Chapter Eight
The two men circled the bullpen like sharks, silent, waiting. Tim inwardly cursed his recent lack of instinct for not noticing them sooner. He knew this would happen.
It was the way they moved. He caught brief flashes of each man every so often, moving fluidly around people, between desks, up the staircase, but in a way that the eyes just slid off them. The way that a focused picture could never be established, like a permanent motion blur. They were never near one another either. Always turning away at each possible moment of interception, as if they were blocking not just all the mortals-
-but each other. Tim froze.
They weren't together. They weren't together.
Tim stood abruptly, and began to walk to the elevator attempting to keep his pace above conspicuously slow, but below instant straitjacket, panicked speed. If the two men happened to see each other in the crowded building…well, he'd be getting a lot more work that day. There's a reason the forces of Heaven and Hell don't have an annual get together to discuss feelings, play volleyball, and exchange potato salad.
"McGee?" Gibbs asked evenly, eyebrows raised ever so slightly, from his desk.
"I…I…um, coffee." Tim finally settled on that after floundering for a moment. He turned sharply and boarded the elevator before Gibbs could protest, surreptitiously jamming his finger into the door close button. The door slid shut.
Gibbs watched the door, expression unchanging. "Dinozzo." Tony's eyes slid to Gibbs, ready for what he knew was coming next. "He might need a little help with whatever the hell he's really doing."
"On it." Tony said with an affirmative nod. He placed his gun in his holster, shouldered his coat and dashed off to the stairwell.
Tim exited the elevator and curved out the front entrance, he turned both ways and then spun in a harried circle, cogs turning. Okay, somewhere not too crowded, scratch that, not crowded at all, and with enough room to leave several options open. He decided, and walked off toward Willard Park, impossibly avoiding being hit by several cars as he crossed the road.
Tony exited the building, and quickly scanned around. His brow furrowed slightly as he spotted his target barely avoid the last car before stepping over the curb and continuing into the park.
"What the hell are you doing, McGee?" Tony said to himself, and followed with a brisk, but decidedly more cautious, trot across the road.
Tim stopped as the sound of the road faded, and slumped down upon a bench toward the middle of the park. And he waited. He wouldn't have to wait long at all, he knew that. The forces of Heaven and Hell were never ones for delaying orders, and these were definitely orders. Probably straight from the top too. Well, and the bottom, in a manner of speaking.
"McGee? What are you doing?" Tony, opting for a more direct approach than stealth tactics, strode up beside the bench, looking uncertain but determined. He gave the area a wary once over before turning back to Tim.
Tim leapt up, paling considerably. "Tony!" He frantically glanced around the empty area. "You can't be here."
"What? McGee, what the hell is going on with you?"
"Tony, I'm sorry, I can't explain, you just need to leave. Now." Tim pleaded, and then stopped. His heart dropped as he realized what he was hearing. Besides their conversation, all other noises had gradually dimmed and gone out like blown light bulbs. There was complete silence. Tony shivered and placed a hand on his gun, feeling the sudden onrush of emptiness as well. An overwhelming sense of foreboding. Tim turned back to Tony. "Don't say anything and don't do anything, no matter what you hear. Please, Tony. Listen to me for once." Before Tony could utter a single syllable, Tim touched two fingers to his forehead.
When two sound waves going in opposite directions meet, it creates interference, both constructive and destructive. With destructive, the amplitudes of the waves decrease significantly. The sound is lessened, sometimes to the point of cancelling each other out. Things get a little fuzzy. It wasn't that Tony vanished or became invisible, his signal just got a bit interfered with.
It wasn't foolproof, Tim knew that, but it would have to do. He just had to keep full concentration, maintain it. He had to. He didn't want to think about the outcome if he lost control.
"Please, Tony." Tim whispered, the sound barely caught by Tony's ears.
"McG-" The word met its unfortunate end half way out of his lips as the two men appeared in front of Tim, several feet apart. Tim resisted savoring the trickle of relief that slipped down his spine with the dread, that Tony might actually make his life easier and follow something he said. Tim took a breath, and stopped the time outside them dead.
Showtime. Tim cracked his immortal knuckles.
"Michael. Beelzebub." He greeted conversationally. The two men froze as they finally saw each other. There was a split second of mutual shock, all planned actions forced to a screeching stop, that Tim quickly took advantage of. The second ended.
"Demon." Michael growled out, the statement rolling like thunder, shaking the Earth, full of wrath that caked the tongue with the metallic taste of blood.
"Angel." The reply from Beelzebub was oily, slick, confident, and brimming with steely rage, ready to be tapped in the fight that was assured to happen.
Michael's sword, the full size version of the one that was now missing on the chain around his neck, burst into white flames in his hand, terrible and beautiful. Tim could feel Tony recoil slightly next to him, shock succumbing to confusion and horror. He doubled the cloak around Tony. Beelzebub flashed a shorter more wicked looking sword with what looked like blood eternally sliding down the shining, dark blade. He caressed the hilt with both hands and separated it into two identical short swords that he twirled nervously in each hand. He looked less confident than Michael, but more determined. He knew he couldn't win a fight with someone so much more powerful than him.
That didn't bode well. It wouldn't just be the park, they'd gave to cordon off a three mile wide crater if the fight started.
The two bolted toward each other.
There were two gentle, identical pings, as Michael and Beelzebub bounced slightly against an invisible barrier, and stopped cold. Michael scanned the area between him and his foe. He experimentally raised his hand, and placed it on thin air, pressing his fingertips into the barrier that now existed between them.
Beelzebub, raised an eyebrow. "Really, Az?"
"Release me, Azrael." Michael ordered, every word formed from iron, cold, detached, and to be obeyed at all costs. Tim glanced between the two, all the while feeling Tony react to the name they called him. He could taste the confusion. Damn it. He pressed his lips together and gave them both a one shouldered shrug.
"I assume both of you came here for a reason besides a petty catfight." Tim asked, tone loose and calm. Michael's sword burned brighter and he struck the barrier with enough force disintegrate a man and leave behind only a red mist. It did nothing. Beelzebub tensed and gripped his swords more tightly. Drops of thick inhuman blood fell from the sword tips, and stained the ground.
Tim frowned. "Stop overreacting, Michael."
Michael battered the barrier with even more ferocity, teeth bared. "Overreacting?" The word was pure venom. "My dear, Azrael, you don't even know how far you've gone over the line." With every word, Michael struck the barrier harder. Blinding light was beginning to shine from his eye sockets and crack through his skin. Beelzebub blinked, and a pure scarlet color the shade of fresh blood flowed across his eyes. Drops of pure night began to leak from his fingertips, onto the sculpted hilts of his swords, and hiss upon contact with the ground.
It was like one of those nature documentaries behind each of the immortals, where footage of the seasons changing is increased up to incredible speeds.
Behind Michael, the forest bloomed in a terrible kind of way, trees' branches curled around each other, tangling, growing wicked thorns, strangling each other. Grass wound itself around Michael's legs and then fanned outward, yellowing where they'd touched him. The flowers trembled as they grew fuller and fuller, petals gaining a nasty stain of red, bulbs seeming like they might pop. Everything gave off a sense of pure agony at the sudden forced acceleration of growth.
The opposite seemed to be happening behind Beelzebub. Leaves browned, the color spreading like a disease, and they dropped to the ground. Around him and growing, was a perfect circle of dead grass. Trees began to droop, now dead leaves abandoning their perches, branches atrophying. Flowers withered, crackling and falling across one another like a mass grave.
The carnage pulsed determinedly at the edges of Tim's barrier, desperate to continue their paths, to consume until there was nothing left. The plants on Michael's side began to slowly burn.
They were losing all control. Tim felt Tony begin to quiver beside him. He surreptitiously glanced over. Tony was paling, eyes impossibly wide, horrified, uncomprehending. A blush began to spread across his cheeks, and his breaths came more frequently and shallower. Tim realized. Damn, damn, damn. They were beginning to show their true forms.
Sweat was beginning to bead on Tim's forehead.
Either expose Tony, save him from becoming a nice little pile of ash on the ground, and risk not being able to stop two powerhouses from ripping him to pieces, or allow him to fry from being accidentally exposed to the pure power of Heaven and Hell.
Tim stopped the frequency and threw up shield around Tony, hoping that neither Michael nor Beelzebub would reveal their true forms. Even Death couldn't protect him from a face full of angelic Grace. And then? Then Tim would be forced to reap him.
Tony gave off a shudder that rippled through him like a minor earthquake.
"What the hell was that?" Tony breathed unsteadily, then seemed to come to terms with certain elements of what was happening there. He steadied himself the best he could and drew his gun, gyrating his aim between Michael and Beelzebub. Tim realized with a small pang of guilt that Tony just barely stopped himself from aiming his gun at Tim the first time. He attempted to convey a hell of a lot of remorse with a look. It didn't seem to work.
Still looking at Tony, Tim blinked, and listened. Silence. No crackle of trees as they burned or slight whine of flowers as they bent to touch the ground. Tim slowly turned back to the two beings. Everything had frozen mid-annihilation.
"Az," Beelzebub whispered, looking horrified.
Michael blinked. "Azrael, you brought-" He stopped, choking on words that seemed so unbelievable that they couldn't be uttered.
"You brought one of your pets?" Beelzebub finished harshly, acid tainting his voice. Tony's eyes flickered between Tim and the two beings, and for once, he said nothing, instead opting to shift his grip more securely on his gun. "Damn it, Azrael. Do you realize how far off the reservation you've gone?" Beelzebub anxiously fisted his hair, trapped somewhere between a rage burning like hellfire, and a sort of pure disbelief.
"You know you must reap him now, Azrael. And then you must come with me." Michael stated without inflection, eyes cold, flames from his sword still hungrily licking the air.
"It isn't his time." Tim stared down Michael, eyes like endless pits through the center of the world, pure power emanating from them.
"He has witnessed everything. He's a risk that can't be allowed to continue."
Beelzebub, tightening his grip on his sword, spoke, "I'd hate to agree with Holier than Thou, but…" He shrugged. Michael looked momentarily conflicted between confidence at finding an ally, and fury that the one attempting to be his new buddy was a high-level demon that he had been trying to kill a few moments earlier. "Your pet's a loose end. And if a loose end gets caught on something, the whole sweater can unravel." Michael eyed Beelzebub quizzically. He shrugged again.
Tim resisted the overwhelming urge to laugh. He felt it really might not help his case, rather it would confirm what was already general consensus. This was just not his time.
Oh, to he…to heav…to purgatory with it. Tim turned to Tony. "You…um, well, you might want to look away, Tony."
"McGee, whatever you think you're doing, stop it." Tony growled in what Tim vaguely recognized as a weak strain of his signature I'm-senior-field-agent-and-not-messing-around-this-time-so-listen-to-me-damn-it voice, though it wavered too uncertainly in several spots for Tony's regular gloss to cover. "I don't know what the hell's going on, but I can tell it isn't some happy-go-lucky picnic." Tony uttered quietly. Tim gave him an apologetic glance. "Hey!" Tony called sharply, and aimed his weapon at Beelzebub, who was now experimentally probing the edges of Tim's barrier. "Stay still, Buddy, or I'll be forced to give you a few more holes to breathe through. Put down your weapons." His eyes flicked to Michael. "Both of you."
Michael gave him an alien look, ancient and removed, inhuman. "You dare order me like an equal, man?" The last word came out coated in disgust. His benign, average features were twisted inhumanly, furious and terrified and yet somehow strangely beautiful.
Tony opened his mouth to respond with something probably movie themed, and most definitely snarky. Tim placed a hand on his arm, stopping the reply, and smiled weakly. "No, Tony. And please, let me handle this. Please, Tony. Don't watch." He took a deep breath, one that would have blown apart any mortal that would have attempted it, and turned back to Michael and Beelzebub. "It isn't his time. But when it is, believe me," Tim gave them a small smile. "You two'll be the second and third person I call."
There was a moment of ballooning silence.
"You know what?" All eyes zipped over to Beelzebub. He tucked his sword under his arm, threaded his fingers together, and, almost experimentally, began to pop each knuckle. "It's been a fucking long day long, and I've been obliterated several times too many for comfort." His sword began to drip blood-like substance onto the back of his expensive suit and trousers. He either didn't care or didn't notice, and kept cracking his knuckles. "I say we just tear Az's pet apart, and scatter the atoms over…I don't know, the Milky Way. See how long it takes him to pick up all the pieces." He seemed to finish, and took up his sword again. Beelzebub ran a hand down the still sleek line of his suit. "Might help him sort out things when he's forced to reap his new appendage out of pity. Plus, I need a little something to relax."
Michael looked once again conflicted. "I…have never allied myself with a demon."
"There's a first time for everything, Mikey." Beelzebub smiled dirty, tainted needles. Michael seemed to waver. Tim bit his lip. He didn't have time for this. If they worked together, he'd be fishing molecules of Tony from between the rings of Saturn for the rest of eternity.
"Tony, please. Look away." He pleaded, voice barely above a breath, and then allowed his humanity to fall away.
"McGee-" Tony shot back sharply, but stopped, air sucked forcibly from his lungs. Tim seemed to crumple in on himself, and something else emerged from his skin. Tony felt an insistent, almost gravitational pull toward the being, something deep inside him drifted toward it in a way he found deeply unsettling. The pull was gentle, but was swiftly gaining strength. He stumbled away, limbs frantically attempting to rediscover their functions.
The being straightened up even higher, unfolding like a slow motion jack in the box, expanding until it towered over them all. It swept out an arm, and a skeletal hand emerged from the sleeve. It grasped at the air and a scythe formed around it, the blade shining in a way that stilled hearts and lurked in the darkness of nightmares, glinting, waiting. A skull, smile contorted into the stark bone, peeked out from under a cowl, staring at Michael and Beelzebub.
The being finally stood straight, aura of pure power throbbing from it. Tony clutched at his chest as the essence that seemed weaved into his very being, tugged hard toward the reaper. Threads that tethered it to him stretched, straining, eager to snap and rip from him. His back thunked dully against a tree and he sank to the ground. Tony would never admit, even under the most creative of tortures (Even…Lifetime movies. Tony shuddered.) but at that moment, he let out a tiny whimper.
Michael and Beelzebub stared. Beelzebub in barely disguised horror, Michael in uncontained wrath, stained with a splash of fear. Wind without a source began to rip around them, rending clothing, tossing hair, plucking their ties to that world one by one.
The Reaper extended its other hand, bones clicking as they moved to point first at Beelzebub, then at Michael, moving smoothly, serenely.
You've lingered where you don't belong for too long.
"Azrael, the world is going to end! Reality will tear itself apart!" Michael shrieked over the wind, eyes wide in desperation. He straddled the line between livid and terrified. "Not even our Father knows the outcome!"
Beelzebub shrank back, swords melting back into his hands, though he stared at Death with a certain resigned weariness. "He's right, Az. The whole fucking world's going to swallow itself in fire and ice, and nothing will exist anymore. Even you." He said in a quavering voice, and though it wasn't too loud it echoed horribly in the park.
Begone.
Death, hand still outstretched, snapped the fingers into a fist. There was a cacophony of cracks and horrible grinding noises as the bones crashed together.
The two beings were gone, leaving behind two perfect circles of destruction, like a twisted yin yang symbol, puckered scars that would never truly fade.
And suddenly Tim was there once again. The last bit to fade was the scythe, which wavered imploringly, like a devoted pet, before vanishing from his hand.
He dashed over to Tony, and knelt by his side. Tony's eyes stared vacantly.
"Tony, are you okay?" The words spilled out instinctively. Tim winced at the stupidity of the question, and then noticed the hand clutched to Tony's chest. He frowned, worry lines deepening to rival the Grand Canyon. "I told you not to look." Tim murmured in half-hearted irritation.
He leaned over, stretched his own hand, slightly shaking, over Tony's and then paused as if in some vain hope Tony would snap to. Tony remained catatonic. He placed his hand upon Tony's, and then through Tony's, going into the chest, beyond the flesh. His fingers brushed Tony's essence which wrapped eagerly around his hand, and for a moment, Tony's heart beat joined his own as they entwined, becoming one. Tim yanked his hand away at the rush of power that crackled through him. Something snapped back into place. Tony's eyes widened impossibly, and he drew a shuddering breath.
Tim fell back, away from Tony, drawing his hand close to his body. He moved back to Tony's side, tremors intermittently making their way through his body.
"Your soul's still there. That's good." Tim said lamely, roughly, catching the breath stolen from him. "Not many who have seen me can say that. Actually, none can. Well, now you can, so it's not none anymore." Tim babbled in the way of one who knows that The Big Talk is going to come soon, and oh so dearly wants to start running, and never stop. Tony blinked blearily at him. "Though it must have tried to separate from you when I…" He made a not very descriptive hand motion. "I'm sorry about all of…that, Tony." Tim glanced backward at the destruction and said softly, mostly to himself, "They won't be back soon." The last words glowed a low-key cherry color, and sizzled as they touched the cool air.
Tony leveraged himself up into a sitting position against the tree, entirely unaware of when he had slumped that low. "And what was-" He copied the gesture Tim had made the best he could, attempting to make it mocking at the same time, still massaging his chest with the other hand "-that? All of that?!" He panted, straining to get everything back in working order. It was like some idiot had flicked the total lockdown switch, and now all the tech had to reboot.
Tim opened his mouth, then shut it again with a snap. He shifted uncertainly. Tony eyed him, and began to leverage himself into a standing position, grasping the tree behind him like his first born child. Any color he had gained back drained back out of his face as he changed orientation.
Tim watched in shock. "Tony, you shouldn't try and get up so soon after-"
"Yeah, McNurse? Well, I've never been one for following Doctor's orders. You should know that." The accusation and anger in that last statement was milder than Tim expected but he still winced. Tony clung to the tree for a moment, pallid but determined, and then pushed off. Tim stood, preparing to cushion a fall. Tony teetered and then gained his sea legs. He strode off a shade unsteadily, hands gripped into fists, looking like he was about to be very, very ill.
Tim watched him go, completely and utterly stunned, and then he smiled. Anyone else would have been floored by anything like this, but Tony? Tony got smashed in the face with a two doses of skin-melting angelic grace, then witnessed Death himself without losing his soul, and then walked away a few minutes later.
"Let's go, McGee! You've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do, and I need a drink."
"It's two o'clock, Tony." Tim reminded him, and scurried after Tony, still anticipating some sort of collapse. He wasn't looking forward to the talk that was imminent. Maybe, Tony would forget-
"It's going to happen, McGoo. After work. You can count on that."
"You should take it easy, Tony. Go home-" He started hopefully.
"Can it, McGee!"
Tim sighed.