Act Three
Diego broke into a cold sweat as the world shimmered back into focus. He began to feel sick as he looked around at the Japanese-style decor. There was only one possible place they could be.
"Pearly? Pearly!"
Diego turned as Maya came down the hallway. She was very pregnant, and clutched a crumpled note in one hand.
And she looked frantic.
"When are we, Gabriel?" Diego asked hoarsely. His mouth was so dry. What he'd give for a cup of coffee right now…
"Nine years after your death," the angel murmured. Diego watched as Maya waddled past them and turned the corner at the end of the hallway. This time, he didn't need the angel's prompting to follow her.
"…She's run away, Nick."
Maya was standing near the front door of Fey Manor, her cell phone to her ear and her other hand, still clutching the note, on her belly. "She left a note–" Maya lifted her hand and re-read the scrap of paper. "–she says she's afraid she'll hurt the baby. That – that if it's a girl…"
Diego's heart twisted as Maya pressed the back of her hand to her face, scrubbing at her eyes.
"I thuh-thought we were past all this," she sniffled. "I thought she understood that she's nothing like her mother." She took a deep breath, struggling for control. "Please, please try to find her, Nick. …I'll try to get to you, but it won't be easy." She listened for a moment. "I will. Okay. Bye."
Diego followed Maya as she went back down the hallway and into a side room. She settled herself awkwardly on the Japanese-style futon, cradling her bump. Tears started sliding down her cheeks. Diego began to get angry. It was night out – where was Maya's husband? Why was she alone?
"Where the hell's the kid's father, Gabriel?" he growled.
The angel gazed at him for a few moments, an expression of mild contempt on his face. "I think you know where the father is."
Diego frowned. Did Gabriel mean Trite was the father, and therefore in the city? Or…wait. He remembered now – pillow talk that had turned awkward, the bitter note in Mia's voice as she explained that her father had deserted her and her mother, "just like most of the men back home." Now Maya's child would grow up without a father, too.
The room around them wobbled slightly. When the world refocused, Maya was on the futon, propped up by several pillows. She grunted and yowled, sweating and red in the face, and Diego took a step back. It felt wrong watching her like this, even though she couldn't see him. She wouldn't have wanted him here. He looked around the room, skipping over the midwife and what she was doing between Maya's legs. No father, just like Gabriel said… and no sign of Trite, either. Diego grit his teeth, anger and disappointment coursing through him. Trite was supposed to be a better man than Diego. And yet he'd left Maya to go through childbirth all alone.
At last the piercing cry of a baby rang out and Maya flopped back on the pillows, huffing and gasping. At the end of the bed the midwife was handling the newborn, running a careful attentive gaze over the tiny form. She frowned, and then a look of sadness appeared on her face.
"What?" Diego bounced on his toes, trying to get a look at the baby. "What's wrong with it, Gabriel?"
The midwife wrapped the baby in a blanket and laid the little bundle on Maya's chest.
"I'm sorry, Master Maya," she said gravely. Maya looked up at her with a stricken expression. The midwife closed her eyes briefly, and took a deep breath. "It's a boy."
Maya stared back at her for a moment, tears starting down her cheeks. She gathered her son in her arms, smiling at him through her tears, her chest hitching with silent sobs.
Diego glanced at the angel and back at Maya. This was all wrong. Having a son solved Maya's problems. Boys had no spiritual power. Pearl didn't have to worry about succumbing to her mother's murderous jealousy. If Pearl had a daughter of her own down the line, there'd be no more family feuding over the Master's title. So why was she so upset, unless…
"Let me guess," he managed. "The old biddies that run the place won't let her pass the title on to Pearl. She has to have a daughter of her own, right?"
The angel shifted his weight and didn't look at him.
Diego swallowed, a cold, sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.
"It's a rules thing, right? Family tradition…" He wet his lips, the awful idea sticking in his throat. "…It's not that… they found Pearl, didn't they, Gabriel?" He grabbed the angel's arm. "Tell me they found her."
The angel glared at him and tugged his arm out of Diego's grasp. The wood-panelled walls around them dissolved away, revealing dimly-lit city streets. Diego looked around, searching desperately for any sign of Pearl.
He almost missed her – he had been looking for a young girl in Kurain robes. She was walking along the pavement across the street from him, glancing around furtively. She wore a long, army-green coat, and had a tatty Steel Samurai backpack slung over one shoulder. The childish backpack made Diego's heart hurt. Pearl had to be twenty, maybe twenty-one, but she was still just a kid.
Diego followed Pearl at a distance as she continued down the street, vaguely aware of the angel walking beside him. He tried to work out how long she'd been living on the streets, and quickly decided that it didn't matter. She shouldn't still be out here.
"Why the hell hasn't Trite found her yet?" Diego growled.
"You can't find someone who doesn't want to be found," the angel replied.
Diego shook his head as Pearl approached a large, darkened building. "Trite'll search every inch of the city till he finds her."
The angel gave Diego a long look.
"Who says she's in Los Angeles?"
A chill ran down Diego's spine. He looked back at Pearl as she rapped on a door in the side of the building. It opened, and she had a murmured conversation with whoever was inside. After a few minutes, she gave a last, nervous look around, and disappeared through the door.
Diego glanced at the angel, then ran to the building. Maybe he couldn't affect anything here, but at least he could see what was on the other side of that door. He hesitated for a moment, then walked through the solid steel.
He found himself back in Trite's office, which was still as cluttered as ever. The place was in darkness, and deserted except for the dark-haired toddler snoozing on the couch in front of him. Diego glanced around in confusion, then whirled around and glared at the angel.
"Hey -"
"You want to know what happened to Pearl, don't you?" the angel murmured sternly. He nodded to the doorway at the end of the room. Diego turned, and noticed the door was ajar. As he got closer, he heard muted voices coming from the other room. Diego forced down his anxiety, and peered through the doorway.
Maya and Trite were sitting together at a battered table in a tiny kitchen. She was pregnant again, and there were tears in her eyes.
"I…I channelled her, Nick," Maya gulped. "I channelled Pearl."
Diego felt like a rock had dropped into his stomach. Trite turned pale and drew Maya into his arms.
"She – she doesn't know where she is, or what happened to her…" Maya buried her face in Trite's shirt. "Oh, Nick…"
Trite tightened his hold on her, rocking her back and forth. "I'm so sorry, Maya," he mumbled into her hair. "God, I'm so sorry I couldn't find her."
"Nick, I can't take it anymore." Maya was sobbing now, clinging to him. "Pearly's… Pearly's dead and they don't even care. They're just going to keep... breeding me till I have a daughter."
"Maya…"
"Let's just go, Nick," Maya pleaded tearfully. "Tonight. Let's just take Jet and go somewhere nobody knows us."
Diego backed away from the door, shaking his head.
"No," he mumbled. "No way." He stared at the angel, desperately wracking his brains for some evidence that it couldn't be true. His gaze fell on Maya's son, slumbering peacefully on the couch. What kind of life was waiting for him?
"This is what happens," the angel said gently. He laid a hand on Diego's shoulder. The world around them shifted, and suddenly they were on a dark street. "This is what happens to them if you die now."
Diego jerked away from the angel, anger surging through him.
"What the hell am I supposed to do, Gabriel?" he shouted in disbelief. He'd already done enough damage to the Fey clan. Now his suicide had ruined Maya's life and ended Pearl's. "They don't talk to me anymore! Pearl hates my guts, and Maya…" He paused, trying to steady himself. His whole body was shaking, and he hated it. "…Maya can't even look at me." He turned away from the angel and ran a hand through his hair. "Why would you show me this when I can't…"
Diego broke off as the crucial piece of evidence suddenly presented itself. The contradiction that had been staring him in the face all night. How had he not seen it before?
"Why would… you show me this?"
The angel breathed a sigh of exasperation.
"To show you the consequences of your –"
"You're a damn liar, Gabriel," Diego interrupted. A savage smirk spread across his face. "And I finally have proof."
The angel folded his arms, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. "Really."
Diego rested his chin on the back of his hand, still smirking.
"If all this was pre-ordained, set in stone…" He threw out his hand with a flourish, pointing accusingly at the angel. "…then Mia would be here, trying to convince me to stay alive. Not you. They're her family. Who are they to you?"
The angel looked like he'd just been slapped. "W-well – I…" He gestured uselessly for a few seconds, then slumped slightly, squeezing his arm with his hand.
"Ha…! That's what I thought." Diego let his arm fall back to his side, his smirk fading. "We're done here, Gabriel. Take me home."
The angel swallowed, then folded his arms. "N-no."
"No?" Diego walked forward, closing the space between them. He glowered at the angel. "Gabriel, you can drag me all the way to the end of time, but you won't change my mind. This case is over. You've lost."
He made to walk past the angel.
"No!"
The angel grabbed him by the arms.
"You can't–"
They shuffled back and forth on the pavement, struggling with each other. Diego grabbed the angel's arm and put his other hand on the angel's face, pushing it back and away from him. The angel let go of one of Diego's arms, raking his bare skin with his fingernails in the process, and pulled Diego's hand away from his face.
"Not till you understand–"
Diego ripped his hand out of the angel's grasp and cocked his fist back. The angel held up his free hand, glancing nervously from Diego's fist to his face.
"Punch me all you want," the angel said. He regained some composure, schooling his features into a stern expression. "But we aren't going back until you understand how one decision can ripple out over time."
Diego glared at the angel. As satisfying as it would be to haul off and slug him, he doubted it would make him go away. But he wasn't ready to drop his fists just yet.
"All right, Gabriel," he said. "Let's review the evidence. You drag me away from a peaceful suicide and take me time-travelling in my underwear. You show me all these people who are going to die or lead miserable lives because I'm dead instead of rotting in jail. But nothing adds up. Especially you." He lowered his fist slightly, but kept a tight hold on the angel's arm. "If someone up there wanted me to live, why send a total stranger? Why not Mia? Why not my father?"
He stepped closer, hoping to use his extra height to make the angel nervous. The angel swallowed, but stubbornly held his ground.
"You're the key to all this, Gabriel," Diego continued. "So why don't you tell me what's really going on?"
The angel took a deep breath and let it out slow. "You want the truth?"
"Never ask a question unless you want to hear the answer," Diego replied. "That's one of my rules."
The angel relaxed his hold on him, his features sagging into glum misery.
"Many years ago I told a little white lie," he explained. "I witnessed a crime, but I never saw the culprit. Still, there were only two possibilities, and I knew – I knew – which of them had done it. So I gave the police the man's name. What did it matter if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes?" The angel's face took on a haunted expression, gaze sliding past Diego, staring into the distance. "But then other people started crossing over because of my little white lie. It had consequences I could never have imagined, affected people I didn't know. Even you."
Diego stared at him, frowning. The angel nodded sadly.
"If it wasn't for me, you would never have met Mia Fey. You wouldn't have been driven to do what you did out of loyalty to her sister. And I can't take it anymore. I can't take one more person dying because of that one little white lie." The angel moved away and sat on the curb. He took off his glasses and pressed his knuckles to his eyes.
Diego regarded the hunched figure for a few moments. He shook his head slowly, a smirk creeping onto his face.
Well, well.
"Ha…! And here I thought I was an arrogant son of a bitch." On a hunch, he held out his hand, cupping his fingers. A mug of Blend #102 materialised out of thin air, and he took a long swig. "But you, amigo… you got me beat."
The angel looked up at him slowly, sliding his glasses back on. "Excuse me?"
Diego chuckled at the angel's snotty, offended expression. "There we go. Drown it in cream, smother it in caramel, but the bitter taste of coffee always surfaces in the end." He took another swallow of scalding hot darkness to underscore his point. "You look just like your pompous ass of a son."