Fallen Angel

Chapter 4.2

Gabriël still lay in Joan's arms. She rocked him like a mother would a baby. With every sway, she hoped it would rouse him. But he remained quiet. Too quiet. 

"Joan, let him go," Michael said hoarsely. 

She shook her head violently. He put a hand on her shoulder. 

"Please, Joan, let go of him. Allow him some dignity."

"Dignity? DIGNITY?" Joan's eyes flashed to him with rage, making Michael recoil. "There is no dignity in this, Michael! Look at him! Look at how he... Oh God, why? H-He was fine! He was walking and talking and -"

"I know, Joan, I know. The poison must have been more potent than we thought."

Joan dropped her head, touching Gabriël's brow with her own, and let her tears fall onto his face. He wasn't even cold yet. His blood was still warm and seeping from... his wound. Wait.

"He's still bleeding," she whispered, slowly raising herself up again.

"What?" 

"Michael, he's still bleeding! He's still warm. Maybe..."

She placed two fingers on Gabriël's throat to feel for a heartbeat. It had to be there. 

"Joan, he is not breathing," she heard Michael say. "Gabriël is gone."

"Shut up, Michael!"

She ignored the way he glared at her and closed her eyes to focus. Her fingers traced Gabriël's throat ever so carefully. There! Was that...?

"He's alive!"

Michael quickly placed his fingers where Joan's had been. He kept still for a second and then looked up at her, his face filling with hope. 

"Give me your blade," she said.

He handed Joan the dagger he had used on himself and she slit her wrist to hold it above the wound as he had done.

"Joan, if my blood did not help, what makes you think yours will?"

"You have another idea? Because if you do, I'm all ears! No? Then get another one of those vials."

Michael opened the satchel and removed the third and final crystal vial. He met Joan's gaze. This was their last chance. He opened it and poured the green liquid into Gabriël's mouth.

"Wait, not all of it," said Joan hastily. "Pour some in the wound as well."

"He needs to drink it," argued Michael.

"Just do it already!" she snapped.

"Mind who you are speaking to, young lady!"

"Michael, please! I'm trying to save our friend! Why aren't you?"

Joan threw him a desperate look, and Michael relented, pouring what remained of the vial into the wound. He sat back whilst Joan sat motionless, with one hand on Gabriël's throat, measuring his heartbeat, and the other over the laceration on Gabriël's side. Neither dared to speak, and both waited with bated breath. The sound of horses and a carriage outside made them jump. Michael hurried out of the room, somehow neatly avoiding the blood on the floor, leaving Joan alone with Gabriël.

"Gabriël, if you can hear me, open your eyes," she pleaded. "Please, open your eyes. You're still alive; I know you are. I won't allow you to die, so just wake up. Wake up and look at me. Please, I... I need you."

His heartbeat suddenly strengthened, pulsing steadier. The wound slowly healed.

"Wake up, Gabriël." She pulled him closer to whisper into his ear. "Yes. Yes, I want it too. I want you. Gabriël, please don't leave me again. Please, wake -"