"I don't like to commit myself to Heaven and Hell-
you see, I have friends in both places."
-Mark Twain
-Ω-
If someone asked Hazel whether she was jealous of Perseus and Hazel responded with 'No', then she'd be lying. Terribly. Yes, envy was one of the seven deadly sins, but as long as she didn't act on it she'd be fine, and it wasn't like she wasn't guilty about it; she was awfully guilty about it. During the black-winged angel's absence, Hazel had worked incredibly hard to earn herself the title of Archangel Michael's messenger angel, and on top of that she'd had to work for Michael's respect since he was still torn up over Perseus's absence and rarely noticed her at all. Sure, her wings were a bit on the small side, but she was very fast and agile and perfectly capable of delivering messages just as well as Perseus had, which was what Archangel Michael had told her on her first day, one of the only times he had actually complimented her in the beginning.
The starting months had been incredibly difficult to get past, and she would've quit had Frank not urged her to suffer through it and hope that things got better. Sure, there was the fact that it was long hours and she came home exhausted, but by far the largest obstacle she had to overcome was the fact that Archangel Michael was always comparing her to Perseus. The messenger angel was raised on a high pedestal, one that was impossible for Hazel to reach, and it didn't help that she'd heard whispers of Michael wanting to ask Perseus to be his mate. The Archangel wasn't comparing them consciously. In fact, whenever he and Hazel did talk he was always kind and respectful, but sometimes Hazel would catch him watching her mournfully, as if she was the reminder of all he'd lost, and more than once he'd called her "Percy" by accident and then proceed to avoid her like the plague for the rest of the day.
"It's not your fault, really," Michael's handmaiden, Zoë, had explained to her bitterly when they'd both had some downtime. "Michael was really torn up about Perseus's," she paused, taking in a shuddering breath and visibly trying to hold back tears, "leaving. He didn't eat for five days straight." Hazel inhaled sharply, eyes wide with disbelief, and Zoë nodded grimly. "Do you know how awful it was to try and cater to all of his brothers when they came over to try and console him? Hell, even Azrael found the time to visit and offer condolences. Sometimes I would linger outside of the door for a little and listen to Raphael or Gabriel cracking jokes and trying to cheer him up, but he never responded. Never spoke a word. And I just listened to them get more and more desperate as the days passed. Some people thought he was in a permanent state of shock, and that he'd never get up again."
"What happened that made him decide to move on?" Hazel asked, trying to sound nonchalant and not wanting to pry, but her voice was brimming with curiosity.
"Nothing," Zoë sighed, folding some of Michael's clothes rather viciously. Hazel was surprised to see a shirt that said: I'm an angel, you ass with a picture of an odd man in a trench coat on it. It was clearly well loved, the black fabric having greyed slightly from the many washes it had gone through, despite the fact that Hazel had never seen Michael wearing such a thing. "That's the problem. He hasn't moved on. He just decided to get up one day and now he's just going through the motions. You wouldn't know, but if you've been around him for millennia you'd notice that he's a little…emptier."
"Really?" Hazel asked, a bit dubious.
Zoë nodded sadly. "He used to be so bright and lively. He'd crack jokes, whistle while he filled out paperwork, and blasted Panic! At the Disco until our ears bled and we were tired of hearing how the groom's bride is a whore."
"Excuse me?" Hazel spluttered, fanning herself a little at the lewdness of that. "Michael listened to such music?"
"Of course. You think I'd lie?" Zoë prompted, but her tone was wistful. "But seriously, he was so much fun. I'd only listen to Panic! At the Disco for the rest of my life if it meant getting the old Michael back."
"I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure I'm not all that convinced," Hazel replied guiltily, looking down. The Michael she knew was somber. He smiled brightly and often, but there was a sort of melancholy that clung to him wherever he went, and it seemed to leach the happiness out of everything he did. There were simple things that made him sad, like the color blue and burgers, but it didn't ruin his day. Then he'd suddenly wake up and he'd either just stay in bed without eating or go into Percy's old room and cry the day away.
"I can understand," Zoë snorted. "But back then I swear when Brendon Urie died, Michael was going to rip him away from the Third Heaven and keep him as a personal vocalist and perhaps start a duo with him. Not that Michael is a very good singer." She wrinkled her nose in mock disgust as if recalling how awful the Archangel's voice was, and Hazel tried and failed to imagine Michael being lively enough to obsess over a band. As if reading her thoughts, Zoë stated, "How about I just show you?" Two fingers at her forehead and Hazel was plunged into the handmaiden's memories.
-Ω-
Zoë was wandering down the hall, her arms full of clothes that were ready to be ironed, and admired the incredible decorations that adorned the palace. It was Christmas Eve, and that was when Michael's younger brothers took it into their own hands to organize the huge festival tomorrow so the Archangel could take the day off, and it was one of the only times that Michael had actually agreed. Therefore, his entire palace had a lazy day, and it was mostly spent talking animatedly about tomorrow and how the Christ family was going to reenact the stable scene (using a lucky fledgling rather than the actual Jesus himself since the man was too large to fit in the manger now). The palace was decorated with holly, mistletoe, and Christmas trees that dwarfed certain apartment buildings on Earth and were decked with ornaments and tinsel. The entire place smelled like gingerbread and pine, courtesy of the cooks who were preparing for tomorrow's feast, and it made Zoë incredibly happy.
When she heard a particularly loud racket coming from Michael's room. It sounded like the Archangel was yelling, and it was only after Zoë had come running did she realize the blast of music in the background. It reverberated through the door, and even from out here the angel of nature's ears throbbed. She had no idea how Michael was able to stand it being that loud, and after squaring her shoulders and coming up with a small rant on how music should not be turned up so high, Zoë opened up the door and was faced with one of the funniest things she had ever seen in her life.
Michael was standing on top of the bed, clad in sweatpants and a baggy hoodie, and was using a blue plastic hairbrush as a microphone as his speakers blasted out the beginnings of "I Write Sins not Tragedies".
The radio blared: "What a shame, what a shame the poor groom's bride is-"
Michael screamed over the lyrics, "A FUCKING DUSTY-ASS HO! I CHIME IN WITH A HAVEN'T YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF-"
"That's even worse than the actual thing," Hazel breathed, feeling a bit faint.
"I know, right? But at least he had the ingenuity to experiment," Zoë replied, chuckling.
-Ω-
They slowly withdrew from the memory, and Hazel found that her heart was a bit lighter. Michael wasn't just a downer, he could be fun, too, and she made it her duty to bring out that playful Archangel once more.
When she told Zoë of her mission, the handmaiden smiled sadly, but hope sparkled in her eyes, "If you could manage to do that, I'll be your best friend ever."
"No promised, though," Hazel snorted and retreated back to her room. Slowly but surely, an idea was brewing inside of her head. It would be better for everyone; Michael would be back to his happy-go-lucky old self, Hazel would get more respect from him, and the entire palace would seem more like a home rather than a tomb.
Finally, after months of exhausting trips back and forth across the seven Heavens, several gifts of flowers, carefully planned jokes, and numerous occasions where she hummed "I Write Sins not Tragedies" purposefully in front of him, Archangel Michael seemed to become accustomed to Hazel being his messenger angel. He provided genuine smiles and no longer pretended that she wasn't there, and for a while everything had been perfect. They sang duets (Zoë was right: despite Michael being an Archangel, his singing voice was less than desirable), forged inside jokes and made memories (like that one time where Michael dismissed his messenger and Hazel had back hand-springed out of the room). Hazel's boyfriend Frank, an angel of nature, loved her unconditionally, and every angel in her garrison was making bets on when he'd pop the question. Her job was great. Her home life was great. It had been just her and Frank and her exhilaratingly exciting job, no matter how tiring.
Then Perseus had returned.
-Ω-
It was a bright day, like any other day in Heaven. Hazel had risen much earlier, since messages didn't deliver themselves. She soared on the air currents, so high that other angels milling about were merely dots below her. The wind whipped against her golden-brown hair and caused her eyes to water a bit, but she didn't mind in the least. Then she looked down at one of the large, glittering cities in the Fourth Heaven and saw a large swarm of angels clustering within the square. Despite the fact that if she was distracted she would undoubtedly be late, Hazel's curiosity got the best of her as she broke into a dive. The bellowing gusts roaring in her ears and her wings pinned to her sides in order to make her body more streamlined.
Right before she smashed into the ground her wings sprang open like mighty sails, cushioning her landing. All of the angels were whispering excitedly, their mish-mash of wing colors causing the square to look like it was going through an awkward phase. Hazel was incredibly small compared to other angels, who were practically titans, and therefore she could not see what was going on in the center of the gathering. Some had produced notepads and were writing feverishly, giving their page, or in some cases their entire pad, to waiting messenger angels, who seemed reluctant to leave.
Hazel decided that instead of asking someone and looking like a fool, she'd see for herself what all of this hubbub was. Heaven was rather extraordinary, and it usually made the most incredible, jaw-dropping things seem ordinary, so in turn Hazel wondered what could be so fantastic. Had an angel proposed in the middle of the square? Was a new sword prototype being released? The messenger angel was beyond puzzled, and spread her wings and launched into the air, gliding just high enough that she wouldn't hit other angels on the head. Others saw her and immediately took to the skies, their excited chatter mimicking that of the babble around them.
Hundreds of angels had massed and rumors were flying through the air like gunfire, since only the handful of angels in the middle of the group knew what was truly going on. The crowd gave way to a large space in the center, which roughly resembled a circle. In the center a lone angel was lying on his black, clearly having collapsed from exhaustion. Several healing angels bustled around him, checking his pulse and offering him food and water, however the angel did not seem to be responding. At first Hazel could not assign him a name, since his slick black hair had fallen to cover his eyes, however when she saw the two gargantuan wings spread on either side of him, each feather darker than an empty void, she knew that it was Perseus.
Hazel touched down and pushed past several angels, who all grumbled but did not complain outwardly, until she finally made her way over to where Archangel Michael's former messenger lay. Two healing angels rushed to shoo her off, however when they recognized who she was they immediately backed off, whispering in hushed tones to one another. Perseus looked even worse up close. His eyes were shut, his mouth slack, and his features as elegant as ever, however when one noticed the fact that there were dark shadows under his eyes, as well as the fact that his cheekbones jut out more than it was considered to be healthy, they began to panic. Not to mention that he was supposed to be fallen.
"Turn him over," one of the healing angels, obviously the one who had taken charge, ordered. With tenderness and caution they flipped Perseus onto his stomach, making sure his wings weren't uncomfortably folded below him. Hazel drew a shaky breath, hers joining the sharpened inhales of the healing angels around her. To the casual observer everything was fine, however then one would notice the fact that there was a horrifying clear seam where the base of the wing ended and the rest began, and upon further inspection they could make out the stitches that were holding them together, slowly disappearing as skin and feathers grew over them.
"His wings are…stitched on," the angel next to Hazel choked, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as her expression became one of utter horror. Her glittering yellow wings spasmed as if she were going to take off like a flushed pigeon. There was silence among them, only the chatter of the surrounding angels splitting it, when finally the yellow-winged angel let out a terrified screech. It seemed like all of Heaven went silent for just a few moments as the scream hung in the air like a thick smoke, however anxious and terrified whispers began to be exchanged as the crowed began to push and shove to see. A messenger angel, noticeable by his fawn-colored wings, landed next to the head healing angel, bearing a scroll. The healing angel examined it, his straight auburn hair glowing like fire in the sunlight, and his lips pursed into a thin line.
"I sent my messenger to notify Archangel Michael," he explained, his voice matching his solemn expression. "He wishes to see him."
-Ω-
Hazel jolted out of the memory, watching as moonlight filtered through the windows of her and Frank's shared house. She was in her pajamas, her wings folded behind her, and Frank lay at the other end, snoring like a bulldozer as his large, rust-colored wings draped over her. She blew a feather out of her face, smiling softly, but she still felt sour. After Perseus had been brought back to the head Archangel, he had almost immediately been re-appointed as his messenger, a huge sign that Michael had never truly been satisfied with Hazel's work. In mortal terms, she had been fired, and she knew that angels whispered behind her back at how she was Hazel Levesque, the Archangel-messenger-gone-Newsie.
Newsies, while also being named after a popular mortal Broadway show, were messenger angels for hire. They stayed within town squares and were available to any angel who needed a message to deliver. If angels were too busy to call upon their messenger angel or simply didn't have a messenger angel to call upon, they relied on Newsies to deliver their messages for them. It was a rather degrading job compared to the one that Hazel had had, however she was partially glad, since she didn't have to be away from Frank as much.
Sighing, Hazel turned to Frank and curled around him, glad to be the big spoon for once, and leaned her cheek against the pillow. Jobs don't really matter, she thought as Frank's wings flanked her on both sides, providing as excellent insulators. As long as I have Frank I am fine.
The next day she received a message from a faceless angel:
The Archangels have gone missing.
-Ω-
Piper didn't think that when she returned to Heaven it would be like this. She had always envisioned it being a glorious day where the fallen were pardoned by the Creator and everything would be A- ok, but what she hadn't expected was for them to take her husband first. There she was, minding her own business while carrying her armful of pads to their room, when she found it empty. Of course Jason, being the determined old man he was, refused to do his business in adult diapers, and constantly attempted to go to the bathroom himself, usually resulting in Piper having to pull him out of a rather messy situation.
Piper rolled her eyes and set the tray down, listening for the telltale grunts that signified Jason was attempting to dislodge himself from the toilet bowl. There were none. That was a bit odd, and Piper's concern slowly began to rise. The bedsheets were still unmade, however there was no sign of Jason in sight. The door to the bathroom was open and the lights were off, however when she looked over at the window, his favorite spot, her stomach dropped like a leaden ball. A single black feather had settled onto the windowsill, and then Piper knew that the angels had taken him.
She turned and was not surprised to see two winged humans that certainly weren't there before. They were her biological siblings, Lacy and Mitchell, and they were standing side by side, wearing matching poker faces. Piper hadn't even heard them enter. Piper knew she was in trouble, for their faces were solemn and their eyes were not at all friendly, unlike during the sparse handful of visits they shared. Mitchell's gaze bore inter her, his mouth pursed into a thin line, but Piper was not afraid- she was furious.
"What have you done with him?" she hissed, her fists clenched at her sides. She wondered whether she'd have to fight them or not, and the thought jabbed at her heart with a white-hot poker. She was fallen, and full-fledged angels were nothing to sneeze at, which was part of the reason why Piper had been slightly impressed with the original Golden Swords' accomplishments. The fallen healing angel had a bit of a chance when it came to one on one, which was hard enough already, however two angels at once was an impossible feat, not to mention that Piper was in nurse's scrubs and couldn't really maneuver well in her petty shoes.
"Calm yourself, sister, he is safe in Heaven," Mitchell replied, his expression level-headed despite the fact that his voice could cut through stone. "And no, we are not barbarous enough to kill him in order to get him there; Perseus has merely…transported him."
"When will he be back? What are you going to do to him? What's going on!?" Piper demanded, her rage flaring like a wildfire in a field of dry grass.
The angel's expression somehow managed to turn stonier, and Piper was reminded that angels weren't little chubby babies with wings; they were fierce warriors willing to kill on command. "That is none of your concern-" he began, his voice steely, but Lacy, being the most level-headed one in the room, cut him off.
"Mind your blood pressure, brother, she is merely worried about her spouse."
"Married? To a human?" Mitchell's voice was so thick with frustration and disgust that Piper was unsure whether he despised her or was merely suffering due to her bad choices, much like how a mortal brother would when they caught their sibling doing something very, very illegal. He ran his hand through his hair, chewing on his lip, but he did not make any more comments.
"I decided that, since I'm fallen, there was absolutely no chance of redemption again. So, since the rules no longer applied to me, I settled down. Decided to help people for once instead of watching as wars raged and humans died in cold blood," Piper replied softly, no longer fuming or even slightly agitated.
"I can see reason behind this decision, but right now Heaven needs both you and your husband," Lacy stated gravely, stepping forward. "The Archangels have gone missing and we need Jason as well as his other group of former hunters to bring them back." For a moment Piper, was aghast, but it didn't last for long.
"That is terrible news, sister, and I am deeply aggrieved, however I am no longer connected to Heaven," she gestured around her to nothing in particular, "Earth is my home now, and it is Jason's, too. I am used to free will and am afraid that I will not be able to hold my tongue. Who is in charge?"
"The Metatron," Lacy replied, a resolute gleam in her eyes.
"I see why he'd be the choice," Piper replied, nodding. "However, I do not wish to go back to Heaven." Lacy and Mitchell exchanged a horrified look, not even the slightest attempt made to conceal it.
"But why ever not?" the words came out of Mitchell's mouth in a rush as he ran his hands through his hair, his wings fluttering nervously. They were a stormy blue, almost the exact shade of Lacy's but a bit lighter, each feather like a cloudy sky. Piper's wings had been just a bit darker than Lacy's, and her wing scars ached where Archangel Uriel had torn them out and cast her from the first Heaven. The healing angel had fallen and fallen, with no way to fly, and had hit the earth at forty-five miles per second. She had immediately gone into the Healing Slumber, sleeping for at least five months tops in the middle of a gigantic crater on an obscure part of Mount Whitney. She had walked for days until she had arrived at a small village, her tunic and breastplate almost completely shredded and burned in her descent. The locals had immediately taken her in, and the town soon grew into a large, bustling modern city over thousands of years. Piper never made many acquaintances, due to the fact that she did not age, so she took on multiple identities and even posed as a Cherokee Native American for a couple of decades. She had been alone, so very, very alone, but now she had Jason and no one, not even Heaven, could take him away from her.
"I enjoy free will. You can think for yourself and not have to take orders from anyone," she finally replied after her long period of daydreaming. The angels did not reply, nor had they commented on her lapse into silence, however they did seem disapproving.
Finally, Lacy asked, "But how does one function when orders are not distributed?" Her brows were furrowed to the point of comicalness, and it took all of Piper's willpower not to chuckle as she explained.
"Orders are given out," At this, the angels relaxed a bit, "But free will is the option to choose whether to follow them or not."
"You mean…you don't have to follow commands?" Mitchell looked utterly abhorred. "How does chaos not reign?"
"Oh, it does reign, but that's what humanity is," Piper shrugged a little, "and not all orders come from reliable sources."
"Nonsense! Orders are always right and just when coming from a higher power," Lacy argued, seeming genuinely puzzled.
"That's because your orders are divine. Humanity has flaws, and flaws can grow if orders are carried out when coming from an untrustworthy person. If everyone followed orders like angels did, then humanity would be useless, wouldn't it? A race that is exactly like angels only mortal. Would be a waste of the Creator's time, if you asked me," Piper replied. "Free will is also the reason why I'm declining, and right now I order you two to bring Jason back. He has nothing to do with this."
Lacy and Mitchell exchanged a look, their momentary relaxation and easygoingness completely dissipating.
"We are sorry, sister," Lacy began sadly, not able to meet Piper's eyes.
"But you do not have a choice," Mitchell finished, and in a flash Piper was rising into the air, an angel holding each of her arms as they carried her away like birds of prey carrying away an unfortunate mouse. Piper had to admit that, since she had not flown in thousands of years, she was terrified beyond belief. And soon there was nothing below her but clouds, much like the ones she had rocketed past as she tumbled from Heaven, destined to roam the Earth forever.
-Ω-
(A/N) I would've updated sooner but there was a huge storm where I live and the wifi was knocked out for a while. Sorry