Foster sighed but did as he asked. Gabe flipped carefully through the loosely bound sheets of papyrus. He continued arranging the scene, sprinkling the bone powder over the old woman’s frail, sleeping form. Next, he tossed the oil in sweeping arcs and arranged dried herbs in meticulous shapes—all the while consulted the ancient grimoire dutifully. A sense of unease crawled over Foster’s skin, and with a sudden dawning he identified the source.
“Gabriel,” he spoke low, and the quiet calm in his voice had the angel pausing in his work. “How do you have the Gospel?”
“What?” He blinked owlishly. “I went back for it, just like I said.”
“How did you get inside?”
“Through the window, of course.”
“My apartment is warded.”
A long pause. “Against… me?”
“Against anyone that isn’t me or Cwall.”
Gabe raised his brows. “I’m very impressed by your forethought, but perhaps next time you should use a ward that’s not tied to physical structure. The fire must have worn it away.”
Foster frowned but let the matter drop for now. “Are you almost ready? I need to do this before I change my mind again.”
“There can be no indecision, Foster,” Gabe chided. “Make your mind up now and keep it decided. Otherwise, this is all for nothing.”
He turned his back on the angel, pressing his palm to the window. The glass was cool against his skin, which always burned just noticeably warmer than a mortal would, and his reflection gazed back, silently weighing him. A line from one of his favorite movies haunted him.You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting.He heard the words in his mother’s voice, and a shiver rolled down his spine.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “Resolve yourself, Foster Morningstar. We’re beginning.”
A last flare of panic surged and fluttered in his chest. This was wrong, it was so wrong. He couldn’t do this. Once was bad enough, and now?—
Gabe laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “I have already prepared a place for her, Foster. She will be comfortable and content, happy and untouched by the horror of the world. Horrors like this.”
Foster watched the slow rise and fall of Sra. Delgado’s chest, guided through the motions by a machine, and closed his eyes. Who was he if he did this?
Who was he if he didn’t?
“Begin.” Gabe squeezed him once more, bordering on painful, before he turned back to the hospital bed.
Michael bowed over the bush and continued retching, his stomach heaving and rolling but with nothing left to expel.Lucifer stood awkwardly by, gently patting his shoulder with an absent hand while he looked intently at anything else.
“I’m sorry, it…affects everyone differently,” Luce finally broke the silence, withdrawing his hand as Michael rocked back on his heels and fell to a sitting position. Michael grunted in response, scrubbing his mouth with the back of his palm. But it wasn’t the timewalking that had his stomach churning, it was his own grief.
As soon as his past self had charged in, as soon as he saw Lucifer’sface, his stomach lurched at the memory, and he’d shuddered. Lucifer of the past had looked at him as if looking through him, an expression that shifted rapidly from bemusement to alarm to horror. There might have been a flash of fear, but only Michael would have known his lover well enough to detect it.
If he had looked this closely that day...but that was the fallacy of hindsight. He remembered the hot tears blurring and streaking his vision, the hurt and rage that propelled his arm to swing. There was no room for observation on that day, only pain and anger.
He had turned and run. Not his past self; he would never have fled any battle in his younger years. Apparently, age brought with it enough sense for cowardice. This was a regret he could no longer bear to face.
“You think me a coward, I’m sure. A hypocrite,” said Michael.
“Occasionally I have thought of you this way, yes, but I wouldn’t say that I feel that way at present.”
“Oh, sure. Spare me the polite lies, Lucifer.”
“Do I strike you as a man who bites his tongue? Running from that scene doesn’t make you a coward, it makes you a man that feels deeply.” He paused. “It shows me that you’ve grown considerably from that young, angry man into someone who can weigh his own sins.”
The silence was a tangible creature between them. Michael’s heart squeezed with something he could only call affection, and he beat that sensation down hard. He had no right to feel anything but apologetic towards Lucifer. Even at surface level, he could see that things didn’t add up.
When would Lucifer have had time to run from him, find Adam, and set up an entire picnic? It was an established fact that even the most powerful angels couldn’t be in two places at once. While Lucifer could create portals, that still didn’t explain Adam’s presence or the clear and present surprise at seeing Michael appear.
His anger had clouded his rational thought, and once Gabriel confided Lucifer’s comments about using and manipulating him... Michael had chalked it up to a carefully planned alibi. But something tickled in the back of his mind, and a new horror emerged. He hadn’t slowed down to see it before, but it was as glaring to him now as a large sign reading “YOU ARE STUPID”.
