Title: Tongues of Men and Angels
Rating: TA for implied?romance.
Summary: Glimpses of grace: the story of one brother and two sisters. Through the grace of God, all things are made new.A series of drabbles. Ish. Gabriel/OC. Ish.
Disclaimer: *obligatory insert*
Chapter VI: Wounds
…He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted…
Isaiah 61:1
"How quickly you heal," she murmured, carefully peeling back the bandage. Only a few days since she had found him in the desert, and his wound was now knit nearly as cleanly as hers. Soon it would disappear entirely.
He had intended to depart immediately, though he knew not where he would go—but she had insisted on tending to his wound before he left, and had placed herself before him with soft hands on his chest. The only way around her would have been to forcibly remove her, and at this moment in time, he was hesitant to do anything that would cause him to lose more of his Father's love. Instead, he stared stonily into the distance, perched ludicrously on a lawnchair. When the gauze pulled briefly at a patch of unhealed flesh, he heard her suck a breath in between clenched teeth and was surprised to recognize the sound as sympathetic. He wondered if her own new scar still pained her.
"We are made superior to humans," he answered shortly, though the truth was that humans—who had come later, like a plague—had been, by their very chronological advent, made inferior.
He had intended to leave as soon as she was satisfied, but with nowhere to go and her young sister's soulful dark eyes gazing up at him, he had decided—against his better judgment—to stay. It was repentance in its own right: a form of martyrdom, to stay here in the company of humans. Barred from heaven, he would rather find himself out among the cold wonders of space than in this arid, manufactured wasteland, with its reeking pool and scorched lawn.
She looked at him, and he couldn't decipher her expression. "I suppose that's so," she said carefully, and he could feel the caution in her tone. Where was that when you dragged me from the desert, little one? he thought sardonically. "It's clear that you heal quickly, and it never leaves a mark, does it?" she asked, her fingers brushing gently against the places where the scar had already pinkened and browned. He frowned at her touch, so oddly intimate that it repulsed him.
The earth was a love letter, with its golden sands and blue mountains, its elephants and caterpillars. And humans had spat upon it. But perhaps, in this self-imposed penance, he could dredge up some modicrum of compassion for them.
Anything, he thought emphatically—though he recognized the futility of the thought even as it occurred—Anything to please Father.
"Humans are more fragile," she acknowledged, casting a small and inappropriately tender smile at him. He recoiled. "We wound easily, don't we?"
Where would he go? He had no home. He was…adrift.
"Yes," he said slowly, warily.
"And we carry those wounds with us until the day we die." She smiled again, and he was suddenly struck by how haunted she looked.
That was when he decided to stay. He would protect these human children, whether he wanted to or not, and he would look out for them. And hopefully—prayerfully—Father would see his behavior for what it was: an act of submission, or penance. He watched as she rebandaged him, though it was unnecessary, and he weighed his words carefully.
"I will remain at your side for a time," he informed her at last, his voice and eyes stony. "To observe. And protect you. And provide for you."
She opened her mouth, doubtless a witty retort on her lips, then closed it instead. "Well, thank you," she said cautiously. "Are you sure?"
He nodded once, firmly, and stood, stretching slightly and clenching his stomach muscles to test his healing wound.
"Also," he advised thoughtfully after a moment, "Do not swim in the pool."
Word Count: 626
Completed: April 15, 2011