Adieu

Damned If I Do... (Dezmond)

There weren't words he could offer her, because it was always going to be her decision in the end to decide if it was worth it or not. Whether she feels life is fulfilling enough to continue the struggle she was currently going through was ultimately up to her. The offer he'd given was out there, and the day she decided it was too hard he'd be there for her. Yet, every day she lives is considered a victory in his mind. Of course Dezmond wanted to tell her that, and tell her she should carry on and enjoy the life she is living to the fullest, but how could he? Would it not be selfish to even suggest that? To burden her with his own wishes wouldn't be fair, especially since he wasn't supposed to be interactive with her.

Watching her swallow the medicine, mentally he was relieved she decided to do so. His pleasant smile unfaltering, even if he'd thought for a moment that she'd decided she'd had enough. A certain suffering would come if that were to happen, one he couldn't bare to see come to her. Still, with how great a listener Dezmond really was, he'd patiently sit still with his hands folded over his lap while hearing her out, nodding in agreement when she'd more or less voiced this situation they were in surely must be a sign. Though soon enough she'd be leaning in, her hands taking his while a faint rumbling from the kettle could be heard. It's then a heaviness weighed down on the impossibly light angel, and he felt unprepared all of a sudden.

"Would you help me try and remember what it feels like to live?"

He was doomed. If the creator or archangels or whoever hadn't already taken notice to their situation by now, they certainly would be if he decided to take this interaction further. The rules were simple, he and all angels were supposed to be silent observers. The last one to directly influence the lives of humans dwells in a lake of fire with the other siblings who rebelled, a story from times more ancient than himself. Since then not a single angel has dared step out of line, which meant he very well could be reprimanded come the day his ventures with Michayla are discovered. Yet...

"How could I possibly deny that?" He responded breathlessly, his eyes seeming aglow with fascination and wonder of the future to come. His smile growing all the more, while his hands turned to hold hers back in turn. At the peak of the whistle from the kettle the fire would cease and soon enough the noise began to die down. Not a muscle was moved, showing just how much control he had over the world near them. What was the extent of an angels power, and to what extent could they use them? Dezmond never had to conflict evil that wormed its way into the Macy family, they having been blessed with good tidings for as long as he'd been with them. Would Michayla ask for his help to live, and if so, could he truly deny her now that she saw him? Could he interpret her ability to communicate with him as a sign that he was being given permission to use heavens powers to bring the light back to this girls world?

Or would abiding her in such a way cause a bleak darkness in his future, and possibly make it so she herself may never see Michael again in paradise.

The gates were cruel in their judgments, and the rules of paradise were clear, but Dezmond was a studious scholar when it came to such rules and he couldn't remember a single thing about this. Didn't that mean it was up to his own best judgement? Was his best judgement simply what he wanted most? "I want nothing more than to see you live a rich, full life. To see you one day pick up that saxophone and play your memories of your father before an audience which I again can sit among." He'd admit his wants, and what he decided would be his best judgement. Along with that, he'd admitted that he'd been there for her performances time and time again. "Just tell me, Mickey - Tell me where you want to start this new life of yours, and I will lead you through it as long as I can." And as long as I'm not stopped.

By now the water in the kettle was optimal temperature for tea, and he'd expect she'd want to get up and start getting their evening cups ready, so while awaiting her response his grip on her hands would loosen and he'd be ready to get up and help her in preparing the cups. Along with answering any questions she may have.