Michael. It was easy to forget everything when he was there. In every cycle, he was her constant. So many lives lived together, this one probably the hardest of them all. So many names So many memories. So much of everything. But underneath everything - all the different names, sometimes even titles, the different places they had lived - one thing remained the same. He was Michael. And she was Gabrielle. And as long as they held onto that, nothing else mattered. They had defied every odd thrown at them. Loved each other enough to fall together - and to remain together when so many around them had fallen out of place, learnt to hate what had been made for them. The ‘I love yous’ she would always whisper were nothing less than genuine. Their reunion was the happiest moment of her life, the bonding ceremony a close second, the moment he was ripped apart from her the worst. “Nope, was definitely your fault.”
There was spring in his step - literally. This was not the Roan she had been living with these past few weeks. He had held the weight of the world upon his shoulders, worked long hours, blamed himself for every species wide failure. This was the Roan who believed in rebirth, in the potential of the future and the belief that wrongs could be righted and that good could win. It was the Roan who inspired her, rather than the one who could make her afraid. She could draw strength from him, lean when she was weak. And she always felt so weak. “Don’t worry about it. We’re here now.” Ellie replied, subconsciously touching the ring on her fourth finger. Marriage seemed so trivial now - what with everything that had happened. But perhaps there was a certain beauty to it after all.
She still remembered that night. It had been their first official event together - in this lifetime at least. She had been in the process of remembering him, some details were blurry, others crystal clear. In all honesty, he had just been the guy a couple of years older than her who tried to flirt with her friends too much. But by the end, she trusted him, even without knowing who he truly was. He had made her laugh, forced her to forget all the confusion and responsibility - told her to act her age. She had been seventeen, a blushing girl, in the first stems of love. Ten years later - who had they become? Duller, unhappier versions of themselves? She refused to accept that. She might serve as the light to her people, but Michael was her light. “And you nearly got yourself thrown out. You were lucky I was there.” She laughed. God - it felt good to laugh. “You better show this a girl a good time.” She teased, wrapping her arms around him and leaning in to place a peck on his lips.
Roan smiled at her laughter, smiled at their intimate moment. Michael fell from Heaven with her to live an eternity of these moments, and yet darkness and loss and trial so frequently interrupted their time together. “I’m always lucky you’re there.” Roan replied softly, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her in and pressing his kips to her shoulder. This was what they deserved: a senseless happiness. They had selflessly fallen from Heaven (at Gabrielle’s prompting), to be granted the responsibility of leading home their fallen brothers and sisters which turned to burden as cycle by cycle, they failed. He pulled away slightly, his arms not loosening, to look at her playfully, still smiling. “Have I ever, in however many years, failed to show you a good time? When I’m supposed to.” Other than the 400 Ball, he wanted to tack on the end. A night jovial in the past, turned into a horror that apparently still haunted Lincoln. They had a love that many blue bloods both admired and detested, that much he knew. Those who had lost their own bonded abhorred their gentle touches, the secret stories and emotions and understanding that they shared simply by being who they are. And with every passing cycle, Roan became even more assured that one day Gabrielle would be taken from him and thrown into the abyss where he imagined all lost fallen angels live out eternity.
He brought one of her hands down from around his neck and took it in his own with a light squeeze. “Ring toss? I really feel like now that I’m 30 that this year’s going to be my year.” For longer than Roan knew that he was a stagnant leader of an ancient species, he’d been trying to beat the ring toss, and every year at least one of the three rings doesn’t make it over the stick (though usually two or three didn’t make it), and every year Ellie has to hear about how sure he is that the game is rigged, of his delusions of grandeur concerning the trick... their first carnival together he’d told her he’d win her a plush teddy. But he’d not managed it, and now ten years later he’s not sure that he wants to give her whatever stuffed animal it is he one day wins.
“Unless you want to get a drink on the way? Hydrate up, maybe a bit of alcohol would improve my ability to beat their crooked odds, who knows.” Roan began to walk, his hand still clasping Ellie’s, and he couldn’t help but smile. If their first few hundred years hadn’t been ruled so heavily by advisors more of their lives on earth could have been like this moment.
