A Few Months Ago
The hospital was familiar. Too familiar. Gabriel's sleek car pulled up to the curb, and Raphael stepped out first, opening the passenger door for her. She emerged, her eyes immediately lifting to scan the countless windows of the sterile tower. She was searching for one specific floor, one specific room.
She found it. A figure stood at a window several stories up. It was a woman in a pale blue hospital gown. Her black hair was unkempt, falling around a face that was both warm and profoundly tired. Her expression was melancholic, but when she saw Gabriel looking up, it transformed. She raised a thin hand and waved, a small, brave smile touching her lips.
It was Amelia.
Gabriel's breath caught. She forced her own expression into something cheerful, hiding the sharp pang of pain that lanced through her at the sight of her friend's fragility. She raised her hand and waved back, offering a bright, practiced smile.
Instead of taking the elevator, she chose the stairwell. She needed the time. Time to climb, time to breathe, time to assemble the armor of composure she would need to face this.
When she finally reached the correct floor, her hand froze on the door handle to Amelia's room. Her chest felt tight, constricted. She took a deep, steadying breath, forced the smile back onto her face, and pushed the door open.
"Hi, Ame!" she announced, her voice a blast of false energy. She strode into the room, arms outstretched for a hug. "How are you? It's been forever. I've missed you so much. Sorry I'm late, I was dealing with the billing downstairs. Those receptionists move at a glacial pace."
Amelia, propped up on her hospital bed, let out a weak laugh that turned into a soft cough. "Missed me? You were here yesterday, you drama queen."
Gabriel laughed along with her, the sound too loud in the quiet room. She shrugged off her expensive coat and draped it over a chair before sitting on the edge of the bed. She leaned forward, her smile unwavering. "God forbid a girl wants to spend every second with her best friend. They told me the doctors gave you an update today. What did they say? What's the new plan? What medicines do you need?"
The smile slowly melted from Amelia's face. She let out a long, slow sigh, her eyes drifting to the window as she searched for the words.
Gabriel's own smile faltered for a second. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on Amelia's thin shoulder. "What's wrong? Is it about the cost? You know I don't care about that. Whatever it is, we'll handle it."
Amelia looked back at her. She reached up with a trembling hand and took Gabriel's from her shoulder. She held it, her grip surprisingly firm despite her weakness. Her eyes, full of a deep, quiet sorrow, locked onto Gabriel's violet ones.
"They told me I only have until the end of the month."
The words landed with the finality of a tombstone sealing shut.
The cheerful facade on Gabriel's face shattered. It fell away so completely and so quickly it was as if it had never been there. Her breath hitched.
"You're joking," she whispered, her voice strained. Her heart began to pound a frantic, painful rhythm against her ribs. "You shouldn't joke about things like that."
Amelia just shook her head slowly, her sad smile returning. She explained, her voice calm and horribly accepting, that the doctors said her body could no longer fight. The battle was over. There was nothing left to do but wait. She thanked Gabriel for everything. For all her efforts, her friendship, her unwavering presence. She said she was so happy Gabriel was her best friend.
Gabriel's eyes blurred. She pulled her hand back from Amelia's grasp as if burned. She brought her hands up, pressing her palms hard against her own eyes, trying to physically force the tears back. A low, wounded sound escaped her.
Then she felt Amelia's arms go around her, pulling her into a weak but steady hug. Gabriel's head dropped onto her friend's shoulder. That was all it took. The dam broke. She wept, great, heaving sobs that shook her entire frame, her hands clutching desperately at the back of Amelia's hospital gown.
Gabriel's eyes snapped open.
She was still in the hot spring, the steam curling around her. For a moment, the memory was more real than the warm water. She slowly raised a hand and wiped at her cheek, her fingers coming away wet. She looked at the shimmering droplets, then around at her body. The corrosive, void-tainted wounds from her battle on Mars were gone. The dark energy had finally dissipated.
She took a deep, cleansing breath. As she exhaled, steam began to rise from the remaining minor injuries across her skin. The flesh knit itself back together with silent, divine efficiency, leaving her skin flawless and unmarked once more.
She stood up, water cascading from her form. She stepped out of the pool onto the cool stone. "Raphael," she called, her voice clear and devoid of its earlier hoarseness.
He was there instantly, as if he had been waiting just beyond perception. In one hand he held a large, soft towel. In the other, a simple, elegant silk robe.
Gabriel took the towel and dried herself with brisk, efficient motions. When she was done, Raphael took the damp towel and offered her the robe. She slipped it on, tying the sash securely around her waist. Together, they left the humid tranquility of the spring room for the sleek modernity of the main living area.
On her way through the expansive penthouse, she stopped at the kitchen island. She selected a bottle of dark red wine and a single crystal glass. In the living room, three new figures awaited her. They were Watchers, lower-tier angels, each with two wings of softly glowing light manifest behind them. They stood at perfect attention.
As Gabriel settled onto a large, luxurious sofa, the three Watchers knelt in unison, bowing their heads with deep respect.
She poured wine into her glass, the rich liquid catching the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She took a slow sip, then gestured with her free hand. "Rise."
They stood, their postures still rigidly formal.
"There will be no combat," Gabriel stated, her voice cool and authoritative. "What happened to Zephon was a result of his own choice to engage the Murderer. Your purpose is different. You are to open a dialogue. Negotiate for her peaceful surrender."
She pressed her fingertips to her temple for a moment, a faint sigh escaping her.
"The outcome of this approach will dictate Heaven's next move. Therefore, you will follow your instructions precisely. Do you understand?"
The Watchers bowed again. "We understand, Archangel."
With a final nod of dismissal from Gabriel, they turned. Their wings gave a soft, collective pulse of light, and they flew soundlessly out through the open balcony doors, vanishing into the night sky.
Raphael stepped forward after they had gone, standing before her. "My lady," he began, his voice cautious. "What if she refuses? What if Lucifer chooses to fight for her freedom?"
Gabriel finished the wine in her glass in one slow swallow. She set the empty glass down on a side table with a soft click. She turned her head, her violet eyes meeting his, her gaze utterly devoid of warmth or interest.
"Then," she said, her voice as flat and final as a judge's gavel, "I will simply take the freedom she is fighting for."