Protect and Follow

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: This takes place during the episode Reap the Whirlwind. Alex, Noma and Pete escape New Delphi. Michael and Gabriel remain captive; and Lyrae appears on the verge of exacting revenge.

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Chapter Nine: Capture and Escape to Where?

Alex sat up with a start – Gabriel's voice ringing in his ears to "run, find Michael and get him out". He rubbed his face trying to regain his wits and his bearings. Where was he, what had he done; and why was Gabriel screaming at him?

The darkness around him engulfed his senses; and for a moment he was lost – part of him still dreaming. But then reality crashed through; he curled his shoulders inward in defeat and remembered. Michael wasn't here. He was back in New Delphi at the mercy of Lyrae; and it was his fault. Gabriel would make good on his promise to kill Claire and destroy Vega if Michael were not to survive. His only hope was that Lyrae hated Gabriel more than he did; and would rid the world of him before it was too late.

He drove the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and pressed hard, causing bright lights to flash behind his eyelids. Maybe this was all a terrible nightmare; and soon he would wake up. When he opened his eyes he would no longer be hunkered down in the woods hiding from eight balls; with Noma bleeding out at his side and Pete exhausted from torture.

Instead he would be home in Vega, with Michael at his side; back with the Archangel Core dispensing justice; protecting the home front with his Noma – her wings as they once were; powerful and ready to defend. He would be with Claire – contented in the coming birth of a healthy child; his child – and thinking of all the ways he could be a good father. He would gather among his fellow friends and soldiers; fight the good fight and defeat Gabriel. When he opened his eyes, life would be as it should be. The burden of the chosen one revoked and taken from his person – his skin clear and smooth as it once was.

But when he lifted his hands away; what he saw was trees; dirt – and Pete sitting up beside him wide awake; staring at him with a worried expression.

Alex turned away from the expectant look and scanned the area; and saw that the night was now an inky black. A few hours must have passed; because the weariness deep in his bones had subsided a bit; and his legs no longer tingled with fatigue. Only his heart ached for Noma's sacrifice; Michael's surrender and his abject failure at keeping them all safe.

The crickets chirped to each other and heavy cloud cover gave their surroundings a hazy; other-world atmosphere. It was hard to see in the distance; but he heard nothing unusual and looked back toward his friend.

He shivered from the cool dampness of the ground; and felt Noma lying heavy against him; her ear pressed to his chest – her arm across his waist – protecting him in her sleep. He whispered over her head to Pete, "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You both were tired; and you said we should rest." Pete turned away then and gazed out into the dark woods; his body tense – on alert.

Alex frowned and asked, "How about you? Did you rest?"

Pete turned back to his friend, and Alex noted the shuttered look that came over him – hiding his true emotions no doubt. "I'm fine", he said – instead of answering the question; his mind on all that Noma had lost, and his part in it.

Alex nodded and listened, straining to hear beyond the mist.

"I haven't heard any of the eight balls in a while", Pete continued, "I thought it was safe to stay and let you two sleep."

Alex smiled gratefully at his friend, "Thanks Pete – we did need the rest, but I think now is the time to go." He shook Noma's shoulder and she gasped instantly awake – crying out briefly as her back flared and she remembered where she was.

She felt her wings flutter nervously beneath the fold – but then painfully recalled that they were still pinned to the wall back in New Delphi. What she was feeling now wasn't real. It was a phantom, an apparition – tricking her into believing she was still whole; still her – an angel.

She pushed the specter of her wings aside, and let the soldier in her take hold. She knew the time for rest was over. They had to leave this place, before the eight balls doubled back.

"We need to go now Nomes", Alex urged softly, moving from beneath her warmth and standing to his feet. Pete followed his lead and together they reached down for her; bringing her up gently to stand between them.

She swayed; shook the cobwebs of pain and torture from her thoughts; leaned into their strength and together they headed deeper into the woods.

Michael woke to pain erupting at the base of his skull that traveled through his brain and pierced the back of his eyeballs. Instantly he felt his throat constrict and attempted to swallow down the feeling of a volcano about to erupt from his stomach.

A familiar voice urged soothingly to him from somewhere above and he groaned – anticipating sickness, as bile rose up in his throat.

He was rarely sick, and could not remember the last time he felt so disoriented and nauseous.

He rolled over, turned to the side and vomited – feeling the pull of it at his bruised ribs and down his battered back. His folded wings felt constricted and he wondered briefly at the confinement.

When he opened his eyes, he squint through the harsh overhead lighting and could see his brother chained to the wall – his face bloodied and frowning with concern. What was Gabriel doing here? Hadn't he sliced his tendon to keep him safe – to have him leave this place to protect him; and keep him away from Alex? And where was Alex?

He shut his eyes; groaned – and felt the pounding in his head beat in time with his erratic heartbeat. He promptly threw up again – and could taste the bile as it tickled his throat and made him cough up the remaining sickness pooling in his mouth.

Gabriel called to him anxiously; but the haze that wrapped itself around his brain was too thick and he could not separate himself from it. Michael rolled to his back, looked perplexed at his bound hands; and let the darkness pull him back down to peaceful oblivion. And there in the darkness – he dreamed of Alex running for his life without him there to protect him; and Laurel screaming for him to come back to Mallory.

Gabriel sighed and swore aloud to visit unspeakable pain on Alex and all those he loved. He pulled at his restraints, but the empyrean steel held fast; and gave him no leverage. He could not help his brother – pull him away from his own sickness or prevent the inevitable pain he was soon to suffer at the hands of Lyrae. Lyrae, mad and drunk with his perceived power.

Michael's wrists were already bound and shackled with empyrean steel – his wings pinned; his body weak from abuse. He shook with helpless rage and yelled from deep in his belly with a crazed fury. No one was allowed to reek havoc upon his brother but him.

Hadn't he commanded Alex to run – to get the markings safely away – to save Michael? Whatever happened next was obviously Alex's doing and he would pay dearly. And Lyrae would answer with his life.

Gabriel gave one last tug of frustration on his restraints – fell to his knees and reluctantly resolved to wait for his brother to regain consciousness once again. They would then devise a plan that would get Michael out of here.

But he wasn't going anywhere. He would stay in the bowels of this cursed underground city and bring Lyrae to his knees.

The trek through the woods was slow; and without a flashlight; weapons or food – incredibly treacherous. The three tripped over exposed roots and their own feet; exhaustion, hunger and thirst heavy throughout their limbs; but they clung to each other with determined purpose.

Alex could feel the initial surge of adrenaline from Noma waning – loss of blood weakening her resolve. He could feel her trembling beneath his touch and inwardly feared she would not make it.

The rag Michael had taped to her back; those many hours ago in New Delphi, to stem the flow of blood had long since soaked through. If they didn't find shelter soon…..

He squeezed her tight about the shoulders and felt her reciprocate. He could not lose her. To lose Noma, would possibly destroy him.

Suddenly, as they entered a small grove of fallen trees, Pete came to a complete stop – halting them all in their tracks. Noma leaned into Alex and sighed with what sounded like relief.

"We can't keep this up", Pete voiced – pulling from beneath Noma's arm and facing Alex. "I'm going to go ahead and look for some place for us to shelter." He turned to go, not waiting for a reply to his announcement.

Alex took Noma's full weight; but reached out and snagged Pete's shirt from behind – pulling him back towards them.

"No", he grit through clenched teeth – holding tight to the fabric, "we stay together. There is no way I'm letting you go on alone."

Pete turned back to his friends and frowned in frustration. "Noma needs to rest Alex. She needs to be looked after or she will die." He looked down at his feet, searching his tired and numb mind for an argument that would sway Alex to his way of thinking – but he could come up with nothing.

Only his gut telling him that he could do this thing; they had saved him – and now it was his turn.

"I trust you Alex, now please trust me." He stared down Alex's grim determination and then turned to Noma – whose knees began to buckle. He could feel Alex's grip, tight in his shirt and made up his mind.

Pete yanked from Alex's grasp. "I will find shelter", he said with confidence. "Stay here. When I find something, I'll be back for you." He turned and ran swiftly away – not waiting to argue.

Alex called out to the wind, "Pete!" but at that moment Noma lost all sense of space and time; tilted and made a slow descent to the earth – taking Alex down with her. He fell to the soft earth, held Noma in his arms; and watched Pete dart away – sending up a brief prayer for God to protect him.

Pete ran with all the strength he could muster. It had been a good hour since he had left Alex and Noma back at the grove and hoped soon he would find somewhere for them to safely stay.

As he ran, his mind fell on the horror they had barely escaped back in New Delphi. Noma had saved them all. In his mind's eye he could still see and hear her ripping the wings from her back. He would never forget her sacrifice – her screams echoed in his brain, even now; and followed him relentlessly through the woods.

He stopped briefly and leaned against a tree – pulling in gulps of air – trying to rein in his heart beat; the thud of it pounding through his chest – making his sore ribs hurt the more.

He rubbed the sweat from his face – pushed off from the tree and continued on. With each step he could hear Julian screaming for him to tell the location of the amphora; and for every denial he made, the sizzle of Alex's skin burned beneath a hot iron. The smell of burning flesh would stay with him for as long as he lived.

He put his hands to his ears to block out the memory of Alex calling to him; telling him to keep still – not to reveal the location; that he was okay. "The markings don't matter!" he had yelled to him through the torture and over Gabriel's pleas for Julian to not destroy their Father's message.

When he had tried to move toward him; to try and help – he had been beaten back and forced to watch as Julian singed the markings away; and Noma being lifted and pinned to the wall. It would forever be his fault that God's words were destroyed; and that Noma had lost her wings. He had to make up for it.

His legs and lungs stung with exertion now; and the beating he had endured at the hands of the possessed was beginning to take its toll. He had to find something soon.

Then, as luck would have it, there before him was a break in the trees and to his right a dilapidated truck stood alone, oddly statuesque in an unkempt yard, overrun with weeds and brush.

He stopped; knelt down behind the car; grabbed a discarded tire iron beside the wheel; and took stock of the area. All seemed quiet. Only the faint rustle of leaves and the buzzing of insects gave off any noise that carried to him in the light breeze.

He moved forward carefully; and then there before him was a little house – dark – with the front door slightly ajar. He crept toward the door; pushed it open – entered and then unexpectedly was tackled about his waist and pushed to the ground.

"My home", the eight ball hissed in his ear; his black eyes wild - teeth bared with dripping saliva; and penned his shoulders to the ground. Pete gripped the tire iron tight in his hand, overwhelmed with fear and prayed he had the strength to fight for his life.

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