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016. Purple
Raphael looked up at the worried faces of his fellow archangels. "I've done what I can," he said. "He will survive; however, he'll need a lot of rest before he's back to full health. You found him pretty much at the last moment."
Michael nodded, chewing his lip worriedly. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked quietly, sounding almost helpless. This was a situation in which he was of no help.
Raphael's expression softened a bit. He knew very well how hard this was to the Warrior. "Please go to find Aziraphale," he said. "Tell him what happened, but also warn him not to tell anybody else. This should not become public knowledge. I promise I'll contact you as soon as Uriel wakes up."
"Don't." Michael lowered his gaze. "I don't think he'd be too happy to see me. I'm content to know that he will be all right." A bit hesitantly he brushed a lock of ebony hair from Uriel's forehead. "I just wish I knew what caused him to do this... So that I could make sure it never happens again." After another moment of looking at the pale, immobile figure on the newly created bed, he turned around and left.
Gabriel and Raphael exchanged serious glances. Uriel was not the only one in need of help at the moment.
"Aziraphale?"
Aziraphale looked up from his current study of one of Raphael's books. It was a beautiful thing, with pictures of medical herbs and plants drawn by Uriel's skilled hand with techniques still unknown to humanity, the text written by Gabriel containing every single detail humans knew of healing with the use of plant life at the moment. He'd provided the information himself; Gabriel hadn't told what it was for but had said it would be a surprise for Raphael. Well, he was definitely glad to have been involved in the making of such a wonderful thing.
Now, however, somebody was calling for him -- judging by the voice, Michael. This intrigued him quite a bit. He had gone to the practice field to find Michael only to be told that the archangel had left a moment before. Then, when he had come back, he had found neither his brother nor Raphael nor a single hint of where they might have gone to. Therefore, he had decided to occupy himself with the books. (Humans had writing, but they didn't have books. Books, he had come to discover, were the most enjoyable way to preserve writing.)
"I'm here," he called back, at the same time standing up and walking towards the door. "Do you have any idea --"
He never finished the sentence. Instead, he stood frozen in the middle of the room, staring at Michael who had just appeared in the doorway. After a moment he finally regained his speaking abilities.
"...Who's dead?" he blurted out, for that was the first thought that came into his head as he saw Michael's absolutely miserable appearance. Never mind that there was silvery angel blood all over Michael's clothes while no wound was to be seen on him.
"Nobody," sighed Michael, "thankfully. It wasn't by far, though."
Aziraphale blinked. Now that he hadn't expected, not seriously, despite his initial reaction. "Who was it?" he asked quietly. "And why? How?"
"Uriel," Michael replied, almost choking at the name. "Gabriel and I went into his apartment... there was blood everywhere, he was just lying there in the middle of all the blood, his own blood..." He swallowed, then managed to continue, "Suicide. He attempted suicide. Uriel tried to kill himself and we don't even know why."
For some time, Aziraphale remained silent. Finally, he managed to ask, "Is that why Gabriel and Raphael aren't here?" It wasn't what he really wanted to ask, no, but despite all the questions filling his mind it was the only thing that would come out at the moment.
"Yes," Michael sighed. "Raphael healed him - well, not completely, but enough that he will survive. I - I don't want to be around when he wakes up. It's enough that I know he will be all right."
"Is it really?" asked Aziraphale quietly, still trying to deal with his shock. "How long can you keep this up?"
"However long Uriel feels uncomfortable with the fact that I love him. Forever, if need be." Michael closed his eyes. "I just hope I knew why he did it so I could stop it from happening ever again..."
Aziraphale was silent, just watching the warrior. He could not understand this kind of devotion. Sure, he loved Him, like all angels, and he knew Michael loved Him more than anything else, too. However, he couldn't even imagine loving any other being so fiercely. As much as his brother and Raphael loved each other, he doubted even they had reached that level of absolute loyalty and selflessness for the good of the other. Or perhaps they had, but it definitely didn't show as clearly as in Michael. The warrior's fierce love for Uriel was plain as day.
He didn't know what to say. He doubted there was anything to say, either. So, he did the only thing he could think of, walked to Michael, and drew the taller being into an embrace.
"Gabriel?"
The voice was quiet, almost inaudible. In most situations Gabriel wouldn't have even heard something like it. Now, however, all his attention was centred on the being lying on the nearby bed, and thus when the whispered call passed the pale lips he immediately heard it.
"I am here, Uriel," he said gently, leaning towards his colleague. "How are you feeling?"
He was alone in the room aside from Uriel. Michael hadn't returned, which did not surprise him, and he had sent Raphael to get some much needed rest - and to check on Michael, of course. He did trust Aziraphale to be able to look after Michael, but it never hurt to be sure.
"Awful... I feel awful," came the whispered response. "And I'm alive. I shouldn't be. I should be dead now, I want to be dead."
"Don't say that!" Gabriel snapped, his tone sharper than he had intended. "Do you realize how much we feared you had indeed managed to kill yourself? I don't want that. None of us does. It'd break Michael completely, too, and I don't want to even begin to think how Aziraphale would react."
"Michael. How could it break him? I never even see him anymore. Nevermore. He's probably forgotten about me now. That's good for him."
"How can you say such a thing? Michael loves you. He stays away because he knows it makes you uneasy to know that he does. Today he was there with me when I found you -- he had sensed that something was wrong with you, and had been unable to stay away. And even now, he left as soon as Raphael could tell for sure that you would survive, not wanting to upset you by being here. But he is about to break, Uriel. I could see that."
There was no answer. After a moment Gabriel decided to try a different subject. "Why did you do it, Uriel?" he asked quietly, half expecting the other to again neglect to answer. "What would drive you to do such a thing?"
For a moment, there was only absolute silence. Then, Uriel said, "I couldn't feel Him."
"What?" asked Gabriel, startled. "Do you mean you couldn't feel God? But -- how? You're the Angel of Divine Presence!"
"Yes, I am indeed that." Uriel sighed a bit. "However, today I had to Fell an angel. And whenever I do so, for a short time afterwards, I can't feel Him. He is still there, I still carry His Presence, but I can't feel Him anymore. He's as good as gone to me. And it hurts, Gabriel. It hurts so very much." He sighed. "I do understand why some angels lose their sanity upon Falling. That loneliness, emptiness... It's almost unbearable." The emerald eyes were closed for a moment. "I was all alone. Usually, even though I'm otherwise lonely, He is always there. Now, He wasn't. And this time it became too much for me to bear."
Gabriel couldn't find anything to say, not a single word that could have fit the situation. Therefore, he just laid a hand on the other's pale arm, as if to remind that he was still there and wasn't going anywhere. Under his somewhat calm appearance he was horrified. Uriel had carried this kind of a secret for He only knew how long? Practically Falling whenever some angel was to Fall? How could he have kept such a secret? Surely it would have been easier to bear if he only had allowed others to help!
"Why didn't He stop me this time?" asked Uriel suddenly. "Whenever I've tried something like that before, He has stopped me before I've managed to do any real damage. Why not now? Has He decided I'm a lost cause?"
"Now, Uriel, I will have none of that talk," Gabriel said, his voice firm and gentle at the same time. He deliberately ignored the comment about past attempts of the same nature. Better not to think about that right now; it could be dealt with later on. "He is omniscient and knew that Michael and I would be coming there in time. Perhaps He just thought that it's about the time you learn to trust other people, not just yourself and Him. This might be a sign from Him for you to change your views."
"And what? Accept Michael as my lover? I'm sorry, Gabriel, but that's not going to happen."
"Nobody's telling you to have him as a lover. However, would being friends be too much of an effort to you? It's not a wonder that you feel lonely if you are always alone."
Uriel didn't answer. He looked away.
Gabriel decided not to press the issue.
"Well?" asked Michael quietly. He did not look at Gabriel. Aziraphale did, blue eyes serious as ever. Raphael was not there. Hopefully he was sleeping.
"He is lonely, apparently," Gabriel sighed. "That, and he's in pain. For some reason he never cared to inform any of us that whenever he Fells an angel, he experiences the pain of the Fall himself. The emptiness -- the feeling that the only being who is there for him is God, and then even He being absent -- simply became too much for him to bear." He shook his head sadly. "I do hope he would have told us. Perhaps we could have helped."
Michael looked miserable. Aziraphale, however, merely nodded slowly, looking far more serious than one of the youngest angels should have had any right to.
"It does make sense," he said quietly. "Well, of course every demon hates him even more than the other angels, but that hardly matters. But even among our own, he's avoided. Everybody's wary of him. Even those who aren't uneasy about the mere idea of Falling by his hand think he'd be more suitable for a demon than an angel. Pitiless as any demon, indeed."
"Of course he is," muttered Michael. "Uriel, if anybody, knows that they have deserved their punishment. No amount of pity can change that. But I too am pitiless! Upon seeing a demon I do not stop to consider whether he really deserved to Fall! Yet nobody ever criticizes me for that. Why is it so? Because I'm loud and flashy and obvious about it, while he goes around quietly, not making a fuss about what he does?"
Gabriel sighed, massaging his temples. He didn't have a headache -- while angels could most certainly experience such things, that was not the case at the moment -- but he felt like he might acquire one any moment now. It definitely wouldn't surprise him at all. "You're perhaps pitiless, Michael," he said quietly, "however, you are not without mercy. Uriel has neither pity nor mercy for unrepenting sinners -- and, sad as it is, he doesn't deal with any other kind. Angels tend to avoid those of our own kind who do not have mercy in them. Why do you think so many angels have been tricked by demons who have made themselves appear to be dying? Mercy and compassion, if not exactly pity, are basic instincts for us. When it comes to demons, Uriel lacks those entirely. That is why everybody is wary of him."
"Yes. You're right." Michael sighed, too. It was, after all, a well-known fact. Uriel may have been the Angel of Repentance and Salvation, but when one didn't repent, he had no mercy. He might have not initiated a fight -- rather, he preferred to stay neutral as far as he could -- but when he had to fight, he would take it to the end, not try to just wound or drive away like most angels would have. "I just wish it wasn't that way, though. I wish he didn't feel lonely..."
"We all do, Michael," Aziraphale said softly. "We all wish those things. At the moment, however, the only thing we can do for Uriel is being there for him."
Michael smiled humourlessly. "Oh, yes. If only he would allow that," he muttered.
Neither Aziraphale nor Gabriel commented on that.
"What do you mean, give up some of my duties?" asked Uriel. "Are you saying I'm not doing my job as well as I should?"
"Oh, no. It would never even cross my mind to suggest that," Gabriel replied. "It is just that you are obviously overstressed. Raphael felt it would be the best if you weren't under so much stress. It wouldn't even have to be a lot, just a few things you give up on. You hardly even have time for all your tasks at the moment."
Uriel didn't look too convinced. "And what do you suggest I would give up, then?" he asked doubtfully.
"What about music?" asked Gabriel. "You never seemed as fond of it as you are of the other forms of arts, and there certainly are angels with musical talents even outside the choirs of the seraphim. I assume you would know who'd be best suited for that task. Just pick the best choice and I'll have them transferred into your forces."
"So it'll be anybody I choose, eh?" Uriel asked, raising an eyebrow. "You do realize I'll have to take one of yours. The few healers who do have some talent also have voices too soft to lead any choir, and of Michael's warriors nobody has been able to sing properly ever since Aziraphale's departure."
For a moment images flashed in his mind's eye, images of a little angel boy standing by his side and learning his first hymns along with the choirs of seraphim, of a young warrior still sweaty from a sword practice raising his pure, clear voice in song, of black hair and blue eyes and a voice more beautiful than that of any other angel. However, he forced himself to forget such things. That was not an option. Not anymore.
"Israfel," he said after a moment of thinking. "He's the best singer I can think of outside the seraphim, and has always shown a considerable interest in music. He would be the best choice."
"Excellent." Gabriel beamed. "I believe they're looking into the possibility of having a fifth archangel named, too."
Now, Uriel suddenly looked quite upset -- even more so than before, that is. His lips moved, forming words his voice even quieter than before, and Gabriel could only barely hear what exactly he was saying.
"Five archangels before the Fall
Stepped forth when they heard the Call
One of them wanted to fight
The other one did that all right
Third one died, the poor dear
Fourth one had some news to hear
And the last one, I may tell:
Pretty Morningstar he Fell."
Gabriel couldn't say anything to that. Therefore, he merely squeezed Uriel's hand.
The sky was covered in storm clouds, dark and threatening. The last remaining rays of the sun soon disappeared behind the purple curtain of the clouds. Instead of the thunder many had expected, however, it simply began to rain. At first the humans were delighted to have rain for their thirsty fields, having awaited it for quite a while. However, as the rain just continued without an end, they began to worry and panic.
The few that believed were safe; that had been taken care of. Animals would survive, too -- especially the fish; they wouldn't have the slightest worry, what with all the water. However, most of all the life on Earth, including all the humans who did not believe, were going to drown.
Aziraphale watched all this, feeling no pity. In that he could have made even Uriel proud.
They had been warned, he decided. Noah had told them to change their ways, yet they hadn't repented. Now the time had come for divine judgement to be dealt -- and at this point, there would be no more mercy.
The waters continued to rise, the rain only getting worse. As land was covered with water, the flood claiming even the very last bits of ground, as humans and animals drowned all alike, as God dealt with the evil that had made its nest in His humans, an angel was sitting on the roof of the ark and watching.
The waves were reflected in deep blue eyes, the heavy rain battering pure white wings, but Aziraphale stayed unaffected. He had been given the task of watching over humanity, and watch over them he would, even if humanity now consisted only of the few survivors inside the ark he was guarding. And would continue to guard.
Although he couldn't see it, he could sense that somehow, somewhere, in that all the time rising sea a fish with suspiciously snakelike eyes was swimming, looking for even a bit of relatively dry land to make into his outpost.
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