In the Mean Time
Disclaimer: Martha, Stan and others. Not me.
Rating: PG-13 for Civil War violence. Not graphic.
In the Mean Time
"Andrew, just how old is Logan?"
"I don't know. And I know that Logan himself doesn't know."
The angelic pair sat on a park bench waiting for Tess. They were discussing a recent case they had worked when Tess appeared.
"Well, babies, only God and those who need to know have the answer to that question." The large ebony woman embraced the duo in a welcoming hug.
"Tess! How was the choir?"
"Just wonderful, Angel-girl. Now, let's talk about our next assignment," she said, preparing to launch into their subject. However, a breeze blew by and distracted her for a moment.
"Oh, babies, I have to go. It seems there's to be an encore with the choir. You two take the day off and relax a little. Have some fun because tomorrow will be hard work. Oh my." With that she disappeared leaving Andrew and Monica grinning in her wake.
"Coffee?" asked Andrew.
Monica flashed him a charming smile as they began to walk out of the park.
-------
Later that afternoon, the pair sat on the beach watching the surf. It was a peaceful autumn day, almost perfect. They watched in silence the world around them, observing the wonders of their Father's creation.
At last Monica broke the silence.
"About Logan...how long have you known of him?"
"Well, let's see. I met him shortly after I was assigned to be an angel of death. Only I didn't know much about him then. It was a dark time in history and like many others he was drawn into it.
I remember it was during the night. I had taken several people home and I was waiting for my next assignment. When it came, I was sent to wait in the midst of a camp for the man to take. Only when I got there, there were several men all of whom looked to be needing the services of an angel."
-------
In the darkness, Logan could hear the moans of the men around him. Many smelled of approaching death while others reeked of fear and loneliness. The wiry young man was himself a victim of battle, several wounds seeping blood out of his body. He lay as still as possible conserving his strength, hoping for a miracle. As he began to drift off to sleep, a strange smell assaulted him. Looking around and seeing no one, Logan tested the air again. Yes, there was someone nearby but why couldn't he see him?
"Show yerself. I know you're there."
The young man who suddenly appeared seemed surprised.
"How did you—?" he began.
"I could smell ya. Like some kinda exotic tree. Who are ya and why are ya here?"
"My name is Andrew and I'm here to help..someone."
While Logan watched, the tall blonde angel began inspecting the other injured men. He would stop and tilt his head as if listening to the wind. After about the third time, Logan asked what it was that he was listening for.
Again, Andrew was surprised. Most humans reacted with shock at the sight of an angel but this man seemed to take it all in stride.
"I'm waiting for instructions and for confirmation." He made his way to Logan's side. "Can I check your wounds?"
The two eyed one another, each assessing the other. Logan grunted in acquiescence but when Andrew pulled back the makeshift bandages from the young man's chest, his demeanor faltered and he gasped.
"Oh, Father..."
--------
The angelic pair had been sitting so long that the tide had come in and was lapping at their feet. Andrew paused in his story as they walked up toward the tree line. There they made a fire to ward off the fall chill. Andrew put his jacket around Monica's shoulders then turned to stare into the fire.
After a few moments, he glanced sideways at her and began. "There was a hole in his chest, Monica. As big as my hand." He held up his right hand fingers splayed to give her an idea of the damage.
Her eyes went wide. "Oh, Andrew, how awful for you and for him."
"He was so calm. Like it didn't hurt. There was blood everywhere and the other men were moaning but Logan, he..."
--------
"What? What's wrong?"
"Just lay back and be still, Logan."
"How do ya know my name?"
"I know what I'm told."
"Ya got more company coming," Logan replied, "Silver and iron."
Andrew looked around to see if help was coming for this group of men but even the forest was silent. Then beside him appeared two more angels.
"Adam, Michael, sir."
Adam shook Andrew's hand but drew him aside as Michael approached Logan.
His voice was deep as he spoke. "Son, lie still and let the peace of God come upon you."
----------
The young man became very still and as Andrew and Adam watched in awe, they saw the human's body begin to knit itself back together. As tendons, muscles and bones reappeared, the young man flinched but did not move or cry out. At last the skin lay closed as if nothing had happened, only a telltale pink that would fade in a few hours.
Logan opened his eyes to see a trio of angels watching, waiting for him to move.
"So tired," he mumbled.
Michael touched the young man's head gently. "Sleep and rest." He turned to Adam and Andrew. With a wink the arc-angel was gone. A breeze played among the trees and the forest sounds returned to normal. Andrew heard footsteps approach as he and Adam escorted another tired pilgrim home.
---------
"So, ya never did tell me what that wood was called."
Startled, Andrew stood, a protective hand on his companion's shoulder.
"Good thing that sandalwood's not real common 'round here. Neither is pure heather, although it was easier followin' the mocha."
The speaker was short and burly with wiry hair.
"Logan! What are you doing here?" Monica beamed at him. "We were just talking about you."
He sat across from them.
"Did you find your parents?"
"Yeah. It was hard but now I know."
There was an awkward pause, then Andrew asked the obvious question.
"What are you doing here?"
"Got friends in the area. I stay with 'em sometimes. Decided to go for a ride. Picked up yer trail when I stopped for a drink."
"Then you heard the story."
"Yeah, darlin', I heard."
The three sat quietly, listening to the sounds of the crickets and the stars. A log on the fire cracked. Logan spoke again.
"I wanted ta say thanks for yer help. With the memories and all. My friends are relieved ta know that I did have parents." He half grunted at that.
"It's still going to take a while to sort it all out, Logan. Don't get discouraged."
There was another awkward silence.
Logan stood and prepared to leave. "I gotta know, Andrew. Who was that other angel?"
"Adam?"
"Not him. The other one, that smelled like hot forged iron."
"Oh. Him." Andrew looked from Logan to Monica and back again. With a half-smile, half-smirk, he answered. "That was Michael. The Arc-angel."
Logan grunted once and nodded to the pair. As quietly as he came, he left them to watch the embers die out.
--------
Questions, comments accepted. Yes, this is definitely Not canon. So?
Disclaimer: Martha, Stan and others. Not me.
Rating: PG-13 for Civil War violence. Not graphic.
In the Mean Time
"Andrew, just how old is Logan?"
"I don't know. And I know that Logan himself doesn't know."
The angelic pair sat on a park bench waiting for Tess. They were discussing a recent case they had worked when Tess appeared.
"Well, babies, only God and those who need to know have the answer to that question." The large ebony woman embraced the duo in a welcoming hug.
"Tess! How was the choir?"
"Just wonderful, Angel-girl. Now, let's talk about our next assignment," she said, preparing to launch into their subject. However, a breeze blew by and distracted her for a moment.
"Oh, babies, I have to go. It seems there's to be an encore with the choir. You two take the day off and relax a little. Have some fun because tomorrow will be hard work. Oh my." With that she disappeared leaving Andrew and Monica grinning in her wake.
"Coffee?" asked Andrew.
Monica flashed him a charming smile as they began to walk out of the park.
-------
Later that afternoon, the pair sat on the beach watching the surf. It was a peaceful autumn day, almost perfect. They watched in silence the world around them, observing the wonders of their Father's creation.
At last Monica broke the silence.
"About Logan...how long have you known of him?"
"Well, let's see. I met him shortly after I was assigned to be an angel of death. Only I didn't know much about him then. It was a dark time in history and like many others he was drawn into it.
I remember it was during the night. I had taken several people home and I was waiting for my next assignment. When it came, I was sent to wait in the midst of a camp for the man to take. Only when I got there, there were several men all of whom looked to be needing the services of an angel."
-------
In the darkness, Logan could hear the moans of the men around him. Many smelled of approaching death while others reeked of fear and loneliness. The wiry young man was himself a victim of battle, several wounds seeping blood out of his body. He lay as still as possible conserving his strength, hoping for a miracle. As he began to drift off to sleep, a strange smell assaulted him. Looking around and seeing no one, Logan tested the air again. Yes, there was someone nearby but why couldn't he see him?
"Show yerself. I know you're there."
The young man who suddenly appeared seemed surprised.
"How did you—?" he began.
"I could smell ya. Like some kinda exotic tree. Who are ya and why are ya here?"
"My name is Andrew and I'm here to help..someone."
While Logan watched, the tall blonde angel began inspecting the other injured men. He would stop and tilt his head as if listening to the wind. After about the third time, Logan asked what it was that he was listening for.
Again, Andrew was surprised. Most humans reacted with shock at the sight of an angel but this man seemed to take it all in stride.
"I'm waiting for instructions and for confirmation." He made his way to Logan's side. "Can I check your wounds?"
The two eyed one another, each assessing the other. Logan grunted in acquiescence but when Andrew pulled back the makeshift bandages from the young man's chest, his demeanor faltered and he gasped.
"Oh, Father..."
--------
The angelic pair had been sitting so long that the tide had come in and was lapping at their feet. Andrew paused in his story as they walked up toward the tree line. There they made a fire to ward off the fall chill. Andrew put his jacket around Monica's shoulders then turned to stare into the fire.
After a few moments, he glanced sideways at her and began. "There was a hole in his chest, Monica. As big as my hand." He held up his right hand fingers splayed to give her an idea of the damage.
Her eyes went wide. "Oh, Andrew, how awful for you and for him."
"He was so calm. Like it didn't hurt. There was blood everywhere and the other men were moaning but Logan, he..."
--------
"What? What's wrong?"
"Just lay back and be still, Logan."
"How do ya know my name?"
"I know what I'm told."
"Ya got more company coming," Logan replied, "Silver and iron."
Andrew looked around to see if help was coming for this group of men but even the forest was silent. Then beside him appeared two more angels.
"Adam, Michael, sir."
Adam shook Andrew's hand but drew him aside as Michael approached Logan.
His voice was deep as he spoke. "Son, lie still and let the peace of God come upon you."
----------
The young man became very still and as Andrew and Adam watched in awe, they saw the human's body begin to knit itself back together. As tendons, muscles and bones reappeared, the young man flinched but did not move or cry out. At last the skin lay closed as if nothing had happened, only a telltale pink that would fade in a few hours.
Logan opened his eyes to see a trio of angels watching, waiting for him to move.
"So tired," he mumbled.
Michael touched the young man's head gently. "Sleep and rest." He turned to Adam and Andrew. With a wink the arc-angel was gone. A breeze played among the trees and the forest sounds returned to normal. Andrew heard footsteps approach as he and Adam escorted another tired pilgrim home.
---------
"So, ya never did tell me what that wood was called."
Startled, Andrew stood, a protective hand on his companion's shoulder.
"Good thing that sandalwood's not real common 'round here. Neither is pure heather, although it was easier followin' the mocha."
The speaker was short and burly with wiry hair.
"Logan! What are you doing here?" Monica beamed at him. "We were just talking about you."
He sat across from them.
"Did you find your parents?"
"Yeah. It was hard but now I know."
There was an awkward pause, then Andrew asked the obvious question.
"What are you doing here?"
"Got friends in the area. I stay with 'em sometimes. Decided to go for a ride. Picked up yer trail when I stopped for a drink."
"Then you heard the story."
"Yeah, darlin', I heard."
The three sat quietly, listening to the sounds of the crickets and the stars. A log on the fire cracked. Logan spoke again.
"I wanted ta say thanks for yer help. With the memories and all. My friends are relieved ta know that I did have parents." He half grunted at that.
"It's still going to take a while to sort it all out, Logan. Don't get discouraged."
There was another awkward silence.
Logan stood and prepared to leave. "I gotta know, Andrew. Who was that other angel?"
"Adam?"
"Not him. The other one, that smelled like hot forged iron."
"Oh. Him." Andrew looked from Logan to Monica and back again. With a half-smile, half-smirk, he answered. "That was Michael. The Arc-angel."
Logan grunted once and nodded to the pair. As quietly as he came, he left them to watch the embers die out.
--------
Questions, comments accepted. Yes, this is definitely Not canon. So?
