12 Days of Dark Angel - Day 2 - "All is calm, All is Bright"
Title: “All is Calm, All is Bright”
Author: ladyarcherfan3
Rating: PG-13 for dark images
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the muse owns me
Summary: Ben, lost and alone, seeks the help of the Blue Lady. And finds his answer.
Notes: Here I was, wanting to write a winter / Christmas story for Dark Angel, and then Ben and his Blue Lady and this song conspired and this story happened. But enjoy! And onwards with the 12 days of Dark Angel!
The moon blazed down onto the snow; the light as blue and cold as the air. As bitter and thin as the young man struggling through the frozen streets. His breath plumed out and shone in in brief white clouds; the moonlight was the best illumination that night. Chicago hadn’t been hit like some cities by The Pulse, but it was still in a brownout.
The moonlight and the winter air sent a chill through him that ran deeper than even his bones. It was like that every winter.
Snow, cold, moonlight, pines… guards chasing him and his siblings, shots fired into fast, strong but unprotected bodies…
Ben shivered and thrust his hands deeper into his coat pockets, hunching his shoulders. It had been nine years. Nine years of lonely wandering across the country, always running and staying alone. Zack had told them to split up, and he had. Fear of being found by Lydecker, of being hauled back to the Bad Place to the Nomlies dogged his every step, and he never stayed long in one place.
He had learned how to steal; how to deal and sell what he found for the best price; how to bargain for the value of his time and body. Soup kitchens and shelters still existed in certain places, and they didn’t ask questions. And there were always churches around.
Churches were by far his favorite. They were warm, generally empty, or if they weren’t they were filled with people who exuded warmth and love like the Blue Lady.
A car backfired somewhere in the moon soaked night, and he jumped. Flashes of Manticore flooded his mind and he began to shake. One hand came out of his pocket, fumbled at his neck for a moment and then withdrew a gold chain and medallion from under his clothes. An image of the Blue Lady looked up at him, arms spread wide in invitation and love. But it was remote, faded. He closed his hand around it, hard, edges biting into his palm. Her power had been weakening. There hadn’t been time to sacrifice to her as he scrambled from place to place, running from shadows and terror. There hadn’t been anything to sacrifice to her. He couldn’t give her his own teeth - he needed them to survive, and she didn’t want them. His blood didn’t seem to work well either - too much and even with her grace he couldn’t walk well for a few days.
“What do I do?” he whispered to the medallion.
Even as the words faded into a cloud of ice crystals, the deep but clear voices of church bells filled the air. A great brick building reared out of the city’s gloom, bells ringing out the midnight hour, light spilling out of stained glass windows.
“Thank you, Lady,” he breathed and shoved the chain back under his shirt as he jogged to the church.
Inside, it was empty, warm and half lit with the flickering golden light of hundreds of candles. Marble faces of angels and saints rose around him as he strode down side aisles, seeking a known place of refuge. And he found it. The little alcove near the front of the church, Her statue surrounded by tiny candles in red and white holders. The floor was cold marble, but he settled down anyway, braced against the wall on one side, the base of the altar on the other. A hand reached up to touch the base of the statue, reaching for her feet.
“What do I do now? Where do I go? What I do?” he asked, voice breaking as the weight of loneliness washed over him.
But She stayed silent.
Tear burned the back of his eyes and made his throat ache. “Please, Lady, what do you want of me? Just tell me!”
The marble warmed beneath his fingers, but She stayed silent. She had never left him for this long. What did it mean?
His pleas continued for several hours, and eventually faded into silence as tears and exhaustion over took him. The next thing he knew, a warm hand was on his shoulder, a soft voice filled the small alcove.
“Son? Son are you alright?”
Ben blinked up to see a man with a short clipped, grizzled beard, dark, warm eyes, dressed all in black save the white collar around his neck. He jumped in fear, twisting away from the gentle touch, hand reaching blind and instinctive for the Lady’s statue. His fingers brush over marble, which was warmer than it should have been.
And Her voice resonated in his mind. This is what I what of you.
“What?” he whispers to her, but the priest answers.
“Are you alright, son? Tell me what you need. I can help you.”
The Lady’s voice rang through his head like a bell, her need and her desired path for him blazing out like moonlight on snow - clear and cold and perfect.
“Yes.” Ben straightened and faced the priest. “Yes. You can help me.”
The moon had set by the time he left the church, but it was not yet dawn; the night was pitch black. But he was warm again, and strong. And so was the Lady. He had found a way to keep her strong; the offering of teeth, he knew, still glistened in the candle light at the foot of her statue. She would keep him strong and would tell him when she required strength. He would be Her hunter, She his guide. She was his blue moonlight in the dark. And it was perfect.
Author: ladyarcherfan3
Rating: PG-13 for dark images
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the muse owns me
Summary: Ben, lost and alone, seeks the help of the Blue Lady. And finds his answer.
Notes: Here I was, wanting to write a winter / Christmas story for Dark Angel, and then Ben and his Blue Lady and this song conspired and this story happened. But enjoy! And onwards with the 12 days of Dark Angel!
The moon blazed down onto the snow; the light as blue and cold as the air. As bitter and thin as the young man struggling through the frozen streets. His breath plumed out and shone in in brief white clouds; the moonlight was the best illumination that night. Chicago hadn’t been hit like some cities by The Pulse, but it was still in a brownout.
The moonlight and the winter air sent a chill through him that ran deeper than even his bones. It was like that every winter.
Snow, cold, moonlight, pines… guards chasing him and his siblings, shots fired into fast, strong but unprotected bodies…
Ben shivered and thrust his hands deeper into his coat pockets, hunching his shoulders. It had been nine years. Nine years of lonely wandering across the country, always running and staying alone. Zack had told them to split up, and he had. Fear of being found by Lydecker, of being hauled back to the Bad Place to the Nomlies dogged his every step, and he never stayed long in one place.
He had learned how to steal; how to deal and sell what he found for the best price; how to bargain for the value of his time and body. Soup kitchens and shelters still existed in certain places, and they didn’t ask questions. And there were always churches around.
Churches were by far his favorite. They were warm, generally empty, or if they weren’t they were filled with people who exuded warmth and love like the Blue Lady.
A car backfired somewhere in the moon soaked night, and he jumped. Flashes of Manticore flooded his mind and he began to shake. One hand came out of his pocket, fumbled at his neck for a moment and then withdrew a gold chain and medallion from under his clothes. An image of the Blue Lady looked up at him, arms spread wide in invitation and love. But it was remote, faded. He closed his hand around it, hard, edges biting into his palm. Her power had been weakening. There hadn’t been time to sacrifice to her as he scrambled from place to place, running from shadows and terror. There hadn’t been anything to sacrifice to her. He couldn’t give her his own teeth - he needed them to survive, and she didn’t want them. His blood didn’t seem to work well either - too much and even with her grace he couldn’t walk well for a few days.
“What do I do?” he whispered to the medallion.
Even as the words faded into a cloud of ice crystals, the deep but clear voices of church bells filled the air. A great brick building reared out of the city’s gloom, bells ringing out the midnight hour, light spilling out of stained glass windows.
“Thank you, Lady,” he breathed and shoved the chain back under his shirt as he jogged to the church.
Inside, it was empty, warm and half lit with the flickering golden light of hundreds of candles. Marble faces of angels and saints rose around him as he strode down side aisles, seeking a known place of refuge. And he found it. The little alcove near the front of the church, Her statue surrounded by tiny candles in red and white holders. The floor was cold marble, but he settled down anyway, braced against the wall on one side, the base of the altar on the other. A hand reached up to touch the base of the statue, reaching for her feet.
“What do I do now? Where do I go? What I do?” he asked, voice breaking as the weight of loneliness washed over him.
But She stayed silent.
Tear burned the back of his eyes and made his throat ache. “Please, Lady, what do you want of me? Just tell me!”
The marble warmed beneath his fingers, but She stayed silent. She had never left him for this long. What did it mean?
His pleas continued for several hours, and eventually faded into silence as tears and exhaustion over took him. The next thing he knew, a warm hand was on his shoulder, a soft voice filled the small alcove.
“Son? Son are you alright?”
Ben blinked up to see a man with a short clipped, grizzled beard, dark, warm eyes, dressed all in black save the white collar around his neck. He jumped in fear, twisting away from the gentle touch, hand reaching blind and instinctive for the Lady’s statue. His fingers brush over marble, which was warmer than it should have been.
And Her voice resonated in his mind. This is what I what of you.
“What?” he whispers to her, but the priest answers.
“Are you alright, son? Tell me what you need. I can help you.”
The Lady’s voice rang through his head like a bell, her need and her desired path for him blazing out like moonlight on snow - clear and cold and perfect.
“Yes.” Ben straightened and faced the priest. “Yes. You can help me.”
The moon had set by the time he left the church, but it was not yet dawn; the night was pitch black. But he was warm again, and strong. And so was the Lady. He had found a way to keep her strong; the offering of teeth, he knew, still glistened in the candle light at the foot of her statue. She would keep him strong and would tell him when she required strength. He would be Her hunter, She his guide. She was his blue moonlight in the dark. And it was perfect.