Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of Angel.
Spoilers: The episode mentioned in the title.
Perspectives of a Lullaby
There's an explosion next-door.
A vision of multicolored bottles shattering in the assortment of fire and debris.
He pulls her close, carefully, as the open door reveals a disarray of friends-entering, escaping, and fearing, all at the same time.
His enemy has come.
It doesn't take a single conversation to figure this out.
The walls on the far side of the room are weak.
They drive at it with golden rhinos of force and weak, but desperate, punches.
Save her.
Save the baby.
It's raining out.
A subtle downpour flows across the sky like seeds being sown-calculated, steady, and so beautiful.
For surely in that time, when the sky opens and the heavens weep, there will be no birth, only death.
She won't get far-all of them know it, but none of them are able to even work the words in their minds, or on their lips.
Denial is always better when it affects the masses.
And yet she stumbles.
He swears he will pick her up, and carry on-
But the angle of her fall is wrong.
He cannot catch her,
Her body is misshapen, her stomach extremely disproportional.
for she has not fallen-
but surrendered.
Pain.
Defeat.
I'm not a good mother. I can't even offer this kid life.
Exhaustion.
It all boils into one massive thing-
A entity so large, and ungraspable, that the very thought of any of it, is like the weight of a large boulder on the soul.
If she still needed her lungs, then the air would have been constricted and tight, high in her throat.
But she didn't.
She had died long ago-
And air-
Like life-
Was a new, and unneeded thing to her.
This isn't possible!
Tell me about it, Daddy.
They lower to the ground slowly-the calculating positioning and movement of it like a slow-paced waltz.
His knee was bended now.
One of his friends, Fred, was kneeling with his coat around her head, besides them.
The others are sent, dashing, to retrieve the car.
I won't be okay. I won't be okay at all.
She's stretched across the puddles of mud and wooden debris like a wounded cat, their hands intertwined, as he arcs his body over her.
They speak.
Words of forgiveness, carnage, the past-
I wanna say I'm sorry. I wanna say it and mean it, but...I can't.
Things that they can never move forward from.
Aren't you going to tell me it's okay?
No.
No, it's really not, is it. It's not okay.
The fire from inside the building lights her face up, a crisp orange glow, as if from a thousand candles.
While inside, their enemy saunters slowly and steadily-eyes steel, determined, and grim for the murder that he will soon commit.
The baby won't survive.
The weight the wind blows around them-
The soft rain that cries with them-
Her un-beating heart-
Her child, with body and soul, solely up against her body-
They all know this.
Our baby is going to die right here in this alley! You died in an alley, remember?
I remember.
His hair is drenched, his face angled, and resigned.
We did so many terrible things together. So much destruction, so much pain. We can't make up for any of it. You know that, don't you?
Yeah.
This child...it's the one good thing we ever did together.
He kisses her hands,
fists tighter than the emotions rising up in his still heart.
The only good thing.
And his head bows.
Forehead touching the embrace of fingers and palms.
He's like the sky now-
Dark-
Powerful-
And crying.
Her gaze shifts, as her upper body angles itself, looking at something that only she sees.
Her eyes return,
And with resign and with a mother's determination-
Finishes it.
You be sure to tell him that.
A gasp.
An object.
Though it's not noticeable until it's struck into her heart-
And drops,
hollowly,
to the empty air and ash, that replaced her body.
His head raises, in shock,
breathing it all in as if it were something that wasn't inhaled at the right moment, then it all would be lost.
Just like an answer-you almost have.
The world seems smaller than before-
The sky, an opening of impossibilities, as the rain pours and drenches-
the small, screaming child,
crying on the very spot, where his mother use to be.
The world gasps around them-
Euphoria surrounds and fills the silent and vacant spaces of the world.
And this tiny boy-
Fills the void with life.
Both he and Fred inch toward, with fragile movements and suspended feelings.
The gap in the bedroom's wall reveals the enemy, unbeknownst.
His crossbow raises on a practiced arm, face full of lethal resolve.
The coat falls from Fred's head with purpose, and is carefully wrapped around the child.
They huddle close to each other, in complete awe of the situation, and turn-
To see an arrow, pointed at his heart.
They stare at each other with mixed, and yet steeled emotions.
Her eyes are like one of a wild deer.
Caught.
Bound to be wounded.
And indefinitely-afraid.
He stands straighter, breathless,
The burden in his arms more precious than glass china, and more valuable than the hand of God.
His chin raises, and he looks his sworn enemy in the eye,
saying nothing.
The rain continues to fall in level sheets,
Puttering and pattering with the tone of a sweet lullaby.
A piano is heard somewhere in the background.
Adversaries of the enemy surround the alley.
Something in the air warns them not to breathe so hard, they make break it all.
The car pulls up at the alley's opening.
The atmosphere is so fragile.
And yet, the antagonist's arm does not pull the trigger.
No words of hatred.
No anger.
No revenge.
Only-
the dropping of his weapon.
They pull together in one brisk movement,
And walk, together, out of the alley,
Passing their rival by a mere hairbreadth.
He looks like a small puppy from the back,
his body a little lower, his frame smaller,
as if his tail were between his legs.
The rain continues
the hands of man, enemy, and demon--all rest to their sides.
The sky weeps as the door slams.
The car drives away, and disappears out of view.
Spoilers: The episode mentioned in the title.
Perspectives of a Lullaby
There's an explosion next-door.
A vision of multicolored bottles shattering in the assortment of fire and debris.
He pulls her close, carefully, as the open door reveals a disarray of friends-entering, escaping, and fearing, all at the same time.
His enemy has come.
It doesn't take a single conversation to figure this out.
The walls on the far side of the room are weak.
They drive at it with golden rhinos of force and weak, but desperate, punches.
Save her.
Save the baby.
It's raining out.
A subtle downpour flows across the sky like seeds being sown-calculated, steady, and so beautiful.
For surely in that time, when the sky opens and the heavens weep, there will be no birth, only death.
She won't get far-all of them know it, but none of them are able to even work the words in their minds, or on their lips.
Denial is always better when it affects the masses.
And yet she stumbles.
He swears he will pick her up, and carry on-
But the angle of her fall is wrong.
He cannot catch her,
Her body is misshapen, her stomach extremely disproportional.
for she has not fallen-
but surrendered.
Pain.
Defeat.
I'm not a good mother. I can't even offer this kid life.
Exhaustion.
It all boils into one massive thing-
A entity so large, and ungraspable, that the very thought of any of it, is like the weight of a large boulder on the soul.
If she still needed her lungs, then the air would have been constricted and tight, high in her throat.
But she didn't.
She had died long ago-
And air-
Like life-
Was a new, and unneeded thing to her.
This isn't possible!
Tell me about it, Daddy.
They lower to the ground slowly-the calculating positioning and movement of it like a slow-paced waltz.
His knee was bended now.
One of his friends, Fred, was kneeling with his coat around her head, besides them.
The others are sent, dashing, to retrieve the car.
I won't be okay. I won't be okay at all.
She's stretched across the puddles of mud and wooden debris like a wounded cat, their hands intertwined, as he arcs his body over her.
They speak.
Words of forgiveness, carnage, the past-
I wanna say I'm sorry. I wanna say it and mean it, but...I can't.
Things that they can never move forward from.
Aren't you going to tell me it's okay?
No.
No, it's really not, is it. It's not okay.
The fire from inside the building lights her face up, a crisp orange glow, as if from a thousand candles.
While inside, their enemy saunters slowly and steadily-eyes steel, determined, and grim for the murder that he will soon commit.
The baby won't survive.
The weight the wind blows around them-
The soft rain that cries with them-
Her un-beating heart-
Her child, with body and soul, solely up against her body-
They all know this.
Our baby is going to die right here in this alley! You died in an alley, remember?
I remember.
His hair is drenched, his face angled, and resigned.
We did so many terrible things together. So much destruction, so much pain. We can't make up for any of it. You know that, don't you?
Yeah.
This child...it's the one good thing we ever did together.
He kisses her hands,
fists tighter than the emotions rising up in his still heart.
The only good thing.
And his head bows.
Forehead touching the embrace of fingers and palms.
He's like the sky now-
Dark-
Powerful-
And crying.
Her gaze shifts, as her upper body angles itself, looking at something that only she sees.
Her eyes return,
And with resign and with a mother's determination-
Finishes it.
You be sure to tell him that.
A gasp.
An object.
Though it's not noticeable until it's struck into her heart-
And drops,
hollowly,
to the empty air and ash, that replaced her body.
His head raises, in shock,
breathing it all in as if it were something that wasn't inhaled at the right moment, then it all would be lost.
Just like an answer-you almost have.
The world seems smaller than before-
The sky, an opening of impossibilities, as the rain pours and drenches-
the small, screaming child,
crying on the very spot, where his mother use to be.
The world gasps around them-
Euphoria surrounds and fills the silent and vacant spaces of the world.
And this tiny boy-
Fills the void with life.
Both he and Fred inch toward, with fragile movements and suspended feelings.
The gap in the bedroom's wall reveals the enemy, unbeknownst.
His crossbow raises on a practiced arm, face full of lethal resolve.
The coat falls from Fred's head with purpose, and is carefully wrapped around the child.
They huddle close to each other, in complete awe of the situation, and turn-
To see an arrow, pointed at his heart.
They stare at each other with mixed, and yet steeled emotions.
Her eyes are like one of a wild deer.
Caught.
Bound to be wounded.
And indefinitely-afraid.
He stands straighter, breathless,
The burden in his arms more precious than glass china, and more valuable than the hand of God.
His chin raises, and he looks his sworn enemy in the eye,
saying nothing.
The rain continues to fall in level sheets,
Puttering and pattering with the tone of a sweet lullaby.
A piano is heard somewhere in the background.
Adversaries of the enemy surround the alley.
Something in the air warns them not to breathe so hard, they make break it all.
The car pulls up at the alley's opening.
The atmosphere is so fragile.
And yet, the antagonist's arm does not pull the trigger.
No words of hatred.
No anger.
No revenge.
Only-
the dropping of his weapon.
They pull together in one brisk movement,
And walk, together, out of the alley,
Passing their rival by a mere hairbreadth.
He looks like a small puppy from the back,
his body a little lower, his frame smaller,
as if his tail were between his legs.
The rain continues
the hands of man, enemy, and demon--all rest to their sides.
The sky weeps as the door slams.
The car drives away, and disappears out of view.