Wings and Tears: Part Three

 

            Duo’s eyes slowly opened and the ceiling of the room came into focus. He took in a shaky breath. “I hate this feeling.” He said softly. “I hate the fact my cheeks are itchy. I hate crying.”

            “You have a good reason.” Heero said softly. They were on the bed of their room. Heero’s arms were wrapped around Duo.

            “He’s my son, Heero.” Duo said, moving his head slightly to look at Heero’s face. “I…I…God, I don’t know.” His voice and breath were shaky, as if he were crying but couldn’t bring the tears to his eyes again. It had surprised everyone, most especially Duo himself. Boys don’t cry, the thought ran through his mind, the thought that had stopped tears so many times before. He felt miserable inside, and this misery was eating him alive. He closed his eyes again and turned his body to burry his face in Heero’s masculine chest. “I love you, Heero,” he whispered.

            “I love you too,” Heero answered and wrapped his arms tighter around him.

            “I don’t regret this either, don’t think that.” He looked back at his husband, “I don’t regret loving you. I don’t regret us, but…but he’s my son.”

            “I know, I know.” Heero tucked him inside his arms again and kissed the top of his head.

            “He’s my son and I abandoned him and he forgave me. He forgave me, Heero. He told me that even though he didn’t fully understand why, he could understand that I must have had a good reason. He said that he understood that I must have felt strongly about it, that I must have felt I had good reasons and because of that he forgave me. And in that moment, I loved him. I loved him because he was wise enough to forgive his father. Me. And I loved him and was proud of him because he was my son. Because he is my son…I love him.” Heero buried his face in the hair on top of Duo’s head, and kissed his scalp again. Duo’s body shook, but he wouldn’t let tears fall from his eyes, he couldn’t. “I love him, but I’ve only seen him once and his mother was right. I’m not a father to him. I chose not to be, and she, she’ll never forgive for that. God, she’ll never forgive me.”

            Heero bit his lower lip. They never talked about Lorelei, or any angels for that matter, and with reason. They might have been officially together since the night of Quatre and Trowa’s wedding, and married for five years, but Duo and Lorelei had been companions for thousands of years and it was hard to compete with that kind of history. Duo’s hot breath struggled to meet Heero’s chest. They were both silent as Duo’s tense body gradually began to relaxed in Heero’s arms and slowly, he drifted back to sleep.

 

~~

 

            Michael knocked softly on Solo’s door. “Solo,” he called, comfortable with using the new name. “It’s Michael.” He heard noises from behind the door as the teenaged angel got up to open his bedroom door. Solo’s small and skinny frame peered from the crack he made with the door. Michael smiled at him, “Can we talk?” Solo regarded the archangel a moment before stepping back and letting him in. Michael entered the room; his white wings caught the moon-light coming in from the open balcony of the room. “Well?” the archangel asked as Solo sat on a white chair.

            “Well what?” Solo asked nonchalantly.

            “Well, what happened on Earth? You got a name I see.”

            “Oh, I thought you were going to make me apologize to my mother.”

            Michael paused, “You’re the only one who can do that, Solo. But please understand she’s only trying to do what is best for you. Duo is a human now, it’s not like you and he can spend the eternities as father and son.”

            “That’s my point! If he is going to die, why can’t I get to know him now?”

            “I didn’t say I agreed with her, I just see where she is coming from. She doesn’t want to be hurt. She doesn’t want you to fall in love with him just so you can watch him get old and die.”

            “Is it that? Or is she just too bitter and is this just to hurt him?!”

            “Solo…” Michael tone and manner made the boy calm down.

            “I’m a freak, Michael.”

            “Solo…”

            “No! I am! Look at me! I’m already in the first Stage of development! You said I could reach the second by the end of this year! Think of what that means? Most angels don’t do that till a hundred years after their birth and they reach the third Stage in 10 thousand years. How long do you think it will take me?”

            “Ok, I’ll admit, you’ve matured faster. But you’ve also have amazing qualities. You’re mind is quicker, you are more clever than even me, you have your parent’s perception of emotion and you have dreams of things that will come.” Dimly Solo thought about the nightmare, but he could only recall blood and rain. “You’re an amazing child.”

            “I’m his amazing child. And when I was with him, I didn’t feel like it. I felt normal. I didn’t feel like a freak.”

            “You’re not a freak.”

            “Why are you so uncomfortable right now?” Solo turned his violet eyes from the wall to look up at Michael, “You get that way when you talk about my ‘cleverness’, as you put it. What was it? ‘You have matured faster than other angels, and it was not just your body, but also you mind, which is more clever than others I have seen, expecting maybe…’ who?” Michael said nothing, but looked to the ground, recognizing his own words. Solo stood up and walked slowly to the archangel. He was much shorter than Michael so he had to look up at him to look him in the eyes. “Lucifer,” he whispered, picking the name from Michael’s mind, “The Accuser?”

            Michael smiled sadly at the boy, “You see, that’s what I mean. I’ll be going now, you should get some sleep.” Then he hurried from the room.

            Solo looked at his closed door a moment, considering the thoughts he had picked from Michael’s mind.

           

            Solo was awoken by the smell of cooking food. Slowly he dragged himself from his bed and made his way down to the kitchen. He found his mother by the stove.

            “Ready for some breakfast, sweetie?” she asked, smiling at him. Solo nodded and moved towards the table where they would eat. She placed some of the food on a plate and sat that in front of him, and then she made a plate for herself. For a moment they ate in silence.

            “What?” he asked her finally, “What do you want to talk about? You keep forming a sentence in your mind, but you stop yourself from saying it.”

            “Last night after we returned home, and after you and I had that fight,” she winced from the memory, “Michael and I started talking, that was before he went to talk with you. He made a point. He said that one of the many reasons I’m afraid of you getting close to…your father,” she couldn’t bring herself to say his name, “is because I don’t want you to love a human only to watch him get old and die. He said the other reasons were selfish and had no right to be in the heart of a mother. He was right, I’m so sorry Solo.” He didn’t say a thing, he was letting her finish, but he did notice how easily she had gotten used to using the name, but he guessed it was like that with all angels, it had but taken him two second to start thinking of himself as Solo. He nodded, forgiving her. “Ok,” she patted the arm he had resting on the table, “Solo, it is your right to get to know your father. Michael pointed that out. I shouldn’t stop you. I won’t lie to you, I can’t lie to you. You know what is in my heart, you’ve seen it. You know how much I hate what he has done; you know how much I will not forgive him. You know I hate him. I’m so sorry about that Solo. I can’t help it. But I can help how I act about him with you around, and I can give you my blessing every time you venture to Earth to see him. It’s beautiful there.”

            Solo looked at his mother, who lifted a mug of tea to her lips, thinking about the Earth she had not seen since before his birth. The Earth she had chose to leave. The Earth she loved. “What are you saying exactly, Mom?”

            “I’m saying go to Earth, spend time with your father. Love him, and have him love you. Be his son and I will not interfere with him being your father. He only has so much time until he dies the mortal death he left us for,” when she said ‘us’ she meant all angels, not just herself and her son. “Enjoy that time with him. I won’t try to stop you.”

            He smiled, “Thanks. Thank-you so much. But right now I think I’ll stay here and have breakfast with you.” Then he turned back to his food, she smiled and did the same.

 

~~

 

            Human souls were tortured in Hell. Screams rang from fiery pits, people were caught in flames that burned but did not kill them. People who tortured on Earth were tortured in Hell. Pleads, prayers and curses ran through the ears of all. This realm spanned as far as the eye could see. It was larger than any other realm in existence. It was horror and it was pain. The smell of sweat, blood, and burning human flesh and hair was thick in the air, which was heavy and thick with heat. A tall jagged black palace stood in the middle of this awful place, jutting into a blood red sky. A red-clay path led to the massive doors of this fortress. These doors opened to an immense throne room. This throne room held one ornament, the throne itself, a huge chair that matched the palace and everywhere there was black.

            A fallen angel was sitting on this throne, his knees were brought to his chest, his arms were wrapped around his legs. His white wings spread behind him, bat-like because they lacked white feathers. His skinny frame was shaking with his sobs. His blonde hair was greasy and a mess, his green eyes were surrounded by red swollen skin; tears were on a nonstop track down his dirty check. His knees were soaked by saliva and tears. He hadn’t eaten anything for years, hadn’t moved for years. He just sat there, sobbing on his throne, staring at the massive doors, praying furiously under his breath. His legs were stiff from their frozen state; his arms were pasted to their spot. His cloths were worn from years of wearing. He stayed there, praying, hoping, but he knew God didn’t listen. He knew God refused to listen, would not listen. This was his punishment. But deep inside he continually hoped that his husband would walk through those doors and take him up in his strong arms and hold him and say that everything would be ok.

            He wanted to waste away, but God did not allow that as well. Even when he ate nothing for years, even though he hadn’t moved an inch since he sat on this throne after Michael had left him, one last time. Now the Adversary of God was nothing but a wretched broken form, sitting on his throne, praying for his Prince Charming. Behold the Prince of Darkness, praying to God to let him see the lighted face of his sweet lover!