Chapter 9

"It's time for us to start planning how we're going to work our way back to civilization," Audrey said, uncertainty tingeing her voice.

"Have you been given a sign?" Gabriel asked, pointing to the spot in her arm where the tattoos which had marked her body ever since Michael had healed her wounds were the most changeable, although she was gradually becoming aware that the tattoos on other parts of her body also held significance.

"Something more mundane than a sign," Audrey answered, not sure how much to tell him. She decided to give him a line from that yellowed, poorly photocopied Army Survival manual which had just appeared one day shortly after she had gotten stuck here. "We're almost out of supplies. If we don't get moving soon, we're going to be in no shape to move later."

Michael wished for Gabriel not to know who'd charged her with the task of caring for him. Telling him that the supplies which appeared every few days in the wrecked police cruiser had begun to constitute less food and more along the lines of supplies for a long journey might be telling him more than was wise to let him know. Audrey had kept the existence of the police car a secret by ordering Gabriel to guard the camp, but now that he was nearly recovered, he had begun to question her. Thankfully, Gabriel was utterly clueless about such mundane matters as how the sawdust-tasting power bars which appeared every few days manifested. Having spent his entire existence receiving manna from heaven and having his mundane needs attended to without thought or effort, it never occurred to him to ask.

"I am capable of making the journey," Gabriel said flatly, his expression flat and unreadable as he bluntly signaled his assent. Gabriel never argued with her. No matter what she asked him to do, ever since that first time when he had hesitated after biting into the power bar and she had fallen to pieces, he did what she asked without question or complaint. Four months had passed since the world had ended. Theirs had become a relationship of companionable silence, punctuated only by the occasional question when some task needed to be done.

The fault lay with her, she supposed. Gabriel was a man of few words. Every facet of his demeanor suggested that reticence was his natural state of being. But Audrey had always been fairly outgoing, at least on the surface. Her parents had expected her to be a social asset, so Audrey had learned at a very young age to sidle up to whichever person her parents wished for her to charm. By the time it had occurred to her to rebel against them, after the dog had died, the habit had become so deeply ingrained that she did it out of sheer force of habit.

"Would you admit to me if you weren't capable?" Audrey asked, looking up at his blank expression and searching for hints as to what was going on beneath the surface.

"No," Gabriel said flatly. He was nothing, if not honest.

Silence stretched between them, such silences having become the norm in the months since fate had first thrown them together. It was not an uncomfortable silence, nor was it anger. Audrey simply had things she needed to say, but was not ready to talk about. She had used up every ounce of idle chatter she had still possessed to give Gabriel something to cling to when he had been unconscious, and now she didn't have any left. In a world that had nearly ended, what was the point of talking if it didn't serve a constructive purpose?

"You need to teach me how to fight," Audrey finally said, carefully drawing the knife she had found on top of the cliff and examining the blade for sharpness. Gabriel had acknowledged the blade was his, but had not asked for it back, nor had Audrey offered to return it. Without words, the two had simply agreed that Audrey needed a weapon to defend herself.

"I am here to protect you," Gabriel said bluntly, his expression still unreadable. It was the slight twitch of his upper lip that tipped Audrey off that Gabriel felt less confident about his ability to act as her protector than he would have liked.

Tact. Audrey was painfully aware that the silent giant already suffered far more than anything mere mortals could dream up to torment the angel who had only recently been so willing to exterminate them without question. For once in her life, she had no stomach for using her acerbic tongue to inflict any more suffering than that sadistic fucking god of his had already dreamed up. Enough! Audrey had meant it when she had shaken her fist at the sky and told god Gabriel had suffered enough. That night, she had forgiven him for his part in the apocalypse. God had offered up his most unquestioningly loyal servant as a sin offering, a scapegoat, for his own shortcomings. Not tormenting Gabriel was Audrey's way of telling god his apology was not accepted.

"What happens if we get separated?" she asked, using an excuse she knew he would find acceptable. "Something unexpected. Would you leave me incapable of defending myself?"

Tact. She didn't remind him of the night the coyotes had come to feed upon his mortal flesh, but knew he thought of it now by the slight twitch of the foot the coyotes had chewed upon and subtle way he clenched his fist as though he were reaching for his mace.

Tact. She didn't remind him he was now mortal, nowhere near as strong as he had been when he had fought with gods' power flowing through his veins. It had taken him three months just to learn to walk properly now that Earth's gravity could capture his large body, much less fight, and he still hadn't relearned how to fly. Once he did, he would be far stronger than any other mortal, but until he adjusted to his new physical reality, Gabriel was vulnerable.

Hurtful facts didn't need to be uttered when there were lesser reasons to convince Gabriel to teach her how to fight. Audrey allowed the silence to stretch between them while he pondered her request. She'd learned to make a suggestion and then leave Gabriel to work his way through his own thoughts. Gabriel was used to following orders, not thinking for himself. She could order him to do something, using the subtle threat of leaving to get him to capitulate, or she could patiently let him work his own way to the same conclusion. Letting gods' most obedient dog work things out for himself was just another way Audrey had of telling god to go fuck off.

"What do you wish for me to teach?" Gabriel finally asked, the release of the slight crease between his eyebrows indicating he had found her request contained merit.

"Everything you know," Audrey said, her words almost a whisper.

Her mind raced ahead to a million things she had seen him do in the brief moments she had seen him in action, battling Michael, tearing the roof off the car, a viscous predator mindlessly attacking its prey the way its master had commanded, but she did not speak of those things. Although she was certain Gabriel remembered vividly the final battle which had resulted in his downfall, for some reason, he did not remember her. As Michael had said, she had not been the quarry, so he had had no interest in her beyond an annoyance to push out of his way so he could focus on his true prey, Charlie's baby.

"The Father created me to be what I am," Gabriel said after a moment of silence. "There has never been a time when I have not known how to fight. I am not certain I will be an adequate teacher." There was silence between them once more.

"You now understand how frustrating it is to learn something that others were born knowing," Audrey said finally. "That knowledge will help give you the patience to teach."

"Patience has never been a failing of mine," Gabriel said.

"Good," Audrey replied, realizing they had just reached an agreement and rewarding him by giving him a wolfish smile. "Then it will be no problem when you have to repeat the same lesson hundreds of times before I learn it."