Fallen Angel

Chapter 5.1

Joan waited outside the Hospitium, in the shadows of a giant willow tree. Three days had gone by since she last saw Gabriël, and she had grown more restless every day. Raphael had placed him in a closed ward the moment they arrived at the Hospitium, while Michael sent one of his winged lions to stand guard at the entrance of the building. It never stopped pacing and growled at everyone who wasn't a part of Raphael's staff and looked at Joan several times, its eyes taking in the slightest move she made. The beast made her uncomfortable, but couldn't make her leave. 
The only thing that kept Joan from attempting to get into the ward was her promise to Gabriël right before arriving at the Hospitium. He had begged her to keep calm and to do everything Michael asked. Joan had done her best, and Michael stopped asking questions, but she wasn't convinced the Lord Protector had a change of heart. If he even had a heart...

As she waited, Joan's gaze remained on the doors of the eighteenth-century building. Though the Hospitium was built in the neoclassical architecture of that age, it was heavily decorated with influences from every era. Raphael had (perhaps mistakenly) allowed the artistas to use the Hospitium's exterior as their personal workshop, as long as they did not disturb any patients; Baroque, Gothic, Expressionism, even Modernism and Egyptian had found their way here. It was a funny sight for such a serious building.
Finally, Joan saw Raphael leave the ward, dressed in his usual white physician's attire. She felt her heart skip a beat at seeing Gabriël was with him. He looked well enough from this distance. She walked toward them with hurried steps, but the lion growled and spread his wings to block her way. Raphael rushed over and waved his hands at the beast.

"There's no need for that anymore. Go back to your home. Go on, shoo. Shoo!"

He pushed a wing away as if it was made of feathers instead of stone. The lion roared indignantly and then flew away. The physician huffed before turning to Joan.

"Joan! A pleasure to see you," he greeted her warmly. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Not that long," she lied. "I came to see if visitors were allowed today. Maman told me last night that there was a chance."

"I won't be allowing visitors here because there won't be anyone to visit. He's all cleared."

He gestured for Gabriël to step forward into the sunlight. Joan smiled and meant to greet him. But she recoiled at the sight of him. Her smile wavered. Gabriël had definitely lost some weight during his stay. And his skin was still ashen.

How can they possibly think he is well enough to go home? He looks worse than he did last time he was here.

"Gabriël..." she hesitated. "You look... um..."

"Terrible, I know," he finished. "But in my defence, I've been cooped up in a dark room for the past three days. And don't get me started on the food here."

"Now, Gabriël, be nice," reprimanded Raphael.

"Easy, Rafe." Gabriël grinned back at him. "Just kidding."

"Hmph, well, you're in good company now. I trust Joan to accompany you home. And remember; one vial, half of it on the wound and the other half to drink, every three hours. I will check up on you soon."

Raphael handed him a large satchel.

"I won't forget," said Gabriël.

He hugged his friend, and Raphael went back inside the Hospitium, but not before Joan noticed him hiding a worn expression. Was he worried? 
Joan fought the urge to hold Gabriël in her arms, and he shook his head, as if he had read her mind.

"Not here," he whispered. "Do you mind if we go find a bite to eat? I really wasn't joking about the food here."

"Sure, anything you're craving?"