him an unexpected gift and it would be regrettable if he were to take up the old habit.
"Balthazar?" he asks, dumbfounded. I didn't disguise myself with the standard half-breed mask, but he still recognizes me. It warms me inside. "What are you doing here?" his voice turns form simply surprised to slightly angered and a bit sarcastic. "Banished from Hell for bad behaviour?"
"Something like that…" I smirk and concentrate on my appearance.
Three pairs of wings soundlessly unfurl behind my back. John, who jumped up from his chair when I appeared, drops back in astonishment.
"Is it some kind of a joke?" he asks faintly.
"Unfortunately, no," a fake a sigh, glancing over my shoulder. "It's not a prank or delusion either."
"But… how can this be possible?"
"John, John, John," I shake my head, lowering myself on the edge of the table, "can you really not guess what happened? If angels can Fall, what can demons do?"
"Rise?" he involuntarily answers my rhetoric question.
"Exactly," I exclaim.
He frowns, trying to absorb this revelation. Snakes his hands into his hair and looks suspiciously at me.
"But why?"
I raise my brows. Recently I orchestrated only one prominent event, so he doesn't need long to connect the dots.
"Are you serious?" he exclaims, full of indignation. "For this nightmare I suffered through you are promoted from demon to angel? Is God completely nuts?"
"Don't blaspheme, dear," I say gently without a hint of reproach. "Why do you think Gabriel had fallen?" his face reflects irritation at a seemingly random topic change, but he is already used to my style of conversing.
"Because of conspiracy with Hell and planning of Apocalypse."
"Wrong. You forget, He judges motives before actions. Gabriel in his pride dared to pronounce himself the judge and executioner. He dared to decide for God who is worthy of entering His kingdom."
John shifts his gaze from me to the worn tabletop in contemplation.
"And what was your motive?" he asks softly.
"I wanted to save you," I answer, lowering to my knees before his chair. It's a position that affords me to look into his eyes.
"By killing millions of others?"
"Do you know how Heaven judges the significance of an act?" I again ask a 'theoretical' question and continue without waiting for an answer, "By its divergence from the common pattern."
"Oh?" he mutters doubtfully, still not looking at me. "And what's your usual behaviour when meeting exorcists condemned to Hell?"
"Why so skeptical? Your situation is not so unique as some would like it to be," I remember other exhausted boys who tried to run away from monsters only to end in a place containing nothing else. "I haven't lifted a finger for any of them."
"What would have been your punishment for conspiracy with Mammon?" he asks carefully, shifting his gaze from the table to my shoulder. "Or did you plan on moving up the ladder from the very beginning?"
"Did you plan on absolution when you slit your wrists to summon Lucifer? Or when you asked for the soul of a stranger?" his eyes finally meet mine and I drown in a familiar mix of hope and hopelessness. "That is the point," I murmur, mesmerized. "I only wanted to save you. What would happen to me didn't matter at all."
"Why?" he whispers.
The question I've heard so often seems to echo in the air. And this time I'm going to answer.
"Because you are more precious to me than my life. Because you are my life." His eyes reflect understanding mixed with pleasure he's unable to hide. "Do you know that angels can't survive the destruction of their Heaven even though they can renounce it willingly? You are my new Heaven, John."
"You say such strange things," he says wonderingly. I smile.
"It's an angelic concept. I guess to humans it sounds rather weird." Luc had probably seen this the second I've come to him and that's why he wasn't really angry. He possesses an unparalleled ability to see the very essence of things. "To be simple, I love you and I was ready to suffer centuries of torture to ensure your safety. I made Mammon swear he wouldn't let your soul enter Hell," I explain.
"You love me?" he repeats in a small voice.
"My Light, the feelings I have for you can not be described with silly human words," his face shines with fragile timid hope and I'm flooded with desire to hold him and shield him forever from all the horrors that fill his life. "You are my Heaven, without you I will simply cease to exist. So the reason for my sacrifice was purely selfish, though Heaven obviously haven't uncovered this fact," I conclude with a triumphant smirk.
"But in the end your plan failed," John notes doubtfully. "Mammon returned to Hell, and all his vows are now void."
"Oh, but, you see, I've never really counted on him succeeding." My poor John, I confuse him again just when things began to clear up. "I knew you wouldn't be able to step aside from approaching Apocalypse. I figured they'll be obliged to grant you a place of honour in Heaven for saving the world."
"But what if someone else saved it?"
"I haven't noticed a line of eager contenders," I point out sarcastically.
"But your reasoning still seems faulty," he mumbles.
"It still worked in the end!" I conclude with an arrogance of a newly Risen angel.
John looks at me with a mixture of amusement and astonishment, and shakes his head disapprovingly. We could discuss this as long as he liked and I still wouldn't be able to explain why I was so sure of the favourable outcome. Such things are not known, they are simply felt. And feelings - unlike knowledge - cannot be passed though words.
It appears he too understands how pointless it is to discuss it further.
"Very well. Suppose I believe you. What do you want now?" he asks.
I study him. The trials he suffered through left their trace on him. Their reflection is practically nonexistent in his features, but I sense a deep weariness and detachment. As if there is nothing worth living for now, when his life is finally unobstructed.
"I want…" I straiten up, still kneeling on the floor, "for you to let me in again. Open your Gates for me. Accept me back."
He gingerly lowers himself next to me.
"Why?"
"So I can cherish and protect you forever," I put my hands on his shoulders and slowly pull him to me, "No evil will touch you again, John. I will not surrender you to anyone."
His eyes, where hope is not darkened by doubts, are sufficient answer to me. I cradle his face in my palms and touch his lips with mine.
This kiss is unlike any we've shared before. It is not bound by secrets, misgivings, threats or fears. It's fresh and resonant like a clear spring, and I drink it from my John's lips in an unquenchable thirst. All three pairs of my wings are closed around us, and in this little world there are only I and my Heaven, opening it's gates invitingly. As it should be.
"Wait," John whispers, putting a restraining hand on my chest, "wait."
His breath is laboured, his eyes glazed, but he obviously thinks our talk isn't over yet. With a mental shrug I pick him up easily and place him on his bed. It's probably not the best place for conversations, but it's the only one where I can sit comfortably and embrace John at the same time.
"What is it?" I ask.
"We can't… I can't…" he threads his fingers through his hair crossly, "You should understand: I've only just got a chance at avoiding Hell. I cannot lose it again, even for…"
I finally grasp the essence of the problem.
"John, calm down," I squeeze him a bit more firmly and turn his face to me. "Your love for me, whatever form it takes, cannot be considered a sin."
"But… to lay with a man…"
"You forget," I smile, "that I'm not a man. I'm an angel – a creature incompatible with sin by definition."
He laughs.
"Sorry, but it's still hard for me to believe that."
"It's all right, we'll both get used to it eventually. But as for your objection. If you are afraid that the feeling that let me Rise will be the reason for your Fall, I will not insist on it's physical consummation."
"You are always waiting for me to make a choice," he says, and his hand finds its way to my cheek. "Aren't you afraid that it will not be in your favour?"
"The only decision you could have made against me is over already. I can and I will wait as long as you need. To the brink of death and beyond, we are linked forever."
"All right," he mouths, and his hand slides down my neck, to my chest and stops at the waist. "I don't know why, but I trust you. In everything."
And he lowers himself, pulling me with him.
I'm overwhelmed by tenderness and awe at his courage that allowed him to surrender to me completely. And this time I'm not constrained by the thought of what must be done to ensure the safety of my Heaven. My touches are unhurried and full of reverence. His fingers tangle in my hair, and a whisper of my name sometimes leaves his lips. His body, eager and responsive, burns under my lips, and his soul shines brighter and clearer than ever.
There can't be greater perfection in my eyes. All three pairs of my wings are stretched above us, hiding from any glances that which belongs from now on only to me.
Finally, all is as it should be.
***
"You've said that I am your Heaven." We lay together in John's bed. In any other circumstance I would have considered it too narrow and uncomfortable, but at this time I don't care for anything apart form the slender form in my arms. "But how can that be?" John continues his musings. "Isn't Heaven supposed to be a certain place? A separate world?"
"You are right, after a fashion," I murmur into his hair. "But do you not know that every person creates their own universe by simply being? All your feelings, emotions, thoughts, experiences create a world of their own, as infinite as the one you live in."
"It is just a metaphor," he objects, turning his head from where it rests on my chest to look at me. "You are supposed to be able to actually enter Heaven. How can you even begin to find an entrance to my completely metaphysical inner world?"
"In spite of your conviction, the world created by your consciousness is not that much different from the conventional Heaven. Can you actually find an entrance into Paradise in the material world that surrounds us now?" I gently tease. John frowns, trying to come up with a irrefutable difference. "And as for entering it," I continue, "I can actually do it, though I must admit I much prefer the other kind of entering, to our mutual satisfaction."
The exorcist sputters indignantly at my innuendo, but he is sufficiently distracted from esoteric questions.
"What are you going to do when I die?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, since I am your Heaven…" John trails off.
"My Light, you should know better than others that death is not an end of everything. Our connection transcends any material bounds and your death will not be an obstacle. With it you will simply become more beautiful and pure."
"Hey, slow down on the compliments," he chuckles, "or you'll be violating that commandment about creating idols."
"Are you going to turn me in?" I inquire in a mock-frightened tone, tightening my hold on him. "I have a lot of plans for the time you finally join me in Paradise."
"Plans?" he asks, confused. "What kind?"
"Don't you worry about it now," I brush an errant strand of hair from his forehead. "I promise, they don't include anything even remotely apocalyptic. You have whole life ahead of you - or rather a decent part of it that is not darkened by personal afterlife problems – so enjoy it to the fullest."
"And what will you be doing while I'm enjoying it?"
"I'll be playing a good little angel and make regular appearances to you. Strictly to guide you on the path of righteousness, of course."
My John laughs. It is a first time I hear a laugh like this: joyous and free, untainted by even a hint of sadness. Unable to restrain myself, I join my lips to his, and lap at the remnants of his laughter as they morph into a moan of pleasure.
***
"Welcome to Heaven!" A blinding smile. "I suppose you've seen the Gates already, but now you've got the chance to enjoy this experience fully!"
"Isn't there supposed to be another person greeting me?" a suspicious narrowing of gray eyes.
"Generally yes, but I've called in some favours…"
"You're impossible!" an exasperated head-shake. "However do you keep your wings?"
"Oh, I can be quite useful in dealings with Hell, so my little eccentricities are mostly tolerated."
"Thank you," much more seriously and quietly. "Despite everything you've said over the years, I've still had my doubts…"
"Hush. You belong here, and no one is going to argue with it. So you should calm down and relax while I show you all the best attractions of this place." A slight pause. "But first we are going to meet a certain angel."
"What for?" confusion is mixed with curiosity.
"You see, I've decided awhile back that he needs a new feather-cut."
"Feather-cut?"
"M-hm, I'm going to pluck all his feathers out," pleasantly and almost lovingly. "It's the least he deserves for everything that's happened to you," in an answer to a perplexed stare. "But I suppose I could thank him, while I'm at it."
"Oh, do you mean my guardian angel?" a spark of comprehension.
"Ex-guardian angel," tartly.
"Of course," a light laugh. "Lead on. I'm suddenly in a very vengeful mood."
***
A/N: Well, this is it.
I hope, you've enjoyed reading my story as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and I hope you'll share your opinion with me.
I'm actually proud of myself: this is the first story that I've wrote in English (or rather, translated, but since no one have actually seen it in Russian…)
I don't think I'll be writing anything else in this fandom, but I have some sketches for Harry Potter and Batman, so if you like my writing, please drop a word so I can (maybe) work harder on them :P
Thank you again for appreciation.
Kjollar.
