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Title: Fools Rush In
Series: Quis Custodiet
Fandom: Castle, Supernatural (no canon knowledge necessary).
Genre: Angst, Mystery, Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cliffhanger.
Details: Slash, genre!crack, crossover, case!fic, AU, blasphemy, mythology abuse, spoilers.
Characters/Pairings: Castle―pre-Kevin Ryan/Javier Esposito, mentions of Kevin/Jenny and Javier/Lanie. Kate Beckett, Richard Castle. Supernatural―Bobby Singer, Claire Novak, Amelia Novak, mentions of others.
Wordcount: 3,286
Summary: When Javier Esposito went missing and the body of an unidentified woman was found in his apartment, Detective Kevin Ryan refused to believe the worst of his partner. Now, with the case threatening to go cold, he has embarked on his own investigation, determined to uncover the truth.
Notes: Early season 4 for Castle, and AU for season 6 of Supernatural, so spoilers up to there. Part of the "Quis Custodiet" AU crossover 'verse. Takes place a couple months after "'Aloha' Doesn't Mean 'Goodbye'" (SupernaturalxHawaii Five-0), but stands alone. In fact, I think this story is much better if read first.
Written for the July Ficathon on
ryanandesposito.
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Epilogue
Chapter Four
Kevin left the salvage yard around three o'clock, but he couldn't quite manage the drive back into town. Not immediately. He had to pull over to the side of the road for a moment, to stop and try to regain his bearings.
After Mr. Singer had dropped his bomb about Javier—about just how deeply his partner had been sucked in—Kevin hadn't been able to get much more out of him that was useful. Singer didn't know any sure way of getting in touch with Castiel or his "brothers", and their comings and goings were difficult to predict. The most the man could offer him was to pass along a message to his partner if he saw him again. Kevin had given Singer his number, asking him to call if he did, because as long as there was even a chance that Javier might pass through again Kevin wasn't going anywhere.
Singer had given his promise that he would do both. Kevin had thanked him. In spite of the obvious schism between what they each believed was reality, it seemed they had an understanding, and Kevin had to be content with that.
For now.
By the roadside, Kevin shut his eyes tight and tried to gain some measure of control over the thoughts tumbling frantically in his head. Now that he knew Javier was alive he had hope, yet at the same time Kevin was more worried about him than ever. Trying to resolve what he'd just learned with his understanding of his partner felt almost impossible. In the past, Javier had needled him mercilessly over his chronically lapsing Catholicism, though it wasn't that his partner had been an atheist, by any means. Javier had faith, after his own fashion, but he'd never had much patience for religion. It just made it that much harder for Kevin to imagine how his partner could have gotten caught up in—whatever the hell this really was.
There was always the possibility that the real situation wasn't anywhere close to what either Kevin or Singer thought it was. Or even if it was a case of the kind of bizarre religious zealotry Kevin feared it was, there was still the chance that Javier's reasons for becoming involved were wholly separate, perfectly rational, and entirely his own. Yet while Kevin left his mind optimistically open to other interpretations, the possibility that Javier had truly given in to some insane religious delusion was still one that Kevin had to be prepared to accept...
And regardless of Javier's motives and mind, there was still his possible involvement in the death of the woman found in his apartment to consider.
Kevin came down on that thought hard, crushing it before it was more than just the whisper of suggestion. No. As turned around as he was, the one thing that Kevin still knew for certain was that Javier Esposito was not a murderer. Nothing—in Heaven or on Earth—would change that fact, and Kevin had come way too far to start doubting it now.
When he finally pulled back onto the road, Kevin felt like he was operating in a haze. What little rest he'd managed to grab while waiting on Claire's call in Chicago had been short and fitful, and he couldn't even remember what he last ate. He was already running on fumes, both physically and mentally, and with his interview with Singer behind him, Kevin felt like he was on the edge of collapse. It had taken him a few hours to finally begin to wrap his head around the things the older man had told him, and actually integrating them into any sort of rational conclusion was still a far-off goal...
But Kevin was finally ready to admit that, if he continued to go on as he had been, pretty soon he would have nothing left.
The sun had nearly sunk past the horizon by the time he made it back to his motel, intent on refueling himself in all ways it was possible. Having committed himself to momentary strategic retreat, the thought of sleep beckoned to him cruelly, but there were still other considerations that had to come first.
"He's alive, Kate," was how he opened the call, dialed before he even got out of the car. Kevin felt beat to hell and back, and everything else could wait, but Kate at least deserved to know what he'd found.
"You need to come home, Kevin," Kate said almost immediately, pleading with him, however firmly. "Please. Jenny's been worried sick about you. "
"Did you even hear me? Javier's alive, and I don't know what the crap is going on, but he's in trouble and he needs my help."
Because he hardly knew up from down right now—his logical mind still desperately sorting, still at war with everything his instincts were telling him about Robert Singer—but he still held on firmly to those simple facts. If Javier was alive, then Kevin could find him, and when he did he would do anything possible to bring his partner back.
"Kevin—"
"Don't, Kate...please don't," Kevin interrupted her, not even bothering to keep out of his tone that he was begging. "Don't ask me to come home. Not right now. We can't just give up on him, and I'm not going to walk away. I can't, not when I'm this close..."
Over the line, Kevin heard her take a slow breath, he could imagine the sympathy in her expression. She understood better than anyone did, he knew. It couldn't have been easy for her to ask, because he was sure she'd imagined what she might have done if their places were exchanged. Whether she could have resisted the temptation or gone off chasing her own ghosts.
"I haven't given up on him, Kevin," she said, "But if you've found some new evidence, you need to turn it over to someone else. What you're doing isn't healthy."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Kevin asked, letting out a weak laugh. "I mean...hell, Becks, I think I passed over into crazy a long time ago."
Because he was more than aware that it wasn't. He knew he was obsessed, was capable of recognizing that much, but at the moment it was difficult for him to care. Though he did regret the worry he was putting her through—her, and Jenny, and everyone he knew—and maybe she was even right. But Kevin had made up his mind the moment he'd boarded that plane to Chicago.
He wouldn't be turned away now.
Kevin never got the chance to hear what she had to say in reply to that, though. He had only just stepped through the door into his room and turned on the lights when he found himself shoved up against the wall. Hot bands of pressure closed around his chest and throat, and the pain dropped the phone from his hands. He struggled, helpless in his panic when couldn't tell exactly what it was he struggled against—for all appearances, there was nothing.
Disoriented and fighting for breath, it took him a while to notice that he wasn't alone. There were three people standing in front of him, two rough-looking men and a dark-haired young woman in her twenties. The men stood behind her, and both were smirking in a way that told Kevin nothing good. The woman was examining him thoughtfully, mouth stretched with a sweet smile.
Somehow, he found it in himself to like that even less.
"Singer's house is locked up tighter than a virgin's knees," the woman said as she walked up to him, tilting her head speculatively, "He let you in, though. I want to know why."
Stepping into his space, she reached up to run her fingers through his hair as she leaned in with a smirk.
"If he let you in once, he might be willing to do it again," she said, "And I want to be there if he does."
Something about her, about all three of them, had made Kevin's skin crawl instinctively, but this close she smelled of carrion, and ash, and sulfur. She stroked his scalp gently. The gesture was alarmingly proprietary, and Kevin found himself uselessly fighting the unseen bonds that held him to try and escape her touch. Though all it earned him was a soft laugh, and she leaned in, dragging her tongue across his cheek.
"Mm," she purred with a smirk, amused with his disgust. "You're a good boy, Kevin, I can tell. Catholic?"
She favored him with a bright smile.
"Catholics always taste like guilt. I bet it gets tiresome being so good all the time. Might take me a few hours to break you..."
"Who are you?" Kevin asked, finally finding the strength through his confusion to bring his panicked thoughts together.
Another question begged in the back of his mind, but right now he was too afraid of the answer.
"Oh, darlin'," she offered sweetly, "names don't really matter when I'm just going to take yours."
And, as she looked him over appraisingly, Kevin's thoughts turned traitorously frantic again as between one blink and the next her eyes changed to an unnatural, bottomless pitch black.
"Not my preferred fashion," she said, lifting a finger to sweep a lock of hair back from his forehead. Frozen in his shock, Kevin could only stare. "Might take a little tailoring, but I've made exceptions before."
Her grip tightened painfully around a handful of his hair as she yanked him toward her.
"We're going to have a lot of fun together."
Kevin's heart was hammering in his chest with a fear that was beyond categorization. There was no logic that could meet this, reason could not fight it, and it left him feeling utterly helpless. Yet, though it was unendingly frightening, that helplessness turned out to be his salvation. As logic and reason fled, what it left behind was the memory of that first, raw hint at something else, so subtle he hadn't even known it was there. That glimpse of the real pain and bitter resentment in Claire Novak's very serious, very not-innocent eyes as she had first advised him to seek an angel for guidance.
He's an angel, she had said, he can hear it when you pray.
And the thought that next passed through his mind wasn't a prayer, exactly. It was practically formless, terrified and desperate, and consisted of only a single word... Please. But it must have been enough—or close enough—because it was very quickly answered.
One of the men standing watch stiffened suddenly as white-hot light began to pour out of his eyes and mouth, face contorting with agony as he was lit up from the inside. The room was flooded with the smell of ozone, and the air itself felt charged. Then the man sagged, dropping bonelessly to the floor. The woman and her remaining companion both turned to see, and Kevin's eyes widened at the sight of the man who had suddenly appeared behind them.
Javier ducked under the swing of the second man as he lunged, and he used the man's momentum to spin his opponent around in front of him, locking a hand around his throat. And, just like with the first, the man's eyes and mouth lit up with a brilliance that made Kevin's eyes water, and he too collapsed to the floor. Javier's face was nearly expressionless as he turned to face Kevin and the woman, and as Javier stepped forward, she took a step backward.
"Not even worth it," she said, shaking her head.
Then she tipped her head back, and her mouth opened wide. A torrent of blackness—like smoke, like oil, like a swarm of flies, only thicker and impossibly more noisome—burst fourth from her throat. It swarmed across the ceiling, roiling angrily like a storm before it dissipated, and when it did she too fell to the floor, lifeless. And finally, the invisible force that had held Kevin in place vanished, and the weight of all his fear, all his shock and exhaustion dropped him to his knees.
It took him several seconds to pull himself together, to wrestle some control over his breathing and the shaking of his limbs. Once he had, once he finally managed to look up, he had half expected Javier to be gone as well.
He wasn't.
When Kevin finally looked Javier still stood there, watching him quietly with the same expressionless face he had worn during the short-lived battle. For several moments Kevin could only stare back in disbelief—for no greater reason than simple fact that it was Javier, that his partner was there, standing in front of him. In a very distant corner of his mind, Kevin was relieved to see that his partner looked...well. But he also noticed that Javier was wearing the same clothes Kevin remembered seeing at work the day his partner had disappeared, and for a moment he wondered if what he was seeing was even real. And Javier seemed content to merely stare at him, eyes devoid of anything to suggest his partner even saw him—eyes which almost seemed to look through him, as if he wasn't there at all.
And of course Kevin broke first. Anything else would have been like dropping a glass and expecting the floor to shatter.
"Javier?"
Kevin hated the way his voice shook as he spoke his partner's name. Still on his knees, Kevin had to press his hands into fists against his chest to stop himself from reaching out. From touching him, if only to prove that he was real. Because Kevin didn't think he could handle it if this were a dream.
His partner's mouth lifted with a slight smirk, though it didn't meet his eyes. Kevin thought they seemed empty in a way that felt even less human than the black ones that had been devouring him before.
"Close enough," was his answer.
Kevin swallowed against the dread that stirred queasily his stomach.
"Chazaqiel," Kevin said, the name bitter and alien on his tongue.
And when the other—the angel—inclined his head, the subtle acknowledgment left Kevin chilled. And though not a single day had passed over the past three months in which Kevin hadn't dreamed about seeing his partner again, he had to look away. Because the understanding was slowly dawning on him that he wasn't seeing him now...
That it really wasn't Javier standing in front of him. Not anymore.
"You shouldn't be here," Chazaqiel said.
And though nearly emotionless, his voice was almost the same—almost Javier's—and the nearness was painful enough that Kevin's eyes stung with frustrated tears.
"Yeah," Kevin managed dully, the word followed by a faint, helpless laugh. "Yeah, you're probably right."
Kevin didn't want to look back, but when no response came, the silence was so complete that he could have been alone. When he dragged his eyes back, Chazaqiel still looked down on him with a stillness that was impossible for Kevin to classify. Patient, expectant perhaps, as if waiting for something, though it could as easily have been amusement or boredom for all he knew. But whatever it was, the attention was beginning to fray Kevin's nerves.
"So it's true," he said finally, more to fill the void of silence with something human than for any other reason, "Everything Singer said about war in Heaven and angels trying to restart the Apocalypse. About..."
An analogy begged inanely at the edge of his mind, and he let out a dazed snort.
"About divine police forced to turn in gun and badge. All that was true."
Though from the way Singer had described it, the way he described angels and the manner of the one that stood in front of him, Kevin was beginning to suspect a truer metaphor would have been to call them zookeepers.
"Go home, Kevin," Chazaqiel told him.
Though clearly unmoved by Kevin's poor joke, his voice was soft. It was Kevin's first confirmation that the angel even knew him, and it hurt enough that the tears he had somehow managed to hold back finally escaped his control. A heavy weight hung on his heart, like loss, yet as hopeless as it all felt, Kevin refused to let himself feel defeated. He had come this far. Too far. His faith—his faith in Javier—was being tested, and he would not falter.
"No," he said, his voice firm despite the shudder the breath that had preceded it. He shook his head.
"No," Kevin said again, and finally he found the strength to stand. He forced himself to look the angel in the eye, not even knowing if it was safe, but far beyond caring.
"I think the wheels are about as off as they're going to get," the angel warned, clearly knowing what Kevin intended.
And it clearly was a warning, though one Kevin consciously, dangerously, stubbornly chose to ignore.
"I'm your partner," Kevin insisted flatly.
For the first time something like emotion decided to cross the angel's features. His expression darkened noticeably, and when he spoke there was a definite edge to his voice. Angry, yet if it had truly been Javier Kevin might have thought he heard something pleading in it as well.
"Exactly what part of this is your tiny primate brain not understanding?" Chazaqiel asked him. "We are engaged in a war against enemies intent on scraping human civilization off of Heaven's collective shoe. I don't have time for you now. There is nothing you can do. Go back to New York. Go back to Jenny. Forget me. Let them pack up the case, get married and move on with your life."
It stung, it stung so deeply that for a moment Kevin couldn't even breathe, but Kevin would be damned—literally, for all he cared—before he let himself crumple again.
"How can I even think about getting married when—"
When he might never see Javier again?
"When the world might just end?" He finally managed, though it was funny how equal those two fears felt at that moment.
Chazaqiel was quiet a moment, and when he spoke he didn't answer the question Kevin asked, but the one he'd thought.
"Maybe you'll see me again, maybe you won't," he said, pausing briefly, as if considering. When he spoke again, his voice had turned soft, "I've got a joker up my sleeve, Kev, but it's going to have to wait."
And maybe it was hearing the angel use the word me as if he actually were Javier, maybe it was the strange analogy and the promise it seemed to hold, or the familiar use of Kevin's name, or perhaps it was simply that his expression, while pitying, at least showed that something was there. Kevin wasn't entirely sure what he was thinking when he did it, but for a moment it was almost enough for him to believe it really was Javier standing there, and before he realized it he'd reached out to grab Chazaqiel's arm. The limb was as unyielding as the arm of a statue, the expression the angel returned infuriatingly unreadable, and Kevin would almost certainly never know what he was thinking when he used that immovable leverage to pull himself closer.
Kevin thought he surprised them both with the kiss—though he was even more surprised when he felt the angel respond. But while his lips were warm and soft, the kiss itself was cold and utterly vacant. It felt achingly like a tease. Tears threatened again, and Kevin heard himself whisper another prayer against the angel's lips.
"Please..."
Please don't leave. Please give him back.
And then there was a rushing sound that obliterated everything. Suddenly the angel was gone. Just as suddenly what little strength Kevin still had chose to abandon him. His legs went out from underneath him and he pitched backward, and it was only when he fell sitting onto something soft that he realized his surroundings had changed. Not content with merely leaving him behind where he might still pursue things further, it seemed Chazaqiel had decided take the choice out of Kevin's hands entirely...
In less than a heartbeat, Kevin had been returned to New York, and to the familiar, empty sanctity of his own apartment.
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Epilogue
Series: Quis Custodiet
Fandom: Castle, Supernatural (no canon knowledge necessary).
Genre: Angst, Mystery, Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cliffhanger.
Details: Slash, genre!crack, crossover, case!fic, AU, blasphemy, mythology abuse, spoilers.
Characters/Pairings: Castle―pre-Kevin Ryan/Javier Esposito, mentions of Kevin/Jenny and Javier/Lanie. Kate Beckett, Richard Castle. Supernatural―Bobby Singer, Claire Novak, Amelia Novak, mentions of others.
Wordcount: 3,286
Summary: When Javier Esposito went missing and the body of an unidentified woman was found in his apartment, Detective Kevin Ryan refused to believe the worst of his partner. Now, with the case threatening to go cold, he has embarked on his own investigation, determined to uncover the truth.
Notes: Early season 4 for Castle, and AU for season 6 of Supernatural, so spoilers up to there. Part of the "Quis Custodiet" AU crossover 'verse. Takes place a couple months after "'Aloha' Doesn't Mean 'Goodbye'" (SupernaturalxHawaii Five-0), but stands alone. In fact, I think this story is much better if read first.
Written for the July Ficathon on
ryanandesposito.Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Epilogue
Chapter Four
Kevin left the salvage yard around three o'clock, but he couldn't quite manage the drive back into town. Not immediately. He had to pull over to the side of the road for a moment, to stop and try to regain his bearings.
After Mr. Singer had dropped his bomb about Javier—about just how deeply his partner had been sucked in—Kevin hadn't been able to get much more out of him that was useful. Singer didn't know any sure way of getting in touch with Castiel or his "brothers", and their comings and goings were difficult to predict. The most the man could offer him was to pass along a message to his partner if he saw him again. Kevin had given Singer his number, asking him to call if he did, because as long as there was even a chance that Javier might pass through again Kevin wasn't going anywhere.
Singer had given his promise that he would do both. Kevin had thanked him. In spite of the obvious schism between what they each believed was reality, it seemed they had an understanding, and Kevin had to be content with that.
For now.
By the roadside, Kevin shut his eyes tight and tried to gain some measure of control over the thoughts tumbling frantically in his head. Now that he knew Javier was alive he had hope, yet at the same time Kevin was more worried about him than ever. Trying to resolve what he'd just learned with his understanding of his partner felt almost impossible. In the past, Javier had needled him mercilessly over his chronically lapsing Catholicism, though it wasn't that his partner had been an atheist, by any means. Javier had faith, after his own fashion, but he'd never had much patience for religion. It just made it that much harder for Kevin to imagine how his partner could have gotten caught up in—whatever the hell this really was.
There was always the possibility that the real situation wasn't anywhere close to what either Kevin or Singer thought it was. Or even if it was a case of the kind of bizarre religious zealotry Kevin feared it was, there was still the chance that Javier's reasons for becoming involved were wholly separate, perfectly rational, and entirely his own. Yet while Kevin left his mind optimistically open to other interpretations, the possibility that Javier had truly given in to some insane religious delusion was still one that Kevin had to be prepared to accept...
And regardless of Javier's motives and mind, there was still his possible involvement in the death of the woman found in his apartment to consider.
Kevin came down on that thought hard, crushing it before it was more than just the whisper of suggestion. No. As turned around as he was, the one thing that Kevin still knew for certain was that Javier Esposito was not a murderer. Nothing—in Heaven or on Earth—would change that fact, and Kevin had come way too far to start doubting it now.
When he finally pulled back onto the road, Kevin felt like he was operating in a haze. What little rest he'd managed to grab while waiting on Claire's call in Chicago had been short and fitful, and he couldn't even remember what he last ate. He was already running on fumes, both physically and mentally, and with his interview with Singer behind him, Kevin felt like he was on the edge of collapse. It had taken him a few hours to finally begin to wrap his head around the things the older man had told him, and actually integrating them into any sort of rational conclusion was still a far-off goal...
But Kevin was finally ready to admit that, if he continued to go on as he had been, pretty soon he would have nothing left.
The sun had nearly sunk past the horizon by the time he made it back to his motel, intent on refueling himself in all ways it was possible. Having committed himself to momentary strategic retreat, the thought of sleep beckoned to him cruelly, but there were still other considerations that had to come first.
"He's alive, Kate," was how he opened the call, dialed before he even got out of the car. Kevin felt beat to hell and back, and everything else could wait, but Kate at least deserved to know what he'd found.
"You need to come home, Kevin," Kate said almost immediately, pleading with him, however firmly. "Please. Jenny's been worried sick about you. "
"Did you even hear me? Javier's alive, and I don't know what the crap is going on, but he's in trouble and he needs my help."
Because he hardly knew up from down right now—his logical mind still desperately sorting, still at war with everything his instincts were telling him about Robert Singer—but he still held on firmly to those simple facts. If Javier was alive, then Kevin could find him, and when he did he would do anything possible to bring his partner back.
"Kevin—"
"Don't, Kate...please don't," Kevin interrupted her, not even bothering to keep out of his tone that he was begging. "Don't ask me to come home. Not right now. We can't just give up on him, and I'm not going to walk away. I can't, not when I'm this close..."
Over the line, Kevin heard her take a slow breath, he could imagine the sympathy in her expression. She understood better than anyone did, he knew. It couldn't have been easy for her to ask, because he was sure she'd imagined what she might have done if their places were exchanged. Whether she could have resisted the temptation or gone off chasing her own ghosts.
"I haven't given up on him, Kevin," she said, "But if you've found some new evidence, you need to turn it over to someone else. What you're doing isn't healthy."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Kevin asked, letting out a weak laugh. "I mean...hell, Becks, I think I passed over into crazy a long time ago."
Because he was more than aware that it wasn't. He knew he was obsessed, was capable of recognizing that much, but at the moment it was difficult for him to care. Though he did regret the worry he was putting her through—her, and Jenny, and everyone he knew—and maybe she was even right. But Kevin had made up his mind the moment he'd boarded that plane to Chicago.
He wouldn't be turned away now.
Kevin never got the chance to hear what she had to say in reply to that, though. He had only just stepped through the door into his room and turned on the lights when he found himself shoved up against the wall. Hot bands of pressure closed around his chest and throat, and the pain dropped the phone from his hands. He struggled, helpless in his panic when couldn't tell exactly what it was he struggled against—for all appearances, there was nothing.
Disoriented and fighting for breath, it took him a while to notice that he wasn't alone. There were three people standing in front of him, two rough-looking men and a dark-haired young woman in her twenties. The men stood behind her, and both were smirking in a way that told Kevin nothing good. The woman was examining him thoughtfully, mouth stretched with a sweet smile.
Somehow, he found it in himself to like that even less.
"Singer's house is locked up tighter than a virgin's knees," the woman said as she walked up to him, tilting her head speculatively, "He let you in, though. I want to know why."
Stepping into his space, she reached up to run her fingers through his hair as she leaned in with a smirk.
"If he let you in once, he might be willing to do it again," she said, "And I want to be there if he does."
Something about her, about all three of them, had made Kevin's skin crawl instinctively, but this close she smelled of carrion, and ash, and sulfur. She stroked his scalp gently. The gesture was alarmingly proprietary, and Kevin found himself uselessly fighting the unseen bonds that held him to try and escape her touch. Though all it earned him was a soft laugh, and she leaned in, dragging her tongue across his cheek.
"Mm," she purred with a smirk, amused with his disgust. "You're a good boy, Kevin, I can tell. Catholic?"
She favored him with a bright smile.
"Catholics always taste like guilt. I bet it gets tiresome being so good all the time. Might take me a few hours to break you..."
"Who are you?" Kevin asked, finally finding the strength through his confusion to bring his panicked thoughts together.
Another question begged in the back of his mind, but right now he was too afraid of the answer.
"Oh, darlin'," she offered sweetly, "names don't really matter when I'm just going to take yours."
And, as she looked him over appraisingly, Kevin's thoughts turned traitorously frantic again as between one blink and the next her eyes changed to an unnatural, bottomless pitch black.
"Not my preferred fashion," she said, lifting a finger to sweep a lock of hair back from his forehead. Frozen in his shock, Kevin could only stare. "Might take a little tailoring, but I've made exceptions before."
Her grip tightened painfully around a handful of his hair as she yanked him toward her.
"We're going to have a lot of fun together."
Kevin's heart was hammering in his chest with a fear that was beyond categorization. There was no logic that could meet this, reason could not fight it, and it left him feeling utterly helpless. Yet, though it was unendingly frightening, that helplessness turned out to be his salvation. As logic and reason fled, what it left behind was the memory of that first, raw hint at something else, so subtle he hadn't even known it was there. That glimpse of the real pain and bitter resentment in Claire Novak's very serious, very not-innocent eyes as she had first advised him to seek an angel for guidance.
He's an angel, she had said, he can hear it when you pray.
And the thought that next passed through his mind wasn't a prayer, exactly. It was practically formless, terrified and desperate, and consisted of only a single word... Please. But it must have been enough—or close enough—because it was very quickly answered.
One of the men standing watch stiffened suddenly as white-hot light began to pour out of his eyes and mouth, face contorting with agony as he was lit up from the inside. The room was flooded with the smell of ozone, and the air itself felt charged. Then the man sagged, dropping bonelessly to the floor. The woman and her remaining companion both turned to see, and Kevin's eyes widened at the sight of the man who had suddenly appeared behind them.
Javier ducked under the swing of the second man as he lunged, and he used the man's momentum to spin his opponent around in front of him, locking a hand around his throat. And, just like with the first, the man's eyes and mouth lit up with a brilliance that made Kevin's eyes water, and he too collapsed to the floor. Javier's face was nearly expressionless as he turned to face Kevin and the woman, and as Javier stepped forward, she took a step backward.
"Not even worth it," she said, shaking her head.
Then she tipped her head back, and her mouth opened wide. A torrent of blackness—like smoke, like oil, like a swarm of flies, only thicker and impossibly more noisome—burst fourth from her throat. It swarmed across the ceiling, roiling angrily like a storm before it dissipated, and when it did she too fell to the floor, lifeless. And finally, the invisible force that had held Kevin in place vanished, and the weight of all his fear, all his shock and exhaustion dropped him to his knees.
It took him several seconds to pull himself together, to wrestle some control over his breathing and the shaking of his limbs. Once he had, once he finally managed to look up, he had half expected Javier to be gone as well.
He wasn't.
When Kevin finally looked Javier still stood there, watching him quietly with the same expressionless face he had worn during the short-lived battle. For several moments Kevin could only stare back in disbelief—for no greater reason than simple fact that it was Javier, that his partner was there, standing in front of him. In a very distant corner of his mind, Kevin was relieved to see that his partner looked...well. But he also noticed that Javier was wearing the same clothes Kevin remembered seeing at work the day his partner had disappeared, and for a moment he wondered if what he was seeing was even real. And Javier seemed content to merely stare at him, eyes devoid of anything to suggest his partner even saw him—eyes which almost seemed to look through him, as if he wasn't there at all.
And of course Kevin broke first. Anything else would have been like dropping a glass and expecting the floor to shatter.
"Javier?"
Kevin hated the way his voice shook as he spoke his partner's name. Still on his knees, Kevin had to press his hands into fists against his chest to stop himself from reaching out. From touching him, if only to prove that he was real. Because Kevin didn't think he could handle it if this were a dream.
His partner's mouth lifted with a slight smirk, though it didn't meet his eyes. Kevin thought they seemed empty in a way that felt even less human than the black ones that had been devouring him before.
"Close enough," was his answer.
Kevin swallowed against the dread that stirred queasily his stomach.
"Chazaqiel," Kevin said, the name bitter and alien on his tongue.
And when the other—the angel—inclined his head, the subtle acknowledgment left Kevin chilled. And though not a single day had passed over the past three months in which Kevin hadn't dreamed about seeing his partner again, he had to look away. Because the understanding was slowly dawning on him that he wasn't seeing him now...
That it really wasn't Javier standing in front of him. Not anymore.
"You shouldn't be here," Chazaqiel said.
And though nearly emotionless, his voice was almost the same—almost Javier's—and the nearness was painful enough that Kevin's eyes stung with frustrated tears.
"Yeah," Kevin managed dully, the word followed by a faint, helpless laugh. "Yeah, you're probably right."
Kevin didn't want to look back, but when no response came, the silence was so complete that he could have been alone. When he dragged his eyes back, Chazaqiel still looked down on him with a stillness that was impossible for Kevin to classify. Patient, expectant perhaps, as if waiting for something, though it could as easily have been amusement or boredom for all he knew. But whatever it was, the attention was beginning to fray Kevin's nerves.
"So it's true," he said finally, more to fill the void of silence with something human than for any other reason, "Everything Singer said about war in Heaven and angels trying to restart the Apocalypse. About..."
An analogy begged inanely at the edge of his mind, and he let out a dazed snort.
"About divine police forced to turn in gun and badge. All that was true."
Though from the way Singer had described it, the way he described angels and the manner of the one that stood in front of him, Kevin was beginning to suspect a truer metaphor would have been to call them zookeepers.
"Go home, Kevin," Chazaqiel told him.
Though clearly unmoved by Kevin's poor joke, his voice was soft. It was Kevin's first confirmation that the angel even knew him, and it hurt enough that the tears he had somehow managed to hold back finally escaped his control. A heavy weight hung on his heart, like loss, yet as hopeless as it all felt, Kevin refused to let himself feel defeated. He had come this far. Too far. His faith—his faith in Javier—was being tested, and he would not falter.
"No," he said, his voice firm despite the shudder the breath that had preceded it. He shook his head.
"No," Kevin said again, and finally he found the strength to stand. He forced himself to look the angel in the eye, not even knowing if it was safe, but far beyond caring.
"I think the wheels are about as off as they're going to get," the angel warned, clearly knowing what Kevin intended.
And it clearly was a warning, though one Kevin consciously, dangerously, stubbornly chose to ignore.
"I'm your partner," Kevin insisted flatly.
For the first time something like emotion decided to cross the angel's features. His expression darkened noticeably, and when he spoke there was a definite edge to his voice. Angry, yet if it had truly been Javier Kevin might have thought he heard something pleading in it as well.
"Exactly what part of this is your tiny primate brain not understanding?" Chazaqiel asked him. "We are engaged in a war against enemies intent on scraping human civilization off of Heaven's collective shoe. I don't have time for you now. There is nothing you can do. Go back to New York. Go back to Jenny. Forget me. Let them pack up the case, get married and move on with your life."
It stung, it stung so deeply that for a moment Kevin couldn't even breathe, but Kevin would be damned—literally, for all he cared—before he let himself crumple again.
"How can I even think about getting married when—"
When he might never see Javier again?
"When the world might just end?" He finally managed, though it was funny how equal those two fears felt at that moment.
Chazaqiel was quiet a moment, and when he spoke he didn't answer the question Kevin asked, but the one he'd thought.
"Maybe you'll see me again, maybe you won't," he said, pausing briefly, as if considering. When he spoke again, his voice had turned soft, "I've got a joker up my sleeve, Kev, but it's going to have to wait."
And maybe it was hearing the angel use the word me as if he actually were Javier, maybe it was the strange analogy and the promise it seemed to hold, or the familiar use of Kevin's name, or perhaps it was simply that his expression, while pitying, at least showed that something was there. Kevin wasn't entirely sure what he was thinking when he did it, but for a moment it was almost enough for him to believe it really was Javier standing there, and before he realized it he'd reached out to grab Chazaqiel's arm. The limb was as unyielding as the arm of a statue, the expression the angel returned infuriatingly unreadable, and Kevin would almost certainly never know what he was thinking when he used that immovable leverage to pull himself closer.
Kevin thought he surprised them both with the kiss—though he was even more surprised when he felt the angel respond. But while his lips were warm and soft, the kiss itself was cold and utterly vacant. It felt achingly like a tease. Tears threatened again, and Kevin heard himself whisper another prayer against the angel's lips.
"Please..."
Please don't leave. Please give him back.
And then there was a rushing sound that obliterated everything. Suddenly the angel was gone. Just as suddenly what little strength Kevin still had chose to abandon him. His legs went out from underneath him and he pitched backward, and it was only when he fell sitting onto something soft that he realized his surroundings had changed. Not content with merely leaving him behind where he might still pursue things further, it seemed Chazaqiel had decided take the choice out of Kevin's hands entirely...
In less than a heartbeat, Kevin had been returned to New York, and to the familiar, empty sanctity of his own apartment.
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Epilogue
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: Sunday, 8 July 2012 04:46 pm (UTC)From:Seriously, I hope we get to have some form of resolution in tte next part abd its not one of those fics of yours that makes every situation bad, then worse and the suspence drag longer than you think you can stand before you get some answers or at least sth to soothe your burns.
Then again. Those are so damn good too.
Argh! Going all this way to get beamed back home! The frustration!
But hope, too. I like it when guys like those have something up their sleeve.
On to the Epilogue!
(you should check that part, i noticed two mistakes. On in the order of the words "his soft das voice" I think. And Javier "answered the question Kevin had answered" instead of "asked", I believe.)
no subject
Date: Sunday, 8 July 2012 04:55 pm (UTC)From:I really hope the ending of this one isn't super frustrating. Though at least, it shouldn't be any more frustrating than the end of Aloha.