Misconduct
Dec. 17th, 2007 08:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
laliginThis is original fic - and this is about the fourth version of it. It's this one that I handed in for one module at university. And only now on rereading do I find that I rather dislike some of the phrasing and suchlike. *chews lip* Well, too late now, I guess.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2095
Summary: You've outlined your case, but what chance do you really have?
Misconduct
“Guardian angels always work alone,” Raphael says again. You know that’s not strictly true, but when you point out that people like Gandhi, Luther King and Princess Di have all had groups watching over them, they just laugh.
“Yours is hardly that special,” Michael says, and then adds, “Besides, do you remember what happened to those three?”
After a moment you nod, looking down at the floor and shuffling your feet uncomfortably while the four Archangels exchange glances.
“Something else to say, Angel?” Gabriel asks gently – you’re becoming ever more certain that he’s actually incapable of raising his voice, he’s been so calm and quiet throughout your entire pitch.
You look up at the dais again, doing your best not to bite your lip, and say, “Wouldn’t it be possible for someone else just to take over the night shift? I can barely keep up as it is…”
They frown in unison, and you’re already opening your mouth to elaborate on your human’s lemming-like capacity for self-preservation, and the fact that you haven’t rested properly for almost a year because even when Steven’s asleep you have to be on guard for the inevitable point at which his Lover-of-the-Moment is going to go for the knife or gun, but then Michael holds up a hand to stop you.
“We know, Angel,” he reminds you. “And the answer is still no. We can only make exceptions for humans whose lives have such impact that they’re worth extending. Is that quite clear?”
“But he has had an impact,” you protest, and your wings flare slightly with indignation.
“A positive impact,” Michael clarifies, folding his hands on his knees and glaring down at you. “We don’t make exceptions for humans like yours.”
Gabriel lays a hand on Michael’s arm, saying, “It is his first time. Be gentle.”
You raise your head and straighten your wings, hands clasped firmly behind your back.
“Steven has the potential to do untold good,” you say. “If he’s given enough time his influence could be beyond measure.”
Uriel smiles. He’s still statuesque on his seat, hands on the armrests, wings folded flat against his back, and this smile is the most he’s moved since you were summoned to make your request.
“Your human,” he says, and his voice is quieter than Gabriel’s, though not nearly as warm, “has squandered more than thirty years of potential. We will not waste the talents of another angel on him.”
You can feel your nails digging into your palms behind your back, and your shoulders are beginning to hurt because you’re holding your wings so stiffly. When you tell them, “It’s not a waste,” the words are pushed out through gritted teeth.
With a sigh, Raphael says, “Angel, in the grand scheme it is. Do your best by him, but don’t be too hard on yourself. And don’t worry – sooner or later, you’re bound to be assigned a human who matters.” He glances at Uriel on his left and Gabriel on his right, then asks, “Is that all?”
“No –” you start, but Michael says, “Yes. Request refused.”
Gabriel smiles fondly at you, and repeats, “Request refused.”
Michael stretches his wings, with a sigh, and says, “Well, I’ve got places to go and armies to inspire. Hold off the next lot until I get back.”
He, Uriel and Raphael stand as one and flap their wings simultaneously. They vanish, leaving you and Gabriel alone in the hall.
Your wings slump so far the tips crumple against the floor, and you let your hands slip apart, arms hanging by your sides as you stare at the floor in front of you.
Then Gabriel stands and descends from the dais. You barely glance up, still trying to work up the energy to leave, but Gabriel walks towards you, then stops just in front of you, hands clasped neatly behind his back, wings elegantly folded.
“The first one’s always the hardest,” he says, and you look up with a sigh.
“Don’t get too attached to him,” Gabriel continues, and you interrupt, “But you said we have to love them to take care of them properly.”
“As you love all humans,” Gabriel reminds you. “Your current assignment is no more special than any of the others. Remember that.”
“But –”
Gabriel raises both perfect eyebrows, and you stop. It’s no use.
He puts a hand on your shoulder, and says, “You should be getting back to him. Otherwise you might find yourself reassigned sooner than you expect.”
It’s only because of his smile that you realise he’s joking, but your responding smile is forced and falters after a moment.
“Go and look after him,” Gabriel tells you. “And you could always try to find him some humans who’ll take care of him for you. See what you can do.”
You nod, and Gabriel steps back once, then vanishes in a flap of wings and a flurry of displaced air. As soon as he’s gone you do the same.
~*~
“How did it go?” asks Richard’s angel as you reappear in Steven’s flat. Steven and Richard are still awake despite the time of night, but their planning session seems to have dissolved into an argument. Richard is pacing the living room, hands in his pockets. Steven is still sitting at the dining table, arms folded and feet up on Richard’s vacated chair. You pause to stroke his hair, but of course he doesn’t react.
“They refused,” you say, and Richard’s angel makes an appropriate sound of sympathy and tells you, “Bad luck,” though when you glance up he’s still sitting on the kitchen worktop and examining his nails.
“You still haven’t explained how come the cut isn’t fifty-fifty,” Richard snaps.
You pat Steven on the head as he rolls his eyes and says, “I do most of the work, sugar.”
“Don’t call me that,” Richard says, pausing in his pacing, clenching his fists.
You go over to the kitchen worktop and haul yourself up, carefully tucking your wings over the other side of the counter.
“Anything happen while I was away?” you ask, stretching slightly and rubbing at your eyes, then blinking rapidly for a few moments. Popping between Heaven and Earth really wears you out.
“Not really,” Richard’s angel says. “They’ve stayed here the whole time. Are you going to appeal?”
You look at him, aware that you’ve sat up a little straighter.
“Appeal?” you ask, and he blinks at you.
“Didn’t you know?” he says. “You can ask again in a few weeks. It gives you time to marshal your arguments and get some more evidence that you need the backup.”
Slowly, you smile.
“Thanks,” you say. “I didn’t know about that.”
You glance back at Steven, who’s tipped his head back and is saying, “Listen, just deal with it, sweetheart. I’m in charge, so what I say goes.”
“Do you think you could get yours to look after Steven for a bit?” you ask Richard’s angel, who’s returned to his examination of his nails. “I really need to get some rest.”
“Sure thing,” Richard’s says, without looking up. “I know how tiring Heaven can be. Especially when you have to deal with Uriel and Michael at the same time.”
You slip off the worktop, saying, “Thanks,” again, and then head over towards Steven’s bedroom. It’ll be dark and quiet in there, and you might be able to meditate properly for a while. On the way you pause to kiss Steven’s hair and tell him, “Be careful,” though it’s never worked before.
~*~
Someone taps your shoulder, gently. They tap again after a moment, and you blink a few times as you open your eyes.
Richard’s angel is in front of you, biting his lip.
“Um,” he says.
For a second you wonder what to say in response to that, and he says, “We… Um. There’s been…” then stops and licks his lips.
“What?” you ask.
His wings flutter, and then he says quickly, “I think your human’s dead.”
You stare at him for all of a second, repeating, “What?” and then you scramble off the bed and dash through the closed bedroom door to the living room.
Steven is crumpled face down on the floor. His chair has toppled over beside him, and the carpet is stained with a growing pool of blood. There’s a hole in the back of his head and a gun on the floor a few feet away.
Richard is shoving all the papers from the dining table into a backpack.
“I told my human to take care of yours,” Richard’s angel says, following him through the door, “and I think he might have taken it the wrong way.”
You don’t answer, still staring at Steven.
“I’m really sorry,” Richard’s angel says, going over to his own human and watching him zip up the backpack and glance over at Steven’s body. “But it’s not your fault, don’t worry. They’ll assign you a new human as soon as that one’s been judged.”
You kneel beside Steven, murmuring, “They haven’t judged him yet?”
“Well, no,” Richard’s says. “It only just happened. He won’t even have got up there yet.”
“They don’t even know,” you whisper, and Richard’s angel, following his human to the door, says, “What? Look, I’ve got to go. Like I say, I’m really sorry…”
You’re already laying your hands on Steven’s head, gathering up all the energy you just gained from your meditation and forcing it out through your palms.
The hole in Steven’s head starts to shrink as his skull stretches out and weaves back into place. The blood fades from the carpet, Steven’s skin loses its pallor, and then he jerks and gasps, eyes snapping open.
Richard and his angel both whirl around, Richard saying, “Holy shit,” and his angel yelling, “You can’t do that!” as Steven sits up and sees Richard, then suddenly twists and reaches straight though you to grab the gun.
This time it’s Richard who hits the floor with a hole in his head. His angel looks down at him, then glares at you.
“That’s against all the rules,” he snaps. “Just you wait.”
He flaps his wings and vanishes, and you bite your lip.
Steven frowns at the gun and rubs the back of his head, then pulls himself to his feet by grabbing the table, and retrieves the backpack.
Then Steven and his flat vanish.
Instead, you’re kneeling on the floor of the hall. In front of you, five Archangels stand on the dais. Raguel is in the centre of the line, and his presence makes you pause before you scramble to your feet, wings flared. If he’s here already you don’t stand a chance – he deals out the punishments, but he doesn’t judge.
Richard’s angel is standing to attention on one side of the dais. When he catches your eye he raises one eyebrow and then looks away.
You look back at the Archangels as Gabriel says your name, his voice echoing from the far walls. You nearly take a step back and press your hands to your ears, it’s so loud.
“Your punishment,” he declares, and you flinch, even though you know you have no excuse.
“You are to be stripped of your powers,” Gabriel thunders. “You will be turned human and sent to Earth for the rest of your existence. And, since you will not be assigned a guardian angel, and nor will your former charge, it has been decided that you must continue with the task of protecting him.”
“Without powers?” you cry. “But that’s impossible! You don’t know what he’s like!”
“So we decide,” Gabriel finishes, staring down at you with an expression of the utmost disappointment, “so shall it be.”
Raguel extends his hands towards you, and the other four flap their wings together, vanishing and then reappearing in a circle around you as Raguel spreads his wings wide.
Your shoulders burn with agony, and your pleas turn to screams as your wings stiffen and freeze, then crumble to dust, ripping gaping holes in your back. You drop to your hands and knees, your bones hardening and shrinking to reduce you to the size of a human, and your skin floods with pigment, sending a further rush of pain through your entire body.
Then, suddenly, you feel numb. You look up and cry out, raising one hand to shield your weak eyes from the light of the Archangels. They raise their wings, almost blinding you with their brilliance, and then, with a crash so loud you can’t even hear yourself scream, everything vanishes.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2095
Summary: You've outlined your case, but what chance do you really have?
Misconduct
“Guardian angels always work alone,” Raphael says again. You know that’s not strictly true, but when you point out that people like Gandhi, Luther King and Princess Di have all had groups watching over them, they just laugh.
“Yours is hardly that special,” Michael says, and then adds, “Besides, do you remember what happened to those three?”
After a moment you nod, looking down at the floor and shuffling your feet uncomfortably while the four Archangels exchange glances.
“Something else to say, Angel?” Gabriel asks gently – you’re becoming ever more certain that he’s actually incapable of raising his voice, he’s been so calm and quiet throughout your entire pitch.
You look up at the dais again, doing your best not to bite your lip, and say, “Wouldn’t it be possible for someone else just to take over the night shift? I can barely keep up as it is…”
They frown in unison, and you’re already opening your mouth to elaborate on your human’s lemming-like capacity for self-preservation, and the fact that you haven’t rested properly for almost a year because even when Steven’s asleep you have to be on guard for the inevitable point at which his Lover-of-the-Moment is going to go for the knife or gun, but then Michael holds up a hand to stop you.
“We know, Angel,” he reminds you. “And the answer is still no. We can only make exceptions for humans whose lives have such impact that they’re worth extending. Is that quite clear?”
“But he has had an impact,” you protest, and your wings flare slightly with indignation.
“A positive impact,” Michael clarifies, folding his hands on his knees and glaring down at you. “We don’t make exceptions for humans like yours.”
Gabriel lays a hand on Michael’s arm, saying, “It is his first time. Be gentle.”
You raise your head and straighten your wings, hands clasped firmly behind your back.
“Steven has the potential to do untold good,” you say. “If he’s given enough time his influence could be beyond measure.”
Uriel smiles. He’s still statuesque on his seat, hands on the armrests, wings folded flat against his back, and this smile is the most he’s moved since you were summoned to make your request.
“Your human,” he says, and his voice is quieter than Gabriel’s, though not nearly as warm, “has squandered more than thirty years of potential. We will not waste the talents of another angel on him.”
You can feel your nails digging into your palms behind your back, and your shoulders are beginning to hurt because you’re holding your wings so stiffly. When you tell them, “It’s not a waste,” the words are pushed out through gritted teeth.
With a sigh, Raphael says, “Angel, in the grand scheme it is. Do your best by him, but don’t be too hard on yourself. And don’t worry – sooner or later, you’re bound to be assigned a human who matters.” He glances at Uriel on his left and Gabriel on his right, then asks, “Is that all?”
“No –” you start, but Michael says, “Yes. Request refused.”
Gabriel smiles fondly at you, and repeats, “Request refused.”
Michael stretches his wings, with a sigh, and says, “Well, I’ve got places to go and armies to inspire. Hold off the next lot until I get back.”
He, Uriel and Raphael stand as one and flap their wings simultaneously. They vanish, leaving you and Gabriel alone in the hall.
Your wings slump so far the tips crumple against the floor, and you let your hands slip apart, arms hanging by your sides as you stare at the floor in front of you.
Then Gabriel stands and descends from the dais. You barely glance up, still trying to work up the energy to leave, but Gabriel walks towards you, then stops just in front of you, hands clasped neatly behind his back, wings elegantly folded.
“The first one’s always the hardest,” he says, and you look up with a sigh.
“Don’t get too attached to him,” Gabriel continues, and you interrupt, “But you said we have to love them to take care of them properly.”
“As you love all humans,” Gabriel reminds you. “Your current assignment is no more special than any of the others. Remember that.”
“But –”
Gabriel raises both perfect eyebrows, and you stop. It’s no use.
He puts a hand on your shoulder, and says, “You should be getting back to him. Otherwise you might find yourself reassigned sooner than you expect.”
It’s only because of his smile that you realise he’s joking, but your responding smile is forced and falters after a moment.
“Go and look after him,” Gabriel tells you. “And you could always try to find him some humans who’ll take care of him for you. See what you can do.”
You nod, and Gabriel steps back once, then vanishes in a flap of wings and a flurry of displaced air. As soon as he’s gone you do the same.
“How did it go?” asks Richard’s angel as you reappear in Steven’s flat. Steven and Richard are still awake despite the time of night, but their planning session seems to have dissolved into an argument. Richard is pacing the living room, hands in his pockets. Steven is still sitting at the dining table, arms folded and feet up on Richard’s vacated chair. You pause to stroke his hair, but of course he doesn’t react.
“They refused,” you say, and Richard’s angel makes an appropriate sound of sympathy and tells you, “Bad luck,” though when you glance up he’s still sitting on the kitchen worktop and examining his nails.
“You still haven’t explained how come the cut isn’t fifty-fifty,” Richard snaps.
You pat Steven on the head as he rolls his eyes and says, “I do most of the work, sugar.”
“Don’t call me that,” Richard says, pausing in his pacing, clenching his fists.
You go over to the kitchen worktop and haul yourself up, carefully tucking your wings over the other side of the counter.
“Anything happen while I was away?” you ask, stretching slightly and rubbing at your eyes, then blinking rapidly for a few moments. Popping between Heaven and Earth really wears you out.
“Not really,” Richard’s angel says. “They’ve stayed here the whole time. Are you going to appeal?”
You look at him, aware that you’ve sat up a little straighter.
“Appeal?” you ask, and he blinks at you.
“Didn’t you know?” he says. “You can ask again in a few weeks. It gives you time to marshal your arguments and get some more evidence that you need the backup.”
Slowly, you smile.
“Thanks,” you say. “I didn’t know about that.”
You glance back at Steven, who’s tipped his head back and is saying, “Listen, just deal with it, sweetheart. I’m in charge, so what I say goes.”
“Do you think you could get yours to look after Steven for a bit?” you ask Richard’s angel, who’s returned to his examination of his nails. “I really need to get some rest.”
“Sure thing,” Richard’s says, without looking up. “I know how tiring Heaven can be. Especially when you have to deal with Uriel and Michael at the same time.”
You slip off the worktop, saying, “Thanks,” again, and then head over towards Steven’s bedroom. It’ll be dark and quiet in there, and you might be able to meditate properly for a while. On the way you pause to kiss Steven’s hair and tell him, “Be careful,” though it’s never worked before.
Someone taps your shoulder, gently. They tap again after a moment, and you blink a few times as you open your eyes.
Richard’s angel is in front of you, biting his lip.
“Um,” he says.
For a second you wonder what to say in response to that, and he says, “We… Um. There’s been…” then stops and licks his lips.
“What?” you ask.
His wings flutter, and then he says quickly, “I think your human’s dead.”
You stare at him for all of a second, repeating, “What?” and then you scramble off the bed and dash through the closed bedroom door to the living room.
Steven is crumpled face down on the floor. His chair has toppled over beside him, and the carpet is stained with a growing pool of blood. There’s a hole in the back of his head and a gun on the floor a few feet away.
Richard is shoving all the papers from the dining table into a backpack.
“I told my human to take care of yours,” Richard’s angel says, following him through the door, “and I think he might have taken it the wrong way.”
You don’t answer, still staring at Steven.
“I’m really sorry,” Richard’s angel says, going over to his own human and watching him zip up the backpack and glance over at Steven’s body. “But it’s not your fault, don’t worry. They’ll assign you a new human as soon as that one’s been judged.”
You kneel beside Steven, murmuring, “They haven’t judged him yet?”
“Well, no,” Richard’s says. “It only just happened. He won’t even have got up there yet.”
“They don’t even know,” you whisper, and Richard’s angel, following his human to the door, says, “What? Look, I’ve got to go. Like I say, I’m really sorry…”
You’re already laying your hands on Steven’s head, gathering up all the energy you just gained from your meditation and forcing it out through your palms.
The hole in Steven’s head starts to shrink as his skull stretches out and weaves back into place. The blood fades from the carpet, Steven’s skin loses its pallor, and then he jerks and gasps, eyes snapping open.
Richard and his angel both whirl around, Richard saying, “Holy shit,” and his angel yelling, “You can’t do that!” as Steven sits up and sees Richard, then suddenly twists and reaches straight though you to grab the gun.
This time it’s Richard who hits the floor with a hole in his head. His angel looks down at him, then glares at you.
“That’s against all the rules,” he snaps. “Just you wait.”
He flaps his wings and vanishes, and you bite your lip.
Steven frowns at the gun and rubs the back of his head, then pulls himself to his feet by grabbing the table, and retrieves the backpack.
Then Steven and his flat vanish.
Instead, you’re kneeling on the floor of the hall. In front of you, five Archangels stand on the dais. Raguel is in the centre of the line, and his presence makes you pause before you scramble to your feet, wings flared. If he’s here already you don’t stand a chance – he deals out the punishments, but he doesn’t judge.
Richard’s angel is standing to attention on one side of the dais. When he catches your eye he raises one eyebrow and then looks away.
You look back at the Archangels as Gabriel says your name, his voice echoing from the far walls. You nearly take a step back and press your hands to your ears, it’s so loud.
“Your punishment,” he declares, and you flinch, even though you know you have no excuse.
“You are to be stripped of your powers,” Gabriel thunders. “You will be turned human and sent to Earth for the rest of your existence. And, since you will not be assigned a guardian angel, and nor will your former charge, it has been decided that you must continue with the task of protecting him.”
“Without powers?” you cry. “But that’s impossible! You don’t know what he’s like!”
“So we decide,” Gabriel finishes, staring down at you with an expression of the utmost disappointment, “so shall it be.”
Raguel extends his hands towards you, and the other four flap their wings together, vanishing and then reappearing in a circle around you as Raguel spreads his wings wide.
Your shoulders burn with agony, and your pleas turn to screams as your wings stiffen and freeze, then crumble to dust, ripping gaping holes in your back. You drop to your hands and knees, your bones hardening and shrinking to reduce you to the size of a human, and your skin floods with pigment, sending a further rush of pain through your entire body.
Then, suddenly, you feel numb. You look up and cry out, raising one hand to shield your weak eyes from the light of the Archangels. They raise their wings, almost blinding you with their brilliance, and then, with a crash so loud you can’t even hear yourself scream, everything vanishes.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-17 10:54 pm (UTC)A little scary, but good.
Dramatic!
Hope it got a good mark
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-17 11:28 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it, anyway, always nice to hear good things about my original stuff as well as the fanfic. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-18 08:42 pm (UTC)It is very dramatic and I really want to know more!
(It's phantomreviewer btw...)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-19 02:37 pm (UTC)I may well write more, though I don't know if I can maintain the second-person ("you") format all the way. But I have further plot - and then some... ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-19 03:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-19 02:27 pm (UTC)Anywho, glad you like, anyway. (: I'm thinking of writing lots and lots more, but I might freak out away from the second-person format. Most unusual for me as it stands... :)