To say Margaret had questions was an understatement. Inexplicable feelings had been bubbling up from deep within her for the past weeks. Feelings that made no sense whatsoever. What was worse was that they all seemed to connect to a particular person.
She'd been on her way to see Michael when she'd bumped into Catherine. After seeing Raphael and Michael leave the catacombs and fly towards the Gates in all haste, she voiced concern it could have something to do with Gabriël. They had been waiting on the stone steps of the Villa ever since, afraid to enter because of the winged lions guarding the entrance.
Margaret caught Catherine glancing at her as she sat silently, mulling things over in her mind. Though she appreciated the concern, she wished Catherine wouldn't worry. There was nothing she could do, anyway. 
Suddenly, two figures descended from the sky. Michael was returning to the Villa, with Raphael right behind him. The Lord Protector looked dirty and flustered. And Raphael seemed... angry?

"Something's happened," remarked Catherine as they rose to their feet.

Both Archangels landed on top of the steps, not paying any attention to them. Their loud, quarrelling voices reached them, but Margaret couldn't make out what was being said.

"Something definitely happened," Catherine repeated.

Margaret dashed up the steps, forgetting about the stone lions who eyed her dangerously, forgetting about Catherine, who yelled out to wait for her. She needed to speak with Michael right away, and didn't slow down until she reached the entrance. Raphael's shouting made her linger a moment. The physician was one of the calmest persons she knew. This did not bode well. She exchanged a hesitant look with Catherine before entering and making their way up to the parlour. Remaining at a distance, they witnessed Raphael in a heated argument with Michael.

"We put our faith in you, Michael! Our service, our very lives! And for what?"

"I had no choice! You would not understand."

"How about you explain it to me, then? Because right now, I only have Gabriël's words to go on, and somehow, I believe him more than I do you!"

"Raphael, please, I -" Michael finally noticed the girls and straightened his shoulders. "Catherine, Margaret, this is not a good time."

"We saw you flying over the Agora toward the gates," Catherine said. "Has something happened? Is it Gabriël?"

"Nothing has happened that concerns you," said Michael, ignoring Raphael's furious look.

"With all due respect, Michael. If it's something to do with Gabriël, then it does concern us. He's our friend, and we wish to help."

As Catherine spoke, Margaret kept her eye on Michael. She found his behaviour unsettling. And... familiar, maybe?

"You're right, Catherine," said Raphael. "Something did happen."

"Raphael, do not -" Michael took hold of the physician's arm.

"They have a right to know!" Raphael loosened himself from Michael's grasp and looked at the girls. "Gabriël is gone. He flew down to Earth."

"Has he gone to look for Joan?" asked Catherine.

"I believe so. He wants to keep her and their baby safe. And we should allow him to do just that. Every man has a right to protect his family."

"We are his family," Michael sneered.

"Indeed, we are. Yet family does not lie. Family does not hurt. Family lets go when needed. If you are still the man I hope you are, Michael, you won't go after him. Leave them in peace."

"Raphael, I cannot allow Gabriël to go down this path. I cannot allow this thing to be born."

If Catherine hadn't stepped between the Archangels, Raphael probably would've jumped the Lord Protector. All three of them started shouting at once. Margaret pursed her lips at the scene. She grabbed a nearby porcelain vase and smashed it on the ground. The others stopped fighting and looked at her in astonishment.

"Cate, return to the Hospitium with Raphael," Margaret ordered coolly. "Ask Isabelle to give him something to help calm his nerves. Now, please. Michael and I need to talk in private."

Catherine furrowed her brow at the strange request. She met Raphael's confused gaze before turning back to Margaret. 

"Are you sure you don't want us to stay?" asked Catherine. "We could just go to another room."

"No, I need you both to leave," said Margaret adamantly. "Don't make me ask again."

Raphael cleared his throat and nudged Catherine. She reluctantly followed him out. Margaret waited until they were gone and then faced Michael. When she looked into his blue-grey eyes, she was overcome with the oddest sensation. She realised this was the first time she was alone with him. Her heart inexplicably skipped a beat. But she couldn't falter. Not now.

***

Michael had always feared this day. When Margaret would start remembering the past. Her marriage to an Archangel. What it had brought forth. Anxiously, he waited for her to speak.

"I'm going to ask you something, and I will accept nothing but the truth from you, Michael. So please, be honest with me."

"You have my word," he said with bated breath.

"For the past weeks, I've been having the same dreams. Well, not dreams... more like images flashing before me. Of a man, an Archangel, I believe. And of you, giving me a vial. The words you speak to me keep lingering, even when I'm already awake. You say; He only used you. This will make it go away. It's for the best."

Michael didn't react. He recalled perfectly what he'd said that day. 

"I also feel... an emptiness. Here." Margaret touched her abdomen. "Every time I try to think about it, to remember, I get this headache. As if something is blocking that part of my memories. My childhood, meeting you and Gabriël, the dragon, my execution... that's all clear to me. But then there are gaps. I need to know if you have anything to do with that."

"Sit down, Margaret." Michael motioned to one of the Roman beds. "I will tell you. Who knows, you might even start remembering more as I speak. But I must warn you, it will only bring you pain."

"I don't care."

He waited until she sat across from him and took a deep breath. That it had truly come to this...

"The man you speak of was indeed an Archangel," said Michael. "One of the best, actually. But he was also a restless soul. He desired knowledge and power. So much that he went to great lengths in obtaining it."

"What was his name?"

"Amongst ourselves, we called him LightBringer. It hurt us all when we found out what he had done, but it pained me even more as he was... a close friend of mine."

Micheal peered up at her through his lashes. She gave no reaction. Clearly, her memories hadn't returned to that extent yet. He continued, "Every time LightBringer obtained a new power, he would experiment with it. I am sorry to say that you were one of his experiments, Margaret. He took control of your mind and made you believe you were his wife. You did everything for him out of some twisted fascination he fabricated. By the time we discovered what he'd done, he had already taken the next step in his experiment."

"Which was?"

"A baby."

The young woman gasped and moved her hand slowly up to her belly. Michael's jaw clenched when he noted the gold cuff bracelet with the turquoise gems on her wrist. It hurt him to see she yet wore the damn thing, but he could say nothing of it. She probably assumed it was a jewel she inherited from her mother instead of the bond representing her love and marriage to Lucifer.
Fortunately, Margaret didn't notice Michael's expression.

"What... What did he do to me?" she asked, her voice strained.

"That I cannot say. We never learned how he did it, but it defied all of nature's laws. I had to put a stop to it. After Gabriël and I liberated you from LightBringer, I procured a potion that ended the life inside your womb. Your memory loss was a side-effect, I regret to say. There was no other way."

Michael paused for a moment. He watched Margaret hold back her tears. She believed him.

"I ask for your forgiveness, Margaret, but it really was the best course of action. LightBringer did not love you. He merely used you for his own purposes. If the child had been allowed to be born, it would have only brought darkness with it."

"Is that what you believe Joan and Gabriël's baby will bring?" asked Margaret.

"We must face the facts," Michael said with a sigh. "This affair between them only started after Gabriël was stabbed, after the poison in his veins made him fall victim to a demon, whom we now know was sent by LightBringer. I never imagined he could have survived Heaven's Fire, but it does not surprise me to learn he has, nor that he worked his way up the ranks of the Circles. He always had a way of winding people around his finger. I fear he has manipulated Gabriël and, through him, Joan to make history repeat itself. What she carries is not an angel, but the spawn of an immensely powerful demon. It could destroy us all."

"Is there really no chance that what happened between them was of their intention? That the baby is their own, conceived out of their love?"

"I wish I could tell you otherwise, Margaret. I really do. But they have both fallen victim to a dark and twisted soul. I thought by separating them, I could limit the damage, and they would recover on their own. Yet the demon inside of Gabriël is pushing him to be with her, to betray us. If ending the life they have made will bring them back to us, then I must bear that burden once again."

"What can I do?" Margaret wiped away the tears on her cheek. "I want to help you fight this evil."

"No, I could not ask you to do that."

"You cannot do this alone. Let me help you now. I could... I could try to speak with Raphael and Catherine. Set their minds at ease."

"You would do such a thing?" he asked, cautious of her offer.

"Of course." She smiled warmly at him. "How could I not?"

Michael averted his eyes, unable to bear her smile. He accompanied Margaret to the steps of the Villa. As they said their goodbyes, she embraced him tenderly. He stood frozen at her touch.

"Thank you for your honesty," she whispered in his ear. "And for what you have done for me. I will not forget it."

Michael watched her descend to the Agora. He felt a hefty weight on his heart as he returned inside. Margaret had asked him to speak the truth, but... had he?

It is the only truth that matters, Michael convinced himself. I do not care what Gabriël said. The words he spoke were not even his own. My Morning Star never loved you, Margaret. Only me. What he did with you meant nothing. You were only an experiment.

He entered his private rooms, locking the doors behind him. Stripping down, he kept seeing their faces before him. LightBringer... Gabriël... He had loved them both, but both had abandoned him. Michael wanted to erase them from his mind. He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes.

It meant nothing...

***

The sun shone through the windows of the apothecary when Raphael and Catherine walked in. Isabelle was tending to the herbs, which didn't surprise Raphael. The old woman made sure she kept busy since Joan lost her wings. The physician sunk into a chair, and Catherine asked her for something calming. She joined Raphael at the table and caressed the back of his hand with her thumb. Her comforting touch was something the Archangel secretly craved for, but with everything going on, he couldn't even enjoy that brief moment of tenderness. 

"It's clear something is troubling you both," said Isabelle when she handed him a cup of tea. "Out with it."

Raphael took a fortifying drink, then told Isabelle and Catherine what had happened at the Gates. It pained him to relate such troubling news, and when he finished, Isabelle went for a bottle of brandy, commenting they were going to need something stronger than tea. Raphael realised too late that the news must've hit her hard. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sure Gabriël will find Joan, and he will protect her and their child."

Isabelle smiled sadly, and the room fell silent. After a few minutes, footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, followed by a knock on the door. Margaret stood on the threshold when Catherine opened it. 

"Here you are," she exclaimed in one breath. "I've been looking all over for you."

She pushed past a stupefied Catherine and joined Raphael and Isabelle in the sitting corner. They all looked at her curiously. 

"What?" she asked.

"What do you mean 'what'?" rebuffed Catherine. "You basically threw us out of Michael's Villa for a 'private conversation' with him. You mind telling us what that was all about? Because that was the first time I've seen the two of you get cosy."

"I needed to ask him something about my past," Margaret said. "Something about my human life I've been trying to remember. I had a suspicion Michael might have the answer I was looking for. He confessed he had something to do with the memory loss of that particular occurrence in my life, but he only did it to protect me from someone evil."

"Forgive me, Marina," said Raphael, his chest tightening with doubt and worry. "But right now, I'm finding it awfully hard to believe anything Michael says. Are you sure he told you the truth?"

Margaret hesitated before answering him. "What makes you think he wouldn't?"

Raphael hated to do it, but he repeated what he had told Catherine and Isabelle.

"I... I don't understand," Margaret stammered, standing up and pacing. "Why would Michael lie about it?"

"Gabriël wouldn't have said it if there wasn't some truth in it," said Raphael. "He is the smartest of us all. If he believes Michael would hurt Joan or their baby, there has to be a reason for it."

"I don't care what Michael claims," Isabelle said strongly. "My daughter loves Gabriël. And he loves her. Of that, I am certain."

"I am certain of it too, Isabelle. But they are both out of our reach now."

"Is there really no way we could help them?" asked Catherine. "Warn them of what Michael might attempt?"

"Knowing Gabriel, he will be prepared for anything. But now that you mention it, there might be a way to get a message to them. Peter sometimes has contact with the Nephilim factions on Earth."

"Do you really think he can help us?"

"Well, we can always ask him, can't we?"

"Please do, Raphael," implored Isabelle.

The physician nodded to her. He wouldn't admit it, but the old woman had grown on him, like a loving aunt or even a mother. Archangels didn't have an actual mother, being created out of light. But he imagined - well, he hoped - that his mother would've been caring, gentle, and loving like Isabelle.

"Ok, so that's settled then," said Catherine. "Marina, how about we get some - Marina?"

They all looked around the room. Margaret had disappeared.