As always, I would like to thank those of you who have reviewed. Your kind words inspire me to no end.
Author's notes: Even I will admit I've gone a little heavy on the angst here. Be warned--I was actually trying to make people cry in this one. Then again, since that was the effect I was going for, it probably won't work :( It's not all tears and gloom in this chapter though, gentle readers, there be a ray of light at the end of the tunnel for those of you who have been lamenting the passing of our dear Richie. I'm not saying Virgil's going to be able to save him...I'm just saying I go where the muses lead and I didn't want to write myself into a corner. (Insert evil laughter here)
Disclaimer: 20th verse same as the first! I don't own them (the WB does!) I'm not making any money (that's what my job's for!) Please don't sue (that would be mean!) Big dance finale!
"Richie...I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. See, you're my best friend and you always will be, but I think we could be—no, no wait. Rich, we've been friends for a long time, right? And sometimes friendship develops—no, I'm not doing this right. Richie, would you do me the honor of—no that's didn't work freshman year, why would it work now?" Virgil sighed heavily and started again. "Rich, I'm going to jump your bones, now, okay?"
"Lacks romance, but it certainly gets to the point." Virgil jumped nearly a foot in the air and whipped around, blue light crackling around him without conscious thought. Faith was sitting at his computer desk again, straddling the reversed chair and resting her chin on the back of it.
Virgil shook his head and dropped to sit on the floor in front of his closet, where he had been "practicing" what he would say to his best friend. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and Richie was due to arrive at twelve to help Virgil and his father decorate the house for their party. Virgil was quite sure he had never been so apprehensive in his life. Then again, he'd never had so much riding on anything as he did the next few hours. If he screwed this up, he'd never get another chance.
And there was still the matter of what was going to happen tomorrow night.
"Things went well with your father," Faith ventured after a moment of silence.
"Yeah." Virgil laughed a touch bitterly. "I should have known he'd be okay with it. He's always supported me, no matter what."
"You're lucky to have him."
"You have no idea. I wouldn't have been able to be Static without him." They fell silent again, and some part of Virgil that was always thinking in "hero mode" quietly marveled at how quickly he had adjusted to all this. Here he was, suddenly sixteen again, talking about his relationship with his father to a woman who he was beginning to suspect was not anything even resembling human. Life was strange.
He glanced up at the clock on his bedside table. Eleven fifteen. His teeth clenched and abruptly he leaped to his feet, turned, and slammed his fists into the closet door, coming dangerously close to breaking the mirror.
"Virgil?" Faith sounded alarmed. Though he heard no movement, she was suddenly beside him.
"Faith, I can't do this. I need more time." He knew it was futile to ask. Faith had made that more than clear before she had left him the first time. Still, he had to try. As expected, though, Faith shook her head, sadly.
"There is no more time. You have until tomorrow, dear. No more, no less. That's the deal." Virgil turned around to lean his back against the cool glass.
"Why can't I save him?" he whispered, his voice hitching. "I've saved so many people, Faith, so many strangers! Why can't I save the person I love?" He slid down the closet door until he came to rest on the floor again. "Why can't I save him?" He felt the burning ache of tears rising in his eyes, and was unable to prevent them from spilling over.
Faith closed her own eyes for a moment, and then sank down to kneel in front of him. She took both his hands in hers. Again that strange warmth sparked from her skin, but this time it brought no comfort.
"I'm so sorry, Virgil. If I could change things for you, I would. I swear I would. I wish things were different."
"Why can't they be?! Huh? Are we being punished?" It was a fear that had lurked in his heart for years, unspoken; a secret wondering if maybe it wasn't his love that had sealed Richie's fate in the first place. To his shock, Faith dropped his hands to grip his shoulders, shaking him lightly.
"Don't ever think that!" she said passionately. "You are not being punished…nor is Richie."
"How do you know?" Faith smiled gently in answer.
"You know the answer to that, Virgil. You asked me what I was, earlier. Haven't you figured that out, yet?"
He looked at her, really looked at her as she held his hands. She was not a particularly stunning woman, and yet there was something indescribably beautiful about her. He remembered the golden glow in Richie's hospital room, the sweet warmth of her touch, the feeling of calm and peace that she radiated.
"You're an angel," he breathed, before he was even aware he was speaking. He hadn't thought about it, really, too concerned with what she had done for him to wonder how she had done it. How could there be any other answer, though?
"Yes, my dear, I'm an angel." She hugged him, then, drawing him close. That strange warmth surrounded him, and Virgil had never felt such love or peace directed at him. "You are not being punished. Love freely given and received is never wrong, no matter what anyone else says. You have to believe that."
"Then why? Why does this have to happen to him? He doesn't deserve this!"
"No…no, he doesn't. I can't explain it to you in any way you'd understand. It's Fate. It can't be helped. To change someone's Fate…it would take a miracle. I can't give you a miracle, Virgil; I'm not allowed to give miracles." It didn't change anything, but at least Virgil could believe her when she said that she would help him if she could. Small comfort, it was, but it was something.
"I…I understand," he said, pain thick in his voice. "I—Faith, I don't want you to think I'm not g-grateful…"
"Shhhh. I know. Believe me, Virgil, I know." She released him and sat back, then reached out and wiped his cheek with one thumb. "I have to go, now. I'll be watching you, if you need to talk." Virgil nodded, and scrubbed at his eyes.
"Thanks, Faith. For everything."
She smiled and then, as before, she was gone.
Faith held it together until she had left her young hero's room, and found a quiet park to reappear in. There, amid the branches of the tallest tree she could find, she finally allowed herself to cry.
It was a horrible thing for an angel to be moved to tears. Virgil had been right when he had thought sadness out of place on her face. Sadness should have had no place in the heart of a being of love and light. Faith, though, wept for her young hero, and the young man he loved. She wept for the unfairness of it, for what-ifs and might-have-beens and most of all she wept for the pain she knew Virgil would go through. How could the comfort of this gift ever outweigh the pain? She knew it must, though, for she had meant what she had told Virgil. This was not a punishment for him…it was meant to be a gift.
"I told you not to go back." Gideon appeared beside her, his craggy, weathered face wreathed in sympathy. She nodded miserably, leaned into his offered embrace.
"I couldn't stay away," she said. "He's never left Richie alone, and I can't leave him. Oh Gideon, is there nothing I can do?" She turned pleading eyes on her mentor.
"Faith—you said it yourself…it would take a miracle to save him." There was something in Gideon's face, though, that caused Faith to sit bolt upright. She rubbed angrily at her eyes, willing herself to stop crying.
"What?" she demanded.
"What, what?" Gideon replied innocently. Faith didn't buy it for an instant.
"You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The look you get when you know something I don't!"
"Faith—"
"No! Gideon, you rat bastard, you told me this case wasn't authorized for miracles!"
"It's not."
"Then what was that look for?"
"Faith, I do not have a 'look' as you put it. Virgil Hawkins was granted a second chance to tell one Richard Foley that he loved him. The miracle it would require to alter Richard Foley's ordained fate has not been authorized. You know the rules."
Faith glared at him. He held up for a few seconds before he finally caved.
"There is…a loophole," he conceded quietly. Faith's eyes widened and she jumped to her feet, balancing delicately on the branch where Gideon was still sitting.
"Loophole? You never said anything about a loophole! What loophole?"
"Faith, please, it's not that simple." Gideon sighed, wishing not for the first time that he had not been assigned such a volatile apprentice. Faith had the makings of a fine angel, but she was still so emotional. "Yes, there is still a chance that a miracle may be performed. Such a miracle is only granted in exceptional cases, though. I'm sorry, but this case was reviewed quite thoroughly. If it was not decided that they deserve a miracle before the case was handed to you, there's almost no chance Virgil will be able to change that.
"He's a hero! A genuine hero…how can that not be exceptional?" Faith growled, planting her hands on her hips.
"Yes, yes, yes…he is an exceptional young man. However, this case is not based on his accomplishments as Static."
"Then what is it based on? How can he get that miracle?"
"Darling girl, I can't tell you. I don't know myself. A miracle is only given on individual basis, and so the circumstances are different every time. Such acts have only been granted three times in my entire tenure as a Christmas angel."
Faith felt the flame of hope that had sprung in her heart gutter. Only three times in nearly a thousand years? How could her young hero best such odds?
"As I said, my dear, it is entirely up to him, now. All you can do is be there for him, and pray for him."
Faith sat down again, heavily. She stared out through the branches, bare now, stripped by winter cold. A chill wind swept through the park, and though she couldn't feel the cold, she shivered.
"Gideon?"
"Hmmm?"
"Sometimes our job sucks."
"I rather think you'll find that true no matter what your assignment."
"Yeah. Gideon?"
"What?"
"I'm sorry I called you a rat bastard." Gideon chuckled dryly and wrapped one arm around her shoulders.
"I forgive you, child. At least you're not afraid to speak your mind."
Virgil had faced down more villains, mutants, and insurance salesmen than he cared to count. He had stood firm in the face of death, and remained calm when the fate of the world hung in the balance. He had traveled to distant galaxies, and met challenges that would have sent a lesser man screaming all the way back to his bed.
So why was the idea of seeing his best friend so terrifying?
As if he really had to answer that. He was so terrified because now he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was the last time he would ever speak to his beloved friend. When midnight, Christmas Eve rolled around, Faith would turn time forward again and he would find himself back at the New York hospital. All he would have left were the memories of one of the brightest spirits he had ever met.
C'mon V, we can be there and back before they're finished with the Christmas carols. This guy doesn't look so tough.
"/I'm not going to do this to myself,/" he thought grimly. He couldn't change what would happen. He would have years to regret that fact, and try to accept it. He only had a matter of hours with Richie. Twenty four hours to store up enough memories to last a lifetime. Twenty four hours, and he had to make them the best of Richie's life.
The clock in the front hall chimed the quarter hour, and Virgil jumped at the sound. Richie was supposed to arrive around noon. Virgil wiped his palms on his jeans and resisted the urge to get up and look out the window again. Sharon was starting to look at him strangely…well, more strangely than usual.
Virgil remembered how they had spent this afternoon the first time around. If he had known it would be the last carefree afternoon he would ever spend with Richie, he would have tried a lot harder to commit every last detail to memory. He had been so distracted, so nervous as he had tried time and time again to work up the nerve to tell Richie what he wanted to say.
They had strung up lights all over the house, nearly doubling the number of lights the Hawkins' had already put up. Virgil vaguely remembered arguing with Richie about the best placement of a huge wreath, and fussing over the setup of the Kwanzaa candles that would be used after Christmas. They had ordered pizza, and strung popcorn, and filched cookies from the surprisingly delicious batches Sharon was turning out, all the while laughingly proclaiming how horrible they tasted. It had been a good day. Up until the very end of it.
As was their custom, he and Richie had headed up to his room to exchange Christmas gifts. Richie's mother took him to her sister's house for Christmas dinner every year, and so they usually gave their presents the day or two before. It was agreed, though, that the gifts would not be opened until exactly 9:30 on Christmas Day, so that they could be sure that they opened each other's gifts at the same time. It was a silly tradition left over from childhood, but one that was strictly observed.
Virgil had never had the heart to open Richie's last present to him.
That…this…Christmas Day had been a blur of hard waiting room chairs and grim processions of doctors and watching Richie's mother slowly fall apart as test after test made a parent's nightmare her reality. He had come home from the hospital, where his friend was lying pale and broken, seen the brightly wrapped package still resting on his desk for what should have been its 9:30 unwrapping, and lost it. He had cried for a solid hour, sitting on his bed while his father held him, rocking him like a baby.
It still sat on a top closet shelf in his New York apartment, carefully preserved. The paper and clumsy ribbon had long ago faded to near unrecognizable colors, but Virgil could no more stand to get rid of it than he could stand to open it.
He had meant his gift to Richie to be something less tangible, but far more important than any purchased bauble. He had intended to throw it all on the line, look Richie straight in the eye and tell him that he was in love with him.
He had ended up shoving a wrapped CD he had bought for his father into Richie's hands.
That was then, though. This was now…again. Things would be different this time. He would not let his fears get the better of him. He was better than that. He would not start on the what-ifs and let them talk him out of what he knew was the right thing to do. He still had no idea how his best friend would react to his declaration, but he strongly suspected he would not be disappointed. He didn't think Faith would have gone to all this trouble if his affections would not have been welcomed.
He was going to take what he had been given, and he was going to make the most of it. For both of them.
He was startled out of his musings by someone pounding on the front door. By the sound of it, it was not the first time they had knocked.
"V, I swear…if I drop this crap I am not cleaning it up! Let me in!"
Virgil's heart leaped into his throat even as his stomach plummeted to the soles of his shoes. He hadn't heard that voice in ten years. Even pissed off, it was still the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He was across the room before he was even aware he was moving, and threw open the door.
Richie paused in mid-kick, his arms laden with boxes, bags, and a precariously balanced present. One dark eyebrow quirked upwards, a familiar grin lit his face, and Virgil thought he might start crying again.
"Richie…"