Elliot stood for a moment in the doorway, just watching.

They'd talked about it, him and Liv, about what to do next. The ceiling in the back bedroom had caved in when - according to Olivia - the angels descended, and shit, Elliot was gonna have a hard time explaining that one to his old pal Buck. Does your insurance cover acts of God? Because, you see…

It was late, and they were all of them exhausted, and Elliot was battered and bruised, and he didn't think any of them was up to facing the long drive back to the city, not until they'd had some rest. There was a double bed in the other bedroom - the bedroom that still had a fully intact ceiling - and so once Olivia got McKenna calmed down, once she'd promised that the bad man was gone for good and McKenna began to believe her, Olivia carried the girl to the safety of the second bedroom, and that was where they all were now, Elliot in the doorway, watching, Liv and McKenna curled up on the bed. Liv was sitting back against the headboard, McKenna cradled in her arms, the girl's head resting gently on her shoulder, and Olivia had wrapped her brilliant white wings around them both, her wings sheltering the pair of them like a blanket. Her eyes were closed and her cheek was resting on McKenna's little head, and she was humming softly, so softly Elliot couldn't quite pick out the tune. It sounded, he thought, a little like Blackbird, and that made him smile.

There was a sense of awe, almost, of peace and hope, that filled him as he looked at them. The storm had passed, and their enemy had been defeated, and they were all of them safe, now, and it felt…good. It felt good, the whole world quiet and still now, the anxiety and terror of the last few days faded away, leaving behind only relief. His body was weary and his mind was still reeling, still struggling to accept the truth of all he'd seen - and the truth of what Olivia'd told him, about what happened while he was unconscious - and he was tired, sleepy like a child after a long day of playing on the beach, a satisfied, pleasant sort of exhaustion.

Still, though, he lingered, didn't retreat in search of a comfortable place to try to get some sleep. He stayed there in the doorway because he wanted to, because he wanted to see, because he wasn't sure when he'd ever get a chance to experience a moment like this one again, and he wanted to savor every second of it.

They were beautiful, Olivia and McKenna. So alike, with their dark hair, their bright wings. Two lonesome souls who'd found a kindred spirit in one another, and Olivia's care for the girl, her devotion to the child she'd discovered, was humbling. She held McKenna, her touch tender as any mother's, and though Elliot grieved the knowledge that Olivia would never bear a child of her own he could not help but think that she had found herself a daughter, just the same. There was no way, he thought, that Olivia would let McKenna out of her sight now, no way she'd let the child go to foster care; Olivia had always longed for family, and she had one now, and he was happy for her, was joyful at the prospect. She deserved this, he thought; she'd dreamt of family for so long, and now all her dreams were coming true.

But, he asked himself, was there room for him in this dream of hers? In this family she had built? When the sun rose would she still be angry with him for leaving his post by her side, would she still insist that there was no future for them, for man and nephilim? Would she still run from him, or had the night's cataclysmic events changed her tune?

Christ, he hoped she'd changed her mind.

The sight of her was so captivating he could hardly blink; he drank her in, hungrily, his fingers itching to reach for her though he held himself back for McKenna's sake. The girl needed to sleep, and she did not need to know how he ached to touch Olivia. Just to touch her, to feel the warm slide of her skin beneath his palm; it burned through him hot as fire, the longing. When her wings had burst forth she'd not had time enough to take off her shirt, and it had been torn to pieces by her wings' sudden emergence, and she hadn't yet tucked her wings away, and hadn't yet bothered with another shirt, either. She was sitting on the bed wearing nothing more than a pair of low-slung sweatpants and her bra, though her wings hid most of her skin from view, the way she'd wrapped them around herself. Her hair had been caught in a ponytail earlier in the night but several locks of it had tumbled free during their fierce battle with Michael, and the end result was endearingly messy. Half-dressed and tired she was the prettiest goddamn thing he'd ever seen in his life, and the longer he looked at her the closer he felt himself come to telling her so, and so finally, regretfully, he wrenched himself away from the doorway, and padded quietly back to the other bedroom.

Probably Liv would stay with McKenna tonight; they could sleep together in that little bed, but there was not room enough for Elliot as well. The couch was small, and he knew he'd not rest easy there, so he figured he'd just sleep beneath the open sky in the back bedroom. It'll be like camping, he told himself, only more comfortable, because at least there was a bed instead of just a sleeping bag rolled out on the ground.

The collapse of the ceiling had made an almighty mess. Everything in the room was covered in the detritus from the angels' miraculous appearance. He tossed the pillows on the floor and then carefully folded up the corners of the blanket that covered the bed, trapped as much of the mess as he could in the middle and then tossed that aside. The bare sheet beneath was clean enough to sleep on, so he left that in place and then stripped the cases off the pillows before throwing them on the bed.

That'll do, he told himself, and then he started to lay down, but his ass had no sooner hit the edge of the mattress than he heard the creak of a floorboard in the hallway, and he turned to look, watched as Olivia came treading silently into view.

Her wings were folded neatly behind her, still visible but no longer stretched to their fullest extent, and if he strained he could hear her feathers rustling quietly as she moved. There was nothing to shield the shape of her from his hungry gaze now; he could see her, all of her, the bounce of her soft breasts in the confines of her plain bra, the slope of her shoulder, the neat tuck of her waist, her soft, tender belly, the points of her hips sharp just above the waistband of those sweatpants, and though it shamed him he felt his cock stir at the sight of her, her body so lush and inviting that he could not help but react to it. Could not help it, but still, he tried to settle himself down; it wasn't fair to her, his desires asserting themselves now, after everything she'd been through tonight. It wasn't fair to her, because she'd told him no, and he was not the kind of man who'd push his way in where he was not wanted.

Things are the way they are and that's not gonna change; he could hear those words echoing in his mind even as he watched her cross the room, even as she sat down on the bed beside him, even as they leaned back against the headboard together, mirroring one another's posture from their arms crossed over their chests down to their feet crossed at the ankles. Olivia had seemed pretty sure, earlier, that nothing could change their circumstances, but that was before Michael turned up, before they almost died, before Olivia nearly sacrificed her very life to save him. It felt to Elliot as if everything had changed, but maybe he was a fool.

As they sat there, quietly, together, Olivia stirred; she uncrossed her arms slowly, and dropped her left hand down to the bed, let it rest between them, palm up, and it felt like an invitation to Elliot, so he drew in a slow, deep breath, and then uncrossed his own arms, let his right hand cover hers, and let that breath out again as she threaded her fingers through his, and held on tight.

"What really happened here tonight, Liv?" he asked her in a voice that was hardly more than a whisper.

"I told you," she said. "Gabriel and the angels came and they…they got rid of Michael. Turned him into dust."

That was a chilling thought. Who knew angels could even do that? What else could they do? Elliot really, really hoped he'd never have cause to find out.

"But why now?" he asked. "Why didn't they do it sooner?"

"I don't really know," she confessed. "He said something about…he thinks the nephilim children, McKenna's siblings, have some higher purpose."

"Any idea what that might be?"

Liv and her friends thought that Michael meant to make them into an army. What if heaven wanted the same thing?

"No," she sighed. "I'm going to talk to Marcus and Antony in the morning. We'll keep an eye on the kids, but as long as they're safe we'll leave them with their parents. I don't want to break up any more families."

The way McKenna's family had been broken.

"When they're older…I don't know. I may track them down, just so they know they're not alone. But for now, they deserve the chance to just be kids."

And what about you? He wondered, stroking his thumb gently over the back of her hand. What do you deserve?

"And McKenna?"

"I'm going to try to keep her, I think," she confessed. He'd expected as much. "Marcus can help with the paperwork. I just…she's been through so much already. I don't want her to lose us, too. I don't want her to go to a stranger. Maybe I'm just being selfish, though."

"Giving that little girl a home is the most selfless thing you can do," Elliot told her fiercely, sincerely. "You…you're her mother already, Olivia. She loves you, and you…you belong together."

"You make it sound so easy," she said wistfully.

"It is, sometimes," he answered. "Love…it's the hardest thing in the world, but it's the easiest, too. You two…it's like you were meant to be."

"I've been hearing that a lot lately," she grumbled, and that didn't make any sense to Elliot at all.

"Who's telling you that?"

"It's nothing." She pulled her hand away sharply, suddenly, crossed her arms over her chest once more, and Elliot turned his head to face her, his brow furrowing with worry. She saw the question in his eyes, and answered it without further prodding.

"It's just something Gabriel said."

And shit, but that was weird. She'd talked to Gabriel. The Gabriel.

We're never gonna be able to tell anyone about this, Elliot thought. No one would ever believe it.

"What'd he say?"

"Just that I'm meant for more, whatever that means."

She was being evasive, and he knew it, and a petulant piece of his heart was angry with himself for passing out, for not hearing the angel's words for himself. Liv could keep a secret; he might not ever know the truth of what the angel had said.

"Maybe he's right," Elliot said slowly. "Liv, maybe…maybe you can have the things you want."

It doesn't matter what I want, that's what she'd told him earlier. She'd wanted him to kiss her, though, she'd told him that, too. Did she want him to kiss her now? Staring at her in the darkness, his body warmed by the proximity of her, the stars twinkling through the gaping hole in the ceiling overhead, he studied her face, searched desperately for some sign that she was not resolved now as she once had been.

"I want…I want to believe you," she said, her voice trembling, just a little.

Slowly Elliot reached out and cradled her cheek in his palm, and he saw it, saw the way her eyes fluttered closed at the contact, saw the way she pressed herself reflexively into his touch, saw the way her soft lips parted, heard the sharp intake of her breath as he touched her.

"Then believe me," he said. "Please just…believe in me, Liv. Right here, right now, believe me."

Please.

"I do," she whispered.

That was all he needed to hear; it was not a promise of forever, was not a commitment to the future, but it was, he thought, a start, and so he leaned over, and pressed his lips gently, reverently to hers.