Chosen One - Chapter 16
Title: Chosen One - Chapter 16
Summary: Our favourite tortured boys are back in this third and final instalment in which they try to outrun Hell.
Notes: See chapter 1 for disclaimer warnings and related info.
16
Just Warming Up
*~*
JACK
“How far is it?” I ask.
“About a half hour.” Hope clicks on the windshield wipers against the rain, pouring in sheets from the slate sky. They tap out a constant rhythm as we pull onto the weather-beaten road that leads from our little beach community to the main road.
I try not to stare as she skilfully navigates her worn-out Peugeot around potholes, but she’s the only Grigori I’ve met other than my father, and I can’t help wondering if there’s something I should notice. I never thought there was anything strange about my dad, well … other than his liking brussel sprouts. But now I know different.
“So … you’re Grigori?”
A smile tugs at her mouth. “I thought we already established that.”
For a while I don’t say anything. I have so many questions but I don’t want to seem nosy.
“Was there something you wanted to know?” she volunteers.
I look at her in time to see her glance in my direction.
“What’s it like?” I ask.
The gears grind as she downshifts and negotiates the narrow road. “What? Heaven?”
“No. What’s it like to fall?”
Her eyes shift to mine for a heartbeat, then she looks back out the windshield. “It’s … hard.”
“Why did you choose to become Grigori?”
“Because the alternative sucks.”
“But some angels choose it.”
She nods, her expression becoming solemn. “They do.”
“Did John tell you about my brother?” I ask, my chest tightening.
“Gray,” she says without looking at me.
“Did you know him?”
“No. We never met.” Her eyes flit to mine. “John said he was your guardian. That’s really unusual.”
I nod, then lean into the window, trying to find air through my closing throat. It was a mistake to bring this up. I’m totally torn between needing to know everything and being terrified of what I might find out.
Her hand is on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jack.”
I hunch for a moment longer, until I can breathe again. “I’m okay,” I say, pulling myself upright. “It’s just … I don’t understand why he would choose that.”
She shrugs. “It’s hard to think straight. First of all, it really hurts … losing our wings.” She grimaces with the memory. “And second, it’s hard to accept that if we stay on Earth we’ll lose almost all our power. The only thing that saved me was that I couldn’t imagine never returning.” She glances toward me. “When mortals think of fallen angels, they think we’ve fallen from Heaven, but really, we’ve fallen from His grace. That’s the unbearable part-and the part I want to earn back.”
I pick at some fuzz on the seat belt. “Is there any chance Gray could ever come back? Could he change his mind?” I don’t dare look at her, but I know by her hesitation that the answer is no.
“I’m really sorry Jack,” she says, her voice just audible over the beating wipers and pelting rain.
There’s a sharp pinch in my chest, and I wonder for a second if I’m having a heart attack. But it fades slowly. “I have to get him back,” I say.
I hate the sympathy in Hope’s face when I look at her. She turns back toward the road. “I’ve never heard of that happening before. Once an angel chooses Lucifer, there’s no reason He would let them go.”
“Just because you’ve never heard of it, doesn’t mean it can’t happen,” I say, thinking of Ianto.
She breathes deep. “What else?” she asks after a minute into the awkward silence, her voice full of false cheer.
I shrug and stare out the windshield. “Do you have to sleep?”
She laughs. “Yes.”
“But I saw you sitting in your window this morning, watching me.” I realise how accusatory that sounds only after it’s out of my mouth.
She pulls onto the main road and guns the engine, causing the rear wheels to lose traction on the wet pavement for a rotation. “It’s my job. When you were home, your father did the same thing.”
“He never sat outside watching my window!” I know this because Ianto did, and Dad wasn’t out there.
“No, but he was awake.”
I slump into the seat. “So, if you’re awake all night watching me, when do you sleep?”
“Mostly during the day, when you’re with John.”
I pick at a loose thread at the hem of my sweatshirt. “How does it work?”
“What?”
“My dad. And my mum. They’re together … married.” I’m not sure how to word what I’m trying to ask.
“So you want to know if we fall in love?”
“Yeah … and, I don’t know … how you’re so … human, I guess, that no one knows you’re really angel.”
Her face is serious and edged with sadness as she glances sideways at me. “We’re not angels, Jack. Not anymore.” She sighs and doesn’t say anything else for a long minute. “We do fall in love,” she finally offers. “Not all of us, but some of us.” She glances at me again. “It’s allowed.” Her eyes slide back to the road. “As far as the seeming human thing, we age slower than humans, but we still do age, and that’s how long we get to earn our wings back. If we haven’t earned them back within our Grigori life span, then we die and are judged as any mortal soul would be. But even if we’re judged worthy of Heaven, it’s a long haul in Purgatory first.”
I think about that for a moment. “What do you have to do to earn your wings back?”
“Something exceptionally celestial.”
“Like?”
She smirks at me, reminding me of Owen again. “If I knew that, I would have done it.”
“Oh,” I say, slumping deeper into my seat. “Have you ever been in love?” I blurt.
“That’s a little personal, don’t you think?” she snaps.
“Sorry.”
She stares out the windshield and her expression softens. “I am,” she says in a low tone. “It’s why I fell.”
I sit for a minute, stunned, but then I feel anger tighten my jaw. “They throw angels out of Heaven for being in love? That’s just wrong.”
“We are supposed to love man above all else. It is our directive.”
I shake my head. “Still, it doesn’t seem fair.” I glance at her. “It must be amazing though, to be so in love you’d give up Heaven to be together.”
She shrugs and her mouth pulls into a hard line. “Not so amazing. He barely knows I exist.”
“Oh,” I say. I was so caught up in how romantic this all was that it hadn’t occurred to me he might not love her back. “Have you told him how you feel?”
“I can’t.”
Anger flares, a pressure in my chest. “That is such bullshit. If you love him, you should tell him. Especially if you gave up everything to be with him. He should know that.” No sooner are the words out of my mouth than my throat tightens. I’m such a hypocrite.
Her breathing isn’t quite even and I wonder if she’s going to cry. “It wouldn’t matter.”
I breathe deep and look at her. “You’re gorgeous. If he knew…”
She blushes. “He’s got bigger things to worry about at the moment.” Her gaze shifts to me for a second and there’s something dark there. “And I think he’s in love with someone else.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“It does,” she agrees, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
The rain picks up as she turns off the highway and weaves through the narrow streets of a quiet little town. The town seems mostly abandoned, probably because of the weather. We pull into a decrepit industrial area and she glides into a parking spot near a few other cars next to a rusty blue warehouse.
“This is it,” she says, her mood lifting.
We’re soaked when we burst through the steel door into the dimly lit space. It’s cavernous-nothing like the cosy studio back home. There are dirty mirrors on one wall with mats spread below them, and on the other side of the space bags hang from steel rafters. Despite the muggy summer heat outside, it’s freezing.
A well-built Asian man with broad shoulders and a limp approaches as we step deeper into the space. “Hope! You brought us fresh meat.” A grin spreads across his face and he pulls Hope into a bear hug.
She struggles against his grasp. His grin becomes playfully challenging. They twist and turn in some wild dance as she works herself free, and I hear her laughing. When she finally extricates herself a full minute later she turns to me, her face pink with exertion.
“Jason Black. Judo,” she says by way of introduction, and it takes me a second to remember that’s me.
The man looks me over. “Welcome to the jungle.”
Hope glances around the warehouse. “Pretty sparse today. Who do we have to put up against him?”
He shrugs and waves an arm toward the back corner. “Phil is warming up.”
“Be serious Sam. Phil is like, sixty or something.”
Sam cracks a huge grin. “Well, that leaves you or me.” He looks at me. “What level?”
“Sixth,” I say.
His eyes widen. “Black?”
I nod.
“Really…” He looks me up and down unbelieving, then a wily smile slips across his face. “Let’s put you up against Georgie.”
Hope looks around. “Who?”
“She’s new. Get warmed up,” he says, gesturing to the bags.
Hope watches Sam walk away. “Georgie.” She turns to me and shrugs. “Sounds pretty harmless.”
“I don’t want harmless,” I mutter. I’m really looking forward to kicking the shit out of someone. Too many days of pent-up frustration.
“We’ll see,” she says, hooking my arm and leading me to the mats.
We stretch and then head for the bags. For a minute I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. I’m having trouble finding my rhythm with the bag. But, little by little, it comes back to me and my body starts to move on its own. When I’m ready, I step away.
Hope turns from her bag. “You want to spar? To warm up for Georgie?”
“Sure,” I say.
We move to a small mat set apart from the others and stand in the middle. She bows and so do I.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Ready,” I say.
She crouches and circles around me, and I counter, in a defensive position, not sure what to expect. When she lashes out with a kick, I block it but I immediately know she’s no beginner. We continue to circle and I maintain my defensive stance and throw an occasional punch to feel her out. I keep my eyes open for her weakness. Everybody has one.
And then I see it.
She doesn’t stay low enough when she moves to her right. She circles to her left and throws a kick that grazes my ribs. I jump back but immediately regain my balance. She sends another punch in my direction and I block and drive her to her right with a kick to her hip. As she shuffles to her right I unleash another kick which she blocks, and follow immediately with a punch to her shoulder which connects, throwing her off balance. I use the opening to lunge and twist her into an arm lock, throwing her to the mat.
“Aww!” she cries. At first I’m afraid I’ve hurt her so let go. But when she rolls toward me, rage etching lines in her face, I realise it was a cry of frustration. She takes a deep breath and pulls herself to her feet. Her face softens as she raises her eyebrows. “You’re ready,” she pants. “Let’s find Sam.”
I grab my backpack and we head across the empty centre of the dank warehouse to the back corner, where there are three regulation-sized mats set up along the far wall. Two of them are occupied. An older guy with a belly spars with an athletic-looking dark-skinned woman in her thirties. Next to them, there’s no trace of Sam’s limp as he dances over the mat with a smaller man, exchanging blows. I stand for a minute, analysing their choices, and I watch the smaller man make his fatal mistake. Sam’s kick comes in low and fast and the smaller man isn’t able to deflect it. He loses focus-and his balance-just long enough for Sam to lunge in for the arm lock and slam him to the mat, pinning him.
“You’re up fresh meat,” he says as he releases the man under him.
I look around. “Me?”
“You,” he answers. “Georgie!”
I follow his gaze to see a deceptively tall woman in her early twenties saunter out of the shadows in the corner. She’s in the traditional loose black pants and a tight lycra top; showing off very impressive toned muscles, curly auburn hair, dark eyes, and intricate black tattooing in a web pattern all across her right shoulder and down her arm. She looks extremely formidable. And then it hits me.
“Suzie,” I whisper.
Summary: Our favourite tortured boys are back in this third and final instalment in which they try to outrun Hell.
Notes: See chapter 1 for disclaimer warnings and related info.
16
Just Warming Up
*~*
JACK
“How far is it?” I ask.
“About a half hour.” Hope clicks on the windshield wipers against the rain, pouring in sheets from the slate sky. They tap out a constant rhythm as we pull onto the weather-beaten road that leads from our little beach community to the main road.
I try not to stare as she skilfully navigates her worn-out Peugeot around potholes, but she’s the only Grigori I’ve met other than my father, and I can’t help wondering if there’s something I should notice. I never thought there was anything strange about my dad, well … other than his liking brussel sprouts. But now I know different.
“So … you’re Grigori?”
A smile tugs at her mouth. “I thought we already established that.”
For a while I don’t say anything. I have so many questions but I don’t want to seem nosy.
“Was there something you wanted to know?” she volunteers.
I look at her in time to see her glance in my direction.
“What’s it like?” I ask.
The gears grind as she downshifts and negotiates the narrow road. “What? Heaven?”
“No. What’s it like to fall?”
Her eyes shift to mine for a heartbeat, then she looks back out the windshield. “It’s … hard.”
“Why did you choose to become Grigori?”
“Because the alternative sucks.”
“But some angels choose it.”
She nods, her expression becoming solemn. “They do.”
“Did John tell you about my brother?” I ask, my chest tightening.
“Gray,” she says without looking at me.
“Did you know him?”
“No. We never met.” Her eyes flit to mine. “John said he was your guardian. That’s really unusual.”
I nod, then lean into the window, trying to find air through my closing throat. It was a mistake to bring this up. I’m totally torn between needing to know everything and being terrified of what I might find out.
Her hand is on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jack.”
I hunch for a moment longer, until I can breathe again. “I’m okay,” I say, pulling myself upright. “It’s just … I don’t understand why he would choose that.”
She shrugs. “It’s hard to think straight. First of all, it really hurts … losing our wings.” She grimaces with the memory. “And second, it’s hard to accept that if we stay on Earth we’ll lose almost all our power. The only thing that saved me was that I couldn’t imagine never returning.” She glances toward me. “When mortals think of fallen angels, they think we’ve fallen from Heaven, but really, we’ve fallen from His grace. That’s the unbearable part-and the part I want to earn back.”
I pick at some fuzz on the seat belt. “Is there any chance Gray could ever come back? Could he change his mind?” I don’t dare look at her, but I know by her hesitation that the answer is no.
“I’m really sorry Jack,” she says, her voice just audible over the beating wipers and pelting rain.
There’s a sharp pinch in my chest, and I wonder for a second if I’m having a heart attack. But it fades slowly. “I have to get him back,” I say.
I hate the sympathy in Hope’s face when I look at her. She turns back toward the road. “I’ve never heard of that happening before. Once an angel chooses Lucifer, there’s no reason He would let them go.”
“Just because you’ve never heard of it, doesn’t mean it can’t happen,” I say, thinking of Ianto.
She breathes deep. “What else?” she asks after a minute into the awkward silence, her voice full of false cheer.
I shrug and stare out the windshield. “Do you have to sleep?”
She laughs. “Yes.”
“But I saw you sitting in your window this morning, watching me.” I realise how accusatory that sounds only after it’s out of my mouth.
She pulls onto the main road and guns the engine, causing the rear wheels to lose traction on the wet pavement for a rotation. “It’s my job. When you were home, your father did the same thing.”
“He never sat outside watching my window!” I know this because Ianto did, and Dad wasn’t out there.
“No, but he was awake.”
I slump into the seat. “So, if you’re awake all night watching me, when do you sleep?”
“Mostly during the day, when you’re with John.”
I pick at a loose thread at the hem of my sweatshirt. “How does it work?”
“What?”
“My dad. And my mum. They’re together … married.” I’m not sure how to word what I’m trying to ask.
“So you want to know if we fall in love?”
“Yeah … and, I don’t know … how you’re so … human, I guess, that no one knows you’re really angel.”
Her face is serious and edged with sadness as she glances sideways at me. “We’re not angels, Jack. Not anymore.” She sighs and doesn’t say anything else for a long minute. “We do fall in love,” she finally offers. “Not all of us, but some of us.” She glances at me again. “It’s allowed.” Her eyes slide back to the road. “As far as the seeming human thing, we age slower than humans, but we still do age, and that’s how long we get to earn our wings back. If we haven’t earned them back within our Grigori life span, then we die and are judged as any mortal soul would be. But even if we’re judged worthy of Heaven, it’s a long haul in Purgatory first.”
I think about that for a moment. “What do you have to do to earn your wings back?”
“Something exceptionally celestial.”
“Like?”
She smirks at me, reminding me of Owen again. “If I knew that, I would have done it.”
“Oh,” I say, slumping deeper into my seat. “Have you ever been in love?” I blurt.
“That’s a little personal, don’t you think?” she snaps.
“Sorry.”
She stares out the windshield and her expression softens. “I am,” she says in a low tone. “It’s why I fell.”
I sit for a minute, stunned, but then I feel anger tighten my jaw. “They throw angels out of Heaven for being in love? That’s just wrong.”
“We are supposed to love man above all else. It is our directive.”
I shake my head. “Still, it doesn’t seem fair.” I glance at her. “It must be amazing though, to be so in love you’d give up Heaven to be together.”
She shrugs and her mouth pulls into a hard line. “Not so amazing. He barely knows I exist.”
“Oh,” I say. I was so caught up in how romantic this all was that it hadn’t occurred to me he might not love her back. “Have you told him how you feel?”
“I can’t.”
Anger flares, a pressure in my chest. “That is such bullshit. If you love him, you should tell him. Especially if you gave up everything to be with him. He should know that.” No sooner are the words out of my mouth than my throat tightens. I’m such a hypocrite.
Her breathing isn’t quite even and I wonder if she’s going to cry. “It wouldn’t matter.”
I breathe deep and look at her. “You’re gorgeous. If he knew…”
She blushes. “He’s got bigger things to worry about at the moment.” Her gaze shifts to me for a second and there’s something dark there. “And I think he’s in love with someone else.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“It does,” she agrees, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
The rain picks up as she turns off the highway and weaves through the narrow streets of a quiet little town. The town seems mostly abandoned, probably because of the weather. We pull into a decrepit industrial area and she glides into a parking spot near a few other cars next to a rusty blue warehouse.
“This is it,” she says, her mood lifting.
We’re soaked when we burst through the steel door into the dimly lit space. It’s cavernous-nothing like the cosy studio back home. There are dirty mirrors on one wall with mats spread below them, and on the other side of the space bags hang from steel rafters. Despite the muggy summer heat outside, it’s freezing.
A well-built Asian man with broad shoulders and a limp approaches as we step deeper into the space. “Hope! You brought us fresh meat.” A grin spreads across his face and he pulls Hope into a bear hug.
She struggles against his grasp. His grin becomes playfully challenging. They twist and turn in some wild dance as she works herself free, and I hear her laughing. When she finally extricates herself a full minute later she turns to me, her face pink with exertion.
“Jason Black. Judo,” she says by way of introduction, and it takes me a second to remember that’s me.
The man looks me over. “Welcome to the jungle.”
Hope glances around the warehouse. “Pretty sparse today. Who do we have to put up against him?”
He shrugs and waves an arm toward the back corner. “Phil is warming up.”
“Be serious Sam. Phil is like, sixty or something.”
Sam cracks a huge grin. “Well, that leaves you or me.” He looks at me. “What level?”
“Sixth,” I say.
His eyes widen. “Black?”
I nod.
“Really…” He looks me up and down unbelieving, then a wily smile slips across his face. “Let’s put you up against Georgie.”
Hope looks around. “Who?”
“She’s new. Get warmed up,” he says, gesturing to the bags.
Hope watches Sam walk away. “Georgie.” She turns to me and shrugs. “Sounds pretty harmless.”
“I don’t want harmless,” I mutter. I’m really looking forward to kicking the shit out of someone. Too many days of pent-up frustration.
“We’ll see,” she says, hooking my arm and leading me to the mats.
We stretch and then head for the bags. For a minute I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. I’m having trouble finding my rhythm with the bag. But, little by little, it comes back to me and my body starts to move on its own. When I’m ready, I step away.
Hope turns from her bag. “You want to spar? To warm up for Georgie?”
“Sure,” I say.
We move to a small mat set apart from the others and stand in the middle. She bows and so do I.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Ready,” I say.
She crouches and circles around me, and I counter, in a defensive position, not sure what to expect. When she lashes out with a kick, I block it but I immediately know she’s no beginner. We continue to circle and I maintain my defensive stance and throw an occasional punch to feel her out. I keep my eyes open for her weakness. Everybody has one.
And then I see it.
She doesn’t stay low enough when she moves to her right. She circles to her left and throws a kick that grazes my ribs. I jump back but immediately regain my balance. She sends another punch in my direction and I block and drive her to her right with a kick to her hip. As she shuffles to her right I unleash another kick which she blocks, and follow immediately with a punch to her shoulder which connects, throwing her off balance. I use the opening to lunge and twist her into an arm lock, throwing her to the mat.
“Aww!” she cries. At first I’m afraid I’ve hurt her so let go. But when she rolls toward me, rage etching lines in her face, I realise it was a cry of frustration. She takes a deep breath and pulls herself to her feet. Her face softens as she raises her eyebrows. “You’re ready,” she pants. “Let’s find Sam.”
I grab my backpack and we head across the empty centre of the dank warehouse to the back corner, where there are three regulation-sized mats set up along the far wall. Two of them are occupied. An older guy with a belly spars with an athletic-looking dark-skinned woman in her thirties. Next to them, there’s no trace of Sam’s limp as he dances over the mat with a smaller man, exchanging blows. I stand for a minute, analysing their choices, and I watch the smaller man make his fatal mistake. Sam’s kick comes in low and fast and the smaller man isn’t able to deflect it. He loses focus-and his balance-just long enough for Sam to lunge in for the arm lock and slam him to the mat, pinning him.
“You’re up fresh meat,” he says as he releases the man under him.
I look around. “Me?”
“You,” he answers. “Georgie!”
I follow his gaze to see a deceptively tall woman in her early twenties saunter out of the shadows in the corner. She’s in the traditional loose black pants and a tight lycra top; showing off very impressive toned muscles, curly auburn hair, dark eyes, and intricate black tattooing in a web pattern all across her right shoulder and down her arm. She looks extremely formidable. And then it hits me.
“Suzie,” I whisper.