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[archangel-mike.livejournal.com]

Date: December 29, 1999
Setting: First corridor, then Raphael's room
Status: Private -- Michael and Raphael (Complete)
Summary: Michael runs into a hungover Raphael.

Michael ran a hand through his hair, this time more in distress than his usual nervousness. Grasping a few blond locks, he then held on, slowly walking down the corridor with his hand still in his hair, deep in thought.

He couldn't sleep. Well, so he didn't really have to sleep, either, but now, when he really would have wanted to sleep just to escape it all, he found himself absolutely unable to. His mind simply couldn't go to rest right now. Therefore, he had ended up walking around the manor for the whole night, and now, it being morning, he was still on his way to nowhere particular.

Whatever he tried to force himself to think about, his mind always returned to the same topic. Raphael. Raphael, and his love for him, and his rejection, and how much it all hurt. His conversation with Uriel had done little to help; rather he felt even more confused than before. And, while he was badly hurt by the cold rejection, he still longed to at least see Raphael, to talk with him, to be close to him.

Oh, yeah. Like that'd ever happen; Raphael clearly hated him now. Well, an angel could always dream, right?

Suddenly, he froze as he saw a figure approaching him. At first, he didn't recognize the odd being. Surely he had never encountered somebody who looked like that. Something in the back of his mind told him that he should have recognized this stranger, that he did know him, in fact, but he determinedly ignored this feeling. After all, he only knew two redheads, and this couldn't be either of them, as one of them was female and the other would surely never wear something like that.

The other came a bit nearer, and suddenly realization dawned on Michael. His jaw hang open in shock and surprise as he could no longer deny that he knew this "stranger".

"Ra -- raphael?" he stammered disbelievingly. "Is that you?"

Comments

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Raphael frowned.

"I do not believe truly that it is punishment; but it is a consequence and an unfair one since it is not always their fault. And even if they are reckless - the are young and you claim love is no crime.

It isn't just," he said petulantly.

He ignored Michael's statement about kissing Uriel and turned to lay on his side. He allowed his wings to spread, ripping the night clothes and putting a barrier between him and Michael.

"Do not lecture me about the purpose of that filth; he has no purpose aside from torment.

And I know that I have failed. But perhaps I am simply not going about things the right way. Besides - how do you know what is beyond my power? I have never tried in ernest; perhaps I could heal all, if I ignored limitations. Perhaps I could find some other way. There are ways. There must be..." He looked at the wall and remembered plague ridden cities and dead bodies stacked high, abadoned by the healthy. "If I am to oppose him, then should I not do it to the best of my ability?

Who could fault me for destroying him?"

His head realing with possibilities, Raphael fell silent; his head was pounding too much, he wasn't thinking straight... When Michael brought up the subject of efforts he felt increasingly uncomfortable, aware of the flesh below his waist that he was still too drained to banish. The topic was awkward; so he avoided it.

Tired as he was, however, he could not quash a curious thought that had been nagging at the back of his mind ever since Michael's admissions.

"Michael?" He asked quietly. "When did you first... you know, feel for me? How?

I think I deserve to know."

[archangel-mike.livejournal.com]

Michael winced a bit. Raphael spreading his wings felt like a physical blow. Just a moment earlier the other archangel had been talking with him more openly than in ages, and now he was again separating them.

Raphael's words about Pestilence made him feel uneasy. Ignoring limitations? Destroying something He had set to be, questioning its purpose? Something inside him told that such talking was simply wrong, that it was not allowed. Might Raphael be... slipping? Such a thought filled him with dread, and he closed it out of his mind quickly. Still he couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling, and chose not to comment, not wanting to dwell on the topic anymore.

However, Raphael's questiong definitely deserved an answer. For a moment he thought about it, and was even himself slightly surprised at the answer he finally came up with. "I don't know when exactly," he told Raphael. "It was kind of a gradual thing, I think. However, I do know for sure that I haven't thought of you simply as a friend for at least two thousand years." He did know that. He could still remember himself admiring Raphael's shining coppery locks and brilliant smile in the holy light of the first Christmas. Oh, his love for the healer was not a new thing by any means.

"And as for how... How could I not? You've always been so sweet and intelligent. Beautiful, too. When I think about it, I'm quite surprised I didn't fall in love with you even earlier than I did. Or perhaps I did and just didn't recognize my feelings for what they were. And is it even possible to tell how or why one comes to love another?

"I never told anybody about it," he continued, the answer to the question already given but words still spilling from his mouth. "Uriel figured it out on himself, though -- I think that was some time around the downfall of Rome. On my insistence he agreed not to say a word about it to anybody else. Apparently he found the whole thing somehow amusing."

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

"That makes no sense," the archangel mumbled from behind a wall of feathers. "There are others who are beautiful. Others who are sweet or intelligent or whatever you say."

Frankie curled in next to him and Raphael pulled the covers over the dead dog. He frowned when he heard about Uriel's reaction.

"And... Amusing?" He said flatly. "I don't see what's amusing about the situation. That doesn't seem an appropriate reaction however you look at it.

Uriel is beginning to annoy me."

He buried his head in the pillow and closed his eyes, trying to let go, hoping he would wake up without the headache.

"But I still don't get it... you should really just forget about me you know. Less hurt that way. Less hurt if you don't love at all," he said, then yawned.

"Love hurts..."

[archangel-mike.livejournal.com]

Michael shook his head. "There may be others who are all that," he said truthfully, "but, in my eyes, none of them are even close to compare with you."

The comment about Uriel surprised him, and made him feel even more uneasy. The Raphael he knew would definitely not call Uriel annoying. Though not extremely close, the two had always seemed to have respect for each other, and to hear Raphael say such a thing somehow didn't feel right. Now, it wasn't like he hadn't found Uriel annoying at times, but for Raphael to feel so enough to actually say it aloud was certainly new. First appearing to hate him, then calling Uriel annoying -- what would Raphael do next? Tell Metatron off, perhaps? This definitely wasn't going into a good direction.

"As for Uriel, he often finds the strangest things amusing. Even more often those things seem to have something to do with messing with my business. At times I think he sees himself as the big brother I never wanted."

He was silent for a moment. Then, seeing as Raphael had his eyes closed and seemed to be starting to drift off, he said very quietly, "And maybe I would be best forgetting you... But I find myself unable to do so."

With a final whisper, barely audible even to angelic ears, he then added, "I do know that love hurts... Endless, bittersweet pain is all that love seems to be."

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Raphael nearly snorted.

"You sound like a trashy romance writer when you say things like that. 'None of them are even close,' 'endless bittersweet pain' - what are you taking your cues from? Harlequin novels?

And as for Uriel - it isn't amusing. Not at all. His sense of humor leaves much to be desired."

He sank into the covers and pulled the sheets around him more tightly.

"Nevertheless - thank you for getting me here. I appreciate it. I guess you'll be leaving, then."

[archangel-mike.livejournal.com]

Raphael's words hurt more than Michael was willing to let on. His tone forcedly calm, he said, "At least I say what I feel and think exactly like it is. Even if it makes me sound sappy, I prefer to be honest. Or would you prefer me staying quiet for another two millennia before I tell you something with no omissions of any kind?"

He drew a deep breath before continuing, "Uriel is, well, Uriel. His life and job aren't exactly the lightest ones to bear, and he gets his amusement from where he gets it. If I can help him feel at least a bit better, even if it is at my expence, I will endure it -- no matter how annoying it feels at times.

"As I said, I have decided to be honest and say whatever I think exactly like I feel it. However, I cannot help but wonder whether you are also truthfully voicing your own feelings. And, if what you say is truly what you feel, I'd like to know whatever happened to the Raphael I used to know. The one who was indeed sweet and loving and all around adorable, who never said a bad word about anyone, definitely not about another angel.

"Perhaps you were right about this house; perhaps it really affects us all. I definitely hope so, for if this is the real you, the person I have loved for over two millennia -- and still love, despite everything -- then I fear for you. I truly fear for you, Raphael, for even here Uriel has his sword with him."

Those last words, not intended but spilling from his mouth nevertheless, hurt him even more than anything Raphael had said. And they hurt because, like everything else he had said, they were exactly what he felt.

Lowering his eyes, he turned to leave. "Sweet dreams, Raphael, and I hope you rest well," he said quietly, not bothering to look back over his shoulder. "Hopefully you'll feel more like yourself once you wake up."

With that, he walked away. And, no matter how impossible it had seemed earlier, he was hurting even more than before he had run into Raphael in the corridor.

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Raphael bolted upright in the bed, feathers flying everywhere as he did. Frankie gave a yelp as he was unsettled.

"Uriel still has his sword?!!" Raphael blurted. "What do you mean by that??"

He stumbled from the bed and grabbed the much taller angel's arms, forcing him around in a frenzy.

"I'M NOT A BAD ANGEL!" He screamed hysterically. "I'm not, I swear to you - it's the house! I swear it is, it makes me feel like I'm changing, but I'm still me, I'm still Raphael! I'm doing my duty, doing what I'm supposed to, but why can't I have questions? I still love Him, I'm not a bad angel, I'm not, I'm not. How could you even say that..." His face flushed and his body shook. He let go of Michael and clenched his hands into fists as his side. "Why would you imply I'm going to Fall? How could you even mention something so horrible? Well, I'm not - do you have that through you're head? I'm not bad, I'm a good archangel, a loving one, I care for people."

He looked up at Michael's face, red and furious.

"I'M NOT GOING TO FALL!" He yelled as loudly as he could.