Michael said nothing about what happened when Raphael was back at work the next day. In fact, he acted as if he had never gone to visit his second-in-command at all the day before. Except for one instance when he asked if Raphael would report his communications with Chihaya -- to his relief, the dark-eyed angel had slowly shaken his head in response -- he said nothing about what had happened between the both of them.
Still, anyone could tell that something was wrong. His smiles were rare, all of them forced and looking it. Even he saw the fatigue in his own eyes when he saw his reflection on his computer screen. In place of his usual light banter was silence.
He couldn't focus, either. Every once in a while, he would get up and walk to the window. Not to sooth himself with the sight of the gardens, for it was as if he didn't even see them; he might as well have been blind for all his staring at the flowers in full bloom and not noticing their beauty. Or he would stop whatever he was doing and just stare blankly at his screen. At times, he got dizzy spells and would just have to close his eyes and wait until they went away; they got worse and more frequent as time passed. He rarely worked for more than five minutes at a time.
After a little more than two hours of this, Raphael stood and walked to the window to stand at Michael's side. "Are you all right?" he said quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder.
The archangel made no effort to meet his gaze. "I'm fine."
"That was rhetorical," Raphael said gently. "You look like hell, Michael."
'I feel like hell,' he thought to himself, but didn't voice the thought aloud.
Instead, he repeated, "I'm fine, Raphael. I really am." He paused. "I-- I'm just tired. I was up late last night -- working. I guess I just didn't have enough coffee this morning."
His second-in-command didn't relent, stepping up his efforts instead; too late did Michael realize his slip.¹ "In that case, maybe you should take the rest of the day off. There really isn't anything that requires your immediate attention today, and if anything comes up--"
"I said I'm fine," he interrupted. "If it'll make you happy, I'll go rest when I finish my work."
"Finish! Michael, you've done nothing in two hours! When exactly do you plan to 'finish' your work? Next century?"
He winced and glanced at the tall archangel, surprised at the outburst. Raphael was usually the more calm and collected one out of the two of them. It was a rare occasion when he raised his voice, let alone when he got angry. Michael could not even recall the last time he'd shown even the faintest hint of a temper, it had been such a long while.
"I'm fine," he muttered for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"No, you're not," was the firm reply. "Michael, you don't sound like you've convinced yourself that you are. So how am I supposed to believe it if you yourself don't?"
"What the hell do you care?" he retorted, surprising even himself at how angry he didn't sound.
"What do I care?"
Raphael's voice, instead of growing louder, grew softer. And somehow, this made him seem all the more intense, almost dangerous. His anger made up for the lack of feeling on Michael's part. The blonde's eyes widened at this change in his demeanor, and he suspected he might have backed away if he hadn't been so surprised. If the other angel's temper was rare, that it was turned on him was all the more so.
"I care," the storm-eyed angel growled, "because you are my colleague and my best friend. I care because you are someone close to me, someone very dear to me. Damn it, I care because you're going to drive me insane with all your pacing!"
He was shaking, Michael could see, just very slightly. And as quickly as it had come, the anger disappeared, replaced with deep concern. With this change back to the partner he was familiar with, he relaxed, a bit surprised at how tense he had become. Raphael tugged at his arm.
"Come on, Michael. I'll walk you to your room. Even if it's just for a couple of hours today, you should rest. You know better than to overwork yourself."
He shrugged off the other angel's hand. "It's all right, don't worry. I'll make it through the day."
A slight, frustrated sigh. "How about I call the medics and we'll see what they say? Michael-sama, either way, whether it's me or them, someone's going to drag you to your room whether you like it or not."
It was obvious that, no matter what he said, Raphael wouldn't relent. Somewhat amused, he recalled a similar situation from a few years before. Of course, the subject of that argument then had been trivial, a matter of plans for a day off.²
Michael smiled softly at his second-in-command, his first real smile of the day. "All right, I give up. I'll go." Crystal blue eyes twinkling, he added, "But I'll give none of you the privilege of dragging me there."
He left his place at the window, feeling Raphael's dark eyes on him the whole time. He thought of gathering some of his things to work on in his room, but thought better of it, suspecting the other archangel would somehow convince him into leaving them anyway. The same logic rendered moot the idea of forwarding his still unreviewed documents to the console in his private office. That, and he most likely wouldn't get anything done.
He made it as far as the door when another dizzy spell hit. Now without the support of his chair, he instead settled for that of the doorframe, reaching for it as the world spun in and out of focus.
The next things he was aware of were arms supporting him, Raphael's "Michael! Hold on!", and the realization that he'd missed the doorframe by mere centimeters. Stubborn to the end, he shrugged away with a vehement statement that he was fine, and walked forward, trying to focus as the world around him continued to twist and turn.³
He barely registered the fact that he was falling and his second-in-command's catching him once more. As if from far away, he heard Raphael calling for he medics, voice thick with worry. He closed his eyes, finally surrendering, and sagged bonelessly against the tall archangel, letting his mind slip into the darkness that beckoned him away from his unstable world.
"Michael? Michael!"
He heard the footsteps of he approaching medics as thought from faraway.
'I -- I'm all right.' he wanted to reassure them all. 'I'm just...'
The voices faded soon enough, the medics' usually impartial tones laced with worry as he failed to respond, Raphael's slowly -- however faintly -- growing distressed. The last thing he was aware of was the strangest sensation on his cheek. It was felt almost... wet?
'But why would you......'
It was late afternoon when Michael awoke. He was in his apartments, his bedroom specifically. The drapes had been pulled across the windows and the glass door leading out into a balcony, but some of the soft sunlight had managed to find its way through the breaks between them. The lights were turned down low, easy on his eyes as he blinked all traces of drowsiness away. Yawning a little, he sat up.
He made to get out of the bed, but heard a commanding, "Freeze."
Raphael was at the door, cool, dark eyes watching him for any further movement. It was not often that the archangel used that tone with him, those times happening to be similar to this. So he obeyed and did nothing.
"Are you all right now? Need anything?" Raphael asked as he approached. "Are you hungry?"
The golden-haired angel shook his head a little and mumbled, "Fine."
His companion looked at him dubiously, but said nothing to contradict him, stating simply, "That's good to hear."
He lay back down, feeling lightheaded, while Raphael took the seat beside the bed. For a few long moments, there was a silence in which he stared up at the ceiling, getting the slightest urge to squirm under the steady, dark gaze of the other angel.
"Well, the medics said it's nothing bad," Raphael said finally. "Just exhaustion." It felt almost as if he was willing Michael to meet his gaze. "An extreme case. They were surprised you'd lasted so long with so little sleep. Not only that, you managed to hide it very well, too."
He winced at the slight accusation in the other's voice. Throwing an arm over his eyes, he mumbled, "Working."
It wasn't exactly a lie. He had been up working the past several nights. Things had piled up of late, more than he was used to. He had yet to accustom himself to the slew of reports that had been coming in, there being more investigative pairs than in the past, along with overseeing the academy and dealing with the occasional request or order from officials on Eden. Truth told, his late nights working were what kept him ahead of things instead of just keeping up, and he liked it better that way.
He just hadn't been up because of the work. It was a mere convenience for him, that he had something to do. Still, he found it so much easier to utter his excuse when he couldn't see the dusky eyes of his companion. Raphael knew him too well -- sometimes, it was as if he knew more about him than himself -- and would see the real reason in his eyes if he saw them. While this was a good thing most of the time, allowing them to work without constantly having to consult with each other, this was one instance where he didn't want his partner to read him.
'Are you sure?' a voice needled him.
Again, there was silence. Michael could feel the other archangel's eyes never leaving him. It was almost as if he was waiting for something else to be said, almost as if he already knew the truth.
He hated it. He hated lying and he hated the guilt Raphael was making him feel just by being there. He hated himself for not wanting the angel to leave him alone.
"You're not to leave your room, they said, until they deem you fit," Raphael once again broke the silence, standing up. "I'm personally making sure of it."
Michael waited before he heard footsteps away from the bedroom and felt the dimming of the light as the door was partly closed before uncovering his eyes again. Sighing, he shifted into a more comfortable position. With Raphael "personally making sure" he'd get some rest, it was no use trying to protest otherwise.
'Couldn't I at least get a book,' he grumbled to himself and closed his eyes again, even the dim light of the room becoming too much for him.
Not surprisingly, he fell asleep again.
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1: Coffee. Neither of them drank coffee, not anytime that I remember. It's always tea. Yes, I know tea has more caffeine (or something like that?), but one tends to think that it's coffee that snaps you awake. (Though it's true for K. But that might just be all the sugar she dumps in. ^^;;)
2: Referring to Secret Garden 3. The one when Michael cuts his hand. ^_^
3: If you know what something here used to be, then you might have an idea how I hate how it sounds now. If you don't know, then good for you.