A/N: Takes place after 'Fallen Angel,' which I have seen, and before 'Seeds of Faith,' which I haven't, so bear with me. I decided to fall in line with Callisto's rebirth as Xena's daughter, but mostly just to avoid Season-Six-Michael, the manipulative bastard (although hearing him use the phrase "screw over" in 'You Are There' was pretty funny). He's an Archangel, full of sweetness and light; that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
Oh yes, the title; it's the first half of a quote from one of my favorite movies, "It's a Wonderful Life." The oft-repeated maxim is: "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings."
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He watched her sometimes, when he could be sure she wasn't looking. He loved her, of course; he loved all things of the Light, and most humans, as well (some of them were very, very hard to love, but he did his best). But there was something different here. He watched her for a long time before he began to understand what it was. Every other being he had ever seen, of the Light or of the earth, was burdened by something. Humans had no end of worries, and they carried them around in their eyes like great walls of stone. Those of his kind carried with them their far-reaching wisdom, their individual pains and sacrifices, and a great anguish that had ventured into their hearts when the first angels fell and created the darkness and the fire, and it had never left. But Callisto was completely pure. There was nothing in her but love and a gentle, wide-eyed compassion, and he often found it hard to look away from such beauty.
It was odd; this kind of love he had thought only a human necessity. Their spirits were so separate that they sought to bind them together, two by two. They had no way of loving everyone and everything with their entire souls, as he did. And yet, he found himself severely lacking her when she was absent, which was often; she spent a great deal of time with her parents. He supposed that was only natural; she had been human once, and so the time elapsed since she had last seen them probably seemed very long to her. As an angel, he had a natural gift of empathy, but he still found himself hard-pressed to imagine the torment that had been Callisto's life after helplessly watching as her parents' lives were brutally driven from their bodies. That she could be washed so completely clean of so much evil only added to the wonder he felt.
"Michael!" He turned to see her running through the field towards him; she was evidently finished picking flowers with her mother and desirous of more lessons about the Light. He grinned widely; that girl never would remember to use those wings.
"Hello there," he answered cheerfully. "What have you been up to? You have grass in your hair." He obligingly lifted it out and brushed his hand over the errant golden curl; even her hair shone, he thought wryly.
Her answering smile was obliviously joyful. "Mother and I grew tired of picking flowers, so we went to find Father and chased each other all around the gardens. I wasn't always looking where I was going. I tumbled down several times. And Father fell in the brook," she added gleefully. "Mother tried to help him out, but he pulled her in, too," she laughed. Michael laughed with her, imagining the scene.
"So, what are you curious about today?" he wanted to know. Callisto's laugh disappeared; she suddenly looked as sober as he had ever seen her since her arrival in the Light.
"Tell me about myself," she asked quietly. "About...how I was. Gabrielle said..." It seemed she couldn't say any more. Michael felt dread well up inside his chest, choking his words back in his throat. He didn't want to do this, had no desire to quench that joyous flame in her eyes.
"Why?" he pleaded. "The Light made you forget for a reason, Callisto. Gabrielle has forgiven you; you are absolved in every way." He couldn't prevent a plaintive note from creeping into his voice as he asked: "Aren't you happy?"
Her eyes flickered with confusion and a little sadness at his obvious reluctance. "Of course I am," she answered artlessly. "That's not the point. I need to know how it can be possible that I was capable of...all those things"—she stuttered a bit then—"and, and I need to know if that—monster—ever died, or if she was merely erased from my memory." Her eyes filled as she began to feel his pain radiating from him, a horribly fierce and bright glare, and then nothing as he curbed it savagely.
"Callisto, I will say this once, and I beg you to believe me. Xena gave you her light and took your place in Hell, and when that happened, every drop of hate and cruelty in you flowed into her, and her love, the generosity of her sacrifice, filled up that space. No evil remained inside you. The Light erased your memories to spare you all of the grief, shame and self-doubt you would have felt, knowing what you had done and regretting it bitterly for an eternity." He paused to calm himself, chasing away his mind's image of Callisto twisted with guilt for her crimes. "As to the choices you made in life...many of them were unspeakable, it is true. But not unforgivable. And understandable; perhaps not to humans, but we of the Light have, shall we say, a broader view." He smiled a little self-deprecatingly; he was well aware that the humans he met found him arrogant, and he agreed with them in so far as he knew that humble he was not. "The unutterable pain you felt at being alone, a child whose parents had been ripped away from her, led you easily into hatred and a desire for revenge. Instead of searching for a way to release those feelings, you let them consume you until only Xena's pain, and the pain of those like her—the ones who could suffer and recover—would satisfy you. But it never could, because it only isolated you further. And you were never made to be alone, Callisto," he said softly, turning his eyes back to her face.
There were tears running down her cheeks, but her expression was peaceful. "Thank you," she said simply. "I've been putting off asking because I wasn't sure I wanted to know. But I had to, sometime. And I knew you'd explain it best, and not hurt me if it wasn't necessary."
"It wasn't," he said firmly. He gave her a fond smile. "There is no reason for you to feel anything but joy now. Whatever you once were, you are now and always the purest soul I have ever known, and a creature of the Light." He reached out with his thumb and gently brushed the tear-tracks from her cheeks.
Something in his voice made her hesitate to take his words as a simple compliment. Her face paled, and a few more tears trickled through Michael's fingers, when she realized what it was. "I make you sad," she whispered, sick with realization.
"No!" he exclaimed, sighing as he privately conceded that it was just Callisto's day to latch on to the things he least wanted to discuss. Let her think he was only envious of her light. "I only wish we could all be like you...pure...luminescent," he murmured reverently.
He could do nothing to hide his surprise when she shook her head. "I don't." She grinned, satisfied, at his shocked expression. "You're not the only one who can see things." She looked him straight in the eye and continued: "You're a little tired, a little too wise. I suppose that comes from fighting with so much to lose. You never let go of your strength, your courage...the room in your heart for everyone. And you've had many chances to do so, too many to count. That's your light, and it's steadier than mine. I suppose if we were all given the choice between innocence and endurance, there would be no one left to stand guard at the gates or watch over the humans."
He took a step towards her, his expression conveying the depth of his awe and the pride he felt at her opinion of him. "Your wisdom grows daily, it seems, with or without my guidance," he teased her. "Soon you will no longer need a teacher, and what shall I do then?"
She stepped forward, deciding to take his words seriously, and wrapped her arms around one of his. "Come and talk to me anyway, I hope," she answered, knowing full well that he would whether she asked him or not.
He chuckled deeply, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "Of course. You could never be rid of me so easily." They stood like that for a long while, watching paradise unfold around them. He noticed helplessly how every color was more vibrant, every echo of laughter more joyous, because she was with him. "You make everything so beautiful," he whispered, almost without knowing he was speaking aloud. He winced; he hadn't meant to be so blunt. When she spoke, however, he saw how greatly he had underestimated her intuition.
"What's happening to us?" she asked softly. He could hear traces of fear lacing her tone, and he swiftly moved to reassure her.
"Nothing to be afraid of," he insisted. "We have merely...found something we lacked. I had forgotten what it was to love with discernment rather than judgment, but your light is so unencumbered that it washes stains from my own. And it shows me what I am rather than what I consider myself to be. And you...I can help you to rediscover all that you are; your parents, as much as they love you, are incapable of doing so—because they only see the child you were when they left you."
Callisto turned so she was standing in the circle of his arms, meeting his eyes curiously. "We belong to each other, like humans do, don't we?" she asked him.
He smiled gently down at her. "Not exactly like humans do. We are..."—he searched for the right words—"woven together, inextricably and eternally. We have no need of strengthening that bond, the way humans are constantly trying to do."
Callisto smiled. "It seems like cheating, somehow," she mused. "We can share so much without any of the fear, or shame, or jealousy, or any of the other things humans feel when they love like this." She met his amused gaze, alight with his love for her, all for her, and she laughed. "I didn't know it was possible."
"It has never happened before," Michael admitted. "But the Light gives us what we need, when we are ready. Not that I was ever truly prepared for this," he said quietly, running a finger gently down her cheek. He hesitated for a moment. "Trust me?"
"Of course," was her immediate reply. He nodded, smiling slightly before his face took on an expression of concentration, and he slowly lowered his face to hers. It was the barest touch of a kiss, but he felt the warmth of her spirit where it touched his, and the way each continuously replenished and strengthened the other. He pulled back reluctantly, resting his forehead on hers, and he smiled as he felt her arms slip around his waist to hold him close. "It's so different," she said wonderingly.
"We are different," was his explanation.
It was many days later, as humans counted them, when he came upon her, not with her family as he'd expected, but sitting alone at the peak of a mountain, gazing out over paradise. "I knew you'd come," she said, and there was something sad and resigned in her voice that unsettled him.
"Callisto, what is it? I've been looking for you everywhere."
She turned to face him, and her expression was an odd mix of resolve, reluctance and expectancy. "It's time," she said calmly, although tears shimmered in her eyes.
"No," he whispered. "You're to return, already?"
"Xena will give birth soon," she explained, clasping her hands in front of her. "I am needed, to help pave the way by heralding the twilight of the smaller gods." She rose to her feet, accepting the hand he held out for her. He didn't release her, and she averted her eyes. There was a hitch in her voice when she spoke again. "It won't be like this, but you will still be able to see me, whenever you like—"
He cut her off with a small laugh. "Callisto, of course I will be there with you. You will wear a different face, and I, too, will appear changed in your human eyes. But we cannot ever truly be separated. And one day, your time on earth will come to a close once more, and you will return to me. I am not concerned for myself, although I am surprised; I never thought time so short. I worry for you. Human life is painful enough, but the road you have to travel..." He closed his eyes tightly against the horror he knew she would suffer, and when he was able to open them, he felt the hot slide of tears on his face.
"Oh Michael, please don't," she begged him. "It's part of my destiny; I can't ask it of anyone else. And I can serve the Light on earth. That's a great gift, and it has to come with a price. You know that."
"Yes, I suppose I do," he conceded. "But I can't help feeling that I might lose you, if you lose yourself. If you are separated from Xena, who knows what may happen?"
In answer, Callisto stepped forward, taking his hands in hers and holding his gaze. "Whatever I do, whatever I become, I will always find my way back to the Light—back to you," she promised him. "You can't lose me; we are one and the same."
For a brief moment, Michael seemed indecisive, but he suddenly grabbed her up in his arms and pressed his face into her neck. "I love you," he whispered.
He felt her fingers running soothingly over his hair, her voice against his temple as she whispered back: "And I you, always." And then she was gone. He stood on the mountaintop for a long time, watching the sun set and rise, waiting for a child to be born.