neutral_omens | (no subject)

Entry tags:

michael,
uriel

(no subject)

Date: December 29, 1999 (right after Michael's conversation with Raphael)
Setting: Mostly Uriel's room
Status: Private -- Michael and Uriel (Complete)
Summary: Michael needs to talk.

Michael's mind was a mess as he walked down the corridor. A part of him -- well, actually most of him -- was still stunned. He had actually kissed Raphael. Twice. On Raphael's insistence.

It was rather unbelievable, really. The fact that he had finally been told to leave, and that Raphael would probably just deny it all come morning, did nothing to make him less delighted. The end of the world could have come right then and there, and he would still have been perfectly happy. Well... maybe not. But close enough.

Slowly, however, his mind came back to other, more disturbing matters. Now that he was mostly out of his stunned state, the feeling of uneasiness that had been nagging at him for a while now had come back. Throughout his conversation with Raphael he had been getting this same feeling, telling him that something was definitely not right. And, like he had already told the healer, he sincerely feared for Raphael, for he was rather certain that the thing that was wrong was Raphael's thoughts and attitude. Recently, Raphael had... changed.

Oh, he still loved Raphael, of course -- which was exactly why he was so concerned. Perhaps he was just overreacting. He'd been thinking about nothing but Raphael lately; it was only natural that his mind linked everything else with the redhead. Most probably his feeling of uneasiness was the result of something entirely else -- or it was just his own imagination. Yes, that must be it.

So why couldn't he make himself believe it?

He simply had to talk with somebody about it, but didn't know who. It had to be another angel, that was for sure. He wouldn't talk about such a matter with anybody else. However, there weren't many angels nearby, and somehow he didn't think he should go to Aziraphale and Gabriel. Uriel seemed like the best option, but... it would probably be nothing short of extremely awkward to discuss such a thing with him.

However much he thought about it, Michael kept coming back to the conclusion that he had to talk with somebody to put his worries at rest or at least clear his head. By the time he had reached Uriel's door, he had come to a decision.

He stopped, turned towards the door, and knocked.

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Uriel took a step back, giving the painting in front of him a glance. He added some more red to the flames, then nodded, satisfied. The witch being burned seemed to be in true pain as the flames enveloped her.

Miracling his painting supplies away, he let out a small sigh. Apparently the only thing that would stay in his mind right now were images of destruction.

He shifted his eyes away from the red hair of the witch and its coppery shine in the light of the flames. No matter what he tried to tell to himself, a nagging voice in the back of his mind kept insisting that perhaps he hadn't chosen that particular colour for her hair just because of the old prejudices and superstitions that had made people assume many redheads to be witches.

There was a knock on the door, and he turned towards it. "Come in, Michael," he said.

The door was opened and Michael walked in, looking quite distracted. Or, more accurately, worried. This was a welcome change to his recent depression, but the worry disturbed Uriel even more. "What is it, Michael?" he asked.

Michael sighed. "I don't know," he confessed. "I don't know whether I'm just imagining things -- though I definitely hope so." He ran a hand through his blond hair. "I... I talked with Raphael, and... I'm worried about him." It sounded like making such an admission pained him.

Uriel sighed as well. "So I was not the only one noticing it, then," he said.

Michael bit his lip. "He talked about destroying Pestilence altogether," he told quietly. "I mean, I understand why he would think about such a thing. After all, he's a healer above anything else. To want to end humanity's suffering is certainly a fine and noble goal for an angel, but I don't think it's our right to just decide that one of the Horsepeople shouldn't be anymore. In the end it's Him who has sent them out into the world."

Uriel nodded slowly. "To me he talked about how there ought not to be war and destruction. There must be a way to reach peace without war, he said, and that way should be found. If it truly weren't necessary, why would He feel the need for angelic armies? Why would so many of the Host carry weapons?" To demonstrate his point he dropped a dagger into his hand from his sleeve, flipping it into the air before catching and hiding it again. "He wouldn't listen to me, though.

"An angel can be too compassionate," he continued. "Pain and sorrow are parts of human life, and that is because He has seen it good that way. It is good to desire to help, but inability to accept the fact that we can't always help may lead to dangerous things. Raphael is already questioning His will and doubting the necessity of his orders. That is a dangerous path."

"Exactly what I told him," Michael said with a sigh. "He -- he went into hysterics, Uriel, started screaming and yelling at me, angry and still scared out of his mind. Finally he shivered and chanted, ‘I will not Fall, I will not Fall.' If he hasn't even thought about it, why would he react in such a way?"

Uriel grimaced. He'd sometimes seen such behaviour. At times it got better after the angel was forced to realize that there truly was a danger of Falling. At other times, though... "And what did you do?" he asked quietly.

"Well, what could I?" asked Michael, again running a hand through his hair. "Of course I comforted him the best I could. I -- I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to him." Their gazes met, and in Michael's eyes Uriel saw an unspoken threat, as well as a prayer that they would never come to a confrontation about this.

Not wanting to dwell on that matter, Uriel just nodded slowly. "I think that's the best line of action in that situation," he told the other archangel. "Let's just hope that Raphael realizes what he's doing before it is too late." At this, his eyes flickered towards his sword, which stood in the corner, untouched ever since his arrival to the Manor. Even if there had been a need for a weapon -- what, thankfully, was something that had not come up yet -- he would have trusted his daggers anyway. He only used his sword for one thing nowadays, and he sincerely hoped it would stand in the corner until he left.

Michael followed his gaze and shivered, not missing the implications that went with that one outwardly innocent glance.

Michael shivered as he followed Uriel's gaze and saw the sword standing in the corner. It seemed outwardly innocent -- well, as innocent as could be a large sword, untarnished despite its millennia of existence, looking almost painfully pure.

"How long has it been?" he asked quietly, not really wanting to discuss the matter but deciding that anything was better than what they had been talking about just moments before. "You know, since you last... well..."

Apparently Uriel didn't need to think about it overly much. "Six years, four months, three weeks, a day, and seven hours -- and eighteen minutes, unless I'm horribly mistaken," he replied immediately. "However unbelievable it may seem, looking at the state of the world today, lately it has been thankfully quiet in that field. Some times are always worse than others -- although, of course, nothing could be worse than the First Fall." To Michael's surprise, a shiver ran through the darkhaired archangel's body. He could also hear half-concealed pain in the usually so level and expressionless voice.

Nodding slowly, the blond once again ran a hand through his hair, letting it then rest at the back of his head for a moment before dropping it. He had definitely not gotten rid of his nervousness yet. Idly he wondered whether cutting his hair would help him to get rid of that particular habit. It made him rather easy to read to those who knew him well enough, like had been proved in his argument with Raphael before Christmas.

Uriel noticed Michael running a hand through his hair, and flinched inwardly. He would definitely feel bad if Raphael were to Fall -- any angel was bad enough, but a fellow archangel? -- but to Michael, it would probably be almost impossible to bear. After all, he saw Raphael only as a colleague, while to Michael the healer was the one he loved over anybody else.

Well, it seemed like the proper place to break the silence. "What would you do?" he asked, his voice quiet but knowing that Michael would hear better than well. As the other gave him a questioning glance, and he sighed, "You know what I mean. Neither of us wants to talk about it, but we have to. It's the best way to get it all out of our heads. If Raphael were to Fall... what would you do? How would you react?"

Uriel's question startled Michael. This was getting a bit further than he had thought. At first they had been talking about how Raphael was treading a thin line, and now... Now Uriel was actually suggesting Raphael was about to Fall?

"Why do you even ask that?" he asked, well aware of how pained his voice was. "It's not going to happen. It's not. I won't allow it to happen."

He fell silent under Uriel's sharp gaze, lowering his eyes. Finally, he spoke again, this time with a more level voice. "I suppose it would hurt," he said quietly. "But -- but I think I would still love him. I have loved him for over two thousand years, Uriel. I am not about to give him up just because he's not an angel anymore."

He now raised his eyes back to the other angel, facing the gaze of the deep blue eyes squarely. "To me, it's not important how I would feel, or how I would react. My feelings are not about to change. What is more important is how others would ract, I think. Gabriel, for example... or you." He eyed the darkhaired angel challengingly.

"Me?" Uriel raised an eyebrow at the question. He honestly hadn't expected that; he had thought the answer would be rather obvious. "My dear Michael, I don't understand why you would even ask that of me. You should know that I hold little ill feelings for any of the Fallen solely because of what they are. More important in my opinion would be Raphael's reaction. Few demons actually feel comfortable around me for obvious reasons. And very few of them feel comfortable around you, I've come to notice. Therefore, I do wish you still have Raphael's trust, or it may not even matter whether or not you love him as he will hate you anyway."

With a quiet voice, he added, "And you know very well that if he brings it upon himself, you cannot stop it from happening. Nobody can do that; stopping me, should you be successful in that, still wouldn't change the final result. The only thing you can hope to do is to stop him before he goes too far."

"Stop him? When he doesn't listen to me?" Michael let out a bitter chuckle. "Fat chance, Uriel. I tried to talk to him, and all he did was going into hysterics."

His mind told him to stop, but his mouth kept going as it said, "And I didn't mean how you would react to a Fallen Raphael. I meant how you would react to the whole situation. After all, I wouldn't want to lose two fellow archangels at once." He wanted to smack himself as soon as the words had left his mouth, but forced himself to stay still, knowing that he couldn't pull the words back. Therefore he just stood there, watching Uriel, waiting for an answer of some kind.

Uriel flinched again at Michael's words, this time visibly. The other was right, he knew. Felling somebody hurt the more the more powerful the angel was, and his depression afterwards was a direct result of that. Felling a fellow archangel might very well drive him to his lowest. He did know his own weakness well enough. Michael didn't need to rub it in.

"That I cannot tell you," he said, forcing his voice to stay emotionless. "Perhaps it is best, then, that if we do actually come that far, you shall come to check up on me afterwards, hm? Of course, that is only if you would actually care about my survival after I Felled your beloved Raphael. All this is purely hypotethical, of course, seeing as you will not allow anything like that to happen."

Drawing a deep breath that was not entirely connected to his need of air to speak -- something that disturbed him; he rarely let himself get upset enough to breathe unnecessarily if he could help it -- he then said, "And, in all honesty, I think you would have the best chance of getting him back to his senses. I did try to warn him that he is not going into the right direction, but I fear I only managed to aggravate him even more."

Michael lowered his eyes, ashamed at himself for hurting his colleague so. There was rare pain visible in Uriel's eyes that the other archangel seemingly couldn't -- or perhaps just wouldn't -- conceal. "I apologize", he said quietly. "I didn't mean to hurt you. And I would never wish for your death, Uriel. It's not like you decide who Falls and who does not; that's only Him."

He sighed a bit, forcing himself not to put his hand in his hair again. "Yes, I fear Raphael would not listen to you," he said quietly. "Apparently you have begun to annoy him -- at least that's what he said. Also, apparently there is something seriously wrong with your sense of humour if you find my love for Raphael amusing," he added, a faint smile on his lips. "Of course, this is Raphael's words, not mine."

Uriel lowered his own eyes. "It's quite okay," he sighed. "After all, you didn't say anything that is not absolutely true." He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, looking at Michael. "It's just that the truth is often a hurtful thing. I -- I know myself very well, Michael, and especially I know my own weakness. you don't need to remind me."

He was silent for a moment, then smirked a bit. "I've got a strange sense of humour, eh? Well, that is probably true. I do find rather strange things amusing, after all." Becoming again serious, he then continued, "What I'd like to know, however, is whether it is truly me he finds annoying... or just my warnings not to go down the path of questioning, as it rarely ends well. Since if it is my warnings that annoy him... then perhaps we have more of a reason to worry about him than we even thought."

Michael bit his lip. "I -- I don't know just what it is," he said. "I definitely hope that he is annoyed by you -- no offence, of course, Uriel. You probably understand where I'm coming from in this. I just..." His voice trailed off, and he sighed.

"No matter how much I usually despise demons -- I don't think I have to tell you -- I would still love Raphael even if he Fell. What I fear is what it would do to Raphael. If the mere suggestion of it makes him freak out like that, the actual thing might break him, or change him in ways I'd rather not think about.

"You know, if Raphael truly Fell, Hell could get rid of me rather easily by simply ordering him to kill me. I don't think I could even try to kill Raphael, not even if he was a demon attacking me and it was my own life in question."

Uriel raised an eyebrow. "Let's just hope that He Below doesn't happen to think about that possibility," he muttered. "To take out the leader of the Heavenly Army -- what a victory it would be to them!" He then added, "Of course, an archangel Falling would also be a victory to them. The demon who could claim credit for that would be richly rewarded indeed."

He sighed. "Your love and devotion for Raphael are incredible, Michael," he said levelly, not teasing or taunting, just stating a fact. "However, I can't help but wonder whether they are... excessive." After a small pause, he added, "Or perhaps it's just that I simply don't understand it. After all, I have never felt anything like that myself. How anybody could love anything but Him so much is beyond my skills of comprehension."

"I would do anything for him," Michael said quietly, staring off into space. What he saw at the moment was Raphael's face, clear and so very beautiful in his mind's eye. "Anything at all. I would die for him, if need be. I -- I think I would even Fall for him, if that could save him from Falling."

Uriel looked stunned and opened his mouth to reply, but Michael hurried to explain, raising a hand to silence the other archangel. "It's not that I don't love Him, not at all. I love Him above anything or anybody else. However... I know that Raphael loves Him above everything else as well, like he has told me several times rather clearly. I'm strong, Uriel, you know that. I could survive it -- perhaps even be redeemed one day. But that pain... I don't want Raphael to ever have to feel it."

"If you truly love Him more than you love Raphael, why would you give up His Presence to protect another angel?" asked Uriel seriously. "And wouldn't it be disobeying His orders if He has seen it that somebody must Fall and you try to prevent that?" Uriel couldn't help but be worried. It looked like playing with dangerous things was more a rule than an exception among his fellow archangels.

He shivered as Michael talked about strength. He didn't know whether Raphael could bear the Fall, but he did know that he couldn't. He'd be the first to admit that he was not entirely sane even as it was. His brief experiences of existence without the Presence were more than enough to convince him of the fact that should he lose it for a prolonged time, he'd go crazy entirely.

Michael was not overly worried despite Uriel's warnings. "If I truly loved somebody more than Him, don't you think I would have Fallen already? And as for Falling, well, we have been told to love our neighbours like ourselves. If I love Raphael more than any other being, even myself, wouldn't it make sense that I would Fall myself rather than let him be separated from Him?" However, his hand was reaching for his hair again.

Now, this was enough. He grasped on a handful of his hair and tugged sharply. With a mere thought the blond threads all broke without much of an effort. Letting the handful he was holding fall to the floor, he took more hair in his hand and pulled again. And again. And again.

Finally, he stood there in the middle of long strands of fallen blond hair. His head felt oddly light without its usual burden; even though he changed his hair length often, he couldn't recall having it ending above his midback even once during the last few millennia. And now it was a few inches at most.

Uriel didn't start to disagree with Michael. Although it wasn't exactly how he felt himself, Michael's words had mostly just surprised him; he dind't get the same uneasy feeling from them as he had from his conversation with Raphael. There was no need to start arguing just for the sake of it.

He blinked in surprise as Michael suddenly started tearing his hair. Finally he just stared at the other archangel. Michael's hair was now shorter than his own. The warrior looked quite different without the usual long curtain of wavy blond hair surrounding his face.

"Such a drastic change," he said once he had recovered from the initial surprise. "How do you think Raphael will react to that?"

"What does it matter?" asked Michael quietly. "It's not like I have any chance with him anyway."

Again, Michael raised a hand to silence Uriel before the other could say anything. "After I talked with him, well... He asked me to -- to kiss him. Of course I did -- and I've never felt anything better, anything that could even compare to it." Even now, the memory of it filled him with such delight that he simply didn't find words for it. It also filled him with something else, something that was rather awkward in Uriel's company.

"But he pulled away, and -- he was afraid, Uriel. Afraid of me." Michael closed his eyes as a barrier against the pain that tried to reach him through the still very fresh memory. "I don't ever want to see that look on his face again, Uriel. Not even if avoiding seeing it means staying away from him for the rest of my existence." At the end of the sentence his voice was merely a broken whisper.

For a moment Uriel found himself in a situation very rare to him as he didn't know what to say. Finally, he managed to say, "I hardly think Raphael is truly afraid of you. Rather he is afraid of an unfamiliar situation he doesn't know how to handle. Perhaps it is also his own feelings -- at first he thinks that making an effort is the vilest of sins, and now he is asking you to kiss him? It would be a wonder if he weren't scared at all. Surely even Raphael, who admittedly can occasionally be rather oblivious, knows that you would never do anything to hurt him."

Then, he shrugged, feeling a bit awkward -- also not a familiar feeling to him. "I can't say for sure, though. It's not like I know what he is thinking, after all."

Wanting to keep himself occupied to distract himself from the most unusual confusion, he summoned the long fallen strands of Michael's hair into his hands. With a simple wave he tied them together from one end and started to weave a thick braid.

It felt rather strange to look at Uriel's hands and realize that the blond strands being currently braided had moments before been connected to his own head. Suddenly struck by odd curiousity Michael tiled his head to the side, marveling the feeling of not having hair brushing his neck as he did so.

To Uriel's words he could say nothing. Therefore they both just stood there for some time, waiting for the other to say something. Finally, Michael gave up. He really didn't know what to say, and the memory of kissing Raphael floating around his mind was making him rather... bothered.

"Thanks for your company, Uriel," he sighed. "I think I need some time alone right now. I'm too confused to even think straight."

He turned around to go to the door. Just then, however, his eyes met something, and he froze, staring in horror at the painting of a witch being burned alive... a witch who bore a significant resemblance to Raphael.

"...Uriel?" he asked, his voice very quiet. "Just what is that?"

Uriel looked at what Michael was staring at. Suddenly he felt rather uneasy for some reason. "That? Obviously, it is a painting," he said. As he then felt Michael turning to stare at him instead, an unspoken accusation clear in the other's eyes, he sighed. "I don't wish for Raphael's demise," he said quietly. "However, ever since I spoke with him all I've been able to create have been images of destruction. If he is involved in that destruction, it is purely subconscious, not intentional on my part."

He paused for a while, then finished quietly, "I least of all would ever want anybody to Fall. And definitely not Raphael."

Michael nodded slowly, his eyes again fixed at the painting, still feeling rather unsettled. Suddenly the only thing he wanted to do was to get as far from that painting, and Uriel's room, and Uriel himself as possible.

He bid hasty goodbyes and fled the room, not giving the other archangel any change to say anything. At the moment, he wished for nothing more than to be alone.

Uriel sighed as Michael left the room. The other seemed to be rather distressed over all this, and, in all honesty, Uriel felt the same himself. He understood Michael's wish to be away from him. Had he been in the other's place, he probably would have fled as well.

"May the Presence be strong in you, Michael," he whispered in his usual manner even though there was nobody around to hear it anymore. Then, his voice too quiet to ever reach mortal ears, he added, more a plea -- or prayer -- than a wish, "And in Raphael as well."

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