BEYOND THE RIFT: Thirteen Years On
Title: Thirteen Years On
Characters/Pairing: Grace, Romana and Robin, mention of Megan
Word Count: 1117
Rating: G
Summary: Thirteen years after she became an angel, Grace finally learns what that means. Mostly, it seems to be about choice and the lack thereof.
Notes: Written for meritinabox prompt #2, deliverance. I actually meant to write this story... before I brought Grace in. And then... didn't. It probably would have been more interesting then, but whatever.
Disclaimer: Grace and Romana are both mine, actually. Robin belongs to _chibidragon_. The Rift is probably bad for your long term health.
"Grace Cassidy."
Grace's heart jumped, or fell, or just stopped - she wasn't paying enough attention to really tell which, at the time, rather more preoccupied with the fact that some random woman on a London street knew her name. Some woman with an American accent, backed by a couple men who looked very much like soldiers, and... oh, yes, that was her heart sinking.
"Uh - I - I think you've got the wrong person," Grace stammered, and then wondered if she should have tried for a British accent. But no, she could never manage that believably on her best day, never mind when she was nervous and scared and...
Oh my God, they're going to take me home and there's going to be a court martial and I'm going to be in jail for the rest of my life, and that's assuming-
"-not going to be a court martial."
"Huh?" Grace somehow managed to snap herself out of that panicked thought process long enough to actually realize what the woman said. "There's... not?"
The woman smiled at her, warm in a... distanced sort of way. "I'm not in the army, and I'm not here to punish you. You're an angel, aren't you?"
Grace's shoulders tensed, and she could almost feel her wings surging toward the surface of her skin, straining to get out and winding the muscles of her shoulders tight as a spring. They were standing on a crowded city street, and that would not go well. "I'm n-not sure what you mean."
The smile didn't waver. Didn't falter. Grace couldn't decide if that was a good thing or bad. "Tell you what. Come with me and we'll have coffee and talk. Just talk, and you can leave any time you like."
Grace's heart was still pounding at double speed - which brought it almost to regular human speed - but she nodded nevertheless. Whether she said she could leave or not... it didn't really seem as if she had a choice.
*
Angels. Even living the past thirteen years with a pair of wings, it wasn't anything Grace ever thought could actually be... well, real. She couldn't be an angel. Didn't that imply a certain... connection to a higher power? Something?
But as Grace sat there, sitting across from Romana in her suite - the woman had brought her to her hotel, not a coffee shop of any sort, and it was just Grace and her and a young, skinny blonde man who served the coffee and offered Grace a polite smile - with a mug of coffee cupped between her hands, it was hard not to believe. Romana had let her wings out as soon as she was in the suite, slender like a falcon's, patterened soft brown on white, and in the artificial light of the hotel room, it was possible to see a slight glow around Romana's blonde hair, like a halo...
Grace was still trying to decide if the existence of angels and demons suddenly made everything make sense, or if it only complicated her world further.
"You're a guardian angel," Romana said, and Grace tightened her hands a little around her coffee mug. "Your friend, the girl who died-" she paused, and then said, "Megan," though Grace hadn't mentioned her name- "Megan was your ward, the person you were meant to protect. No one could blame you - you didn't know, and most guardians don't find their wards so young."
"Lucky me," Grace murmured around the rim of her mug, and immediately felt her face heating. It was hard to miss that Romana was a fairly important person, and talking back to her probably not the best idea. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
Romana waved it off before Grace could get the apology out - which was probably for the best, because it would have gone on for a while. Grace thought she saw a trace of a smile from the blond man behind Romana, but by the time she actually looked at him, it was gone.
"There's a hotel in Chicago. The Conrad. It's owned by an angel, and there are plenty of angels living there. You could come back with us if you like. No one would have to know where you came from or why you're there - most of them wouldn't ask anyway. It's up to you."
Grace considered it. She couldn't go home. Couldn't stay in London forever. Funny how all these choices looked less and less like choices when she really looked at them.
*
Grace had never been to Chicago before. Actually, before her deployment she'd never been further east than Arizona, and any city on the West Coast felt fundamentally different from this. They rode in limousines - Romana, Robin and Grace in one, the rest of Romana's archangels in the other - and as Grace stepped out when it pulled up to the Conrad, she couldn't help but think that this close to water, she should be able to smell the ocean.
But it wasn't the ocean, of course - just the lake, and a long way from any home she'd ever known.
Home now, though.
Grace hesitated, as the other angels from the second limousine started toward the doors of the hotel, some of them tired from the flight, some of them bounding and shoving each other and glad to be home. It seemed like most of them had cut their ties with human families a long time ago.
At her age, she supposed she should have too. For an angel. There were a couple angels here younger than she, after all. But home was Coronado, sand and seagulls and palm trees. Home was, for a while, Iraq, long way from home for all of them but Megan was there and since she met her she was the center of Grace's world.
This place was just... a place. A hotel, not even a place to live, and...
Romana stepped out of the car behind her, and Grace jumped a little, automatically, at the hand on her shoulder. Just Romana, she thought, drawing a breath and forcing herself to calm. By the time she actually managed to get her heart down out of her throat, Romana had walked past her, into the hotel, moving like a stalking cat.
Grace was left behind. She could turn and leave now. She could walk away, she didn't have to follow. It's up to you.
Grace let out a breath and stepped into the lobby of the Conrad in the wake of the angels.
Characters/Pairing: Grace, Romana and Robin, mention of Megan
Word Count: 1117
Rating: G
Summary: Thirteen years after she became an angel, Grace finally learns what that means. Mostly, it seems to be about choice and the lack thereof.
Notes: Written for meritinabox prompt #2, deliverance. I actually meant to write this story... before I brought Grace in. And then... didn't. It probably would have been more interesting then, but whatever.
Disclaimer: Grace and Romana are both mine, actually. Robin belongs to _chibidragon_. The Rift is probably bad for your long term health.
"Grace Cassidy."
Grace's heart jumped, or fell, or just stopped - she wasn't paying enough attention to really tell which, at the time, rather more preoccupied with the fact that some random woman on a London street knew her name. Some woman with an American accent, backed by a couple men who looked very much like soldiers, and... oh, yes, that was her heart sinking.
"Uh - I - I think you've got the wrong person," Grace stammered, and then wondered if she should have tried for a British accent. But no, she could never manage that believably on her best day, never mind when she was nervous and scared and...
Oh my God, they're going to take me home and there's going to be a court martial and I'm going to be in jail for the rest of my life, and that's assuming-
"-not going to be a court martial."
"Huh?" Grace somehow managed to snap herself out of that panicked thought process long enough to actually realize what the woman said. "There's... not?"
The woman smiled at her, warm in a... distanced sort of way. "I'm not in the army, and I'm not here to punish you. You're an angel, aren't you?"
Grace's shoulders tensed, and she could almost feel her wings surging toward the surface of her skin, straining to get out and winding the muscles of her shoulders tight as a spring. They were standing on a crowded city street, and that would not go well. "I'm n-not sure what you mean."
The smile didn't waver. Didn't falter. Grace couldn't decide if that was a good thing or bad. "Tell you what. Come with me and we'll have coffee and talk. Just talk, and you can leave any time you like."
Grace's heart was still pounding at double speed - which brought it almost to regular human speed - but she nodded nevertheless. Whether she said she could leave or not... it didn't really seem as if she had a choice.
*
Angels. Even living the past thirteen years with a pair of wings, it wasn't anything Grace ever thought could actually be... well, real. She couldn't be an angel. Didn't that imply a certain... connection to a higher power? Something?
But as Grace sat there, sitting across from Romana in her suite - the woman had brought her to her hotel, not a coffee shop of any sort, and it was just Grace and her and a young, skinny blonde man who served the coffee and offered Grace a polite smile - with a mug of coffee cupped between her hands, it was hard not to believe. Romana had let her wings out as soon as she was in the suite, slender like a falcon's, patterened soft brown on white, and in the artificial light of the hotel room, it was possible to see a slight glow around Romana's blonde hair, like a halo...
Grace was still trying to decide if the existence of angels and demons suddenly made everything make sense, or if it only complicated her world further.
"You're a guardian angel," Romana said, and Grace tightened her hands a little around her coffee mug. "Your friend, the girl who died-" she paused, and then said, "Megan," though Grace hadn't mentioned her name- "Megan was your ward, the person you were meant to protect. No one could blame you - you didn't know, and most guardians don't find their wards so young."
"Lucky me," Grace murmured around the rim of her mug, and immediately felt her face heating. It was hard to miss that Romana was a fairly important person, and talking back to her probably not the best idea. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
Romana waved it off before Grace could get the apology out - which was probably for the best, because it would have gone on for a while. Grace thought she saw a trace of a smile from the blond man behind Romana, but by the time she actually looked at him, it was gone.
"There's a hotel in Chicago. The Conrad. It's owned by an angel, and there are plenty of angels living there. You could come back with us if you like. No one would have to know where you came from or why you're there - most of them wouldn't ask anyway. It's up to you."
Grace considered it. She couldn't go home. Couldn't stay in London forever. Funny how all these choices looked less and less like choices when she really looked at them.
*
Grace had never been to Chicago before. Actually, before her deployment she'd never been further east than Arizona, and any city on the West Coast felt fundamentally different from this. They rode in limousines - Romana, Robin and Grace in one, the rest of Romana's archangels in the other - and as Grace stepped out when it pulled up to the Conrad, she couldn't help but think that this close to water, she should be able to smell the ocean.
But it wasn't the ocean, of course - just the lake, and a long way from any home she'd ever known.
Home now, though.
Grace hesitated, as the other angels from the second limousine started toward the doors of the hotel, some of them tired from the flight, some of them bounding and shoving each other and glad to be home. It seemed like most of them had cut their ties with human families a long time ago.
At her age, she supposed she should have too. For an angel. There were a couple angels here younger than she, after all. But home was Coronado, sand and seagulls and palm trees. Home was, for a while, Iraq, long way from home for all of them but Megan was there and since she met her she was the center of Grace's world.
This place was just... a place. A hotel, not even a place to live, and...
Romana stepped out of the car behind her, and Grace jumped a little, automatically, at the hand on her shoulder. Just Romana, she thought, drawing a breath and forcing herself to calm. By the time she actually managed to get her heart down out of her throat, Romana had walked past her, into the hotel, moving like a stalking cat.
Grace was left behind. She could turn and leave now. She could walk away, she didn't have to follow. It's up to you.
Grace let out a breath and stepped into the lobby of the Conrad in the wake of the angels.