Protect and Follow
By: MusketeerAdventure
Summary: This takes place during the episode Heir of Salvation. Alex finds he has an unexpected gift to add to his arsenal as the "chosen one" – Noma fears it; Pete is the grateful one; Michael searches for his faith in Mallory– while the journey to New Delphi is fraught with unexpected revelations.
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Chapter Three: A Question of Faith
The horn sounded – black rolling clouds filled the night sky; and Mallory erupted into controlled chaos.
Wes and his threats forgotten – Michael hurried from the church to witness frightened, screaming children dodge heavy rain drops; as frantic parents rushed them to an underground shelter.
Looking toward the edge of town – he could see eight-balls hopping the perimeter wall; climbing over fences – waiting for the rain to fall strong enough to extinguish the fire. Assigned residents worked double time – throwing wood on the dwindling flames – fighting the rain; to keep the blaze from snuffing out. They yelled encouragement to each other; and sent up prayer that the rain would not last long.
Over the prayers, Michael could hear the eight-ball's mantra- in that hissing rasping tone, to "kill all the humans", clear and unwavering. He squinted at the statue in the middle of town. Where before she reached outstretched arms to heaven within the midst of the fire's warmth and love; now she reached to heaven in prayer and faith – faith that the flames would engulf her once again in devotion; and Mallory would survive the onslaught. For if the fire went out; the eight-balls would come.
Michael looked around and took stock of the people here. They appeared strong; loyal and committed – traits he had lost over time. For months he had not defended a single human being – either with action; word or his sword – and he wasn't sure what he should do now. His faith in God and himself were lost somewhere in the folds of his self-pity; and grief over losing Alex's confidence and God's favor.
He scanned the faces of these people waiting with whatever weapon they could get their hands on. Some of them held guns; some tools and some held nothing but their trust in God – ready to fight – knowing that God was on their side. How could they be so sure?
He had not seen such blind faith in a very long time. Michael raised his eyes to the sky and the heavens opened up – the heavy drops of rain, now a downpour – soaking them all through to the bone; dousing the fire to a trickle; raising everyone's level of alertness.
The eight-balls gained courage after such a long wait and moved in – with the intent to please Gabriel and kill them all.
Michael touched the swords at his sides; and caressed them with care. These weapons of destruction were gifts from his brother – given to him centuries ago; gifts he would never part with. At the time, they were given to him with sentiments of love and affection.
No matter if he warred against his brother and his beliefs now – he would never relinquish them. They spoke to him of a time when all was certain – his purpose was certain; and Father loved them all.
He bowed his head to think – the cool rain giving him some clarity. Was this a test? Was this his Father speaking to him now – asking him to make a choice; destruction of the human race or salvation – Gabriel or Him; the chosen one or hell on earth?
He looked to Laurel standing beside him; and she pierced him with a fierce determined gaze – her weapon brandished; ready to kill or be killed for Mallory in God's name. He lifted his gaze from hers and saw the same expression on each and every face around him. Every last one of them appeared resolved to their fate – no matter the outcome.
Indecision clashed inside him; and over the pounding rain he could hear Laurel yell to him, "Either stand with us or get out of the way!"
The fire went out – the eight-balls stormed the meager defenses and Michael made his choice. Salvation it would be.
He drew his swords and immediately lost himself in death and blood. After months of abstention, it felt good to draw his weapons – to draw blood – to behead and grind the eight-balls into the muddy, soggy earth. He moved smoothly in battle without thought. Every stance, every thrust – etched in his muscle memory; centuries of maneuvers embedded in his psyche for any campaign. This was after all his calling – his purpose.
He felt alive again as he hacked his way through Gabriel's undisciplined foot soldiers – the blood of them washing away as soon as it hit his clothes – his face – his hands. The rain was torrential in nature – washing away his sin as soon as it was committed – leaving him free to continue the slaughter with a clear conscience.
He had no sense of how fared Laurel; or the other people of Mallory – as they themselves fought with fear and ferocity – only knowing that his muscles and mind had been awakened once again to his talent – the talent of taking life.
His sin was that he killed without remorse. Killing Becca had stolen what little feeling he had one way or another about the taking of life. Her betrayal and that one act of ending her life out of anger; had broken something in him – that centuries of death had not done – leave him hollow.
Just as suddenly as it began – the downpour ended – the fires of Mallory reignited; and eight-balls began to burn; screeching and writhing in pain – burning to ash in anguish – disappearing as if they had not existed at all.
Michael sheathed his swords and came back to himself – breathing in hard the smells of cleansing renewal that rain brings with it; and death. He walked slowly with purpose back toward the church – ignoring the carnage around him – and Laurel's pointed look of awe and trepidation.
When he opened the doors and stumbled in – the warmth and peace welcomed him, and he called out, "Father. Are you here?" waiting now to hear his voice clearly. Had he understood the test? Had he passed – been restored once again to find grace in His love?
Michael sat heavily in a pew seat; clasped his hands together; and found words of prayer falling easily from his lips. He thought he had forgotten how to pray – but the words came unbidden and he felt his heart open once again to the possibility of regaining his faith.
Laurel entered and sat at his side – her hair plastered to her face and neck; cheeks flushed with exertion; her eyes wary and unsure. She reached for him, covered her hands over his; and joined him with a fervent prayer of thanks of her own.
He studied the grip she held on his clasped hands and did not understand the effect she had on him. After months of numbness – she alone had placed a notion of faith in his heart and mind. He wondered at her strength – of this petite woman who commanded authority, and demanded respect; and who took on the responsibilities of Mallory with grace and dignity. She moved him greatly – and he thought – perhaps there could be something more between them.
And though he sensed fear in her – he could also sense her abiding trust in God. But even with her here beside him; praying with him – he could not hear his Father speak.
Alex picked his way carefully through the underbrush – the flashlight affixed to his weapon providing them with much needed assistance in the inky darkness.
He, Noma, and Pete had left their encampment a few miles back – feeling much better - the brief stop for food; water and rest – giving them much needed energy to their fast depleting reserves.
Pete walked behind him – following directly in his wake with Noma bringing up the rear – scanning the ground with her own light. As they walked – he tried to impress upon Pete to be as quiet as possible – but his incessant need to understand his predicament – and their mission to New Delphi was hard to quell.
Noma was understandably anxious and her repeated requests for Pete to "shut up" did no good – only serving to have him whisper his queries instead of shout them out. Pete seemed to have no understanding of self-preservation and Alex put it down to youth and not really getting how much danger they were actually in.
So Alex did the best he could and answered each question with as much honesty and succinctness as the situation called for. As he explained the hierarchies of the angels; and the war itself, he could sense the tenseness in Pete's body language and the fear that emanated from him.
All that he shared must be overwhelming; and mind boggling – but Alex could see that Pete was not one to give into despair or fear. Pete had a sort of optimism about him that he wished he could share. Though Pete appeared to have once been a kid weighed down by life in general – he could also see the guy had a sense of humor that must have carried him through hard times.
He would need that now – humor that perhaps could cut through the horror he had lived as an eight-ball; and would see from this point on. He had never been to New Delphi – only heard stories; and did not know what to expect. He only knew that they had an army and a shared dislike of Gabriel – and could help Vega in this fight.
He looked again to Pete and promised himself twice over that he would do whatever he could to protect him.
As they continued to make their way; his mind fell on Michael again – and suddenly he understood the burden of watching out for another person. Not only did he now have to think of Claire; his unborn child; and Noma – now he had to consider Pete and by extension the rest of humanity.
He had not thought this way before – always looking at these markings and the title of "chosen one" as a burden – one he did not fully comprehend; and had wanted no part of.
But now he was getting a sense of it; and wished he and Michael had not parted on such harsh terms. The angel had tried to tell him – tried to pound it into him – that mankind was worth saving; and that he was the answer to everyone's salvation.
When he looked back at Pete; their eyes met and in that gaze was such trust. The boy had said to him earlier that he saw a light when he looked at him. What had he meant by that? Did he mean it literally or figuratively? Did he see that light now? He would try his best not to disappoint.
After a while – Pete became quite and pensive – thinking of all he had learned this fateful day. Alex sighed with relief that the stream of questions had ended and that now there was relative quiet.
"About time you stopped talking", blurted out Noma – slapping Pete on the back of his head playfully. Pete shrugged his shoulders and smiled – putting his finger to his lips, telling her to "shush" as she drew back her hand to hit him again.
"Keep your eyes open", Alex called to them over his shoulder. "We're getting close to New Delphi."
And then there – bathed in the harsh glow of their flashlights was the remains of a higher angel – tied to a tree with its skeletal head removed from its body – placed at the base – and its wings spread out filling the space of the trunk.
Noma stared up aghast – her heart beating fast and furious; fear cold in her veins. "That's a higher angel Alex", she whispered. "We are hard to kill."
The three stood mesmerized, unable to tear their eyes away.
Alex studied the body and thought – what people; person; or being possessed such power to bring down a higher angel this way? What weapon could do this? Would it work on Gabriel? Could it harm Noma as well? Whatever did this, was it the answer he was looking for?
Noma was incredulous. Who would do this terrible thing? Why this? What message was this act sending – hanging the carcass of an angel out here in the woods? What manner of weapon did New Delphi possesses to do this? What kind of being cold be so malicious?
Pete was stunned; no words came – but he knew this was not good. No person – no angel – no anybody strung up like this with its head chopped off, meant anything good at all. He looked to Alex and Noma and saw the same look of horror and uncertainty that must be plastered on his face as well. A warning bell went off inside his brain. They had to get away from here!
Then suddenly they were surrounded by a ring of light. Alex raised his weapon; turned to the others and before he could urge them to run – electrical nets covered them; knocking them to the ground – zapping them as they squirmed and moved to get away.
Alex got off a shot; and killed one of the eight-balls moving toward them – another took his place and with a menacing glare, smashed the butt of his weapon at his temple. The last thing he heard before falling into unconsciousness was Pete screaming his name.
When Laurel lifted her head from prayer – she searched Michael's face as if looking for something hidden. The scrutiny of her gaze made him feel uncomfortable – as if he were lacking in something and he turned away from her.
Only his brother had the ability – she seemed to possess – to make him turn away first.
He feared he had not passed the test after all. Perhaps it would take more than just choosing the side of salvation to win back God's favor.
Laurel stood to her feet – her affect never wavering from acceptance and touched the side of his neck, "Will you help us bury the dead Michael; and send them on to heaven with prayer?"
He blinked – suddenly aware that he had thought nothing of these people – their grief; or heartache over losing their own during the brief battle. His only care had been for the complete and utter destruction of the eight-balls – and nothing more.
Michael sighed deeply at this revelation. Of course he did not pass the test. How was he to help Alex save humanity if he could not even share in their sorrows or even understand their sacrifices – or comprehend the miracle of the fire?
He stood wearily; nodded his assent and walked with her out into the early morning sunrise, where pink hues lit the sky and pain saturated the air. He could hear weeping as loved ones carried their family away to ready for a funeral ceremony that all of Mallory would attend – sing songs of devotion; say good bye and thank them for their sacrifice.
He knelt down in the mud by a distraught elderly man, who clung to his son in abject grief – with no strength to lift him from the ground. Michael touched his shoulder and squeezed it in sympathy, "I will help if you wish", he offered solemnly.
The man swiped tears and spittle from his face – breathing in a shuddered breath as he cleaned mud from the side of the younger man's face; and kissed his cold forehead. He nodded his head; relinquished his hold and allowed Michael to lift him effortlessly from the ground.
The old man struggled to his feet; then led the way to his home – his heart heavy; but full of faith. Mallory had been saved because of his boy and the town's belief in the power of God's promise.
Alex woke to the feeling of cool fingers stroking his forehead, and carding through his hair. He opened his eyes; groaned and squeezed them shut as the glare of the morning sun assaulted his senses and caused pain to spike behind his left eye.
When he opened his eyes again – Noma was peering down at him with a worried and relieved expression on her face. She pressed his shoulders down and he could feel the softness of her lap beneath his head.
She touched his temple and asked, "How do you feel?"
He glared at her with his right eye, "Like I got hit with the butt of a gun."
Noma chuckled and breathed out a steadying breath. When they had gone down in nets and the eight-ball hit Alex – she thought they were going to die.
A pretty fair number of humans and eight-balls had encircled them; pointed their weapons down at their inert forms – and unable to spread her wings to attack – was surprised to feel how saddened she was that her life would end here like this.
She had thought she would die in glorious battle at the side of her archangel and the chosen one – winning back earth for the humans – not here like this – in the dirt; unable to defend herself.
But instead of death – they had been given a reprieve; were released from the nets; and weapons confiscated. When she had been set free – she had run straight to Alex; falling to her knees – assessing his injuries – an anger rising up in her. It was her job to protect him – to keep him safe. Just as she was about to unfurl her power – Alex had grabbed her arm; shook his head no and promptly passed out.
It had taken two men to restrain Pete. Seeing Alex hit and now unconscious on the ground released something in him. Once out of his net, he struck out wildly, attempting to hurt these people – these beings – and he got in a few good licks before they pushed him to the ground and held a gun to his head.
Noma called to him, "Pete – stop fighting!" Knowing Alex would want her to protect him for as long as she could, if he couldn't. But Pete kept at it – screaming out – "I'll fight all of you!" , rage on his face and in his voice.
"Will you now?" an eight-ball countered, grabbing him by the collar; pulling him to his feet- flashing his black eyes and smiling down on him.
Pete swung at him; but his punch was blocked; and the eight-ball threw him effortlessly against a tree. Pete could feel the pain radiate down his back and the air leave his lungs – but he would not give up. Alex was the light – the reason he was even alive. He would fight until he could fight no more.
He pushed off from the tree ready to try again – but Noma was their pulling him back – yelling in his ear, "Alex will be alright! Stop this before they hurt you!"
"Yes little one – stop – or I will kill you all right here." He emphasized pointing his gun down at Alex's still body.
With that threat penetrating his rage – Pete had pulled away from Noma's embrace and ran to Alex's side; kneeling in front of him; grabbing onto his shirt and shielding him as best he could.
The humans and eight- balls laughed together smirking down at their find.
Noma gathered her wits; joined them on the ground – and lifted Alex into her arms as they sat to wait.
With Alex now aware – Noma began to help him sit up next to her. He held his head in his hands and swallowed hard to keep from vomiting up snake meat and water. When the earth stopped spinning – he lifted his head and scanned the area around him.
Sitting on the other side of him was Pete; his eyes wide with apprehension; cheeks red with anger; and his lips pressed thin – taking Noma's advice to "keep quiet" to heart. Alex looked down and found Pete's hand fisted in his shirt in a vice like grip. He reached down and squeezed it hard with reassurance. "I'm okay", he smiled – attempting to ease Pete's fears.
He then took in the incredible sight before him; humans and eight-balls together – side by side- laughing; talking and gathering their belongings, mounting up into large vehicles. He closed his eyes; rubbed at them and opened them again. Had he been hit harder than he thought? He penned Noma with an incredulous stare and she stared right back at him.
"I know", she voiced; and shrugged her shoulders. "How is this even possible?"
A large man with a weapon held protectively in front of him sauntered over and ordered, "Get up now, we're taking you three in."
Alex, Noma and Pete stood to their feet in unison to face the man giving the orders. "Take us where?" Alex asked; but got no response, as they were herded forward.
When they clamored into the van they were to travel in, the man reached for the radio at his shoulder and spoke into it, "Base – this is 259. We're headed back to New Delphi with guests."
Thank you so much for reading. Please take a moment to review; as your thoughts and comments mean a great deal. Thank you also to those of you who have already favorited and are following this story. I hope you like my take on these missing moments in the episode. Next up: episode two. I hope by the end of this week, Pete has been restored to his wonderful self, and I won't have to deviate into AU territory!