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here comes the first step

Is this really all that there is for us?

Adam sighs, resting his head against the frame of the car. His coworker spares him a glance before heading back under the car. Adam can hear the sound of a blowtorch as a part is heated to force it to form a new shape. Much like how he and Michael were heated to fit into their new life, he thinks.

We were not heated, Adam Milligan. We were abandoned.

“You’d think an angel that was several billions of years old wouldn’t be hit so hard by an identity change,” Adam murmurs under his breath as he lowers his face shield.

His words are met with stony silence as Michael contemplates. Adam knows enough after tens of centuries in the cage that Michael needs to think. Housing the archangel inside his mind is easier than he thought it would be, in the end. There is nothing left for Michael, not anymore. Jack Kline, the new God, had no use for a relic of time past. No one had any use for Adam either. They fit together like puzzle pieces.

I miss my father, Michael confesses in a voice that is just above a whisper.

Adam lifts one shoulder into a shrug and shifts, feeling uneasy. “I barely knew mine,” he says. “I think I would have liked to.”

“Did you say something, Milligan?”

Adam’s coworker slides out from under the car, a splotch of grease on his cheek. Adam shakes his head and resists the urge to wipe it away. He wonders whether that comes from Michael, or himself. Then he wonders if it matters anymore. Sometimes it’s hard to tell when Michael ends and he begins.

“Not at all,” Adam says, and passes the rest of the day without hearing from Michael again.

It isn’t until they are heading back to the depressing flat they call home that Michael stirs. May I take control, Adam? he asks.

Adam chuckles. “You don’t know how to drive,” he says.

You are correct. Michael ponders this, and Adam can feel the way he shifts their wings. Why do we even need to drive, Adam? You know I can fly.

“Because, Michael, we’re trying to be human,” Adam says.

Are we?

“I am.”

Michael scoffs in the back of his mind. Adam regrets teaching him that one. I do not see the point of this endeavour. We are not human.

Adam sighs and turns into the parking lot for their apartment. It is in a run down part of the city, and the night is dark and cold. Adam lingers in the car, listening to it putter and whirr. The heat billowing from the vents feels comforting, and he sits with his hands cupped around it and his head tilted back. If he thinks very hard, he can imagine being in a warm embrace. Michael shifts their wings until they wrap around their body, holding in the warmth. It’s the closest thing to a hug that Adam feels he will ever get again.

“We could be,” Adam says. “Or we can at least try, right? We lost so much of our lives listening to other people. I want to rebuild it, Michael, without anyone else’s input but our own.”

I do not understand.

“Give it time, buddy.”

Adam turns off the car and gets out, the night air shockingly chill compared to the warmth of the car. Michael increases their body temperature to compensate, and Adam fights a smile that isn’t all his. Michael’s distaste for the cold mirrored his own, a shared hatred that derived its origins from the cage. His smile vanishes, pulled off his face by a wave of emotion from Michael that leaves him colder.

Bundling his coat tighter around him, Adam starts towards his building, looking forward to a cup of cheap coffee and some sleep on his couch. Neither of them need to sleep, not anymore, but Adam enjoys the way his mind shuts off at night. He hopes Michael’s does too. They deserve a little respite from the swirling of their thoughts.

“Give me your money!”

Something cold and hard jabs into Adam’s back, just between his shoulder blades. Michael is alert, his grace flowing through Adam like blood. Adam shakes his head and turns around, smiling at the owner of the gun trained on his chest.

The man before them is skinny, his clothes hanging off his frame. His eyes have a sunken in, hollowed out look to them that fills Adam with pity. The hand wrapped around the gun is shaking. Adam reaches out and places his hand over it and the man flinches. His finger twitches on the trigger, and Adam feels the slight pop of grace that prevents the trigger from being depressed.

“I can handle this,” he says, and the man before him frowns.

“What? Who the fuck are you talking to, man?”

There is no need for you to handle it, Michael protests. The feathers on their wings puff out. I am perfectly capable of dealing with one human.

“I don’t want you to deal with him,” Adam says, annoyance creeping into his tone. “He’s just hungry.”

The man lowers the gun before pushing it between Adam’s eyes, shaking off Adam’s hand. “Listen, you freakin’ psycho, I just want your money, all right? So hand it over, nice and slow, and no one will die tonight.”

“Look,” Adam says, holding out his hands. “I’ll give you the money, okay? But you should at least let me buy you some dinner first. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Who the fuck cares!” The man pulls the safety back, and Adam can feel Michael’s alarm. “I’m not some charity case, asshole! This is a mugging!”

“We can talk about this—” Adam starts.

The gun fires, and Michael surges forward in the same instant, taking control of their shared body. Adam is pushed to the side, where he remains, dazed by the ringing in his ears. The bullet that is meant to have gone through his head lies on the floor, crushed by grace that is bright and searing white. Adam feels their wings extend, and knows that their eyes are glowing with that same white light.

The man is on his ass on the ground, staring up at them with something like horror. Michael takes a step forward, and Adam watches as he puts his hand on the man’s forehead.

“You have tried to kill an angel of the Lord,” Michael says. “Do you know how much of a sin that is?”

The man stutters, his mouth gaping open like a fish. Adam tries to take control again and is buffeted away by Michael’s strength. Fighting against Michael is like trying to walk through a hurricane and a tornado combined. Adam wants to stop this, but Michael is too far gone. A righteous warrior filled with righteous wrath would never stop in his judgment. Adam can only hope that the soul of this doomed man will go somewhere pleasant.

It doesn’t have to be like this, he tries anyway, a small voice amid whipping and whirling winds of wrath. You can let him go, Michael.

“He tried to hurt you,” Michael says, his outrage clear.

I forgive him.

“I do not.”

A bright, painful white light emanates from within the man. He screams, his back arching as Michael’s judgment burns through him. Adam watches, helpless, as the corpse drops back to the ground, lifeless and empty. Michael straightens and, as if realising what he did, relinquishes control back to Adam.

Adam takes a deep breath, and then another, folding their wings again. There is a woman staring at him from the front of her building, her mouth hanging open. Adam feels a rush of sorrow as he starts towards her. She shrinks back and he pauses.

“What are you?” she asks, her voice shaking. She looks over at the corpse and back to Adam. “Are you God?”

Adam laughs. “No,” he says, shaking his head, a bitter smirk on his face. “I’m very, very far from God.”

“Are you the Devil?”

Michael huffs in the back of their mind, and Adam’s expression softens. “No,” he says. “I’m not the Devil either.”

“Then what the fuck are you?” the woman asks. “Because that shit was not normal.”

“I’m just a guy,” Adam says, pressing two fingers to her forehead.

She crumples to the ground, unconscious but breathing. Adam sighs again, rubbing his face. The memory he uses to replace the one of watching the man die is a pleasant one. It’s the least he can do.

He rides the elevator to his floor, steps off, and looks around. He can hear the sirens coming, and rubs his face. He liked it here, he thinks. It was run down and dilapidated, but it was home.

Where shall we go, Adam? Michael asks after Adam finishes packing his few possessions into a duffel bag.

“Anywhere,” Adam says.

Michael is silent. Then, his voice gentle, he says, You are not just a guy, Adam Milligan. You are my friend.

“I know,” Adam says. “I love you too, buddy. Now, come on. Let’s go.”

With a flap of their wings, they go.

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The artwork that inspired this was: Protector by kingstoken. Go take a look, because it's stunning!

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