Fallen Angel

Chapter 6.1

It was near morning. Michael had been up early. With all that had happened, sleep did not come easy lately. And when it came, it was a restless sleep, full of visions of what the future could hold. But all ended the same; his own hands dripping with the blood of angels. It disturbed him that this was what fate had in store.
Every time Michael woke, he was sweating with anxiety. He feared he could not stop what his visions had foretold. Perhaps he was not meant to stop it. Normally, he would entrust Gabriël with these visions. As the Messenger, he often had a better interpretation of His Word. But Gabriël had enough on his mind right now. He did not need to know about this.

Michael had sent a grumbling Raphael to check on Gabriël the previous day. He'd mumbled something like having other things to do and that Joan would probably alarm the whole Vale if anything happened, but it was precisely because of Joan's presence that Michael had wanted Raphael to check on them. He had to be sure his suspicions were unjustified. And from what the physician had told him in his note, they appeared to be so - Gabriël had been asleep whilst Joan had been reading in the kitchen.
Raphael had urged Michael to trust them. Everyone knew the consequences of what happened to those who would be revealed to be lovers. Gabriël, most of all, since he was an Archangel; they were bound by oath to uphold all rules God gave them. Because of that oath, there was no precedence of an Archangel breaking these rules. At least, not since...
Because of him, God had created the oath in the first place; to ensure none would fall again. Michael could not help but think if something could have been done to prevent what had happened so long ago. He still blamed himself for that.

The Lord Protector strapped on the last of his gear and left for the training room. Perhaps if he tired himself, he could finally get some sleep. As he walked to the Villa's lower levels, the skies were coloured in warm shades of orange, yellow and red. A promise for a beautiful day.
He paused at the base of the stairs. A light shone from the opened door. Someone else was already there. He was more than surprised to find Gabriël practising his archery in the lanes at the far end of the room. There was something about him that struck Michael as odd, apart from the fact that he was bare-chested and barefoot.
He made no sound as he came into the room. He observed his friend nock an arrow and stand as still as one of Michelangelo's statues. With a whooshing sound, the arrow flew straight into the centre of the target. Michael had never seen Gabriël aim with such accuracy. He looked closer to see three other arrows already stuck to the mark. With every shot, the arrow had neared the centre. All four were now perfectly aligned with each other.
Gabriël noticed his presence in the room and spoke, keeping his focus on the target.

"Hello, Michael. Up early as well, I see."

Michael walked over to the second archery lane. As he stood next to Gabriël, he noticed some definite changes in him - physical changes. Gabriël seemed more muscular. His outspoken cheekbones made his face look even more angelic, though somehow, a shadow was cast across. 

"Yes, I could not sleep." Michael eyed Gabriël from head to toe, wondering if he had always been this tall. "And you? It is not like you to come training on your own. Nor do I expect you to do so when you should be recuperating."

"I know. But I was... tense. So I thought coming here would help wind down a bit."

Michael nodded in understanding. He came here for the same reason, after all.

"I am glad you are here," Gabriël continued. "I have been meaning to speak with you."

"What about?" asked Michael as he reached for his own bow and quiver

"Joan told me what happened. When I had that last seizure."

Michael froze in his stance. He pinched his lips and then released the arrow. It veered off course, striking the edge of the target's bull's eye.