-Attention: Zagzagel is the name of an actual angel, and the information about his ranking came from "The Complete Dictionary of Angels". The description of him, his personality, and mannerisms, are original creations of myself and copyright only of me, as are the personalities of the gods. The only things that aren't my own original creation are the Gundam Boys, and a few characters (Zarek and future ones who shall make cameo's) which are copyright of Sherrilyn Kenyon (you don't need to know any of her stories to understand this one). With that said, on with the story!-

Chapter 11
On The Wings Of Wisdom

Cold wind danced through white hair, Zechs turning pale blue eyes to stare up the mountain that made Everest look like a baby step. White wings fluttering in the iced chill of the breeze, he slowly took a hesitant step forward. Snow crunched beneath his gray boots, engulfing his calves and penetrating the matching gray pants up to his knees. Loose, oriental style shirt, the same shade as his shoes and slacks, fluttered as the cold bit at the bare skin underneath it, making him shiver. Despite his regular weekly visits up to the different levels of heaven's realm, he had never actually come to this one particular corner. He had never found it necessary. But now, as he tilted back his head to try and sneak a glimpse of a top that was hazed in clouds, he second guessed himself on whether or not his decision to come here was a wise one.

After all, it was rumored that Zagzagel, the angel of wisdom, was never a man who freely gave his words. One had to be willing to fight to hear the truth from the chief guard of the fourth heaven. Hence the treacherous height he kept his residence at. Sure, for most angels in most situations, it would be rather easy to just appear or fly to where he was, but Zagzagel had control over this realm, and made the wind almost deadly up at top. Many rumors had been told of how even Michael once was unable to make it, although, of course, the proud being would never admit to it. And Zechs? Zechs was just a half breed, born of a human and an angel who had relinquished her position for a mortal. How could he ever hope to make it where Michael could not?

No…he had to do this. He couldn't doubt himself. Trieze's earlier words had spurred him on, and he realized that if he ever wanted to have his lover back, he needed to know their meaning. There was more to it than that, though. His guilt over destroying the innocence of the four pilots tore into him, and the plight of Wufei was enough to make him want to cry. All that he understood of the situation was that Duo was a being, ethereal like them, who had been returned to his captivity for a "great crime" he had committed thousands of years back. What it was, he never was sure. But knowing the Greek and Egyptian pantheon's, it was probably something so worthless as spitting East on a day when Zeus washed toga.

Obviously, though, Duo was a big deal in their realm…so much so, that whatever was going on with him was spilling over to the mortal lands, and now even seeping into Lucifer and Heaven's kingdoms. And if it was enough for Trieze to worry that he would die from it? Well, Trieze should have known better than to expect that to keep him from meddling. Death never stood as much of a threat when it came to where his morals or his friends were involved. And as much as he hated to admit it…Heero, Duo, and the others had slowly become his friends. Even if the feeling was only one sided.

Fluttering his wings, he took a deep breath and stared into the swirling clouds above. Winds pushed and pulled in different directions above, making tiny twisters and thunder crash, as if anticipating his entrance into them. Like a bully popping his knuckles before the fight, the weather prepared to block his entrance to see Zagzagel. But Zechs' determination spurred him.

One beat of his wings and he launched up, feeling the familiar rush of excitement that pooled in his gut every time he flew. No one as a child ever went without a wish for wings or an envy for the birds, including him. So on that day in space, after the wars had ended and Noin had abandoned him for home, he had quickly forgotten the pain that occurred when his wings finally ripped through flesh and bone to erupt from his back. The agony of the moment was replaced by the overwhelming thrill of knowing that no longer did he need a craft to take him through the stars. It was a freedom the likes of which he had never dreamed of knowing. And no matter the pain of the first time the wings broke out, or the loneliness that came from being the only half breed left in all of Heaven and Earth, the feel of wind tickling past the sensitive feathers and the weightlessness as thermals carried him high made up for every moment of it.

Quickly, the distance closed between him and the clouds as he picked up speed, moving fast as bullet as the air whistled past his ears. His concentration hardened as he saw the dark storm above begin to gather into a pinpoint straight over his head, as if he were a lightening rod, the living specter of clouds readying for the fight. And a fight it would get.

Colder and colder the air became as he neared. Ten feet, five feet, one foot….then, finally, an inch before his face would break through the heavy fog, he jerked his body ninety degrees to fly parallel along the storms underside. Right where he was, a crackle of lightening sounded, jagged and reaching for him as he danced away. Up again he went, breaking past the barrier and feeling the electric tingle over his body as the clouds rumbled with thunder, preparing for another strike. Wind slammed into him, threatening to knock him off course, but like the skilled pilot he was, he instead switched the out of control burst to work for him, angling his wings and body so it would instead lift him on its rage filled head, providing him momentum and speed at an acceleration beyond what he could achieve on his own. Another gust from another side, and he did the same, almost laughing as the adrenaline went through him. This was more like a game than anything. Below him and to his left, as well as above, he could feel a charge beginning to form, white hair standing up on end like a porcupine. His muscles tensed and he readied himself for the blast.

CRACK! Lighting struck out, and he spun to the side, wings retracting against his body as he dove down to get past it, swooping back up and dodging just in time to miss the ricochet shots that branched off towards him. Another laugh as the thrill hit him, not having felt this alive since he had flown Talgeese. But unlike the mech, the control was fully in his hands, and his agility was many times better. Beat this, Wing, he crowed in his head. If he could have fought Heero for the first time like this, the boy would have never stood a chance.

Letting out a hard breath, he blinked in surprise as it crystallized in front of him, forming a packet of ice. This barely registered before he hit the cold pocket in the sky, feeling the moisture of his sweat freeze as crystals began to form on the tips of his feathers, weighing down his wings. A sense of dread hit him, but he knew he couldn't stop yet, despite the stiffness with which his body started moving. Instead of letting it take him down, he swung out his arms to shatter the thin coating that had formed on his skin, wiggling his body around like a worm through the hair. Wings started beating harder to keep the blood flowing and shake off the icicles, performing various acrobatic moves in the air as he continued up. The more he moved, the more heat his body would produce, reducing the risk of his blood freezing or him being defeated.

Above him, he could see the thin rays of light piercing through the darkness, promising blue skies and freedom. Was that all? Had only that taken down Michael? Given…most angels weren't used to combat in space, or used to combating the environment. As a pilot he had been trained to prepare for everything, while Heavens creatures normally only battled on the ground or in hot environments when they performed raids in hell. Besides that, the most treacherous of weather they ever experienced was the occasional draft from another person's wings. He was used to such stunts and conditions, and without the extra weight of a mobile suit, he did find such things pretty easy, if not exhilarating. But honestly….that couldn't be all it took to knock Michael down.

Almost disappointed, he broke free through the tops, looking back down to see the peaceful white clouds as they rolled past. No hint as to the turmoil inside of them showed from this angle, and he felt a small smile form on his lips. Even the most deadly of chaos could prove to be beautiful. Feeling proud of his accomplishment, part of him was tempted to go to Michael when he returned and tease him.

"Ha!" he laughed out loud. "Half breeds aren't as good as arch angels my a—" His words were cut off when something crashed into the back of his head, a sharp angle catching and tearing at a bit of his hair as his body was sent stumbling head over heels, sparks flying in front of his eyes at the pain of the impact. Trying to right himself, he barely managed to slow his momentum before he hit face first against the side of the mountain, smacking into a sharp, straight face that bruised his cheek.

"Son of a bitch!" he cried out as his body began to fall. Catching himself with his wings, hands fumbling on the flat surface for a hand hold, he finally managed to stop his descent less than an inch before falling back into the clouds. Rubbing the back of his head with his free hands, wings shaking out as he dangled by a fierce grip on a jutting rock, he looked around for what attacked him….

But the only thing he saw was a dazed seagull fluttering dizzily nearby.

"No way…" he said, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Did he just get blindsided by a bird?

"You know," came a low, quiet voice from above. Looking up, he saw a medium sized form staring at him from over the ledge, the backdrop of the mountain still stretching unbelievably high into the heavens, making the angel look even smaller. "Pride is what kills us. It makes us believe ourselves infallible, and while we watch for the attacks that are more cunning, we forget to keep our eyes open for the obvious."

Grinding his teeth, Zechs sighed as he carefully let go of his hold and flew up, much more humbled from the experience. Keeping his eyes open for any more drive by seagulls, he carefully landed himself beside the boy, and looked down to him a bit surprised.

Zagzagel was not what most would imagine. Through many stories, people had described the Angel of Wisdom as ranging anywhere from a warrior to an old man, but never like this. Standing barely 5'3, he was surprisingly short, with deep purple eyes and matching hair twisted into dreadlocks, reaching down to the middle of his elegant neck which was decked out in candy necklaces. Pale skin glistened, a soft, sweet face interrupted only by piercings on his lip and eyebrow. Wearing parachute, violet pants, a white wife beater, and an indigo over shirt lined with pale green reflective stripes on the sleeves, he looked more like someone who belonged in a rave than as the chief guard of the 4th heaven and the very voice of reason to the Creator and ruler of Heaven. Twirling a tootsie pop in his mouth, he studied the white haired man curiously, before turning and walking away.

Zechs followed quickly, not bothering to ask any questions. Wherever the boy led him, he wouldn't protest. He knew he was lucky to just be granted an audience. And to have been approached by him none the less, instead of making Zechs look for him? Yes, the half breed was definitely lucky.

They approached an area that seemed to warp as they walked, turning from a path that continued up the seemingly endless mound, to what appeared to be the top of the mountain. Blinking, he glanced around at the beautiful meadows and valleys, taking a glance over the edge to see just how far down the clouds were now. A trek of what seemed like hundreds of miles was shortened to a few steps, and he resisted the urge to gawk in awe at the subtle, yet shocking power of the one before him.

Flat soled shoes scuffed the ground as the small boy leaped onto a boulder, sitting down rather ungracefully with a little huff as his knees propped up and spread. He looked as if he belonged on a skate board instead of heaven. Pressing his feet together in a pose that reminded him of the lotus positions Wufei would sometimes sit in to meditate, Zagzagel turned amethyst eyes to the man, studying him closely.

"You come to me for advice on the demon and his warning, no?" the angel asked. Zechs nodded, idly wondering if the boy's wings matched his hair. They were hidden at the moment though, probably lightly outlined as a tattoo on his back as Zechs' were when his were in.

"Yes," he replied, moving to sit beside him. He felt no discomfort around him, nor need for formalities. It was surprising. It was as if the great angel was communicating with his subconscious, letting him know there was no need for that here. All was on the same level…and for once…for once Zechs' didn't feel inferior for his mixed blood. Looking up to him, Zagzagel studied Zechs a moment, the purple haired angel's boyish face seeming so innocent while his eyes seemed lost and old. After a moment, the boy produced another lollipop, this one blueberry, and held it up for the man.

"Your favorite," he stated. Zechs blinked his surprise. It really was. Taking it, he smiled slightly as popped it into his mouth, tucking the wrapper into his shirt pocket.

"Thanks," he replied gratefully. He really meant it to. No one so far had treated him so kindly. Apparently, those of his breed weren't looked to highly upon. Especially when his mother, as some had put it, was "unsavory to begin with." What that meant, or even who her parents were, he wasn't exactly sure. But all he knew was that he didn't care. It was his mom, and he would love her no matter her lineage.

"We're all the same here," Zagzagel said, closing his hands over his feet and holding them together. "Now, tell me what you think is right, my light," he continued, using a term of endearment that made Zechs blink curiously. Perhaps it was just because of his hair color?

Zagzagel felt a tug of a smile at his lips at the confusion he could tell that term caused. If only the man knew what it really meant…

"I can't let Duo stay where he is," Zechs said slowly, thinking out his words. "I don't know what he did, but he's been there long enough, and it's causing unnecessary suffering. I can hear him crying when I close my eyes. I've also heard the screams from Heero and Wufei in their sleep…I connected to them, and I didn't mean to. It just…it just happened during the war, I suppose, because of my own guilt." Thoughtfully, he trailed the sucker over his lips, as he spoke.

"Is it your guilt spurring on this conclusion, or your morals?" the other inquired, staring out at a flock of butterflies that danced through random patches of flowers in the knee high grass of the fertile valley. Things were amazing in Heaven…

"At first, I thought it was my guilt, hence why I didn't act on it," Zechs explained, studying the ground. "I realize that by acting on guilt without our integrity or our common sense, we sometimes make things worse…" he paused, his innermost feathers twitching almost painfully as he recalled the bloody color of them. That was caused by his own rush to atone for sins that never were his to make up for in the first place. How many suffered in his attempt to alleviate his own pain? "But as I think about it, there is something inherently wrong with this. I don't trust Lucifer nor Hades…and sometimes, I'm not even sure I trust the Creator. Given…it's not as if It has ever done anything bad to me…but…I just feel like so many of the mandates and orders placed on our kind go against what I feel. Right here." With that, he motioned to his heart, glancing to Zagzagel, hoping he wouldn't sound stupid or be called a traitor. More than anything, he wanted the support, and while he knew it was probably stupid to come to one of Heavens beings for advice that might just lead him to breaking the rules of Heaven, he had no idea where else to go.

Zagzagel sighed thoughtfully for a moment, digesting the information.

"You know that the Creator can never be fully interpreted, even by us," the boy replied after a few moments, never looking to him. Zechs was almost relieved. Those eyes were so distant and sad—the eyes of a being who had seen far too much to attain such wisdom. "The only way we can ever hope to do what's right and live a life in the divinity of righteousness is to follow the only guide that the Creator gave us. This is your heart and instincts." Rubbing the back of his own neck, Zagzagel turned his gaze to him, studying Zechs' eyes closely. "Despite the threat to your life, or even the threat of being exiled, will you still risk it to help those who many times have claimed to hate you?"

The prince looked down at the words, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his cheek on it. That was true. While Heero had been a friend to him and had been his partner on many missions since wartime had ended, Wufei never forgave him for his role in helping Trieze capture the dragon for tortures. Therefore, Heero never really became too close to him, despite their similarities. But that was his fault. Even Quatre sometimes seemed to turn a cold shoulder to him, for whatever reason the blond had to dislike him. Zechs couldn't blame him for it though. But to be exiled from Heaven for helping them? From this beautiful place where he was free to fly without fear? Where, even though he was still an outcast as he had been his whole life, he still felt as if he slightly belonged? Would he go back to having no home to speak of, isolating himself even more for people who had sworn to never forgive him? For Trieze, a man who would never take that one step needed to break free and be with him? Would he make the sacrifice for them, even though they wouldn't for him?

It really didn't even need thought.

"Yes," he replied. "I'd do it a million times over, even if it meant my death. Because it's the right thing to do." Even if the right thing would only end in hurt for him. No good deed goes unpunished.

"Your path is a hard one then. You are the light, which is meant to guide those from the darkness…but the light is always alone. It can never be with another of its kind; it is blind to the evils that will come to it, and must face the blows on its own. In order to be a beacon for the suffering in the night, it will also become a lure for the evil's which desire to drain it. And you will always be so blinded by your own desire to help that you won't see it. You can't see into the ally when standing underneath a streetlight." The metaphor caught him off guard and he looked to him a bit confused by it. Honestly, Zechs had expected something a bit more poetic or timeless than a reference to a streetlight. But then again, he also didn't expect to be receiving advice from a boy who looked like a twelve year old raver.

Zagzagel shifted from his position, kicking his long legs out in front of himself, studying ducky printed shoe laces as he swayed his feet from side to side as if entranced by their movement. "Your brightness does not belong amongst light, Zechs. You are a Prince, in more ways than you know. Take this into your heart, and never forget it: your place is amongst the darkness, for it is the only place you will ever belong, even if it will be devastatingly lonely. For there is the only place you can do what is right and complete your calling. People here will you hate for it, but remember—the only rules the Creator has set in stone are the ones that we feel inside of us. You will know when you over step your bounds, and so long as you pursue what your soul tells you too, you will never venture far from what is right. Seek nothing for personal gain, but instead do only what you must to fix the injustice that has occurred."

Violet eyes landed on him, digging into his soul. Zechs shifted almost uncomfortably, turning his gaze down.

"You are Judgment, and you know that Death is not a slave. Hades binding him to Mneme needs to be corrected. For even Democritus—Duo, as you call him—is known here as Azreal, and as every name Death can ever be given." Zechs looked up in surprise. Was Duo the one Trieze had spoken of? Duo really was Death? More than that, he was the Death? Azreal, Shinigami...he was it? Was that why it was affecting all the realms so strongly? "You know what you must do. Pay no more heed to the color of your wings, only the color of your soul…if you focus only on exterior aesthetics, you will never be able to shine. But choose carefully what you do. Do not let this power taint you, or you will wind up as your grandfather."

Before Zechs could inquire on the statement, the world around him shifted and went black.

A few moments later, his eyes opened, and he found himself lying in his bed, naked except for the silk black boxers he wore. Hair sprawled out around him, curled up on his side, he felt more comfortable and rested than he had for ages. Had it all been a dream?

Moving his hand, he felt a hint of surprise when he realized something was in it.

A blueberry sucker.

Blueberry had always been his favorite….