Gabriël awoke in the darkened room of the Hospitium. He hated this. It had been five days since his last fit and a week since the attack. He had only seen the sun through the cracks in the curtains. The only thing that kept him from going completely crazy was Catherine and Margaret's visits. Michael also came by, but not as much as in those first days. Every day the Archangel was in this room, he hoped that one friend, in particular, would come. But she never did.

"Morning, Gabriël. Feeling better today?"

Catherine entered cheerfully, closely followed by Raphael. She sat at his bedside as she always did while Raphael finally opened the curtains. Gabriël stretched to look outside, but slumped right back into his pillow. Typical. It was the dreariest day in months.

"I suppose," he said in reply. "You're both looking happy. Please tell me you've come to tell me I can go."

"Tired of being here?" Raphael chuckled at him.

Gabriël threw him a glare. Did he really think it amusing to keep him locked up like this?

"I am, actually."

He felt his temper rising. It startled him. He was usually a calm person, but now he felt like he could throttle the physician. Fortunately, neither Catherine nor Raphael noticed his quick and shallow breathing.

"Oh, go on." Catherine turned to Raphael and winked at him. "Put him out of his misery."

"You can go," said Raphael. "Cate is actually here to take you home. I've asked Michael to arrange for someone to monitor you. Just for a couple of days to ensure you're all right. I'm fairly certain the poison has left your body, but better safe than sorry."

Gabriël's fisted the sheet at the mention of poison. Not a day had passed that he hadn't thought about Cesare Borgia. Nobody had spoken of the demon, at least not to him, anyway. But it was clear that the others were also preoccupied with the matter. That an individual like him could rise so high in the Circles worried them all.

"Come now," Catherine said. "Let's get you out of here and back home."

It took some time to get up and about, but eventually, they left the Hospitium. Being outside had never felt so good. Catherine had brought a coach to take them to his house. There was no driver, but there was no need for one. The coach horses always knew where to go. When they were well on their way, Gabriël finally asked what he had wanted to know for days.

"Cate, how is she?"

"She? Oh, you mean... I believe she's well. We have seen little of her lately."

"None of you?"

"Well, Michael has. He summoned her a couple of times."

Gabriël's heart pounded in his chest.

Could he know something? Surely she didn't tell him?

"Do you know why?" he tried to sound neutral.

"Don't worry, she's done nothing wrong. Michael just wants to know as much as possible about... that day. Joan's been helping him with a new plan. So I've heard, anyway."

Relief flooded him. Obviously, Joan wouldn't tell Michael. She knew what could happen if she did. And so did he. But that wouldn't deter him anymore. He had to see her - tonight.
They arrived at the cottage at dusk. Gabriël invited Catherine in for a drink, but she declined. She said someone would be along shortly to see him. So now he was the one with the babysitter. Perfect...

As the coach disappeared into the mist, Gabriël felt a presence behind him. He turned to discover Thirza came to greet him. Being away from Gabriël and knowing he was in pain had been hard on her. When he passed the test, he had never expected them to bond so deeply that they could actually feel each other's distress. Sometimes he believed he could even hear her in the back of his mind. A sweet silvery voice. He still didn't quite understand how such a thing was possible. Thirza nudged Gabriël with her nose, and he put his arms around her warm neck.

"I've missed you too, girl."

It was then that he saw Thirza had not been alone. He recognised Spiritus as the horse trotted over. And if he was here, then maybe... 
Gabriël ran into the house and dropped the satchel Raphael had given him next to the bookcase. He searched every room until he came to the bedroom. Joan's leather vest was on his bed.

She was in my room.

"You're home."

He spun around at the sound of her soft voice. For a moment, everything went quiet as she stood in the doorway. They were alone, an intense look between them. Gabriël wanted to run over and kiss her again, but before he could act, he heard another noise. Joan's widening eyes warned him not to come closer. Seconds later, Michael appeared behind her.

"Gabriël, dear friend." He brushed past Joan. "It is good to see you are home. Raphael sent word that you were well enough to be discharged, but I had to see it for myself."

The two Archangels exchanged a hug. Gabriël raised a brow when he found Michael holding him tighter than he should. He gave him a little push and noticed a faint blush on his friend's cheeks. Curious.

"Thank you, Michael. I hear you have been watching over my charge and thank you for it. I will take over again."

Michael shook his head.

"Gabriël, you are still weak," he said. "Raphael has asked me to appoint someone to watch over you in the coming days. You understand, of course, that you will guard no one until we are all satisfied you have fully recovered."

"And you know very well that I do not require anyone to take care of me."

Gabriël caught Joan smiling behind Michael. What was so funny? Was she laughing at him? 

"There will be no discussion about this, Gabriël," said Michael strictly. "Joan and I have worked together for the past few days, and I must admit I was perhaps somewhat..."

"Harsh?" offered Joan.

"Harsh, indeed." Michael held Gabriël carefully by his shoulders as if he were a porcelain doll that could break. "So, for now, your roles will be reversed. I have appointed Joan to watch you. When she deems it no longer necessary, you can carry on as you were before."

Damn you, Michael.

"Very well." Gabriël grimaced. "We will... make it work."

"I thank you for not making a fuss about this. Joan, I leave him to you now. Make sure he does not exert himself too much."

Michael let go of Gabriël and beckoned Joan outside. Gabriël heard them speaking, though he couldn't make out the words. Anger rose inside him - inexplicable but fierce. Not only at Michael, but at Joan as well. How could they have done this? How could she? The hell he would just roll over and accept this!

***

"Do you remember what Raphael said?" Michael spoke to Joan over his shoulders.

"Yes, I remember."

"Warn me if anything happens. Good luck."

Joan watched as Michael spread his wings, and the mist whirled around him. He was gone in the blink of an eye. She entered the house, closing the door behind her. When she turned around, she froze. Gabriël was right in front of her. He looked... angry? She had never seen him angry. Upset or perhaps agitated, yes. But never angry. His eyes had gone darker, if that was possible. It scared her.
Before she could say anything, Gabriël pinned her to the door, one hand around her throat and the other slammed into the thick wood inches from her face.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" he shouted.

Joan grabbed hold of his hand, trying to free herself, but it was no use. His strength was extraordinary. All those times Michael made him train, Gabriël had never shown this kind of force before. He was usually the first to be defeated by his opponent, but now she couldn't even pry a finger off.
Gabriël seemed to realise he was choking her and loosened his grip. But he wouldn't let go. Instead, he pressed his body against hers, making escape impossible.

"G-Gabriël, p-please." Joan struggled to breathe.

"Answer me!" growled Gabriël.

"M-Michael was... going to... appoint... Marina. I volunteered... l-like you did."

"Why didn't you come to see me?"

"I... I couldn't."

"Why not?!"

"I-I was worried that you... that we... I couldn't risk it. Gabriël, please, let me go!"

Joan watched his eyes change. The rage had gone away, but they were still a dark shade of blue.

This isn't like him. Gabriël is never this controlling. And why are his eyes so dark?

Gabriël moved his hand up and cupped her face. He moved closer. He had complete power over her, and she didn't like it. Once again, she fought his grip. It was futile.
Suddenly, Gabriël pressed his lips against hers. The memories of the Hospitium room became more vivid than ever. The urge in his kiss, but also in his body. Joan managed to put both her hands on his chest and pushed him off, just enough so they could look at each other.

"Tell me you don't want this," he said.

"We can't," she whispered, still struggling slightly to breathe.

"I don't care! Neither should you."

"Please, Gabriël, don't -"

But he didn't let her finish. Gabriël kissed her again, tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue. She didn't have the strength to fight him and opened her mouth just a little. The moment their tongues met, a sensation rolled over her, stronger than anything she had ever felt before.
Gabriël moved his hands across her body to her hips. Joan felt her desire move as well. She had never gone this far with anyone. Not voluntarily, anyway. She knew very well what could happen, and she wondered if it was different when two people consented. This already felt more heavenly than she had imagined it to be.

"If you want to stop, tell me now." Gabriël panted against her lips. "Because I don't think I'll be able to if we go on. Joan, I want you. But I won't take you."

Take you... Of course he knows.

"Gabriël -"

"Joan, I promise I won't continue without your consent. You know I'm not like that."

She wasn't sure what she knew about him anymore. All she felt was the maddening need to surrender herself to him. To surrender control. And it frightened her.

"If anyone knew..." Joan bit her lip.

"No one will know," Gabriël spoke softly.

"These things always come out. You can't deny it. We've both witnessed it."

She knew he remembered. Michael had been swift to act the last time a pair of angels had done anything like this. Both were sent to Earth after they admitted being a couple. They joined the others before them and became Nephilim, charged to spend eternity below. If any children were born, they would be mortal and live as humans but retain some angelic powers in their blood: strength, agility, to never fall ill. Some saw it as a blessing to start a family and be given this chance again. But to many it was a curse, as Nephilim saw their children grow and die whilst their own lives were frozen in time.
Gabriël looked at Joan, his gaze intense, his hands still on her hips. They both knew the truth in her words. Michael would never forgive them. It would be more difficult for them, as Gabriël was an Archangel. Perhaps Michael would consider keeping him there because of his position, but not Joan.

"You have my word, then. We will... remain as we were. And disregard our feelings."

No.

"Yes, I think that would be best," replied Joan.

He stepped back from her, slowly. She fought the urge to grab him and pull him back. It took only a second to waver in that resolve. A second to make a subtle move to halt him. Gabriël noticed and gazed into her eyes. All the darkness she had seen before was gone. His look was filled with care, filled with... desire. She couldn't stand it any longer.

"Damn you, Gabriël."

Joan opened the door behind her and ran out. She knew Gabriël wouldn't follow her. That would only put them in danger. He had to let her go. She mounted Spiritus and made him gallop as fast as he could to get away from Gabriël, as fast and as far away as she could. 
She wanted to leave the Agora and the houses behind her to be alone. Though, perhaps... There was one person she could confide in. Maybe not with the entire truth, but part of it.
Joan made a detour to the Hospitium and asked a nurse to deliver her message before continuing her way. The wind loosened her hair. Spiritus knew where she wanted to go and did not stop until they reached the farthest edge of the Vale, at a small chasm. The waterfall pummelled the ground there, eventually coming together at the Lake of Nevaeh through streams and creeks. Only a few people know of this place, strangely enough. Michael wasn't one of them. The mist surrounding the chasm obstructed his view. Joan had tested it before with... No, she would not allow herself to think of him now. She only hoped that she would come this far.

***

Days had passed before the Master mentioned the girl's name again. None who were invited to his most trusted circle and knew of his plan dared to ask about any developments. The Borgia Bastard was kept occupied, but even he had not been foolish enough to speak when he was near the Master.

A shame, really, Grigori thought. It's been a while since we've had a good torture.

He finished preparing his Master's drink and brought it to his private quarters. Grigori expected to find him in the salon, with a book, perhaps, but the dark figure was looking in the mirror. It was curious how the darkness empowered the Master enough to invade the Vale and the privacy of every angel and Archangel, except for Michael. The Lord Protector couldn't possibly know of the looking glass's existence, so how was he able to protect himself against it? So very curious. 

"Master?"

"Ah, good, you're here. Come, you must see this."

Grigori put the goblet on the table and drew near to his Master.

"Has the poison taken effect?" he asked.

"Apart from the seizures Gabriël has experienced, no, not yet. But it will. Soon, in fact. Come, come, don't be shy."

Grigori stood at the Master's side to peer into the mirror. He saw Joan running out of a cottage. She took her horse and rode away. Gabriël stood in the doorway, a pinched look on his face.

"Forgive me, Master. I don't understand," said Grigori when he met his Master's expectant look. "Was there an argument?"

"Of sorts, yes," came the grinning reply.

The Master moved to the sitting area. His servant followed closely, hoping for an explanation.

"It would seem those two have more feelings for each other than I dared hope. But neither of them will do anything about it out of fear of one individual."

"Michael."

"Indeed. But that fear will go away soon. Their desire and love for each other are too strong. Once they give in to it, their new paths will lead right to us."

"And how can we make sure it happens thus?"

"Well, fortunately, the toxin our Borgia friend gave Gabriël will help. His senses are now so intense that he will lose his grip on reality, making it easier for me to invade his mind. Joan will refuse to leave him then, so we merely have to wait until they make a mistake and hope they are discovered."

Grigori could not help but grimace. His Master noticed.

"You disagree?" he asked, his brow raised.

"I do not!" replied Grigori hastily. "But can we really leave this to chance? Surely, we can ensure their discovery somehow."

The Master laughed and stood from his seat. Grigori remained as he was, believing he would surely be punished now for speaking in such a manner. Instead, a slender hand gripped his shoulder.

"I do like how your mind works." The Master sniggered. "You are right, of course. This is too important for us. I have to admit, it would be fun to see the look on Michael's face when he catches them in the act. And when he casts them out of the Heavens for their betrayal, we shall be there."

"We will have to act quickly when that happens," said Grigori, bowing his head and accepting his Master's praise. "To make sure the Nephilim do not aid them."

"Perhaps we can use Borgia for that. He will enjoy killing those good-for-nothing wannabes."

"As you wish, my Lord."

Grigori left to make the preparations. He would not fail his Master. Failure was simply not an option this time.