Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is a little late, guys. As I mentioned in my previous update, the last two weeks were unbelievably crazy. However, the good news is my semester is almost over and I should have an entire summer to dedicate to this fic. ^_^

And I have to say, I was just thrilled by all the lovely reviews I received for the last chapter. I cannot possibly express how grateful I am for the continued support of my readers. So thank you helendemaria, Yes-Man, AutumnKrystal, ArmoredSoul, little biscuit, moondawntreader, dark's silver shadow, bobson, ValentineRobot, QuietTimeChocolates, The Wicked That Mourns Just and happysgirl29. Also, I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to add this story to their favorites/author alerts list. You guys are the best! I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Legion.

Chapter Twelve Free Will

As Gabriel watched the rusty old pick-up truck crawl out of the driveway and down towards the main road, something of relief lessened the burden in his heart. Jeep and Charlie and their little child were gone. Gone.

Their reappearance had been unexpected, like a sudden spray of cinders rising from a dying fire. In a moment they had come and in a moment they had left, lonely and lost and anchorless. Perpetual wanderers doomed to walk the earth as Cain had ages before.

And Gabriel found he could not pity them. He was like Max in that way, in that one, small way.

Standing by the bay windows in the living room, he followed the progress of the truck until it turned onto the main road and roared away, its worn tires screeching on the cracked blacktop. A sigh slipped through Gabriel's lips. How strangely happy he was, knowing that he would never be forced to see those humans again. Their presence seemed to him nothing short of an ill omen, an unfortunate herald to dark times and dark deeds and dark thoughts.

And Max certainly knew this, for why else would she refuse them shelter?

The living room of the tiny house was empty now. Jack was still locked in his bedroom and Max had moved into the kitchen, where Michael also lingered. Gabriel noticed that his brother had drifted close to the door to the garage, as though he were at war with himself, fighting the urge to go after Jeep and Charlie before they disappeared like lost sheep into a wilderness where wolves certainly prowled.

Gabriel wondered why he did not follow them. It seemed odd that Michael would not interfere on behalf of Jeep and Charlie, the two humans he had struggled to save, the two insignificant mortals he had shed his blessed wings for when he fell from grace. An uneasy sense of curiosity grew in Gabriel's already beleaguered mind. He paced away from the windows, pausing on the border between the living room and the kitchen where the ratty carpet gave way to the dingy linoleum floor.

Max had busied herself by the sink, rinsing out the two coffee mugs under a stream of water coming from the faucet. But her hands were unsteady and as she moved to transfer the mugs to the drain, her fingers slipped on the wet ceramic and they clattered to the floor.

"Dammit," she muttered, bending to pick up a mug that had its handle cracked off. "Dammit. Dammit. Dammit."

Gabriel almost stepped forward to help her, but he restrained himself when he saw Michael take the lead. His brother crossed the kitchen and picked up the other mug, resting it carefully in the drain.

Max refused to look at him. "You're mad at me," she said, pushing her messy bangs out of her eyes with fluttery fingers. "I can tell. You're pissed off because I wouldn't help your friends."

Michael moved to touch her shoulder and for some reason, the simple gesture made Gabriel's gut clench.

But Max herself flinched and recoiled, drawing back against the kitchen sink. "That wasn't easy for me, you know," she said.

"I know," Michael replied. He eased himself away from Max and returned to his place by the garage door. "And I am not angry with you."

"That's a lie," Max shot back.

It was then that Gabriel interrupted. "Angels do not lie," he told her. "Michael would not mislead you." And even as the words left his mouth, he tasted their bitterness, their taint.

No, Michael would not lie, but that did not mean he was incapable of deception.

And he had deceived Max.

"You instructed Jeep and Charlie to come here," he said, approaching his brother. There was an accusation in his voice when he addressed him, his words weighed down with suspicion.

Michael looked taciturn, his lips pinched together. "Gabriel," he warned.

"Wait, what's going on?" Max asked. When Michael wouldn't answer her, she turned to Gabriel instead. "Please tell me," she begged. "If not for my sake, then for Jack's. You can't keep us in the dark here. It's not fair. It's not right. I've done my best to help you Gabriel, now please, help me."

This was nearly unbearable. Gabriel couldn't stop himself.

"Michael knows that Jeep and Charlie are in danger without shelter," he said, voicing his assumptions at last. "He also knows that you have a house and room to spare. I believe he thought that you would provide refuge for them if he sent them here. Obviously, he does not understand how perilous your own situation is, otherwise he would not ask this great thing of you," he finished, a low growl vibrating in his tone.

You know what you have done, brother, Gabriel thought as he looked at Michael. He was pleased when he saw his fellow archangel begin to look slightly ashamed.

"I do not deny my motives," Michael replied, turning his head to the side so that he was looking away from Max and Gabriel and down the hallway instead. "What Gabriel says is true. I thought you might be inclined to help Jeep and Charlie, although I am not angry with you for turning them away."

"Disappointed, then?" Max asked. She stepped forward, placing her fingertips on the table. "You thought I was good person. Maybe you were wrong."

"That is not true," Gabriel replied at once.

Max glanced at him. "You of all people should know better," she said. "You know what I've done." Her voice was laced with sorrowful resignation. Acceptance.

And Gabriel found that he pitied her anew, for it was devastating to witness her strength falter and cede to numb acquiescence. She stood by the table, limp and listless, her very flesh appearing faded, her eyes circled with bruised rings.

"You have regrets," Michael said, returning his gaze to the woman. "But you should not bow to them."

"Yeah, well," Max muttered, folding her fingers into fists and pressing her knuckles against the table, "I did what I had to do…what I had to do, understand? Jeep and Charlie can't stay here. We have food now, but we'll run out again. And there's no telling when you two will get tired of hanging around here. After a while, you'll leave me and Jack and we'll be on our own. I'm responsible for that kid. I'm the only family he has left. I can't go playing innkeeper to a couple of strangers."

Gabriel wondered if Max realized the symbolism in her own words. After all, it had been a lowly innkeeper in a backwoods town called Bethlehem that had found room for another needful child in a rundown stable.

He glanced at Michael, thinking that he, perhaps, had noticed the subtle metaphor. But his brother seemed as oblivious as Max, his thoughts venturing far behind the confines of the little kitchen to the greater world, to the realm that was above human reckoning and unreachable to any mortal mind.

"You need not explain yourself to me," he told Max. "You love Jack and you must care for him. Please believe me when I say that I will never seek to interfere with your guardianship of the boy. I would never wish to lead you, or him, for that matter, into peril. As it is, the matter of Jeep and Charlie has been settled…for now. We will discuss it no more. I apologize for causing you any unnecessary grief."

Max shook her head. "I'm not saying that you did-"

But Michael would not permit her to finish. "I must depart," he said abruptly. "Gabriel, you shall accompany me. Goodbye, Max. Take great care. I bless both you and the child."

And with so little ceremony, without a further word or farewell, he turned to go, pushing open the door as he headed into the garage.

Gabriel did not think, but moved to follow his brother. He both recognized and welcomed the sudden return of Michael's decisive nature. There could be no room for argument now. Gabriel's inner being, his thoughts and desires were meant to give way to an order from his General. When a command was given he obeyed. Blindly. And there was something soothing in the blindness itself. Comforting. A reliable certainty that gave him purpose.

As it was, Gabriel rarely questioned the reason behind such an order, although he could not deny the sudden leap his heart took when he realized that he was, perhaps, being called home. And since being exiled to earth, he had only wished to return to the celestial realm, had only desired and hoped and prayed for a reprieve from his exile. Now he would be restored to his home, to his former glory as his took up his position by the Throne once more. Now he could know only joy…only joy…

But as he moved into the garage, Gabriel could not reconcile his harried emotions with joy. There was no flicker of happiness in his mind. No rush of relief. Only some sickening pain. Some sharp, new agony.

Agony.

He heard Max behind him, her steps quick, her shoes slapping against the concrete floor of the garage.

"Wait!" she called. "Oh Gabriel, please wait!"

He almost stopped. He almost heeded her call and turned back, but it would be impossible for him to leave then, impossible to break away once he saw the sorrow in her eyes…

…the sorrow that would surely mirror his own.

Instead, he focused only on the motions of his body, the great, long strides his legs took, the sudden flow of adrenalin that made the tips of his wings tingle.

He was leaving…he was finally free….

"Please!" Max cried, her voice bleeding into the cold air as Gabriel stepped outside the garage and onto the driveway.

He spread his wings, felt the first gust of wind lift him off the ground…

"Gabriel!"

He did not respond. And as he launched himself into the sky, as he ascended higher and higher, as he left the earth behind, Gabriel looked back at Max one last time.

She was standing in the driveway, a forlorn figure in a forsaken world, her shoulders heaving as the last of control fled and she began to cry.

To weep for him.

And had he been weaker, had he been a creature of earthly flesh and blood and frailty, he might have cried for her.


It took Gabriel longer than usual to propel himself up to the height of the clouds. His wings were stiff, the joints protesting with sharp nips and aches as he struggled to overcome the vying currents of wind and gain some sense of equilibrium and stability. It had been some time since he had last flown, having spent a good week earthbound due to his injuries. As it was, the wound to his shoulder still pained him whenever he beat his wings, the cauterized flesh stretching tightly over knotted muscle and torn sinew. Gabriel found he had to grit his teeth every time he raised his left wing and many a long minute had passed before his eyes stopped watering.

Finally, after a torturous struggle, he parted the vaporous barrier of clouds and emerged in the clear blue of the unbroken, unending sky where Michael awaited him.

"I did not think you would come," his brother said, flying in tight circles, the tips of his razor wings flashing when the sun glanced off each ebony feather.

"You asked it of me," Gabriel replied.

Michael said nothing, but he paused for a fraction of a second, losing height rapidly as soon as his wings stopped beating. Without offering an explanation, he dropped back beneath clouds.

If Gabriel had been a human, he might have expressed his frustration in one of their vulgar, profane epithets. He was confused and, at the same time, highly perturbed. He had assumed, of course, that Michael would lead him home, that they would break the imperceptible wall between the heavenly and the earthly as they had so many times before and enter into the realm of the Most High. And yet here was his brother, falling so readily back to earth.

This time, Gabriel did not bother to withhold a groan as he dove through the clouds. Michael was on the other side, a look of unusual impatience distorting his angular features.

"Are we not returning home?" Gabriel asked, his breath coming in sharp spurts as he fought to maintain his height with every painful beat of his wings.

"No, we will not be going far." Michael wheeled to the right, gliding just below the clouds.

For a moment, Gabriel thought his brother was headed back towards the main road where he would inevitably meet with Jeep and Charlie, but then he saw him change his direction until he soared closer to the distant mountains. Once again, confusion struck Gabriel, but he refrained from offering up a useless argument. For a good half hour, he followed his brother over the desert flatlands, only slowing his pace when they came to the first of the foothills. These they also bypassed, rising against the sheer face of the mountainside until the craggy walls of rock gave way, opening into caves and crevices and small, perilous cliffs.

By now, Gabriel's body had adjusted to the constant motion of his wings and he felt his strength begin to restore itself. It disappointed him, then, when he saw Michael drop his wings and glide through another small crevice in the mountainside. When Gabriel drew level with him, he realized that the opening in the rock was larger than he had imagined, revealing a narrow dell, verdant with green grass and a small, purling stream.

Michael landed in the vale, his knees bracing and bending slightly as his legs took the full force of the impact. Gabriel followed suit, albeit reluctantly, and alighted a few feet away from his brother. His wings, which had been chilled by the streams of cold air coming down from the mountains, quivered with renewed energy. He thought he could fly a little longer if he needed to, thought he could soar heedlessly into the skies, rise and dive, spiral through desert canyons and dip low enough to brush the white foam of churning rapids with his fingertips. But his desire for frivolity and pleasure was inconsequential, something he never considered indulging. Instead, Gabriel quietly consigned himself to the earth once more, his boots filling with lead as he strode over the thick carpet of grass.

Michael himself had dropped onto the ground, sitting in a cross-legged position on the bank of the thin mountain stream Gabriel had noticed from above. Fretfully, he picked at a blade of grass and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. The spray from the stream set diamonds into his otherwise unadorned armor, sprinkling the bared skin of his arms with tiny droplets.

"I am not angry with Max," he said, never raising his eyes from the streambed, his face set in an expression of purpose, something molded and melted out of resistant steel. "Her denial was…to be expected. I knew she would refuse Charlie and Jeep."

And as Gabriel listened to his brother, he felt some unknown emotion take hold of him, something that made his insides freeze, and then, inexplicably, boil with unrepressed heat. He was angered, but not enraged. He was pained, but not by any physical wound. He was fearful, but not from any known threat.

It took him some time to define the roiling, dark sensation that crept beneath his flesh and burrowed in his marrow. And then Gabriel realized what it was.

Jealousy. He was jealous.

"You have some knowledge of Max?" he said sharply, giving vent to his envy. He had no logical reason to believe that his brother knew any less or any more of the woman than he did. And if Michael knew something else, if he had guessed at her secrets or seen something of Max that Gabriel had not, then what would it matter?

Nothing. No, nothing mattered. But Gabriel knew he would be deceiving himself if he did not recognize his increasingly possessive tendencies.

Max was not his, after all. Not his.

Gabriel swallowed, driving back the rising lump in his throat. "I only meant," he said, "that I am surprised to learn that you have watched Max so keenly. I did not believe you had any vested interest in the woman. Is she of some purpose?"

And oh, it was almost impossible for him to disguise the fierce curiosity that had risen up within him. He wanted Michael to open with him now, needed him to reveal the nuances to all the little coincidences that were adding up to a dreadful whole. Gabriel had guessed much and assumed more. It was obvious that his brother was keeping something from him.

Michael's brows knitted together as he listened to Gabriel, his fingers running over the blade of grass with perfect delicacy. "Purpose?" he said, his nostrils dilating as he inhaled deeply. "I dislike the term. It is too martial. Too mercenary, perhaps. But yes, there is a purpose to my designs. I would be lying if I said Max was not involved. And yet, I believe you already suspected as much, brother." Briefly, Michael raised his eyes to him, the swift currents of the stream reflected in them to reveal some private hesitation and misgiving.

Gabriel was surprised when he saw his brother's uncertainty. It was unlike Michael to be conflicted. Determined, yes. Clear-minded, yes. But not unsure. No, never unsure.

He took a deep breath, following Michael's example and inhaling the untainted air of the hidden mountain vale. The scents of grass and snow and stone and water soon drove the stale smell of the garage and the tiny house from his lungs, but in the end, he found he only felt cold. Hollow. A brittle, bruised shell.

Gabriel turned away from Michael, folding his wings around his body to protect himself from the cold gusts that swept down from the peaks. There was an ache in the wind, something hungry and voracious and even in the protection of the vale, he felt watched.

Judged.

"The prophets," Gabriel said slowly, looking over the crook of his right wing at his brother.

Michael nodded. "Yes, you understand now."

It was not the answer he had wanted to hear and for the first time, Gabriel found that he hated being right.

"You knowingly sent Jeep and Charlie to the house," he said, unable to keep the accusation out of his tone. "You knew they would find what they were looking for there."

"Protection," Michael put in.

"And one of the prophets," Gabriel replied gruffly. He shut his eyes for a instant, thinking of Jack. "But Max refused to be a pawn in the game. You cannot force her to comply. She does, after all, have free will."

"Yes." A pained, thin smile formed on Michael's lips. "Free will. And as it stands, brother, so do you."

"I do not understand." Gabriel let his wings drop and he turned to face his brother fully. Confusion, sharp and desperate, gnawed at him. Michael's words were terrible and they troubled him, disturbed him.

"Do you remember when we last stood together on the very edge of Heaven?" Michael asked him. "The sky was of fire and all of the earth was at our feet. And you reproached me, brother, for my thoughts of disobedience, for the questions that filled my heart and left me adrift. I had hoped you would be my anchor, that you would but extend your hand and I would find surety once more. But you were cold. You chided me, reviled my doubt. We are brothers and yet such a great chasm opened between us that night. It pains me still."

And Gabriel was likewise pained. He wanted to be angry with Michael for reminding him of the incident. Perhaps he should have been more open with his brother and consoled him in his time of need. Perhaps he should have been patient and understanding. Perhaps, if he had offered counsel and not a harsh reprimand, Michael would have never fallen.

But what did it matter now, at this late hour? The deed was done. Michael had turned his back on the Father and yet it was Gabriel who had failed.

Shame stained his cheeks a blotchy red and the angel raised his wing once more, hoping to hide the telltale mark of his regret from his brother.

"I remember that night," he said, the great thunder of his voice trumpeting deep within his chest. "I remember how troubled I was when you questioned Him…threatened to defy Him. But what is the worth of all that now? I thought you would have me put such strife from my mind."

"I would," Michael replied and despite his even temperament, his gracious and everlasting patience, signs of his distress were beginning to show through. The blade of grass was crushed between his fingers, leaving a green smudge on the pad of his thumb. "Do you think that I have brought up the matter only to cause you renewed sorrow? My intentions are much more practical. I only wish to remind you of what we spoke of. Do you recall what I said to you that night? You said that the Father's judgment of mankind was just. Do you remember my reply?"

Gabriel thought hard for a minute, unwilling as he was to inspect the painful memory fully. The details of it, however, were etched firmly into his mind. Even now he could see the length of the shadows, the fluttering of Michael's cloak, the tawny tint of the setting sun.

They are just lost. It is our place to guide them.

"I remember," he said, feeling all the muscles in his jaw tighten as he ground out the words. "You spoke of guidance."

"Indeed." Michael's eyes widened. He obviously felt that they were close to reaching some sort of understanding, although Gabriel wasn't sure why his brother was leading him along. In the past, they had always been frank with each other. Perhaps, he wondered, Michael simply felt that he couldn't trust him any more.

"It has always been our place to guide the children of men," Michael continued, his words falling into an easy rhythm that matched the gurgling of the stream. "To bring the will of the Father to them, to whisper in their ears the very words of the Almighty. Nothing has changed. We are called upon once more to act as we always have. To guide. Max has said she will have nothing to do with Charlie and Jeep. Her hand cannot be forced, her mind may not be changed…but she must be guided. Whether her choice will remain the same or not, I do not know. But she will look to us, brother. She will look to you."

The way he spoke the last word, the way it fell from his lips with a dim echo, brought Gabriel to the brink. He felt as though he were standing upon a precipice, above a great sea of mist that clouded around the base of some high, lofty peak. He could not see the ground, he could not see the way…and if he fell….

Fear swamped him, leaving his skin chilled and clammy. The back of his neck ached, the column strained from supporting the heavy weight of his head. For a moment, Gabriel wanted only to lie down upon the fragrant grass and forget. Forget.

"Brother!" Michael climbed to his feet, his wings unfurling behind him. The sharp edge to his voice pulled Gabriel back, dragged him away from the edge of unreliable fantasy and into the cold comfort of reality.

"Are these my orders then?" he asked numbly. "Is this what has been asked of me?"

Michael raised a brow. "You are too astute for your own good, brother," he said. "Or perhaps too narrow-minded."

"Oh Michael." Gabriel shook his head. "This rigmarole is unnecessary. You talk in circles. I only ask that you be honest with me, as you once were. I feel we are at the heart of the matter now. Tell me, have I been asked to stay behind with Max to guide her? Is this what the Father has ordered?"

His brother did not hesitate. "No."

Gabriel was shocked by Michael's response, but even more shocked by the surge of fierce disappointment he experienced.

So this was the end. He had no purpose here, no purpose with Max….

Michael raised his hand, effectively cutting off Gabriel's perilous thoughts. "I shall explain," he said. "You understand that Max must be guided. Her mind, her very soul, is at war with itself. The choice she made today will not be her last and she cannot decide alone."

"Perhaps she shouldn't decide at all," Gabriel interrupted him, his voice bitter. "Perhaps she should be left alone. The woman wants nothing to do with this."

"That may be so," Michael replied evenly. "I myself cannot tell."

"Because you know nothing of her."

"Gabriel." His brother took a step forward, closing the space between them. "I beg you, listen to me."

"Apologies," Gabriel muttered. His chilled flesh had suddenly warmed, leaving him flushed and filling his limbs with unused energy. "I ask you a question and then scoff at the answer. Please, speak. I will not challenge you again."

Michael nodded, clapping a hand on the dark-haired angel's shoulder. "Do not apologize. I understand your upset. It is not unwarranted. I will speak plainly and not draw the matter out. Max must be guided, that you know. However, you yourself have a choice. If you do not wish any involvement in this issue, you may return home at once. I will gladly remain in your place and do my best to guide her. On the other hand, if you are not so opposed to Max and Jack as you once were, then you might also remain behind and watch over them directly. The decision is yours entirely. And I say now, I will offer you no counsel in this matter, not because I am disinclined to, but only because you must settle the question for yourself. I will force nothing on you and neither will our Father. You have no orders. Do what you will."

Gabriel waited until he had finished speaking, restraining himself with difficulty as he listened to his brother. At last, when Michael fell silent, he posed his first burning question.

"Is this my punishment?" he asked.

Michael dropped his hand from his shoulder. "To decide for yourself? I think not."

"But the notion is false," Gabriel added. "We are not human, Michael. The Father did not give us the power of choice. I may not decide to remain or to depart. It is not my place, nor has it ever been."

A crooked, sardonic smile lifted the corner of his brother's mouth. "You have the mind of a tiresome scholar," he said. "Always ruminating. Can you not, for once, see the matter as it truly stands? This has nothing to do with duty or what has been asked of us. You may return home or you may stay behind. Put everything else from your mind and do what you will."

Gabriel did not know if he should be insulted by Michael's levity. He drew himself up to his full height and half-turned, showing his brother his back. "You say that quite often," he rumbled. "I realize it may have some effect upon the humans, but I cannot approach the matter so simply."

"Then you will stand here and debate and ponder for ages to come. What would you have me say to you, Gabriel? There is no grand scheme in all this. Do you doubt my honesty?"

Gabriel decided it would be best not to answer the question. Michael would certainly not like his answer. Instead, he deflected with a query of his own.

"What if I wish to remain behind, but have no desire to convince Max to take on Charlie and Jeep?" he asked.

Michael exhaled sharply. "I see you still bear some personal enmity towards them. I would advise you to discard your dislike. It is not appropriate."

"This has nothing to do with Jeep and Charlie," Gabriel countered at once, ashamed that his brother would think so poorly of him, would believe that he was more concerned with some personal grudge than the will of the Father. "I only spoke concerning Max."

"Max?" Michael's brows jumped together. "You are concerned with Max?"

Gabriel felt his knuckles tighten. "Is she not also a party in this matter?" he asked, making a vain attempt at neutrality.

But Michael's face was alight now, his eyes widening with what Gabriel felt must be understanding.

Understanding, understanding of what?

"Perhaps I have been remiss," his brother muttered, incredulity seeping into his tone. "Perhaps this is a symptom of something deeper. Brother, will you be honest with me? Will you tell me the truth?"

There was something of inevitability in the air. Something of indefinite change and turbulence. Gabriel felt it wash over him and he rejected it, pushed it away until he was standing on the precipice again, ready to plunge into the depths of the unknown….

No. He must stop this now.

"Do not say these things, Michael," he replied, although he was not entirely sure what he was warning his brother against, what secret he was hiding. "I cannot speak of this. My mind is in darkness."

And indeed, his thoughts seemed to betray him. The uncertainty of it all was exquisite, driving a fresh sense of fear into Gabriel's heart. He feared himself and his unworthy hope and his misplaced desire.

And Max, he realized that he feared Max….

Silence dropped over the vale, interrupted only by the incessant bubbling of the stream. Gabriel waited for his brother to question him, to reveal the truth of it all and rightly condemn him.

But to his surprise, and utter relief, Michael dropped the matter. "Have you made your decision?" he said, all former traces of his curiosity dissipating like an early morning mist burned off by the sensible rays of the sun. "Will you stay behind?"

Gabriel said nothing for a long time. He tried to clear his mind, but found he could think only of Max and how she had looked standing there, alone in the desert, waiting from him to come back….

"Perhaps you should remain," he said at length. "After all, Max does seem to have some personal devotion to you. How often, I wonder, was it that you heard her prayers?"

But Michael would not respond, would not satisfy his morbid musings. "I see you have not yet settled the matter," he said, moving away from Gabriel until he was at the edge of the vale. "In that case, I have nothing more to say to you."

"Then leave," Gabriel grunted, unable to look at him.

"Is that what you truly wish?"

Gabriel did not hesitate. "Yes."

There was the sound of rushing wind as Michael spread his wings, dropping back into the sky. "It is you she needs, brother," he called down from on high. "Not me."


Gabriel did not stay long in the mountain vale after Michael's departure. Following his brother's example, he moved to the edge of the peak and dropped into the sky, allowing himself to plummet, buffeted only by the shrieking wind. Gabriel waited until the last moment to catch himself, waited until his belly almost grazed the rocky soil of the uppermost foothills before he spread his wings and glided off into the violet hues of an early twilight. The sensation of falling, of coming so perilously close to destruction made his heart jump into his throat, where it remained for a beat or two, a potent reminder of the physical limitations of his otherwise angelic body.

Gabriel flew away from the mountains, climbing steadily until he soared just below the darkening clouds. He knew he could rise higher, rise and rise and rise until he left the earthly atmosphere and delivered his being, body and soul, into the realms of Heaven.

And he was tempted, sorely tempted to leave behind the domain of mankind, to shuffle of this mortal coil, as Shakespeare would say.

But Max knew something of Shakespeare, didn't she? As he swooped over the desert floor, flying in aimless circles, Gabriel remembered that he had wanted to ask her just when she had occasion to read Hamlet. She certainly did not seem in the habit of appreciating the fine culture of her species, although he was increasingly aware of his own misconceptions of her.

There was more to Max, he thought, than met the eye.

And what of Jack, that haunted, child prophet? The boy who already carried a heavy burden in his heart. The human Gabriel desperately wanted to help.

It is our place to guide them.

Yes, yes it was, although Gabriel himself had always considered any of his previous interactions with humans to be a tedious, if not stale duty. And here he was now, not obligated to extend to his hand to Max and Jack, not ordered to lead them through the shadow of the valley of death.

But he wanted to. He wanted to in a way that was new to him. Foreign. The strange nature of his desire made him nervous, yes, made him frightened. The yearning was persistent, though. Forceful. Strong.

Gabriel left off flying in circles and directed his course to the south…towards Max.

He should not do this thing. He should return to Heaven and to his rightful station by the Throne. His place was not here, not amongst the plain, plebian trappings of mankind, but in the sphere of celestial brilliance, where all the choirs of angels rejoiced, sounding everlasting hosannas and unending hymns of praise.

Listing to the right, Gabriel swooped closer to the earth, his wings fully extended so as to cast faint, triangular shadows on the hard packed soil below. The sun was inching towards the western horizon and to the east, the night gathered in thick, cerulean folds, dotted here and there with the tentative glimmer of the first stars. Up ahead, just beyond the reach of the spreading shadows, he saw a pinprick of light, a lone, wandering beam piercing through the gloom of a broken world. The wind keened in Gabriel's ears, reminding him that the earth had a music of its own, the mortal choirs of air and water, of life and death.

Without realizing his intent, he shifted the weight of his lower torso forward, thrusting his legs directly beneath him as his wings fanned the fickle currents of the wind. And he landed, softly, quietly, by one of the empty horse paddocks. The tiny house sat before him, a solid structure in the wilds of the Mojave, a thing of regularity and straight walls and slanting roof tiles.

It was a humble dwelling, but a worthy home nonetheless. Gabriel moved up the pathway to the garage door, which he was surprised to find left open, inviting both the welcomed and the unwelcome. As soon as he stepped inside, the angel pulled the door closed behind him and locked it securely as he had seen Max do so many times. When he was satisfied that the house was safeguarded, or as fortified as it could possibly be, he entered the kitchen.

Jack he spotted in the living room, sitting on the old sofa with the springs that poked through the upholstery. There was a plate on the boy's lap with a half-eaten sandwich upon it. An untouched glass of milk sat on the coffee table nearby.

Max was in the kitchen, her hands braced on the sink as she looked out the window, as she stared at her reflection in the foggy panes of glass.

Gabriel wasn't certain, but in studying the reflection, he thought he saw a few stray tears glistening on her cheeks.

They are just lost.

"What do you look at?" he asked the woman, his boots ringing out on the sticky linoleum floor.

Max wheeled away from the window, one hand flying to her temple. "Shit," she whispered. "You scared me."

Gabriel moved closer to her, all too aware of the distance between them, the subtle space that kept them apart.

"That was not my intent," he said. "I am sorry."

Max massaged her temple and Gabriel saw that there were indeed tears in her eyes.

"I didn't know where you went," she said faintly. She was brushing her hair back from her brow, the movement just barely disguising the shaking that had infected her fingers. "When you left with Michael, I thought you were gone for good."

Gabriel stepped towards her. "No." He had heard the question in her voice, had heard the shade of fear and uncertainty. It was a mark of utter frailty and it disturbed him, causing his skin to prickle and his heart to thunder in his ears.

Perhaps Michael had been right. He always was, after all. Perhaps Max did need Gabriel more than she could ever need his brother.

And perhaps, yes, perhaps, he needed her.

No. No.

Max dropped her hand from her temple and twisted her fingers together. Vaguely, Gabriel became aware of Jack leaving his post in the living room and venturing into the kitchen.

They were gathering about him, he realized, surrounding him. Closing in.

No way out. No way out.

But did he want a way out?

Max approached him, wearing an expression that was so harried and overwhelmed that her face looked like a mask frozen in a permanent, hollow stare.

"So," she said, raising her eyes to meet his.

Gabriel was confused. "So?"

Max bit her lip. "Are you…I mean, when are you going to leave us?"

He realized it then, the longing, the yearning of her weak, human heart. She did not want him to go.

But his place was not here and it never could be.

"Are you going?" Max asked him, not bothering to disguise her dark doubt, the perilous shades of her own misplaced hope.

Gabriel closed his eyes. He could not remain, he could not….

"No," he said and his voice trembled when he spoke. "I am staying with you."


Author's Note: Thanks so very much for taking the time to read! If you have a free moment, please leave a review. I truly appreciate every bit of feedback I receive for this story.

In the next chapter, Gabriel finds himself struggling to define his relationship with Max. When she approaches him for some much needed advice, his response stuns them both.

With any luck, I should have chapter thirteen posted in roughly ten days. Until then, take care and be well, everyone!