Hi everyone. As usual, this chapter was particularly difficult for me to get through, but I've finally managed it. I've missed you all a ton and as always, I'm hoping this update finds you all happy and well.
R.I.P John :'(
-Ang
Andrew was fairly certain that words as incomprehensibly painful as these had never before been spoken to him in the entirety of his existence. To put into words what he felt would have been impossible, for he was positive that no angel had ever been in such agony, and the range of emotions was large … everything from hurt, to betrayal, anger, nearly unbearable sadness, and incredible disbelief. He closed his eyes against the stunning magnitude of this news and all that it meant, and focused on trying to remain upright.
"She's … dying?" He managed to croak through the suffocating lump in his throat, after several long moments of horrible silence, "I don't understand … how? Why?"
Adam didn't know what to say. His own emotions were running wild, but he didn't dare to even compare what he felt to what he knew was happening inside Andrew's head and heart. Adam could plainly see the pain on his face and he hated himself for having to be the one to deliver this horrific news, and even more-so for being the Angel of Death called for the job. He hoped that subject didn't come up again right away; Adam didn't want another reason for Andrew to resent them all.
"Not yet," Adam said softly, "But very soon, we think ..." He trailed off uncertainly, not sure if he should go into more lurid details or keep them to himself for the time being. He didn't want Andrew to have to endure anymore than absolutely necessary, but he also knew that he would find out soon enough anyway. He didn't know whether telling him just how it would happen was the best way to prepare him for what was coming or not. Then again, there really was no way to prepare for something like this, and that thought was what encouraged Adam to continue,
"We aren't exactly sure when, actually. Tess is planning an intervention as we speak and I'll be waiting in the wings if she's not … successful."
An intervention? And then Andrew somehow knew. His head swirled with simultaneous nausea and realization, and as if it were even possible, the crushing pain in his chest seemed to intensify a hundred fold and it was all he could do to not fall to his knees from the weight of it. Again, he was overcome with the desire to scream, shout, hit someone, break something … but he couldn't bring himself to move. It was another long stretch of time, where he simply stared grief-stricken into the distance, before he could force himself to respond to Adam.
"She's going to kill herself."
It wasn't a question, but a soft statement of understanding. When Adam nodded in confirmation, Andrew finally stopped fighting against the tears threatening to fall from his heavy eyes, tears that he'd been holding in since the beginning. He generally was not the one to show emotion on the outside, but this was a time that he didn't physically possess the strength to stop it, and so he just let them run. This was an unexpected and unfathomable turn of events, and Andrew didn't know what to do, say, or think. He'd dealt with more than a few suicide cases in his time as an Angel of Death and the thought of Monica being driven to do such a thing was unbearably painful. Andrew wanted so very badly to believe that this conclusion was faulty, that she couldn't possibly want to do such a thing, but his hope for that was miniscule. He couldn't imagine Adam going to such great lengths to notify him, when he wasn't supposed to have any contact with her whatsoever, if the situation wasn't so dire. Greater even that he was being permitted to know by the very people who had seen to it that they were separated in the first place. That alone spoke volumes to Andrew.
"Andrew ..." Adam began, still completely at a loss for the right words to say, " to say that she just didn't adjust well would be an understatement. She didn't adjust at all – to being away from you, to being human, nothing. She's only a shell of who she used to be and from what I've seen … I honestly don't believe there's much sense in hoping that she changes her mind. Tess is going to try, but ..."
Once again, Andrew didn't know what to do or say. This was not a conversation that he could have ever imagined having and it was the most unbelievable and most devastating all wrapped up into one. His heart was completely shattered, at least that much he knew for certain. At the same time that he couldn't not listen, he couldn't imagine hearing another word of it.
"Adam, I can't hear anymore of this," he responded finally, feeling physically ill with a sorrow that seemed to reach into his very bones, "I just can't. All of this … it's too much. I get it. I'm too late. I didn't try hard enough to find her like I promised her I would and she's going to kill herself because she can't handle it anymore and you're standing here telling me that you don't think there's any way to save her now. I can't take ... another word."
"Andrew, don't start blaming yourself for her choice, you know you couldn't have known that things would turn this way. This isn't your fault. How many times have you had to come to terms with an assignment ending badly -" but before Adam could finish his thought, Andrew interrupted him coldly, his emotions rearing strongly again,
"Don't you dare try to compare this to a case, Adam. It's not even close to the same thing and you know it. It isn't just some assignment that I can get over losing," he said grievously, "it's Monica."
"I'm sorry," Adam responded heavily, "I didn't mean it that way. But blaming yourself won't do any good. You can't possibly do anything to help her like that, and we might be too late anyway,"he said soberly. Adam could empathize with Andrew deeply; Monica was one of his dearest friends too. But he knew that he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain that this was causing him right now. The uncertainty of the very near future was enough to set any angel on edge and Adam was certain that Andrew was hurting on a level that nobody could reach.
As painful and unsettling as this news was, Andrew couldn't honestly say that he was completely surprised. As an angel, Monica had always had a driven and passionate personality. When it came to assignments, she never did things half-way and she always committed one hundred percent of herself to the job she had to do. It only made sense to Andrew that those personality traits would carry over into humanity. But even through all that, he never once thought that he might have to lose her all over again. Being separated from her in the beginning had been hard enough. His plan to find her and make it right in any way that he could was all that kept him going on some days. He never stopped to consider that their separation could extend into eternity and that was suddenly a very real possibility.
"Adam," he asked quietly, "if she does die as a human, what happens next? Is she treated like a human or an angel?"
Adam furrowed his brows in thought and took a moment to ponder Andrew's question. He had wondered the answer to this question himself. Technically speaking, Monica was human by her own choice and it was Adam's gut feeling on the matter that she would be judged accordingly, without an exception made. He hoped that that might not be the case, but his hope was very small. He shook his head sadly and answered honestly,
"I don't know, Andrew. It's possible that the Father might make an exception and restore her angelic status when or if she dies … If she hadn't willingly become human and if she wasn't choosing to die now, then we might could hope for that, but I honestly don't know. There are consequences for the choices that we make, and angels can't always be the exception to the rule. I think you know that."
Andrew did know that and Adam's answer was the one he was expecting to get. He didn't much like it, but he could not deny the validity of what Adam said. It was a far from comforting thought to think of Monica going Home to live forever as a human. Angels and humans did not share the same part of Heaven and Andrew knew that it could very well mean that he wouldn't get the chance to ever see her again if she died as a human and wasn't allowed to be restored to her previous status as an angel.
"So, what do we do from here?" Andrew asked, taking a breath and bracing himself for Adam's answer. Surely he would be allowed to accompany Adam now and try to turn things around? "I'm coming with you, right?"
"Andrew ..." Adam began hesitantly, "You know I don't have the authority to either allow you come or make you stay. I can't stop you from following me, but I have a suggestion. Why don't you ask if you can come?"
Because I'm terrified to hear 'no', Andrew thought to himself woefully. But he knew that Adam was right. As much as he didn't like the idea, he already knew that he needed to ask the Father himself for permission to go and it was with a heavy heart and reeling mind that he began to pray like he never had before. All that he'd been carrying around inside him came pouring out like a river - doubting Him for so long, being dishonest with Tess, and everything in between. It was both painful and oddly comforting and with a pang of guilt, Andrew realized that it had been ages since he'd properly prayed or even acknowledged the Father in any way. Had his emotions not been already well on the surface, this surely would have done it. Over and over again, he asked for forgiveness and mercy, not daring to believe that He might actually grant the permission he so desperately sought.
"Please ..." Andrew whispered allowed, lifting his face from his hands, preparing for the moment when he would know the answer. It felt like an eternity had passed when finally the warmth that was 'yes' flooded his heart and were it not for the fact that the situation was still so precarious, he could have shouted with joy. Tears of relief threatened to pour from his eyes, but he had to remind himself that there was still very little to be happy about in that moment. The worst was still very likely to happen and that looming prospect could not be ignored.
Andrew turned to Adam and nodded, and Adam could instantly see the change in his friends eyes, though it was slight. Adam nodded back and motioned for Andrew to follow.
"Then let's go. We don't have any time to waste."
It was bitterly cold and windy as Monica made her way from work back to her apartment. Her day had been miserable, to put it lightly. It was nearly impossible to keep her mind from dwelling on her plans for the evening and she found it unbearable to be in close proximity with Jason, who seemed to sense that something was terribly wrong. He made it a point to hover around her, constantly asking if she was alright, if she needed anything, if she wasn't feeling well, if she needed to go home early. It made her feel sick to think of what she was about to do, but only because of the implications it would leave for Jason. He would probably be the one to realize first, and would be the one to find her when it was all done and over. He was her boss, neighbor, and only friend in the world after all. Her mind was made up one hundred percent, and she knew that in a few short hours, nothing would matter to her anyway. She shivered violently at the thought and pulled her too-thin jacket tighter around herself, growing more and more anxious as she approached the battered building that had been her home for the last year. She took steadying breaths in an effort to keep her heart from pounding too hard, but the effort was not calming in the least. Her very skin seemed to be on edge from the pure adrenaline that was beginning to flow through her veins, and as she ascended the stairs and made to unlock her door, it was all she could do to keep her limbs from shaking uncontrollably.
The moonlight that illuminated the tiny room was enough that Monica did not bother turning on the overhead light. She stepped gingerly around the pile of shattered porcelain and glass that had been a lamp that morning and made her way to the counter in her small kitchen, where she'd laid out all of her supplies. There were tablets neatly lined up in a row, small packets of powders in various shades of white, and a brand new syringe poised and ready, waiting for her like a loaded gun. Beside that was a half-empty bottle of dark colored alcohol and a small glass. She had a carefully constructed plan and she allowed herself a few seconds to go over it in her head before beginning.
First, it was one gulp of the dark liquor, then two, then she lost count. The burning taste of the alcohol didn't even phase her as it flowed down her throat and she only stopped when her vision became cloudy and her head began to swirl. The effect of so much in such a short time made her feel weak and sick, but somehow invincible and it gave her the courage to continue on to the next step of her plan. She picked up one of the small packets of powder and dumped its contents into a spoon, carefully mixing to the right consistency like a seasoned pro. She loaded the syringe to the line where she usually stopped, doubled the amount, and then tripled it just to be safe. She set the loaded syringe back onto the counter for safe keeping until she was ready for it and moved on to the row of pea-sized white tablets. It was as she was bringing the handful of pills to her mouth that a voice sliced the stagnant air and brought her to a startled stop.
"Monica?"
Monica closed her eyes against the tears that she hadn't even realized were running and mentally willed herself to remain standing. She was not entirely sure if what she heard had been a figment of her imagination, or if Tess really was in her apartment at that moment, but she didn't look to find out. Her hand, which had come to a halt in mid-air at the sound of her name, now felt like lead and it took a large effort to get the pills into her mouth. She was extremely nauseous from the alcohol now and dry-swallowing upwards of twenty tablets in addition to it was no easy task.
"Angel girl, stop … look at me, please? This is not the answer, you know that."
Tess's deep, soothing voice cut through the silence again but Monica did not look up. Somehow, she knew that the presence of her former supervisor was not a delusion and it was all she could do to keep from calling out to her. After all this time, the sound of her voice was like music to her ears. A part of her wanted to stop, take it back, run to Tess and let her make it all better … but the part of her that had hardened over the last year, that had already made up her mind would not allow it. She hadn't counted on the possibility that an angel would be sent to try and talk her out of what she was about to do and she wasn't prepared to deal with one, least of all Tess, but she realized that she should have known.
Still refusing to meet Tess's gaze, Monica grasped the loaded syringe and held it close to her, shielding it from view and staggered drunkenly towards her bed, but she'd only made it halfway there when her legs buckled weakly under her and she fell to her knees. It was then that she could no longer hold on to what little composure she had left. For a moment, she didn't even realize that the loud, wracking sobs were coming from her own mouth and they only intensified when she felt Tess's arms trying to lift her from the floor.
"Don't!" Monica said bitterly, wrenching away from Tess's touch as if it burned her skin, "leave me alone."
Tess didn't know what to do or say. Though she was coming into the situation fully informed, it was so much worse than she ever could have imagined and to see Monica like this, in the midst of a complete and total meltdown, was heartbreaking. Nothing could have prepared her for what she was witnessing now.
"Monica, baby ..." She tried again hesitantly, gently placing her hand on Monica's shoulder, "please talk to me. I want to understand, I want to help you."
"You can't," she snarled through her sobs, looking up finally to meet Tess's eyes, "You can't understand. And you know you can't stop me, so just go ..." Monica's words, with her broken voice and even more broken spirit, sliced into Tess's heart like a knife. This was not the angel she knew and loved and it was plain to see now how deep the hurt really went and how much Monica was affected emotionally by current circumstances. The shear magnitude of her pain was evident to Tess by just looking at her; her physical condition alone was enough to raise several red flags. It was as if she was looking at a completely different person. Monica's once flowing and vibrant auburn hair was now dull and limp, framing her bony face and sharply contrasting her transparently pale complexion. Her human form had always been on the slighter side of average, but there was no denying that her frame was painfully thin now. Tess could plainly see her collarbones jutting out, could count every bone of her spine, and make out every rib through her worn shirt. It seemed that she couldn't possibly weigh more than eighty pounds. Every vein was visible beneath her yellowed skin and the warmth was all but gone from her chocolate colored eyes.
"I'm not just going to leave you alone Angel Girl," Tess said with a sad sigh, "so you better get that through your head right now." With that, she leaned over and practically scooped Monica off the floor, carrying her the rest of the way to her bed, and tried to arrange the sparse bedding around her in an effort to make her comfortable. "I'm so sorry baby ..."
"Oh are you?" Monica asked with a quiet laugh, though there was no humor behind it. "You want me to trust you now? You sold us out. You were the one that went to Sam and you were the one who just stood there and watched him take me away. But you're sorry? Well then, sure. That makes everything better."
"Monica, I didn't think I had a choice in the matter, you know that I -"
"That you what? Had our best interests at heart? Is this what you wanted?" She shrieked, bubbling with an anger so strong that it frightened even her. She felt as if her head and chest could have exploded with the force of the loathing that she felt towards her former supervisor in that moment.
Tess was already shaking her head before Monica was even finished, "NO, what I wanted was for you to grow up, stop acting like a child and realize that you can't always have everything you want! You have responsibilities and you have to pay the consequences for the choices that you make!"
"God … DAMNIT!" Monica bellowed, her voice cracking under the strain, "stop saying that! You don't know anything. Do you really think that if given the choice, I would have chosen to be in this mess? I can't just turn my feelings on and off like a light switch as you seem to think I can. How am I supposed to not miss him? How am I supposed to just be okay? Answer me that."
But Tess had no answers. She felt as if she was only beginning to scratch the surface of understanding what was going on inside of Monica's heart and with a pang of guilt, realized that it was all happening just a little too late. Looking back, it was easy to see how Monica felt betrayed by her actions and those of her own supervisor's. She could not deny the fact that the situation could have been handled worlds differently than it had. The sound of Monica's anguished and utterly heartbroken sobs was devastating and Tess couldn't help but to blame herself. If she hadn't jumped to conclusions, hadn't notified Sam, hadn't insisted that something be done … she could go on forever.
"Baby, for what it's worth … I didn't mean for things to get this bad for you. No matter what you thought you felt, I should have stayed out of it and I'm sorry. It never should have been left up to me, and I'm so sorry for the pain that this whole situation has caused the both of you."
"Tess … it doesn't matter now," Monica replied sadly, shaking her head. After a long moment of silence, she added, "it's too late." She uncurled her fingers from around the slim syringe in her left hand and studied it intently, as if expecting it to move of its own accord. She could feel Tess's burning gaze and, again, it was all she could do to keep her breathing steady. The lethal dose of heroin needed only to be added to the mixture of alcohol and pills that she'd already consumed and her plan would be complete. "I just want it to be over."
"You really do love him that much," Tess said softly, and the fact that it wasn't a question didn't go unnoticed by Monica, who had the needle of the syringe ready at the vein in the crook of her arm.
"I love him so much that it takes my breath away, even now," she whispered brokenly, "I would give anything not to love him because it makes being away from him the worst pain I've ever felt. It's like he's my air and I can't breathe without him here. I just can't do it anymore. You have to know that if I could change that, I would."
"Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?" Tess asked pleadingly, unable to continue to ignore the fact that Monica was now just moments away from ending her own life.
But Monica just shook her head and before Tess could do or say anything else to try and stop her, she slipped the needle into the already bruised and scarred vein and watched with a displaced sense of peace as the liquified drug was pushed into her bloodstream. The effect was almost instantaneous. An incredible weakness spread over her like a thick blanket and very quickly it became an effort to even keep her eyes open.
"Please ..." she struggled to say through the thick fog, "tell him I'm sorry."
Just seconds later, she was slipping away into unconsciousness and it was with a final flutter of her eyelids that she wondered which Angel and Death would be sent to finish the job.