Reflections.
Reaper deserves a better Christmas than just a depressing panel. Let's change that.
No warnings, just family fluff.
1,560 Word Count
Bells and carols echoed around Reaper as he stalked through the cold, rain-drenched alleys of Geneva, the small unsuspecting family he'd been following chattering happily to each other. The young boy no older than eight talking up a storm about the present wrapped neatly in his arms, "Auntie Riggy will love this!" he complimented the present, throwing a toothy grin toward his mother behind him, as he pulled it closer to his chest affectionately.
The family of three had spent the last five hours shopping for just the 'right' gift and now that it had been obtained they were expertly navigating through the foreign city in the cold December rain. Reaper refusing to shake off the chill that seeped into his bones, savouring the feeling instead. After having had visit (and being found out by) his wife for the first time since his 'death' the other month while searching for Jack, Gabriel had found he felt more human emotions than before and physical feeling such as hot and cold, pain and relief, it was all so much stronger now.
Maybe his wife had been right, maybe Angela hadn't messed up and he was only like this until he could overcome his anger and grief, to accept the death of their daughter and forgive the man he once called brother… maybe.
But that was a step already. Thinking 'maybe', that maybe was hope, which was something he had not felt in years…
He looked over his sister, Isabella, she'd not changed much over the last six years, her hair was shorter now compared to the last he saw her a few months ago (he'd gone by their home on her birthday earlier in the year, unseen of course, and left a box of her favourite candies and a flower). He liked the cut on her. Isabella's husband, whom Gabriel had never been quiet about not being a fan of, seemed to be more of less the same as he has always been- a pompous ass who was still married to Gabriel's only sister.
Reaper faded to smoke as they crossed out of sight again, heading for the warm cottage that laid just on the other side of the bridge. He waited patiently under the bridge, hearing Isabella's heels clicking against the brick and boots from her husband and son matching in tempo to her. "Remember, this time of year is really hard on Jacques and aunt Rigs, be respectful and don't bring up your uncle Gabe, ok, mi amor?" Isabella commented, Reaper assuming the comment was aimed for her son who piped in "Okay, mama." the boy was silent and then cut back in, "Is uncle Gabriel watching over us and aunt Rigs and Jackie, mama?"
If only you knew, bud. Reaper couldn't help the thought and small cough of a laugh that went unheard by the three above him.
"Of course he is, mi amor, Gabriel loved you, me, Rigs, Jacques, and everyone so much. So, he watches us with Aoife every day to make sure we stay safe and loves us from Heaven."
"Will we see them again?"
"Not for a long time, but eventually we will all be a family again." she told her son cheerfully, who gave an excited yip in return, he heard the boy jump the last step over the bridge and Gabriel waited, his heart burning. They still loved him and talked about him with such love… The more Reaper spent near his family the more Gabriel took over, Reaper never would have gone to such lengths, to take time out of his schedule to travel out to Geneva to just watch his sister and her family shop for his wife all day and feel so much energy stir in his soul. He was beginning to feel more alive. Feel something, at the very least.
Reaper listened carefully, shadow stepping to an unoccupied balcony above and out of sight of the family once he could no longer hear their footsteps. Isabella had dropped the umbrella down, closing it as they took shelter under the front porch of the cottage Gabriel had called home for over twenty years.
The home where his children had been born and raised, where their family had gathered each year for Christmas, where he had laughed until he cried, came to this cottage from each mission or work day to a wife and child that loved him, where he and his wife grew together. In that home was his world, and short walk away was the cemetery where Aoife was buried.
His whole life was here. Over twenty years of memories that made him feel alive to reminisce on. He'd always imagined he and Marigold were going to grow old and likely die in that home or in war (which for him, was somewhat true). Reaper felt a pain in his heart as Isabella knocked on the door, a light flicked on in the entry.
Panic came over Re—Gabriel and his body parted out into smoke, reforming closer to the cottage, begging for a closer look while trying to be rational and stay hidden. The door opened and the familiar visage of the woman Gabriel had vowed his life and love to stood on the other side, her mass of fiery curls were as chaotic as ever and her freckled cheeks lifted up into a bight smile. Marigold's wolfhounds, Valentin and Lucien, pushing against her legs to try and undoubtedly get to the small child that stood at the other side of the door. Or so Reaper assumed until he noticed Valentin had his eyes locked on Reaper, the hound barking like mad at the man who had been his master. A third wolfhound, Reaper recognised it was his son's companion, Valkyrie, joining the other two behind Rigs. Jacques was there too.
"Ye'r back! How was the city?" Marigold ordered the hounds to sit, the three did so without a moment of hesitation, she opened the door for her sister-in-law and her family who gushed about the beauty of the city, Rigs cutting in to explain that hot cocoa and pretzels were on the counter then let them continue. Before closing the door, Rigs looked over in Reaper's direction but made no indication that she saw him if she had.
He stood in the cold rain, staring into the cottage he once called home as his sister and wife stood over the counter in the kitchen gabbing to one another, Jacques and Gabriel's nephew playing with the hounds as Isabella's unfortunate choice in husband piddled on his phone in the old rocking chair by the hearth. Each with a warm mug of Rigs hot cocoa- it was one of the only things he truly missed about this season aside from family- it was his wife's cocoa, she blended it with a few hand-picked spices and made the perfect cup that warmed the soul each time. He could nearly taste it through his years of memories associated with that drink, it was a curse that he could barely taste anything at all anymore and what he could taste was typically bitter.
Isabella left Rigs' side and went to her husband, her arms wrapped lightly around his shoulders from behind the chair, speaking into his ear. Gabriel didn't care much for what his sister was saying to her husband and went to look for his wife who was no longer standing in the kitchen. He searched over the home from what limited vision the window gave him, failing to find her.
"Valentin gave'ya away." he heard the familiar Gaelic accent call from behind him, he turned to the voice to find his wife standing before him in the freezing rain with just a short-sleeved reindeer shirt and rolled-up jeans on, her tattoos covering more of her body than her clothes did in the cold, an umbrella sheltering her and his favourite mug in her outstretched hand. She looked like she could freeze in a second, the cold already turning her tattooed feet red, but she stood strong and with a vibrant smile, the red of her cheeks from the cool air drowning out her countless freckles.
Gabriel took the proffered mug into his clawed hand, as he inhaled a hint of cinnamon and vanilla filled his lungs and it was almost too much for him to handle so suddenly. He'd not been able to smell such rich scents in years… to do so now shocked his system but he maintained his posture. "Merry Christmas, mi sol." she remarked sadly, turning away to leave before the others noticed her disappearance and/or she froze in the winter chill.
"Merry Christmas, mi cielo." his voice rasped, his wife heading back to their home. A few moments later, she was in the kitchen again, having used the home's side entrance and taking her own mug back into her hands once she settled into a stool by the counter.
Though Gabriel could hardly taste, he removed his mask and took a calming sip from the cup. It was warm, not in the sense of temperature but it warmed his soul, causing an uncontrollable groan to escape his lips. He dared another sip and as the liquid warmed his soul further he, for the first time since possibly even before his 'death', felt peace in his heart.