Note: Okay, yeah, I went to see City of Angels. Great movie, Nick Cage is just phenomenal as the angel. If you haven't seen it here's a bit of spoiler space - ! ! ! ! ! I have two words to say - BICYCLE SAFETY! Jeez, Meg, what were you thinking? Anyway, after watching the movie I began to write this puppy. Someone else just did an angel story and this is very similar to it. I'm sorry I've forgotten who it was but it was lovely. So, if you don't want to read another angel story and you only want Jim and Blair - stop here. Jim is the main character in this piece, Blair is important but his appearance is limited to a few scenes at the end.
Warning: Death, but not Jim's or Blair's.
SOME HAVE ENTERTAINED ANGELS
Eternity became quite monotonous after the first fifteen hundred years or so. The last four hundred plus had been an increasingly disheartening time. The angel had watched as goodness died a slow and painful death. Sometimes it seemed as it humanity had set itself a deadline for destruction and the millennium had become the agreed upon hour. The angel tried to see the good, he tried to reach out and capture that spark, tried to kindle it even within the darkest heart. It wasn't easy, but he and the other angels were God's messengers, Her representatives, the hope of humankind.
He hated the misery which accompanied the creatures of the Earth, the pain and suffering. The angel did what he could to bring joy to those poor creatures. His touch, felt by humans as a warm breeze upon their tired souls, could guide those in need of guidance, could soothe anguish and despair, and when the end came and death waited, his touch could quell the fear and let those about to die see only the love which waited. The angel would smile and take the hand offered to him. "What did you like the most?" he asked of those he lead away. And each answer was written down in a book where he could read them over and over again. Earth had so many good things, people had liked everything from a lover's kiss to butterflies to snow cones. And a part of the angel longed for all the things written in his book.
He wanted to taste a snow cone and feel the wings of a butterfly touch his finger but most of all he wanted to love. He sat high above Cascade, Washington, feet swinging hundreds of feet in the air as he surveyed his section of the world. He could hear humans below him; among the cries of pain there was also peals of laughter and sighs of joy. He tilted his head, homing in on the sound of two humans making love and envied them. He knew no hunger or sickness, he knew no pain or fear, he would live all eternity in the rapture of Heavenly perfection. God had granted Her angels everything they could ever want but they would never know the beauty of joy made more precious by sorrow or the ecstasy of love treasured for its triumph over loneliness. The angel closed his eyes and let sunshine caress his cheeks and the summer breeze stir the long brown curls framing his face......but he felt nothing.
"Have you every wanted to be human?" the angel asked his companion.
"You mean fall?" The second angel looked mildly shocked at such a thought. "No, we have everything here."
"Haven't you ever longed to touch, to feel the things they do?" the angel persisted. "They feel so intently, they love and hate and grieve with more power than the universe." He cast a longing look down upon the tiny figures so far below him, "just to feel that for a moment would be worth the fall."
"But you'd only have it for an instant," the second angel explained, "when you become human you begin to die."
The angel didn't say anything as he continued to watch the people going about their lives in Cascade.
-
The bullet tore through tissue, slicing through veins and shattering bone but James Ellison didn't feel a thing. Once upon a time the sight of a man dying might have stirred some emotion within his heart but that time was long passed. Moving quickly, Ellison kicked the dead man's weapon away before ducking down the corridor. The call had said three gunman holding the hostages, he'd taken down two of them almost upon entrance but this third man was proving slippery. A sound drew his attention leading him further into the maze of hallways. Ellison paused. Reflected in an office window he could see the gunman and the woman he'd forced to open the safe. She was terrified, begging for her life, as the man pressed a pistol to her throat. Ellison edged closer, trying to get a clean shot. He didn't want to kill the woman but this gunman had committed a string of holdups across Washington, leaving twelve people dead, five of them police officers. There was no way he was getting out of this alive.
-
It was a bank, the angel realized. He knew humans prized green pieces of paper, they went to great lengths to keep it safe. He passed the dead man and saw the Others dragging his dark soul away. There was nothing to be done for those humans who had turned away from the light, they would spend all eons in darkness. Voices, raised in anger, drew the angel deeper into the building. He traveled to the place where three humans struggled, standing silently as the scene unfolded. A dark one held a woman, using her as a shield. Another human faced them, his gun aimed, his face tight with controlled fury.
"It won't work, Fleming," Ellison yelled, "there's no way out."
"Then we got a problem," Fleming told him. "Either you get me outta here or this bitch gets it!" His grip on the woman tightened, the muzzle digging into her neck and bringing a scream from her. The angel drew nearer, stepping between the combatants. He directed his thoughts at the gunman, his hand coming up to touch one ridged shoulder. Fleming gasped, pulling away from the invisible touch. The angle frowned, sometimes the evil within a soul was too much and he couldn't reach them. He turned to the other man, the police officer.
For an instant Ellison hesitated. His eyes locked with the angel's and he blinked. "I won't let this happen," he whispered. "I won't let her die." The angel smiled then. But in the instant of Ellison's distraction, Fleming made his move. He shoved the woman forward, taking a shot at the cop. Ellison quickly ducked behind a door, counted to three and rolled across the hallway. Fleming, caught as he raced for the backdoor, fired one shot into the woman's skull and flung her limp body into Ellison. Blood; hot, sticky, smelling of cooper, washed over Ellison's hands. He glanced down at the lifeless eyes and saw only accusations. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He told himself he felt nothing. Outside the sound of gunfire barely reached his ears.
The angel watched as Fleming was lead away, caught by the other officers who had surrounded the building. He saw Ellison emerge, head hanging as he stared down at the blood covering his shirt. "Ellison!" The black man who yelled at Ellison stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Jim? Is any of this blood yours?" Simon Banks demanded.
Jim shook his head, his mind still playing back the sight of the woman's dead eyes. "No, Sir," he answered, "it's not my blood." He met his captain's concerned gaze with dull acceptance, shrugging. "Fleming killed the hostage," he told them, absently wiping a bloody palm across his shirt front. "If you don't mind, Sir, I think I'll head home. I told Cindy in Robbery I'd meet her for dinner and if I don't get home and wash off this blood I'll be late." He sketched a mock salute at his captain before heading towards his truck.
"Is he going to make it?" Joel Taggart nudged Banks' elbow.
"He wasn't hit," Simon told the other captain.
"That doesn't mean he wasn't wounded," Taggart reminded him. "Damn, Simon, Jim is a great detective but....he's burnt out. He's on the edge and I think pretty soon he's going to crack."
Banks cast a long look after the man driving away. "Yeah, Joel," he agreed, "I think you're right."
-
Ellison parked the truck, drawing his coat tight around himself to hide the bloodstains. He hadn't lied to Simon about the date with Cindy, he'd just neglected to mention that it had been canceled. He wandered the streets of Chinatown, looking into shop windows and watching people do the same. He didn't let himself think, all he wanted at that moment to was to be around other people. He let himself imagine that these people didn't spend their days looking at crime scenes or watching autopsies, these were "normal" people. They weren't like him at all. He didn't talk to anyone, merely wandered the streets and absorbed the daily ritual of life. At one point, just ahead of him, Ellison glimpsed a familiar figure. Long, brown curls trailed over wide shoulders, the profile of full lips and high brow quickened his step and his heart.
Jim broke into a trot, keeping the man in sight as he hurried forward. He pressed through the crowd, apologizing perfunctory and ignoring the curses tossed his way in any number of languages. He lost sight of his quarry as the man ducked between two buildings, not seeming to run but keeping just ahead of Ellison. Jim rounded a corner only to stop stock still at the sight which greeted him. The ally broke away, forming a small hidden pocket where sunlight dappled the cobblestones and the sound of traffic and voice was merely a lingering echo. The small business along this secret place had lined the way with brilliant flowers and fragrant plants. A bench had been placed against the far way, situated so that sunlight warmed it and painted the man sitting there with an ethereal glow.
"Who - who are you?" Ellison demanded in a voice which barely carried the distance between them. But the man heard him and turned. It was the face which had haunted him since the shooting. For one bright, shiny instant, standing there with Fleming's gun the only thing he could understand, a vision had floated before his eyes. Eyes like a summer's evening and lips like ripe cherries, this creature had appeared. Some quality within its gaze had made Jim vow to keep the woman from harm ....a hysterical little voice in the back of his head wondered if the bullet through her neck had been harmful.... His vow to her had ended in death, the same as all his other vows had. His pledge to his country had set him adrift in a sea of death, his vow to his wife had killed their love, his promise to protect and serve had splattered him with blood which never washed away.
"What does the sunlight feel like to you?" the figure on the bench asked, ignoring his question.
Ellison moved forward, drawn by some invisible need to be close to this creature. He sat down, face turned upwards in imitation of his companion. "The sunlight?"
"Yes. What do you feel?"
Jim considered the question, "Warmth....," he shrugged and looked over at the man beside him. "Sunlight."
Brown curls wiped from side to side as the man shook his head impatiently, "no, what does it feel like to you?"
Jim tried again. One part of him felt foolish, like a kid trying to impress a creative writing teacher in high school, but another part of him wanted this extraordinary man to really understand him. "It's like the softest material, silk or satin maybe, only in liquid form," he found courage to continue in the keen eyes which watched him. "It's pouring over my face and sinking deep inside me." He closed his eyes and felt the sunlight just as he'd described it, just as he'd felt it a long time ago.
"Perfect," the man whispered. "I've always wondered about that." He smiled then and Jim found himself smiling in return. They sat for a long time, just letting the sun shine on them, listening to the breeze over the tops of the building. Jim couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so calm, so centered as he did then with this stranger at his side. It was as if he'd been waiting for this man to complete him, to make him whole for the first time in his life.
"Who are you?" Jim repeated when the sun had dipped behind a rooftop and shadows were inking the ally.
"Me? I'm an angel," the angel replied with a beautiful smile. "One of God's own creatures sent to Earth to watch over humanity." He rose and stood looking down at Ellison, "you're a good man, Jim. It wasn't your fault, you couldn't have prevented what happened."
"How did you know....how did you know my name?" Jim asked.
"You told me," the angel said.
Jim let that slid, knowing he hadn't introduced himself but unwilling to contradict his comrade. "If you're an angel, where are your wings?" His question brought a silvery laugh from the angel, and sent tendrils of pleasure down Ellison's spine.
"Renaissance interpretation," the angel assured him. "Saints don't have halos either. Jim, let yourself live. Forgive yourself and the world will be a beautiful place again." Ellison sighed, his gaze dropped to the cobbles beneath his feet, trying to digest the words. When he raised his head, the ally was deserted and he felt more alone than he ever had in his life.
-
The angel walked along the beach, his heavy boots kicking up sand as he made his way to the water's edge. The others were already there, ranged along the shore like black clad sentinels. As the sun rose the sweet music filled the air, swelling within the angel until he felt it pulsing along his body. A mortal, stumbling upon the scene, would have stood transfixed by the sight of so many men and women staring out to sea, heads cocked as if listening to something. There would be no sound, as the music of the spheres has never graced mortal ears, and yet these beings as one, would have thrown back their heads and filled the air with joyous sighs. But no mortal, either by luck or design, had ever stumbled upon the scene.
"You spoke to him, didn't you?" A tall, blond angel asked, moving close and scrutinizing his face.
"He's hurting," the angel assured his companion, "our purpose is to comfort those who need us." He stared out over the water, marveling at the fact that this fathomless ocean was the exact color of Jim's eyes.
"It's not worth the fall," the blond told him.
"How do you know?"
-
"Uh, look," Ellison lowered his voice as the echo thundered around the quiet church. He'd wandered the streets for almost an hour, looking for the man who had disappeared but all he'd found was a lonely looking church set far back from a busy Cascade street. He hadn't meant to go in, didn't really believe the Heavenly claim but he had to talk to someone. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, my son," the priest smiled at him.
"I'm not Catholic. Hell, I'm not even religious," Ellison confessed, "I just.....are there angels?"
The priest considered his question, staring at the flickering candles for a long moment. When he answered Jim felt a weight lift from his heart. "Yes, there are angels. Some are like you," he smiled at Jim's startled expression, "police officers, firefighters, teachers, people who do wonders in this world. But there are also angels we can't see. Those sent from God to alleviate suffering, comfort the grieving, protect the innocent."
"Can we see those angels?" Jim closed his eyes and saw the face which had been with him for hours now.
"Only if they wish it," the priest said. He sighed and looking Ellison in the eye, "I remember once, when I was a novice, an old priest told me that he'd met an angel. He said the angel had given up eternal life - a life free of pain and fear - for love. The angel called it "falling", she had fallen from Heaven to be with the man she loved." He left Ellison with a comforting smile.
Jim sat watching the candles burn down. It wasn't until the caretaker gently asked him if he needed a place to spend the night that Ellison stirred. He drove home, parking mechanically and climbing the stairs to his loft apartment with bone-weary resignation. He didn't bother with the lights, there wasn't anything to see. He dropped his keys onto the table beside the door, closed it and moved to sit in the darkness. The tacky coating on his hands cracked as he ran hand over his hair, making him grimace. He'd forgotten about it. He'd forgotten that a woman had lost her life right in front of him, he'd forgotten that he carried her blood like a wound within his own soul.
Jim heaved himself off the couch and into the bathroom. Stripping, he stepped into the shower and turned the water on as hot as he could stand. The spray washed over him, burning along his skin as if burning out the pain he felt deep down inside. He let it bathe his face, telling himself it was only water coursing down his cheeks and not physical manifestation of the blackness which gripped him. But when he stepped from the shower and look at the reflection in the mirror he couldn't escape the shattered expression staring back at him.
The angel stood beside Ellison, hands hovering just above the trembling shoulders. He wanted to touch this man and bring some comfort to him, but more than that he longed to feel the touch in return. The angel gazed into the reflected eyes, seeing deep within the heart of this man. The loneliness which met his gaze, the anguish and hopelessness made him cry out. Never to have known pain, this empty coldness ripped through him like a knife. He wanted to touch, wanted to feel the warm, moist skin the way another human would. He hesitated, wanting - needing - but unsure if what he would give up could ever be equaled. And then Ellison moved. Uttering a moan of pain, Jim tossed on his clothes, pulling them roughly into place before heading from the room. The angel followed in his wake, towed along by a feeling of dread. "You're not real," Jim swore aloud to the empty room, "you are not real!"
"I am," the angel answered, and then louder showing himself as he repeated, "I am." He moved forward, arms coming up around the larger man, enfolding him. "I love you, Jim."
Ellison blinked slowly then nodded, his eyes losing some of the shadows which swam within the blue. Slowly, moving only his head, Jim lowered his lips to those of his angel. It was sweet and warm, filled with everything he had ever wanted to feel but had been afraid to. Lightening filled him, radiating from the silken lips pressed to his. Jim let it race through him, rooting out the emptiness, enveloping him with molten passion, melting the frozen shell which had built up around his heart. He lifted his mouth, eyes opening to stare into the azure depths so close to his own. "Did you feel that?"
The angel stared into Jim's eyes, seeing the love he had set free. He wanted to feel that, wanted more than anything to experience the emotion he witness within the human's gaze. But he wasn't human and he had been denied the ability to feel what Jim did. He could only watch as realization filled the human and Jim's expression changed to horror.
"No," the angel groaned. "No, please." Wasting no time on thought, the angel threw himself forward, brushing passed Ellison with such force the large cop was knocked aside like a child. "Fall," a soul deep voice commanded. He recognized it as his own - and obeyed. The angel had never thought about flying, they didn't do it in the conventional sense, not having wings. It had always been immediate, faster than thought. But now, as he hurled himself over the balcony railing, the thought of flying chilled him. He watched the pavement rush towards him with lightening speed, heard the scream of air passed his ears and he smiled as he fell to earth.
It hurt. Pain; crisp and sharp snapped along his nerves until it exploded in his brain with a numbing intensity nothing had ever brought to him before. The angel pulled himself to his feet despite the fiery jolt it sent stabbing along his nerves and stood swaying with excitement and anguish. Only seconds before, the ability to travel faster than thought had been his and love had not. Now, love's possibility loomed above him, staring down at him with terrified eyes. "My god," Jim's voice reverberated from the stone walls, striking the angel from all sides, "you're alive."
"I am alive," the angel confirmed. He dropped his gaze to the torn flesh of his hands, blood welling from the cuts and scrapes. It was hot, running down his arms and dripping from his fingers. He couldn't look away, couldn't believe that he'd really done it. So long had he stood on the outside, locked away from, not only from human grief but also from love, that to step inside and feel it terrified and inspired him all at once. He tore his gaze away only when the sound of running feet reached him. Ellison skidded around the corner, eyes wild as he raced towards the angel.
"Are you.....are you okay?" He demanded. Strong hands rushed along the planes of the man's body, searching for any injury while his eyes probed the former angel's face. "You're bleeding!"
"Yes! It's great!" The angel held out his hands, smiling as blood dripped to the pavement. "I can feel it, Jim. I can feel it all just like you." Ellison pulled him into an embrace, burying his face in the abundant curls and letting his companion's warm breath feather across his chest. They stood in the street until the blare of a horn made them break apart. Laughing, Jim lead his love back into the loft.
The once heavenly creature sat on the kitchen counter, feet swinging, as Ellison washed the cuts on his palms, and applied crisp, white bandages. "I can not believe you did that," Jim was saying, "you just.....jumped. I couldn't even move........"
"I had to," the former angel declared, "I love you, Jim." He leaned over, one hand bringing the larger man's chin up, blue eyes staring into blue. His gaze drifted downwards, lingering over the high cheekbones before dropping to the sensual lips. He wet his own lips, flicking a pink tongue out as if to taste the air before striking. He couldn't have resisted the lure of those lips if God Herself had forbidden them to him. He moved the inch it required to press his mouth to Jim's and kissed another soul for the first time in his existence.
Heaven might have been perfection, the ultimate state of being, but compared with kissing James Ellison, it paled to doubling nicely as a park in the suburbs. He had no words for the feelings which crashed through his body; heat and cold might have done but neither described the cascade of fire and ice. He felt as if he had flown close to the sun and somehow it had become lodged within his chest but at the same time he had shot so far out into the universe that no warming ray of light had ever touched him. A moan escaped his lips as Jim's strong hands twined themselves in his hair, pulling him closer. A frenzied desire to touch each and every inch of Ellison swept over him, driving the angel like hellfire through sinners.
"Upstairs," Jim groaned but the once angelic figure could not bear another moment when he had waited all eternity. Though Ellison stood five inches taller and out weighted him by forty pounds, he shoved the larger man up against the counter and proceeded to ravish him. Strong muscled chest appeared under the diligent working of his fingers pushing the t-shirt Ellison wore up under his arms. Never had anything seemed so perfect as he gazed upon this pale flesh, some inbred instinct brought his hungry mouth to worship there with all the fervor he'd once reserved for his God. Hands and mouth working in tandem, he laid Ellison bare to both. Jim writhed in his hands, his groin bucking in time to his moans of pleasure. Nothing had ever prepared the fallen angel for loving a human, he surrendered to the maelstrom of sensations with a roar which rose from the depths of his soul, shattering the crystalline prison in which he had been trapped. He felt the hot sting of tears behind closed eyelids. He could smell Jim's masculine scent, his breath, his aftershave. He breathed deeply of the mingled scents, taking his lover into him even as his mouth sought out the perfection of Jim's chest.
He mapped the smooth planes with fevered hands, learning every inch of this man. His mouth found one hardened nipple, working the nub with teeth and lips until Ellison was incoherent. God had granted him this - freewill - to chose his own path and the beauty of his route filled the angel with joy. His tears intermixed with the sweat on Jim's chest, leaving a bittersweet taste on his tongue. He pressed himself tighter to Ellison, one hand working between them, squeezing the ramrod of Jim's cock through his trousers. With a hoarse shout, Jim arched backwards and came.
"My god." The words slipped from lips trembling with the aftermath of passion. Sated blue eyes raked Ellison's naked torso and lingered on the wet patch between his legs. Draped over the counter, elbows the only thing holding him upright, Jim looked like something which would have made Michelangelo weep. His first effort at carnal knowledge seemed to have gone well, and the ex-angel grinned an all too human grin. "I really have died and gone to Heaven," he whispered.
"Angel," Jim sighed, "you are Heaven." He pushed himself up on arms which trembled and enfolded his lover. "Come upstairs and let me love you properly."
"There's more?" Angel asked with wide eyed guile.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Jim vowed. The two men repaired to the loft's bedroom where Ellison gave Angel a lesson in the finer points of sexual pleasure. Between sweat soaked bouts of lovemaking, they interspersed laughter and joy. Jim delighted in introducing his lover to earthly delectations; chocolate ice cream, bananas, fruit flavored condoms - Angel craved them all. They spent the evening ensconced in the huge bed, incense filling the air with sweetness, music playing softly, food shared with intimate abandon. Angel relished every feeling, every sensation which stirred his response. He wanted to experience it all, he wanted to feel and feel and feel until he made up for all the times he'd felt nothing.
-
Jim woke to the ticklish sensation of curls under his nose. He smiled, heart filling with utter happiness as thoughts of his lover filled his head. He opened his eyes to the sight of Angel curled up on his chest, hands locked around Jim's body as if to compel him to stay. Ellison shook his head, if he'd been told a week earlier that he would fall in love with a real angel, cause his fall from heaven and be happier than he'd ever been in his life, Jim would have personally escorted the lunatic to Happydale. Long ago, he'd resigned himself to the fact he would be alone. It didn't hurt, not anymore. Years of isolation had dulled the pain from jabbing knife point to monotonous ache. His father had never been anything other than a remote figure dispensing discipline, his mother had left him at the age of five, his own brother hated the sight of him. Jim allowed himself a bitter chuckle, he'd even managed to get his whole squad killed in what should have been a routine mission. It had been a harsh lesson, but Jim had learned never to let anyone too close. It had proved disastrous; in his work, in his career and even in his short-lived marriage not to mention every other relationship he'd every had.
But somehow, looking at the man he held against his heart, Jim knew his isolation had ended. This special creature who had given up heavenly splendors to be with him, was more precious to him than his own life. Angel had given him more than happiness, he'd given him back his soul. Once Jim had thought it gone, blackened by all that he had seen and done but Angel had prove it still lurked within him. He pulled his lover closer, letting the silken strands of his hair absorb the moisture which seeped from his eyes. He could feel again, he could love again.
-
"....and pancakes with blueberries!" Angel grasped Jim's shoulder and smiled up at him. He woken with Ellison gently nuzzling his hair, small sounds which might have been sobs, gusting in his ear. they'd made love slowly, savoring the sweetness they found in each other. Time seemed to stop just for them as they fit together, hearts beating in unison. Angel could close his eyes and still feel the tingle of Jim's lips along his spine, the desperate hold his lover kept even as he soared with passion. And after satisfying their physical desire, they had nestled together beneath the covers and spoken in drowsy tones. Jim had told him of the plans he would make, how Angel would live in the loft with him and they would carve a life together. He wanted Angel to feel secure and loved, he wanted them to spend forever together. And Angel felt the same way, though he knew forever wasn't very long in human terms.
Jim had insisted they go to a nearby cafe so that Angel could sample all the foods he'd dreamed about. So, dressing quickly they had tramped the streets of Cascade in search of the perfect breakfast. "Stay here a minute," Jim said. Angel watched him turn to speak to a woman standing before a display of golden fruit.
*****
Angel closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the crisp fresh air with a smile. It reminded him of lazy afternoons spent on top of the Panoramic Center, high above Cascade where the air held the fragrance of a million flowers. He drew himself back with a visible shiver and when he opened his eyes it was to a velvety quilt of color stretched before him. Flowers, every color and shape, their perfume filling the air, had been spread out for his enjoyment. He cast a glance over at Ellison, seeing him laughing as the woman said something and then moved forward to inspect the flowers.
It was the noise which reached him first. A low rumble seemed to fill the air, shaking the very earth beneath his feet. Angel frowned and quickened his step unsure what was happening but knowing instinctively he was in danger. The piercing scream of a horn mingled with the horrorstruck sound of Jim calling his name and Angel paused just an instant to turn and look. That was all it took. Allowed the magic of feeling, Angel found himself wishing the gift away as agony burned through his body. He could feel bones snapping and ligaments tearing, he could smell the blood which surged from deep inside him to burst from his mouth and nose. He watched the world cartwheel in a red haze, settling at a crazy angle where sky seemed to have changed places with the ground.
"Angel!" Jim heard the sound break from his lips as only a scream. He'd wanted to share his joy with the world, stopping to talk to Sally who sold him a newspaper every morning. And it had been her terrified eyes which had made him turn just as the car skidded around the corner and barreled straight down Prospect - straight towards Angel. He moved, pushed forward by a force greater than any he had ever felt before, knowing all along that he would be too late. He shouted, a warning which, to his horror, turned into a death sentence. The car smashed against Angel with a sickening thud, the dull sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking. Jim felt the reverberation within his chest, it compressed his heart, made its beating erratic. Angel was thrown ten feet, his body limp as it spiraled over a parked car and landed against the curb. Jim could barely move, he staggered to his lover's side and dropped to his knees.
Angel gazed up at him, pain filled eyes lighting up as Ellison gathered him close. Jim knew, he could see it in his lover's eyes. He closed his own to the sight and let his tears fall across the blood streaming down Angel's cheeks. "Why?" he begged God, "why now? Why not me?"
"No," Angel groaned, "no, Jim. Don't want that." He reached up, one hand, as fragile as a broken wing, coming to rest upon the bent head. "I'd do it all again. One hour, one minute with you was heaven." He pushed against Ellison's chin, bringing the mouth he worshiped to his with a sigh of happiness. "I love you more than life."
"But see," Jim whispered through a throat raw with grief, "I love you more than life, too. Take me with you."
Angel shook his head, tears forming and falling as he smiled. "No. I worked too hard to free you. If you love me you'll go on, Jim. Feel it. Feel it all for me, Jim. Swear you will."
"I will, Angel," Jim vowed. "I'll feel for both of us." He placed his lips to Angel's alarmed by the coolness he felt there.
"I can see them" Angel told him, "they're out there waiting for me. They'll lead me home, Jim. I'll never really go away, angels exist in all forms. Look for me in others, Jim," Angel begged, "Don't shut yourself away from others because you'll miss that little part of me that can't die."
"I won't," Ellison vowed, hoping it wouldn't turn into a lie.
"J-jim," Angel squeezed his eyes shut as pain ripped along his body, "Jim, take my hand." Ellison bit back a cry as the hand clutched tightly in his convulsed, "I can't feel you, Jim!" Panic gave Angel strength, he pushed himself higher in Ellison's arms, "Stay with me!"
"Always," Jim promised. "I will never let go for as long as I live."
"You have to let go, Jim," Angel whispered. "It's time to let me go now. You'll be happy again, don't worry." Jim watched as Angel lifted one hand, the bloody palm smearing across his chest, settling over his heart. The pain was immense, it seemed to swell from a tiny part of his chest to fill his entire body with a searing pain. He sucked in a breath, vainly trying to staunch the agony he felt and give Angel the comfort he deserved. Angel's gaze slipped passed Jim, settling on something only he could see. "Oh look, Jim," he gasped, the fading light in his eyes flaring just a bit, "They're smiling. I'm forgiven." The joy in his voice, the relief which changed his expression from fear to acceptance, made Ellison struggle to control his sorrow. But knowing he'd never see his lover again, he couldn't bear it. He cried, sobs shaking his shoulders in a way he had experienced since a child. He could hear the faltering beat of his lover's own heart, smell the blood which soaked Angel's clothing, taste the salt of Angel's tears against his lips. When the last shuddering beat faded into stillness, Ellison followed the sound into a colorless limbo. He drifted, buoyed by a sorrow too much to bear until a commanding voice tore him free.
"I'm sorry," the paramedic said. Jim looked up into soft brown eyes and nodded. Yes, the man looked sorry. Maybe he felt grief for the broken figures kneeling upon the dirty street. Jim let himself be helped to his feet, looking down at Angel and seeing the peaceful smile which graced his beautiful lips. They left him standing on the side of the street, his shirt covered in Angels' blood, his ears filled with his lover's voice and his own promise to feel it all.
-
THREE MONTHS LATER:
It was getting worse with each passing moment. Jim shook his head, trying to clear the confusing array of sounds. He could barely block them out now. He looked up at Simon, silently begging his captain to see how close to the edge he was riding. Angel had commanded him to feel, to experience everything for him, and Jim was, and had been every since that morning. He woke in the middle of the night to the sound of someone crossing the street five blocks away. He could smell the donuts in the shop beneath his loft hours before they opened, he could feel the slid of his shaving cream like silk against his skin. And it was killing him.
"I took a blood test to see if I'd been drugged," Jim confessed. He watched Banks' eyes, saw the shock and doubt registering there. Simon had overlooked so much in the last three months, his silences, his need for personal space, his refusals to take another partner. But he'd reached the end of the line and Jim knew it. He hadn't asked for a leave of absence when Angel had died, working had been the only thing which kept him sane. His beautiful lover's voice urged him on, forced him to open himself to the world he'd turned his back on. And he'd done it for Angel's sake, done it to honor their love but now he needed to find out what was happening to him before he went insane.
"Take a shower, gets some aspirins and go back to work," Banks ordered him. Jim dropped his gaze, saddened by his friend's lack of understanding. He couldn't do his job and the fear of being so lost and out of control ate at him like a cancer. Simon, finally detecting the fear, offered him an afternoon off to visit some specialists but Jim had laid it on the line. He walked out of the captain's office, knowing that he might never walk back in.
-
"The correct Gaelic pronunciation is McKay," the young man had insisted. Jim remembered staring down at him and feeling some of the barriers in his heart begin to drop, clearing a space. Instinct told him this kid held the answer to all his questions and someday the space inside him would be filled once again. If he'd hadn't just experienced an extensive array of medical tests, Ellison would have been worried about the strange fluttering in his cheat. He might have wondered why the sight of eyes so blue he thought of the ocean, lips full and red, and dark curls pulled back tight against his head, set his heart racing and his mind tumbling. When "McKay" had launched into his spiel Ellison's first instinct had been to turn away, but this kid had known things....knew what he'd been experiencing.....knew what he feared. Jim had looked again and seen the intelligence and passion with the young face and for just an instant he thought he saw.....Angel.
And so, lead only by some vague feeling Jim had searched out the name he'd been given, parking at Rainier University and stepping out into the crisp day. He turned his face upwards, letting sunshine wash across his skin. With this strange thing happening to him the warmth felt like a kiss. Silken lips seemed to be brushing his cheek, promising love and acceptance. Jim allowed himself a smile. Even with his eyes closed the light was beautiful, almost as beautiful as the light which had glowed within Angel's soul. Faintly he heard a voice. He didn't know where it came from - inside his head, from the sky above, or maybe from an angel watching over him, but he listened to it - 'Trust me, Jim.' Ellison let a small smile grace his lips, he believed in angels now. He glanced down at the card he carried - BLAIR SANDBURG, what a name. But who knew, angels came in all forms, maybe this was just another one of them.