Chapter 20: Reunion

The day had been long and frustrating. Trying to bring civility to a settlement that had been formed on a no-holds-barred foundation was proving to be as difficult as Azrael had warned him of. Raphael had been more optimistic at the beginning of the endeavor, suggesting that the humans just needed some guidance. He remembered how Azrael stared blankly at him and then very abruptly grinned at him. It was the look of pure amusement at his naiveté. It was the first time in a long time that he had seen her show mirth.

The thought of it now was amusing. At the time, he had been aggravated by her lack of optimism. Walking up the stairs to his office, he ignored the two soldiers trailing him. They had been his official guard during a tour of one of the newer sections of the city that had fallen into line with the Oracle Corps. He needed to appear as strong as possible, but also just as human. Raphael knew that there were rumors floating about that he was anything but human, but why encourage them?

With a huff, he opened his office door and strode into it without pausing, slamming the door behind him with too much force. The anger he felt was bubbling out again. The archangel had been able to control it for the most part, but when in private, often it spewed outward. As if he had no more control of it. As if he needed to express himself before he blew up or fell apart at the seams. The pesky emotions seemed to get the better of him these days.

Without a moment's pause, he yanked off his leather jacket and threw it onto the new desk that now decorated his office. A second later, the Kevlar was off too and he was leaning onto both fists, a growl rumbling in his throat. He was close to slamming his knuckles through the wood.

"Perhaps you would like a moment alone to demolish your desk in private?" Azrael's amused voice permeated his thoughts.

Raphael jerked upright, feeling suddenly foolish for not having noticed his audience. How sloppy, he thought. Glancing across the room, he found Azrael standing like a soldier would, lingering in the seating area near the enormous draped windows. She seemed relaxed; although she was dressed in her usual full battle gear, as if combat were on the immediate horizon. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough, my brother," a familiar voice responded from the chair that faced towards the windows, hiding the occupant's body away from Raphael.

Raphael felt confused for a moment as Michael stood up from the chair, revealing himself as he turned to smile at his brother. Blinking, Raphael's mouth opened and closed once. And then he recovered himself. "You found him."

"Indeed she did," Michael said, taking a few steps closer.

Raphael took in the visage of his brother. It had been many years since he last laid eyes on him. And here he was, dressed in black with a long coat that might have been a bit worn around the edges. His hair was a bit longer than he remembered and there was a wariness in his brother's eyes that perhaps wasn't there before.

The memory of Michael's pleading face from ages ago flashed into his mind for a moment. The pleading of a hurt angel who needed healing. Raphael had been angry with his sister for what she and Gabriel had done. However, stopping Michael's rampage had been something that he himself had wanted to do. The archangel who had always been the healer, the peace-maker, the one that the others came to for comfort.

And look at him now.

The mercenary. The soldier. The one doling out tough love. Raphael wondered if Michael knew of his current station in this world, if Azrael had informed him of how far Raphael had gone to accomplish his goals. He was not so dissimilar to his sibling after all.

"You look so shocked, brother," Michael commented, moving closer. "Has it been so long that you no longer wish to greet me? Have I changed so much?"

Raphael swallowed down his own thoughts and then smiled, reclaiming his calm visage. He pulled his tall brother into a hearty hug and then pulled back to look at Michael for a moment. "You have changed," he said, pausing. "But then again so have I."

"Haven't we all?" Azrael chimed in, still standing off to the side with hands clasped behind her.

Raphael glanced at her and then gave her a curt nod. "Right." He moved away from them and walked over to his desk, throwing himself down in his chair and propping his feet up in front of him.

Michael moved to stand across from him, his own hands now clasped behind him in that typical half-relaxed pose of his. Raphael always admired how his brother looked both ready for anything and yet completely at ease. Yanking open one of the drawers in his desk, he pulled out a bottle whiskey. It was one of the few that he had stashed for days like these. Not bothering with a glass he took a swig and then put it on the desk, offering it to Michael.

Michael didn't move, sharing a small glance with Azrael.

Raphael often wondered what was between them. They had always been close, much to the annoyance of Uriel who was not overly fond of Azrael. "So where were you all of this time, Michael? Rumors have circled that you left Vega in shambles? Left the Chosen One out there on his own?" he tried to keep his questioning light, trying hard to stifle his eagerness. Years of manipulating and pretending to be something else made it easier, but he had a feeling that Michael would see right through that.

Michael finally blinked and shifted. It appeared that his brother was uneasy himself. "Yes. Things did not…go as planned. Alex ended up seeking Gabriel's counsel." Michael glanced at Azrael again who didn't move. She was as stoic as usual.

Raphael took another swig of whiskey and waited for a moment.

"It appears he might be leaving Gabriel. Might have left him." Azrael chimed in, her voice even as she finally blinked.

"And how would you know that? Have you been in touch?" Raphael said, dropping his legs down and sitting upright with his proper stature.

Michael hesitated, not quite wanting to tell his brother of the situation.

"What aren't you telling me, brother?" Raphael said evenly. The anger was again starting to churn inside of him. "You have another plan, do you not? Tell me that everything you've been doing isn't completely wasted? Tell me that the Chosen One isn't completely lost to us?!"

Azrael moved suddenly, making Raphael aware of his own body. He found himself out of his seat and leaning heavily across the desk, glaring fiercely at Michael. His wings had suddenly sprouted as if they were on the offensive, or perhaps he subconsciously released them in order to intimidate his brother and make himself appear larger. Raphael's hand gripped the desk, cracking the edge of it and causing a small fissure down the middle.

When had that happened? He glanced over at Azrael and noticed that she had drawn her sword, although she hadn't aimed it at him quite yet. Quietly, she studied him as he slowly straightened himself. He stretched his wings out to their fullest and Azrael side-stepped out of the way, giving him the needed space.

As usual, Michael remained motionless. His face was the only thing that might have betrayed him for an instant, gazing at Raphael with concern, rather than hostility. "Calm, brother…" he said quietly, his hands splayed out in a placating way. "I don't remember you having such a temper…"

"It wasn't always like this," Azrael said in a hushed tone.

Raphael glared at her. And then he took a deep breath, letting go of the desk and closing his eyes for a moment. He took a step back and tucked his wings away. After a moment, he looked at Michael once more with a blank expression. "Let me try this again," he said, pausing. "Where is the Chosen One? Did he really choose to join Gabriel?"

"It was part of a ploy. But it failed." Michael sighed. "I failed. Failed to see what was happening right in front of me." He swallowed hard, looking down at the desk in front of him. "I'm not quite sure what happened after I left Vega. Alex must have felt the need to get closer to Gabriel, despite everything that happened. I was hoping it meant he had found a way to bring an end to our brother's tyranny."

"While you hid away?" Raphael spat out.

Michael's head snapped up, eyes blazing at his brother. "I was not hiding!"

Raphael snorted. "Then what were you doing all this time?"

"Drinking." Azrael chimed in, sheathing her sword.

Michael shot her a glare.

"Drinking? Truly?" Raphael looked dumbfounded. "I've been hearing rumors about the Big Archangel Michael having fled a terrible scene in Vega. The big all-important Archangel, who founded and helped the damn mega settlement become what it is today, was ousted from its city walls, and all you did was hide and drink? All while –"

"-it wasn't like that…" Michael tried to respond, but Raphael continued, clearly furious with him.

"-I'm trying to fix things in this horrid place. Did you know they kill each other here for amusement? As a way to initiate someone into their little twisted version of a family? Did you? While you're playing as the angelic savior of Vega, I've been trying to actually save these humans from themselves! And yet you're just –"

"Raphael, I was not hiding-"

"-sitting in a room with a bottle. Drinking away the last of the alcohol on this Earth. All for what? What was the point of saving the Chosen One if you'll just allow him to give himself over to Gabriel? GABRIEL? Of all of us, why to him? And you? You did nothing? You just… abandoned him?"

"I did no such thing!" Michael looked stricken, his own emotions starting to show on the surface.

"And abandon us? You left us all to help the humans and forgot about your own brethren. You abandoned everyone. And now you've abandoned your own Chosen One!" Raphael spat out. The fury and frustration finally spewed out of him, aimed directly at its source. He had barely been able to contain it all these years, with Azrael usually putting him in his place. But this…this was the last straw! Seeing Michael here, whole. And with no plan.

"I didn't abandon you! I didn't abandon Alex!" Michael yelled back at his brother. "I would never abandon him. I just…I tried to save him…"

"Save him? You left!" Raphael balled his fists. "You left him to his own devices. You were supposed to guide him, remember? Wasn't that your plan? All along? Wasn't that what we were all working toward? That he choose the right path? To learn the scripture on his body? To finally fix what has been broken?"

"Yes, but I have guided him! I have!" Michael felt tongue-tied, his own fists clenched as Raphael suddenly flew at him, grabbing him by the jacket lapels and slamming him against the wall.

"Then where is he, brother? Where is he?" Raphael growled into his taller sibling's face. "And why would you leave him unaided? Why?"

Azrael stood rigidly. She didn't enjoy it when they fought and wanted to intervene, but she knew that they would have to work this out for themselves. It wasn't the first time Raphael and Michael were at odds.

"I was trying to…I knew if I didn't…I was…" Flustered, Michael paused, his body rigid.

"What could be so important to leave him alone?"

"I was trying to prevent…ANOTHER FLOOD!" Michael yelled. His ire finally escaped him as he fiercely shoved Raphael away.

Raphael's wings sprung out in time to halt his impending collision with the wall behind his desk. Unscathed, his mounted sword remained neatly on the wall. The archangel landed lightly and put away his wings. Staring at his brother, he crossed his arms for a moment, regaining some semblance of control over himself. "So you lost control again?" he asked, aware of his own lack of control.

Michael chose his words carefully. "I was betrayed, Raphael. And I was furious. But I did not intend to hurt…to kill... the way that I had. And Alex… he reminded me of what…he stopped me from continuing."

"And so you left." Raphael said with finality.

Michael didn't move. His jaw clenched again. "I removed myself from his life in order to save him from… from myself."

Raphael studied him for a moment. "And he chose to go to Gabriel of his own volition."

"It appears so."

"Or perhaps the Chosen One has a plan of his own." Azrael chimed in.

Raphael glanced at her, noticing how both hands were gripping sword hilts. This was not how he had imagined Michael's return to the task at hand. His brother was usually able to see beyond the usual scope of things. But perhaps Michael was bested by his own tenuous grip on rage.

Sitting down abruptly, he sighed and then leaned back and kicked up his feet once more. In true blasé fashion, he rubbed his chin and stared blankly at his untethered brother.

Michael stood still with balled fists and clenched jaw while Raphael suddenly appeared completely emotionless, flippant even. It threw Michael off completely. However, Azrael had seen Raphael do this before. It was a diversionary tactic. He had said his part and emoted enough that it drained him, and this was his way to retreat.

Raphael propped his chin up and summed up everything, "So Gabriel played you," he said with a fake western American accent. "He played you like a fiddle."

Azrael rolled her eyes, but no one noticed. Michael was still too busy glaring at his brother. "Stop taunting him, Raphael."

Michael practically growled, "He did no such thing."

"He did, Michael." Azrael took a moment to sit down now, feeling restless and foolish for standing there as if she were a referee during a tennis match. "And now we are here. Let's move on and figure out what Alex could have done and where he could have gone. Back to Vega? To find Claire?"

Michael glanced at the warrior archangel. She was, as usual, straight to the point. His hands were still clenched, but he took a breath and then walked to the window across the room. He needed a moment to calm down. To think.

"He would return to Vega. Yes. For Claire. And in doing so, he will put her in jeopardy." Michael said over his shoulder and then willed himself to be calm, overriding his other impulses.

Raphael stared at Azrael who remained sitting, poised on her seat. "He will not like what he finds in Vega," Raphael said quietly.

Michael turned back to him, rigid and concerned. "What do you mean? Has something happened?"

Raphael looked at him, "Politics, brother. Politics."

Azrael sighed. "Which means, violence."

"Yes, always violence."