My Hands, They Were Strong, But My Knees Were Far Too Weak
[Tommy's POV]
He's shaken. He's shaken and he can't breathe because all he can see in his mind is Adam falling. All he can see when he closes his eyes is Adam tumbling with that stupid smile on his face as if he's done right and yet all he can see in front of him is Tristan with a grin that says triumph. He can only feel agony and hatred for the Fallen Angel who destroyed his life and has now killed his best friend. His brother.
It's all rushing in on him at once. The Dark that he's possessed since his Fall and the Light from Adam that wraps around his body and warms his flesh. Tristan across the way with dark wings and darker eyes. Adam somewhere in the tower, falling and falling with no way to stop himself. Thomas had watched his wings, had watched the feathers peel away and disappear into white smoke and nothingness.
Clutching the whip in both hands, Thomas glances down at himself, seeing Adam's light swirling around his entire body like a second skin. It's warm and smooth, moving as he moves like it isn't even there at all. His hands tremble around the whip but he keeps his grip firm and tight around it. His knees are bent and his feet staggered as he holds his position. Tristan holds a similar stance across the room from him, snarling as electricity seems to crack through the whip in their hands.
"What are you going to do now, Thomas? You have less than thirty seconds, you know, from the top of this tower here to the bottom below; are you going to stay here and fight me and let Adam fall to his death? Or will you let go of your vengeance, your only opportunity, to try and save him?" Tristan says low and harsh under a hiss of breath. Thomas trembles, repeatedly glancing back and forth from the Fallen Angel before him and the gap in the floor just outside the room where Adam had fallen.
His heart is thrashing in his chest as the Dark whispers a countdown in his ear. Twenty-seven… Twenty-six… He doesn't know what to do or what to think other than this countdown that's in his head and the fact that Tristan is in front of him. It wouldn't take much to recoil the whip around his throat and plunge a few knives into his goddamned chest to get the point across that he's not going to celebrate in victory.
Twenty-five… Twenty-four… Clenching his jaw, Thomas tugs at the whip, pulling Tristan off balance for only a moment, but the moment is enough to snap the whip back. It drapes on the floor as Thomas changes his stance, breathing deeply. Tristan is clad in black and he knows that it probably wasn't smart to use Dark on a Fallen Angel, but what else can he do?
My light… It's like Adam is breathing into his ear and holding him tight and Thomas shivers lightly, reaching into his boot and pulling two knives out, holding them between his knuckles. Tristan barks a soft laugh, black smoking around his palms, thick and angrily until they plume and engulf the whites of his palms.
"Silly little angel," Tristan says as the black forms two whips identical to the one Thomas has clutched in his palm.
My light, Tommy… My beautiful, special Tommy…
Biting his lip, Thomas drops the whip from his grasp. The black smokes and fades out, leaving the leather to look normal an uncharred from years of use. Tristan raises an eyebrow as Thomas breathes in slowly, tearing down his own blackened and hateful walls to absorb the light that Adam has left him with. The light he himself used to possesses before being wrongly stripped of it.
Warmth washes over his skin, sinking into his bones like water in a sponge and he breathes evenly, feeling electrified and right. He feels his feet leave the ground for a moment before he opens his eyes slowly, staring upon Tristan and seeing nothing more than a black smudge in the light of the world. The Fallen Angel frowns at him as Thomas shows his palms, his skin tingling gently. A smile pulls at his lips as he feels as shift in his back.
"What are you doing?" Tristan questions, cracking his whips threateningly in the air. Something whispers in Thomas' ear, though, that no matter what Tristan tries to accomplish at this point, it is merely futile.
The black of Thomas' clothes and the burns in his skin melt away to expose himself entirely. The light pulses in his veins and beats with his heart as it wells and wraps itself around him. It clothes him in white from head to toe, his nails painted black like Adam's had been, and he smiles. Tristan's eyes are wide, almost fearful, as Thomas lifts higher into the air. Something tightens before unfolding and he glances to his side, seeing his wings. Only they're different. They're white with brown tips, and they're translucent. Temporary.
"Impossible!" Tristan howls, cracking the whips at Thomas. The angel takes a moment to fear that his returned angelical self will suffer the burn of demonic poison, but the whips don't even touch him. They collide with a barrier of white before Tristan howls in fury. "No!"
"You've lost…" Thomas says softly, hovering high into the air. Tristan tries cracking the whips again but Thomas reaches out, taking the ends into both hands. It's doesn't burn. It doesn't even really touch him. White laces around the ends and flashes down the lines of the whips like lightning, seeping into Tristan's dark form. The Fallen Angel shouts as the light touches him, and his knees buckle.
"You've lost and you'll burn as you've made me burn others. As you made me burn." He feels empowered if not a little strange saying this words. But they're spilling from his lips without hesitation and he knows they're right. He knows, deep down, that the true and lost Wise are speaking through him to this traitor.
"No! This can't…" Tristan pleas desperately. Thomas drops the whips and beckons at Tristan, lifting him into the air. Light crackles through his veins and makes him tremble and twitch violently. His black eyes bear cracks where white seeps through. Staring deeply at him, Thomas palms Tristan's face with his hands engulfed in white, and the Fallen Angel howls.
"It's over. You're finished…" Thomas says, power rushing through his body and hands. Tristan jerks and thrashes before stilling as the light and purity washes through him, turning him to ash and making him crumble.
Hovering down to the ground, Thomas stands in a pile of dust and smoke, light flickering around his fingertips as he turns. There's nothing left in the circular room other than pieces of stone and ash left behind. He sighs softly, about to turn again when something upon the floor catches his eye. An initial in the form of an aeh…
Adam.
Ten…
Eyes widening, Thomas rushes to the piece of stone, taking it into his hand and shoving it into his pocket. He pushes off from the ground, running across the room with his wings beating behind him, moving him faster and faster to the open doors and the ruined floor just beyond.
Nine…
His feet kick off from the ground and his wings lift him a few feet into the air. He soars out of the doors, across the ruined floor before snapping them in hard and tight. Thomas angles his body, facing down the hundreds of feet where he can barely make out the white shape of Adam's body, plummeting.
Eight…
He dive bombs, wings tucked to his back, arms at his side. The bracelet rattles against his flesh and the initial in pocket feels like lead as he drops like a missile. His heart is racing in his chest as he gains speed, but he's still so far from Adam.
Seven…
Thomas' eyes are wide and narrowed, wind tossing his hair around as the floors pass by in blurs. He's not sure which is coming up faster at this point: Adam or the floor… He prays that Adam is closer to him than the floor. He has to, because it's the only thing he can do, now.
Six…
Closer and closer still until Thomas pries his arms from his sides. He reaches out, his fingers grazing Adam's arms before he wraps himself around the angel, holding Adam tight to his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling deeply and holding the breath.
Five…
The wings snap open hard, shooting them straight back up for a brief moment as air catches under the feathers. It starts to slip through as they descend rapidly, the floor coming up too fast for Thomas to find comforting. Biting his lip and holding Adam in one arm, he holds his hand out, palm to the ground below.
Four…
Light flows through him, washing down below to wrap around and slow them. But he realizes too late that by using the light, he loses the wings. And he can't stop the cocoon that folds over himself and Adam before it sucks his wings back into his flesh. He curls his arm around Adam again, turning so that he's beneath the angel, holding and protecting him.
Three…
It's freefalling at this point. Painful, agonizing freefalling that he's felt before. His heart is rapidly punching at his rib cage, screaming to break free as Thomas breathes evenly, pressing Adam's head to his neck as tight as he can. If it comes down to this, he wants Adam to be safe…
Two…
"I love you," he whispers into Adam's hair, tightening his arms one last time around the angel.
One.