#Sam McMiller

[myselfinserts]

❛❛ I’m not good enough for you. This is wrong. ❜❜

“GA-AGH! AAAHG! AAAAH!”

“That’s enough. Let him down.”

Skye was trembling as he was locked back down onto the bed. His arms and legs were bound yet again, but he didn’t care. Laying there flat on the mattress, he managed to get the world to stop spinning for once. He could sense Mary’s glaring, but again, he gave no care. He couldn’t find it in him to be bothered anymore.

It’d been…gods, he couldn’t even remember how long he’d been taken. The rest of the Reapers surely had to notice he was gone by now. He just had to hold out until then. They didn’t all need to notice. Just Lady L or Sam. Either of them would be enough. Or maybe Ceri if he was free.

Maybe Chris?

Gods he wished they were there. Not in their place, never ever that. But just to be near him. To smile at him. Roll their eyes and not be annoyed by his presence and to share tea and a warm night in while complaining about clients.

If he could have that again, if he could see their smile just one more time, he’d gladly give up everything.

“He’s not going to talk,” the new angel mumbled, curled up on himself slightly. “Can’t we just let him go?”

“Like hell we can,” Mary spat. “He knows something about the Demon Prince. And until he talks, he’s not to leave this room.” She glared at the boy, and Skye wished he had the energy to get between them. “You’re to stay put and keep an eye on him, you here me?”

“…yes, ma’am.”

Skye watched as they left the room, counted to ten, and once he was sure the rest were gone, turned his attention back to the young boy. “You’re a Virtue…You’re higher on the food chain than her.”

The boy sat in a nearby chair, pulling his legs up and hugging his knees. “I struggle to control my powers. They’re so tied to my emotions that I have to lock my heart away. I’m supposed to be training to learn how to control them but…if this is what it means to be an Angel, I don’t want it. I’d rather lock my heart away and let my powers die.”

“You’re lucky to have that option,” Skyelar sighed. “I don’t. Reapers powers are so tied to their soul, if we have our grace ripped from us, we’d die.”

This seemed to shock the boy. “Seriously? You don’t Fall? You can’t just choose to give up your wings?”

Skye barely managed to look up, cocking a tired smile. “What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“Yeah. Name.”

The boy blushed, looking away. “Vivien. Vivien Altan.”

“Name’s Skyelar Matthews. And Vivien, if you can get away from here, do so. You deserve better than Skald.” All she’ll do is make you Fall.”

“…How do I know I didn’t already Fall?”

“Your wings would go from one solid color to two. Sometimes more. They’d no longer be just white. Sometimes they have barely any white in them at all. Just shades of grey. And the feathers would be heavier.”

Vivien nodded, his voice growing smaller. “Mr. Matthews….what if…what if someone makes a Reaper Fall?”

Skyelar’s smile fell and he laid his head back down on the pillows. “Don’t know. It’s said to be impossible. But…if I had to guess, the person responsible would probably be punished beyond belief. Just harming a Reaper intentionally like Skald has is said to curse you.” He closed his eyes, trying hard to stay awake. “But…if I end up being the first, I promise, I won’t blame you…”

“…why?” Vivien’s eyes filled with tears. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because you’re still a child. And a child…deserves another…chance…”

He didn’t even get to hear Vivien’s response. The world faded to black. 

The last thought in his mind being of the ones he’d give his life to see again.

When Skyelar awoke in the hotel room again, he was alone. He vaguely remembered the hours spent his his head in Chris’s lap, holding their hand tightly as Marianne went to work healing his wounds as best she could. Ceri bringing him light soup to eat and some tea to drink that soothed his throat. Étienne bringing him pajamas and everyone helping clean and dress him. It was far more than he felt he deserved, and promised himself to repay their kindness. 

They must have left me alone to rest, he thought. I better go tell them I’m awake.

Slowly Skye managed to sit up, but his body screamed for his wings to be let out. He didn’t know why, but he was hesitant. Something felt…different about himself. Something was stronger, but also more…he didn’t know the words. Something. Anything. He just couldn’t pinpoint it. 

With wobbly steps, Skye stood on his feet and stepped  away from the bed toward the standing mirror. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused on the feeling of feathers and bone beginning to reform on his back. 

When he opened his eyes again, the world around him shattered. What were once snow white wings with a brilliant glimmer to them, were now silver and cold. The tips a harsh, frozen blue that made it look as though he bore feathers of ice, the weight of which was just as unbearable. 

Skyelar fell to his knees, his fingers just barely touching the glass on the mirror before he let out a blood curdling scream. A scream so loud, so hurt, it shook the walls with how pained his cries were. Tears rolled down his cheeks in torrents. 

Skyelar Matthews was a Reaper. 

And he had fallen from grace. 

“SKYELAR!”

Chris was the first to bolt into the room, throwing their arms around him and covering his head so he wouldn’t look into the mirror. Skye clung to their shirt, trying to keep himself from falling any farther. Ceri and Étienne followed close behind, followed by Sam, Marianne, and finally Lady L. Everyone else stayed by the door, giving the rest space to work. No one knew quite what to make of the change in Skye’s wings, but they all agreed on one thing.

Mary McMiller had gone too far. 

“He didn’t-” Ceri started, his voice tight with heartbreak.

“It’s not,” L said coldly. “It can’t be. Reapers don’t…they just…this isn’t right.”

Étienne looked to her, jaw clenched tight in an attempt to remain composed. “Look at him, Princess. What else are we supposed to call this?”

“I don’t know, but…but he didn’t Fall.”

Marianne shot them all a glare to be silent and continued to carefully look Skye over. “Any pain? Any injuries that haven’t healed you want me to look at? Do you need me to get you a pain killer or a sleep aid? Perhaps a muscle relaxant?” She looked at Skye, putting a gentle hand between his wings and rubbing small circles. “Skye, talk to me. Please.”

Skye tried to calm down, his screaming slowly fading away, only to be replaced with short, sharp croaks when he tried talking. “I don’t…I just…I can’t…”

Chris looked at everyone before their eyes rested on Étienne. “Sir, if you would be so kind, I think I can take over from here. Just leave Skyelar to Marianne and I.”

“…okay,” he said. “I’m entrusting you to handle this, Chris.”

Chris smiled. “Have I ever let you down, sir?”

Étienne shook his head, barely managing a smile himself. “No. Never.” He waved for everyone to leave the room. “Come on. Let’s all go talk about how we’re going to deal with our little trouble maker. Seems what L did might not have been enough.”

As Skyelar’s panic melted away and everyone finally left the room, he found himself letting go of Chris, baking away just a little bit. “I’m so sorry.”

Chris simply shook their head, reaching out and carefully helping him back to the bed. “Come on. Let’s get you checked out.”

“You should leave me. All of you…”

“And why the hell would we do that after we rescued you?”

Skyelar bit their lip, trying not to let the tears take over again as he way laid down on his stomach, back and wings up high for inspection. As Chris lay beside him, keeping a tight grip on his hand, he couldn’t help but feel sick. 

“I’m not good enough for you,” he muttered, shame clawing at his insides. “You, Ceri, Lady L, Sam…everyone…I’m not good enough. I’m broken. Tainted. This…this is wrong. I should be dead…”

“Stop that talk,” Chris scolded softly. “If you’re meant to be dead, that means we did a piss poor job, and like hell I’d let that happen.” Their smile faded, replaced with something Skye couldn’t quite read. “You’re meant to be here, Skye. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Neither spoke again after that. They lay there quietly, letting Marianne work her magic as best she could. It took hours, but soon enough every injury on the bodyguard hero was healed. She even managed to lighten the color of his wings a little. They’d never be white again, but at least they didn’t look nearly as dark and heart wrenching. 

Soon, Skye found himself laying on his side, tears finally spent and hands being held tightly in Chris’s own. He was starting to drift back to sleep, but the fear kept him from it. 

Please, he begged. Please don’t let me be a Fallen Reaper.

“Go to sleep,” Chris mumbled. “You need your rest.”

“But…” Skye kept his gaze averted. “But I don’t think I can…”

“I’ll be here when you wake up. Please try. For me?”

For them?

With a deep breath, Skye snuggled closer and closed his eyes. “Okay…for you…”

Chris smiled, pulling the blanket over him. “Good night, Skye.”

“Good night…dear friend, Chris.” 

With one last breath, and barely a grin, Skye finally drifted back to sleep.