"The Kindness of Strangers"

Chapter 2

"A Good Gossip Session"

Gabriel heard voices – an Irishwoman, an American man, and an Italian man – arguing in furious whispers. An Englishman butted in – be quiet, for God's sake!

Blackness.

He was lying on something soft.

He was on his stomach, his head on a pillow and turned to one side and his wings unfurled to their full span. Someone was pulling his boots off his feet.

"You can't undress him – it's a sin!" the Irishwoman protested.

"You said the same thing when I stretched out his wings to dry," the Englishman reminded her.

"Well, touching his wings – that's a sin too!"

"As you like," the Englishman said, unwilling to argue about it.

"And undressing him – ah, that's even worse!"

"It is?" The Englishman asked, amused. "Where in the Bible does it say all that?" Gabriel felt hands tugging at his cloak, trying to pull it off.

The Irishwoman was silent for a moment. "Undressing an angel… well, it has to be a sin, doesn't it?" she asked rhetorically. "And he's Saint Gabriel the Archangel, too – oooo, you'll be goin' straight to Hell for this!"

"I'm a doctor," the Englishman reminded her. "So it's all right."

"But he's – "

"He's my patient!" the Englishman snapped, his patience finally at an end. "And lying in wet clothing certainly won't help speed his recovery along! Now, either help me figure out how to get this off him or get out of the way!"

"That's fine with me, Doctor. I want no part of this at all!"

Gabriel closed his eyes.

Blackness.

He was being shaken awake. He opened his eyes and saw softly curling red hair.

"Simon," he murmured.

"Ah, no… 'tis only me," the Irishwoman said. He managed to focus on her face and realized that he knew her, somehow… didn't he? His eyes slipped shut.

Blackness.

More voices. It was the Englishman and the Irishwoman again.

"When was the last time you woke him?"

"An hour ago, just as you said," she replied. "Every hour on the hour, those were your instructions."

"All right. I'll sit with him a bit – you get some rest."

Blackness.

The Word blazed through his mind like a ribbon of fire. He opened his eyes and tried to blink the brightness away only to realize that it was sunlight coming in through a window.

He was lying facedown on a king-sized bed, with his now dry wings spread out on either side of his body. He turned his head the other way and saw Maureen, now dressed in a Carnival tee shirt and a pair of jeans, sitting in a chair by the bed, asleep.

He closed his eyes again for a moment. Yes, The Word was a constant pulse in the back of his mind, filling him, reshaping his brain, making him what he was: an angel, the Messenger of God.

The Boss hadn't deserted him after all, and he felt a moment's deep shame for ever even considering that as a possibility. Gabriel was His angel, and He would never abandon him.

He pushed himself up onto his knees, shook his wings out and folded them neatly behind him. He realized that was dressed only in a pair of blue sweatpants with red and white pinstripes on the sides, and he wondered briefly what had happened to his clothing. Carefully, so as not to wake his sleeping nurse, he got off the bed and went to examine his new surroundings.

He had been given a stateroom – a very comfortable, very large one with a picture window by the bed and a door that led out to a balcony. Near the coffee table were two armchairs with backs that looked like they'd be comfortable for perching on, as well as an L-shaped modular sofa. There was an enormous wardrobe and various other cupboards for storage. A large television was built into the wall directly over one such cupboard.

Moving through the suite, he discovered a fully equipped bar, another large closet, and a bathroom.

On the bathroom counter was a basket full of sample-sized amenities: toothpaste, disposable razors, mouthwash, toothbrushes, hand lotion, and various other toiletries.

He peered critically at his image in the mirror, frowned, and touched the white bandage on the top of his head. He pulled it off, wincing a bit as a few strands of shiny black hair were yanked out by the adhesive. He touched the top of his head, but his probing fingers found no evidence of either the wound or the stitches. He had healed completely, and was surely well enough to travel, to deliver his Message.

Unfortunately, he was dressed only in a pair of Carnival sweatpants; hardly appropriate attire for the Messenger of God. And he smelled like a chlorinated pigeon. All in all, this was not exactly the image he had hoped to present to the human he was supposed to see.

He picked up a little bar of soap in a box with the Carnival logo on it, cocked his head and stared thoughtfully at the tiny shower. Though it clearly hadn't been built with seraphim in mind, he thought there might be ways around that…

Though it had taken him nearly thirty minutes, Gabriel was clean at last.

He had rinsed the chlorinated saltwater residue out of his wings (one wing at a time), and then allowed them to drip all over the bathroom floor while he squeezed his body into the narrow little shower stall. At one point, Maureen had pounded on the bathroom door, demanding to know what he thought he was doing: You have a head injury, don't you know?

Either the door between them or concern about his condition had overridden her previous state of awestruck reverence, for she had even threatened to have a cabin steward come and break down the door if he didn't answer her.

Though he had loudly assured her that he was fine, he could even now hear her pacing around outside, complaining to Doctor Langford that he'd locked the door and wouldn't let her in!

With a slight smile, Gabriel wrapped one of the big white towels around his waist, ran a hand through his damp hair, and opened the door.

"Good morning, Roger… Maureen."

Maureen and Doctor Langford gaped at him in astonishment. "Sorry about the bathroom… the water on the floor. He gestured vaguely as he came out into the stateroom. "I couldn't shut the curtain… so there's water…" He shrugged. "It's a mess."

"My goodness… Gabriel. You're… you're all – " the doctor stammered, and gave a quick laugh. "You're looking much better this morning," he finally said. Behind him, Maureen bowed her head and crossed herself, her lips moving as she prayed silently.

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed. "I told you I'd be fine last night, right?"

"But… you were nearly comatose!" Doctor Langford continued, still trying to make sense of this. "I was just on the phone down in the Infirmary, trying to arrange an MRI for you!"

"Ahhh, I don't need that," Gabriel said dismissively. "I don't even know what that is. My head's fine now, all healed. Look, those stitches you gave me went away." He bent his head so that the doctor could see.

"Your body's absorbed them," he murmured, shaking his head. "Fast metabolism."

"Yeah, that's what you said last night."

"Are you hungry?" the doctor asked.

Gabriel shrugged. "Yeah, I could eat. Right now I'm more interested in what happened to my clothes."

"'Twas Doctor Langford who undressed you," Maureen put in suddenly, speaking for the first time. "I want us to be perfectly clear on that."

The doctor sighed. "I'll take all the blame for everything," he agreed. "And I was the one who stretched your wings out so they'd dry."

"I don't care about that stuff," Gabriel said dismissively. "I just need my clothes, you know?"

"Well, actually – " Doctor Langford began.

Gabriel made a guess. "That priest – Francis – he took them, didn't he?"

"Oh, he'd have loved to, you can be sure!" Maureen said angrily. "But no. He wanted your beach towel – you'd bled on it and he said it's a Holy Relic."

Gabriel rolled his eyes and made an exasperated little noise at this news.

"But Ben took it," Maureen continued, sounding a bit smug. "Took it straight to the Purser's Desk and paid for it, too. So you don't have to worry about it bein' displayed at the Vatican or some other nonsense."

"As for your clothes," the doctor interrupted. "I sent them to be dry-cleaned."

"Aaaah, you didn't have to – " Gabriel began.

"You'll have them back by the time we sail," Doctor Langford assured him. "And then… well, I suppose you can be on your way."

Gabriel frowned. "We stopped somewhere?"

"That's right. We've docked at Messina, Sicily for the day."

"Ah ha! I thought we weren't moving!" Gabriel said happily.

"You're right – we're not," the doctor agreed. "Today's Messina, then tomorrow's a Fun Day at Sea – "

"Which is a nice way of saying, 'you'll be trapped on the boat all day, 'cause we're sailin' to yer next port'!" Maureen put in.

Gabriel laughed. "'Fun Day at Sea' has a nicer ring to it," he agreed.

"And your personal effects are right there," Doctor Langford said, pointing at the nightstand. "I didn't let Father Xavier get his hands on any of that, either."

"Thanks, Roger – that was good thinking." He frowned. "Wait a minute… my trumpet – "

"I sent it to have it cleaned," the doctor said, and shrugged. "I don't know much about caring for musical instruments, but it seemed like a good idea."

"Yeah, getting dipped in a saltwater pool wouldn't be too good for it," Gabriel agreed.

"You probably don't remember much about last night, do you?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Bits and pieces. That's about it."

Doctor Langford nodded. "That's to be expected."

"You just came falling out of the sky," Maureen told him. "Ben and I had just come from dinner and a show. We'd picked up Brigid from Camp Carnival and were going for a piece of pizza when we heard some kind of shriek and next thing we knew, there you were, in the pool. Someone tried to pull you out, but yer wings were too heavy… but at least they got you halfway out so you wouldn't drown."

"And then I woke up."

She nodded. "Soon after, yeah. I was afraid you were dead, but a braver soul than I checked and said, no, you were breathing."

"When you lost consciousness again, we took you straight down to the Infirmary," Doctor Langford said, picking up the story. "But we couldn't fit you into any of the beds… the wings, you know."

Gabriel nodded. "Sure."

"And the nurses – " the doctor rolled his eyes and sighed.

"They were useless," Maureen finished.

"Yes, that about sums it up," he agreed. "You never saw such carrying on, Gabriel. It was simply unbelievable."

"They're mostly Italian," Maureen added.

"They were dropping to their knees and praying… and weeping…" He made an exasperated noise. "I couldn't get them to do anything useful! All they wanted to do was pray. So Terry – he's our cruise director – arranged for this lovely suite, and we brought you right up here. Maureen very kindly consented to help take care of you. She's as devout as they come, but at least she kept her head."

Gabriel smiled at her. "Thank you, Maureen."

She bowed her head. "I was happy to do it!"

Gabriel walked around, stopping every once in a while to inspect whatever caught his eye. There was a newsletter on the coffee table, and he picked it up to examine it. "Carnival Capers," he read aloud.

"That'll tell you what's happening today," the doctor informed him.

"All the news that's fit to print," Gabriel murmured ironically as he thumbed through the Capers. "Huh. Bingo in the lounge at three. Maybe I'll go… you know, try my luck."

"You wouldn't!" Maureen exclaimed, shocked.

"I got you!" he said, smiling and pointing at her. "Ha!"

"'Tisn't a bit funny," she muttered, and put a hand over her mouth. "Oh!" Her eyes widened and she hurriedly crossed herself – surely contradicting the Archangel Gabriel was a sin!

"Let's get some food, hmm? I think we could all use something to eat!" Doctor Langford said, picking up the phone. "What would you like, Gabriel?"

"Coffee – with cream and sugar," he said right away, and then thought for a bit. "Doughnuts. Danishes. Fruit. Anything sweet – you know, with sugar."

"Is that what angels usually eat?" the doctor asked curiously.

"Nah. But right now I need sugar… spontaneous tissue regeneration takes a lot of you, you know?"

"I wish I did!" Doctor Langford said ruefully. "All right, one sugar rush coming up!" He began punching buttons on the phone.

"Oh… and how about another pair of those blue pants?" Gabriel asked, and gestured in the direction of the bathroom. "That other pair's dirty. And wet."

There was a knock at the door, but it wasn't breakfast. It was Father Xavier. The little priest came hurrying into the room, his eyes widening when he saw that Gabriel was up, about, and dressed only in a white towel. He quickly collected himself and knelt at Gabriel's feet.

"How may I serve you?" he asked, crossing himself and bowing his head.

"C'mon… stop that," Gabriel said, grasping the priest's shoulders and pulling him to his feet. "OK?"

"If you insist," Father Xavier said, not daring to look Gabriel in the eye.

"Yeah, I insist. That gets old real fast… especially when I don't have any clothes on!"

Father Xavier blushed deeply. Doctor Langford laughed, and Maureen fought an unsuccessful battle to stifle her own laughter.

"Here," Gabriel said, steering the priest over to the sofa. "Have a seat. You're making me nervous."

There was a tapping sound coming from the balcony, and Maureen went to investigate.

"There's a man on the balcony," she reported in a disbelieving voice. "And how he got out there I'll never know… but it seems he wants in, for he's knockin' on the door!"

"Who is it?" Gabriel asked, not sounding very interested.

"I've no idea." She peered at their unlikely visitor through the glass that separated them. "He's blond, with a goatee. He's got a long black coat – goodness, but he must be hot out there! – and he's wavin' a stick with a white flag on it."

Gabriel laughed. "Let him in."

"All right," she agreed, and opened the door.

"Well – hello, Gabriel," the new arrival purred, sweeping grandly into the room. "How's every little thing?"

Gabriel gave him a look. "I think you know."

With a frown, Maureen went to sit on the sofa with the priest. Doctor Langford stood leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

"Boy, are you grouchy, Gabriel!" their new guest observed. "But then, you never were much of a morning person, were you?"

"Do you want something, or are you just here to gloat?"

"Gloating's always fun." The visitor smirked. "Nice towel, by the way." He turned his attention to Doctor Langford. "It's a sin, you know… lusting after an angel." He moved toward the doctor, still talking. "But you know all about unnatural lust, don't you, Roger?" His voice dropped lower as he moved closer. "Even back when you were just a young lad off at boarding school, you'd lie awake at night, thinking about the other boys… and knowing it was a sin."

"Aaah, cut it out, Lucifer," Gabriel said, and Maureen and the priest gasped, crossing themselves simultaneously.

"But you've seen what Gabriel's got under that towel, haven't you?" Lucifer continued as though Gabriel hadn't even spoken. "And you think that maybe… maybe it would be a little less of a sin, hmmm?" He moved closer yet, putting his hands on the wall on either side of the human, pinning him to the wall without actually touching him. He leaned in and whispered something that made the doctor's cheeks flush bright with color. "But you know that's what you really want, Roger," Lucifer purred. "And I can give it to you."

"Leave me alone," Doctor Langford said quietly, angrily – and Lucifer laughed as he moved away.

Father Xavier suddenly jumped to his feet, brandishing a crucifix at Lucifer. "Begone, foul fiend!" he roared. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy – "

"Francis," Gabriel interrupted. "Stop it, OK? He's just here to talk. So sit down."

Faced with a direct order from Saint Gabriel the Archangel, the priest had no choice but to obey… but he didn't look very happy about it.

"That's right, I'm just here to talk," Lucifer agreed happily, and held up his white flag. "See? I'm here under a flag of truce. I'm calling a temporary cease fire, all right?" he asked, waving it at the priest in an exaggerated manner.

"And you," Gabriel continued, pointing at Lucifer. "Behave yourself. You're already in enough trouble."

"Oh, no – you're not pinning this on me!" Lucifer protested. He tossed his flag aside and flopped down on the sofa between Maureen and the priest, who both recoiled and crossed themselves again. He either chose to ignore their reaction to his presence or was simply oblivious to it. "I had nothing to do with this!" he continued, stretching his arms out on the back of the sofa and putting his feet up on the coffee table. Both Father Xavier and Maureen inched away as surreptitiously as they could manage.

"Jones did this to you," Lucifer reminded Gabriel. "And Jones isn't one of mine."

Gabriel shook his head. "I never know what side he's on, that guy."

"Neither do I," Lucifer agreed. "But…"

"But what?"

Lucifer glanced around and then leaned forward in his seat. "Listen," he began, and lowered his voice as though afraid he might be overheard. "I had a little chat with Raphael last night – "

Gabriel looked surprised. "You did?"

"Yeah. Seems Uziel's Upstairs sharpening his knives and muttering darkly about avenging you."

"Oh no," Gabriel said, dismayed.

"It's making Raphael nervous… no one wants another War. Not even me. So he came for a little chat, to see if I knew who the culprit was. I knew it wasn't any of my people, and so Raphael and I put our heads together – "

"And figured out it was Jones," Gabriel finished.

Lucifer beamed brightly. "You got it. But it gets better."

"I'm afraid to ask!"

"While I was talking to Raphael, Beliel came to me. He'd been gossiping with Uriel – "

"Now hold on," Maureen interrupted without thinking. "Are you tellin' me that demons and angels get together for a good gossip session? You can't be serious!"

Lucifer turned to her and smiled. "All the time, my dear. All the time."

"I find that very hard to believe," Father Xavier said stiffly, and now Lucifer's brilliant smile was turned on the priest.

"Why? We were all brothers once, you know. And we may all pretend it doesn't happen, but we all know it does. I know what's going on Upstairs just as well as Gabriel knows what's going on in the basement."

"Probably, yeah," Gabriel agreed. "So, Uriel told Beliel – "

"You want me to wrap this up and get out," Lucifer said, grinning. "You never were very subtle, Gabriel."

"I never said I was. Subtlety just seems like sneaking around to me… and that's more your thing, Lucifer."

"All right. Uriel told Beliel that the rumor is that Jones was acting on Orders when he whacked you on the noggin."

Gabriel looked astounded at this news. "The Boss had just sent me out with an important Message… why would he want to keep me from delivering it? That doesn't make any sense."

Lucifer shrugged. "Don't ask me, Gabriel. I don't make the news, I just report it."

There was a knock at the door, and Doctor Langford went to answer it.

It was a young, handsome, well-tanned blond man in the matching red white and blue shorts and tee shirt of a Carnival crewmember. He had a new pair of blue sweatpants draped over one arm and was pushing a cart piled high with pastries and fruit.

"Hello, Terry," the doctor said, looking surprised. "I didn't expect you to bring this personally!"

"I wanted to see the angel," the blond man said shyly, peeking past Doctor Langford to stare at Gabriel.

"Yes, naturally," Doctor Langford agreed with a sigh. "You and everyone else on board!" He ushered the young man into the room. "This is Terry Marshall, our cruise director."

"Terry," Gabriel acknowledged with a nod. "I see you brought me new pants!"

"I did," the young man agreed, offering them. "Are you really… really…?"

"Really what?" Gabriel asked, taking the pants.

Terry's voice dropped to a whisper. "Really the Archangel Gabriel?"

"Yeah, that's me."

Terry looked awestruck.

"And I'm really the Archangel Lucifer," the blond man on the sofa put in.

Terry blinked. "You… you're…" he sputtered.

Lucifer grinned gleefully. "The Devil – that's me!"

"But you sound so happy about it!" Terry said without thinking, and Lucifer laughed.

The fallen angel put a finger to one cheek and mockingly traced the path of an imaginary tear. "Yes, but I'm crying on the inside," he assured the human, and no one present was certain if it was a joke.

"I see," Terry finally said, at a loss for words.

Gabriel decided that this might be a good time to change his attire. As he passed the breakfast cart on his way to the bathroom, he grabbed a doughnut. "Thanks for the food, Terry," he said through a mouthful of pastry as he went into the bathroom to change.