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Also, soundtrack updated on profile page.
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Chapter Eleven
Embrace
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Dawn had bled into morning, had bled into noon, and still Caphriel had not moved from his spot on the hallway carpet, as he lay there with Zirah in his arms. He would have given anything to stretch out that moment until the end of time. Yet for many hours, his brain had refused to accept the reality of it.
Zirah had remained unconscious all that time. Unconscious, but alive, and holding on to Caphriel as though he wanted to crawl inside him. Caphriel had felt Zirah's heartbeat, steady and familiar, every rhythmic thump of that heart opening up another crack in Caphriel's own.
Love.
What he'd seen in Zirah's eyes, in his face, in every line of him, when the two of them had still been on different sides of the looking glass... Caphriel would have sworn before God that it had been love. Love... for him. For Caphriel. From Zirah. But that was impossible, because this was Zirah, and Zirah had never loved him. Had never even been able to.
Another crack, deeper.
The sound of church bells striking noon had shocked Caphriel into action. He'd extricated himself from Zirah's arms - which had proved to be remarkably difficult to accomplish, since even in his current state, Zirah had refused to let go - picked him up, and carefully carried him upstairs, so as not to wake him. He'd laid him down gently on the little low bed, and only then had he looked at Zirah's face. The sight of it had finished splitting Caphriel's heart in half.
Zirah had looked so peaceful. So truly serene. When Caphriel had touched his cheek, Zirah had stirred a little, made a tiny sound. He'd even, and of this Caphriel was absolutely certain, he'd even started to smile in his sleep.
Caphriel had fled from the room then.
Now, here he was, in the tiny kitchen, filling a glass of water at the tap. He wasn't giggling, not this time: his face was a mask of stone, and no tears came from his eyes.
He left the kitchen, and headed back upstairs, passing his hand over the glass. Both his hands, in their gloves, were perfectly steady.
He didn't feel anything. Anything at all. He was past that point, now. His heart seemed to be frozen. But it was lava under ice, he knew it, and he had to keep it that way, else he would collapse. There'd be plenty of time for that afterwards.
Caphriel would never understand what accursed miracle had brought his beloved back into his arms after so, so long. But he did know, with all the finality of dead, deadly despair, that the world was not for them, nor they for the world. It would have to end. All end now. Caphriel's love could not coexist with Zirah's hate. Zirah had died, once, hating him. This was simply the way things were, Caphriel reflected, his mind drifting constantly in and out. It was the way things were. There was no escaping it.
Caphriel was tired.
So, so tired.
And Zirah... Zirah had suffered so much, so long, and Caphriel should just stand by and let it all start over again?
No.
No, he wouldn't. He couldn't.
It wouldn't cause Zirah any pain, not this time. Like a pinprick, there and gone. Caphriel would see to that. And for himself, afterwards... There was the knife. And he would not hesitate to use it. After this, why should he?
He pushed open the door to the bedroom, and stopped dead in his tracks, the glass nearly slipping from nerveless fingers. The ice had melted, the volcano had erupted.
No. No. Oh, please, anything but this...
Zirah, his Zirah, was awake now, sitting cross-legged on the bed, taking in everything in the cramped little room as though it was an unprecedented marvel.
When the door opened, he at once turned his head towards it, and his face lit up like a flame. His eyes, eyes utterly and perfectly sane, and clearer than pools of rock-water, those eyes, as they looked upon Caphriel, were burning, blazing like blue fire, the fire of a love so strong that the sheer overwhelming force of it slammed into Caphriel's being with all the power of a tsunami, effectively knocking his brain right out of commission.
God, and he'd thought... Entering the countryside around Tadfield, so long ago... It had been a mere tickle compared to this...
Caphriel, had his mind still been even remotely functioning, would have likened the feeling to that of a warm, soft, fuzzy blanket being wrapped carefully round him on an icy winter's night. He would have, that is, if the comparison hadn't been so woefully inadequate. The blanket was wrapping around his soul...
All this took place in the split second before Zirah noticed the glass in Caphriel's hand.
Instantly, an expression of pure terror swept over him, and he raised trembling hands in supplication.
"Please don't, Caphriel... Beloved..."
Snap, went the string.
The water evaporated, the glass fell from Caphriel's hand, and he abruptly crumpled to the floor. There was a limit to how much more suffering an already mortally wounded spirit could take, and his limit had now been reached.
Faintly, his dimming eyes registered a blur of fast movement, before he was caught in a pair of warm, welcoming arms. A near-painful bolt of happiness shot through him...
...and then, nothing.
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Noon had bled into afternoon, had bled into evening, and still Aziraphale did not move from his spot on the bedroom floor, cradling his dearest angel in his arms, crooning to him softly.
Aziraphale's heart was filled to overflowing, and every beat of Caphriel's was like a drop of sweet nectar falling into it. Aziraphale smiled, kissed Caphriel's cheek, nuzzled it, let out a sigh.
He knew, of course, what Caphriel had been about to do when he'd walked into the room. Aziraphale had been terrified: his greatest nightmare now was to be torn from his angel's side again, because the two of them could not exist without each other. After so many ages of separation, one second would be too much.
He held Caphriel a little tighter.
Nevertheless, Aziraphale had understood. Caphriel only remembered him as the monster he had been. He had, quite logically, believed that things would go back to being what they had been, so, so long ago. Aziraphale certainly couldn't blame him, for how could he have known? Besides, Aziraphale didn't care, not in the slightest, because it wasn't important. Nothing was important now, only, and he kissed him again, only his angel.
"I love you, Caphriel, do you know that, dear?" he whispered, and slipped a hand under the black trench coat, the better to feel the warmth of his angel's skin...
...only to wince, and then shiver in alarm, when he felt the clearly distinguishable ribs.
God, his angel was so thin. He'd always rather neglected himself, but this... this was horrible. He must not have had a proper meal in ages.
Aziraphale would do something about that. He'd dig up a cookbook - he was sure that there was a medieval one lying about here somewhere - and he'd make his angel all the best things, like alaunder of beef and, what had they been called, oh yes, mon-amys, put some meat on those bones, because it couldn't possibly be healthy to be so thin. Yes, Aziraphale would...
Aziraphale would...
He would...
He...
Caphriel...
Caphriel, dear...
Aziraphale clutched him close, almost tight enough to smother him, and buried his face, wet with tears, in the black hair, crying and crying till it seemed his heart must break, all but cracking open with love and pain.
Oh, Caphriel, dear...
"I know you can hear me, my love," he said softly, once his tears began to dry. "You've suffered so much, so long, but now, dear one... That's all over. I'm with you now, and I'll never let you go. I'll make things better now. I promise," he added, in a whisper.
He half rolled onto his back, and pillowed Caphriel's head on his shoulder. An idea struck him then, and he took the sunglasses off Caphriel's nose, and, very gently so as not to disturb him, kissed his angel's eyes. Then, reluctantly, he put the sunglasses back where they had been - Caphriel had never liked being without them - and closed his own eyes, entirely at peace at last, for the first time since Time had begun.
Because here, now, with Caphriel, his angel, safe and warm in his arms, Aziraphale knew that he had been forgiven.