Archive of Our Own

The wind was gently flowing through her wings, creating dancing specks of gold all around her as the movement caused her feathers to reflect the sunlight. Eyes closed, legs dangling off the side of the skyscraper, she was humming quietly while letting her mind reach out for her charges.

They had never been able to get her to stop the singing. Many angels had tried while she had still been in training, scolding her for doing what was supposed to be a Seraphim’s work. All heaven had broken loose when she had started picking up human songs as well, instead of just the celestial hymns. At some point, they had abruptly stopped trying to silence her, and she had a strong feeling that the Almighty had had something to do with it. Not that she would know what the Almighty wanted.

Her mind touched upon one of her charges, and she sat up a little straighter, eyes fluttering open. It was a young woman she had been entrusted with recently, after one of the other angels had literally thrown in the towel with her. Apparently, the young police woman kept getting herself in danger, and was nearly impossible to keep up with.

Opening her wings, she pushed herself off the rooftop, smiling as they caught the wind. She was always open to a challenge, so she had gladly volunteered to take over from her brother. He was prone to exaggeration anyway, so the job probably wouldn’t be anywhere near as difficult as he had made it out to be. Still, she would be focusing on this new charge for a little while, just to be sure.

It turned out that had been a good idea. As she stopped mid-air above an alleyway, she saw her; standing between a frightened looking girl and an obviously unhinged man holding a knife to her chest.

“You don’t have to do this,” the police woman said.

It was a nice voice, she noticed immediately. Soft, melodic, yet at the same time filled with a strength hiding underneath that slender exterior.

She landed softly, right behind the man holding the knife. From here, she could see a little bit of fear flashing in her charge’s eyes, something she was obviously doing her best to keep well hidden.

They were nice eyes, she thought. Dark and warm, speaking of a kind soul within.

Leaning forward, she whispered into the man’s ear.

She’s right. You don’t have to do this. You should hand her the knife.

A moment of confusion flickered across his face, but then he tightened his grip on the weapon.

“No!” he growled through clenched teeth.

Frowning, she realised she had to work a little bit harder for this one. Lifting her hand, she gently placed it upon the man’s back, and let warmth spread through it right into his chest.

Let go. You can’t hurt her, she’s not at fault.

For a moment, she thought he would still fight. But then, ever so slowly, the man dropped his arm and finally opened his hand, the knife clattering to the ground between him and the woman.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, covering his face with his now free hands. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

She watched as the police woman put the man in cuffs, and followed them back to her car, listening to her call it all in. Smiling, she started humming once again, then flapped her wings once, twice, as she bent her knees and pushed herself off the ground.

She didn’t see her charge suddenly lift her hand, looking around with a confused look on her face, then shake her head as she took care of the girl.

——

Yasmin Khan was pretty sure she was slowly going insane. She knew a job like hers could be a strain on anybody’s mental health, but this, this she definitely hadn’t expected.

She kept hearing somebody sing.

At first she had thought one of her colleagues was somehow trying to pull her leg. She had dealt with a fair amount of teasing because she was a young woman on the force. But even when she was all on her own, she could still hear it. Every time she got herself out of a difficult situation, there it was. Humming, singing, always the same song, but she couldn’t place it.

She had briefly considered dropping by her department’s counsellor, but she was pretty sure that if she told him what was going on, he would have her put on desk duty for the rest of her career. If he didn’t have her committed first.

Pulling up to the address she had been called to - a jewellery store that had been broken into the night before - Yasmin quickly parked her car and opened the door, eager to join her colleagues.

Just as she was about to get out, she realised she had left her phone on her passenger seat, and she pulled the door closed again as she reached over.

She didn’t even notice the truck that drove past her car at full speed. By the time Yasmin sat back up to open her door once again, this time actually getting out of the car, it had disappeared around the corner.

Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you

She turned around on her heels so quickly that she almost lost her balance and had to hold on to the still-open car door. Blinking as a gust of wind washed over her face, she tried to focus on the street ahead of her.

No one. Again.

Shaking her head, she turned to walk toward the scene. She had to get a grip. Now.

—-

Her newest charge was getting distressed, and she had no idea why. She could feel it in her bones, how the woman was getting more and more nervous, even jumpy; losing sleep when she needed it so dearly to be at her best for her job.

She thought she had been doing everything right. Her brother hadn’t been exaggerating after all, the woman was hard to keep up with. But she had succeeded so far, always being there at the right moment: she had spent the last few weeks talking down aggressive perpetrators, making her leave her house just a minute later so she wouldn’t get caught in a traffic accident, and even breaking her bike light so she would have it checked out and see that the breaks were faulty.

Yet still, something was wrong. The woman spent her nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, and when she finally did fall asleep, it was restless and she tossed and turned relentlessly.

At some point, she decided it was enough.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her charge, letting her wings spread into the night sky. When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the woman’s bedroom. She was well aware that this was more than unorthodox; at the very least it went above and beyond what a guardian was supposed to do for their charge. Yet she had taken a liking to the young woman, and couldn’t help but feel like she was at fault somehow for her current situation.

Stepping closer to the bed, she could hear the woman mumbling in her sleep, a thin layer of sweat covering her face.

It hurt her to see her charge like this. So she did the only thing she could think of.

She spread her left wing over the bed, gently covering the woman with it, and then she began to sing.

The effect was instant. The young woman stopped mumbling and moving, and her facial features relaxed into a smile. 

From then on, she came back every night and sang her to sleep.

—-

Yasmin was finally getting some sleep again. These days she woke up feeling well rested and warm, almost as if she had spent the night wrapped in the arms of someone she loved.

It wasn’t like the singing had stopped, though. But strangely enough, it had turned into something almost comforting. Like someone telling her that everything was alright, that she was going to be fine. Instead of being alarmed by how much she had gotten used to the voice, she actually found herself enjoying it. Her new habit of randomly smiling at crime scenes might eventually make her end up at the counsellor’s office after all, though.

Getting onto her newly fixed bike, she put her helmet on, ready to head out for her shift. It was a beautiful autumn day, leaves covering the road in front of her. Smiling, she kicked herself off, happily pedalling away toward the intersection down the road.

She realised she was going way too fast the moment a car came out of a street on her right, just a few feet ahead of her. Panic rising in her chest, she braked hard and immediately lost control over her bike on the wet leaves.

“I’m not going to make it,” she thought as her bike skidded towards the car.

Then, out of nowhere, she could feel a hand on her shoulder, and her bike turned to the side, taking her down to the ground with it as she lost her balance.

Yasmin.

The car travelled past just inches away from her front wheel, and skidded to a halt a couple of seconds later.

“Oh God,” a man said, jumping out of the car. “Are you hurt?”

Yaz blinked, still in shock about what had just happened.

“I think I’m alright,” she mumbled. “Somebody stopped me.”

The man knitted his brows together in confusion, lifting his head to look past Yaz.

“Who?” he finally asked.

Yaz turned her head to look down the street, sure to find the person who had stopped her and called her name.

There was no one.

—-

Yasmin Khan. That was her name. Not that she was supposed to know. In fact, she was supposed to keep some sort of professional distance, which included not knowing her charges’ names. She had never understood the rule, but had also never risked breaking it.

That was until she saw a letter lying on the woman’s desk, and couldn’t help herself from glancing at the name written on top.

Yasmin Khan. The sound caused her chest to fill with warmth, something that was entirely new to her. She had never felt a connection like this with a charge. Of course, she was supposed to care for them, to protect them from any harm. The people they were assigned to had important things their paths were leading them to, and their guardian was supposed to make sure they got there without harm.

But she found herself breaking rules left and right for this particular human. In fact, she was surprised she hadn’t been reprimanded yet. Somebody must know about it by now, after all.

She had even gone as far as calling her by her name when she had stopped her from being crushed by a car the other day. The weird thing was, for a moment it had almost felt as if the woman had heard her. But that wasn’t possible.

Was it?

—-

Yasmin was humming as she walked into the bank, purse in hand. Something had been wrong with her online banking app for months, and since she had woken up bright and early today, she had decided it was finally time to get it all sorted.

Yasmin didn’t make it to the counter before the first shot rang through the air. A moment later, screaming erupted around her.

“Everybody down!” a male voice shouted over the crowd. “Or somebody gets hurt!”

As the people around her started throwing themselves to the ground, Yasmin got a clear view of a man standing on top of a desk, ski mask covering his face and right hand lifted high above his head, holding a gun.

She noticed a moment too late that she was the only one still standing, right in the middle of the foyer.

“What are you doing?” the man said, fixing her with his gaze. Yasmin felt a bead of cold sweat running down her neck.

At least she wasn’t wearing her uniform. Reflexively, she lifted her hands above her head.

“You don’t have to hurt anybody,” she said, proud of herself for keeping her voice from shaking.

“Get down,” the man hissed, now effectively pointing his gun at her.

“Alright, alright!” she replied, and slowly dropped down to her knees.

“You keep an eye on her,” the man shouted, tilting his head in her direction. A moment later, another masked person appeared next to her, and a boot kicked her in the back.

Crying out in pain, she fell to the ground. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe as all of the air was suddenly knocked out of her lungs.

Then something strange happened.

The man next to her shouted something, his voice thick with agony, and he fell to his knees holding his chest.

For just a split second, Yasmin saw someone hovering over him.

A woman, blonde hair falling across her face and hazel eyes blazing with anger and determination, one arm outstretched, palm just inches away from the man’s chest. She was the most beautiful being Yasmin had ever seen.

The image was gone as quickly as it had come, but she was sure she would never forget it for the rest of her life.

Later, long after the SWAT team had taken out the robbers, long after the ambulances and police cars and news vans had left, Yasmin was still standing in the middle of the bank, staring blankly ahead, unable to move away, unable to chase the image from her mind.

“Who are you?"

—-

She was in so much trouble. So, so much trouble. She wasn’t allowed to hurt humans, ever. Not even when her charges were in mortal danger. And she had ended up hurting one just for hurting her charge.

He hadn’t even inflicted a dangerous wound, kicking her to the ground like that. But he had caused her pain, and in a cowardly way nonetheless. He had hurt Yasmin, and all she had been able to see afterward was red. She had gone straight for his chest, and if something at the back of her mind hadn’t stopped her, she might have very well caused a heart attack in the end.

She stayed away from Yasmin's flat for the first time in weeks that night, instead flying aimlessly through the starry sky above the city, occasionally listening in on her other charges. But they were all safe and sound in their homes, leaving her with nothing else to do but think about what she had done.

She should ask to be reassigned. She should put her hands together in prayer right now and call upon Michael himself, explaining herself and asking for some time away to get a hold of herself. A charge on the other side of the globe, maybe even just a heralding job. She used to be good at those.

Yet she didn’t call out. The thought alone of staying away from Yasmin Khan made a pain shoot through her chest like she had never felt before in her life.

“Is this what the humans call heartache?” she suddenly thought. But that wasn’t possible; angels didn’t feel those kinds of emotions, they were entirely a human thing. Yet she couldn’t help but feel this peculiar pain every time she closed her eyes and an image of Yasmin Khan appeared in her mind. It was excruciating, and she wanted it to stop.

Yet at the same time, she wished it never would.

—-

Yasmin was unable to chase the woman’s image out of her mind. Her colleagues were starting to ask if she was alright, as she kept spending hours sitting at her desk, just staring blankly at her screen.

Was the woman the same person who had saved her from the car the other day? She had felt so oddly familiar, yet Yasmin was sure she had never seen her before in her life - if she was even real to begin with. Yasmin was well aware that the blonde might just be a figment of her imagination - after all, she had seen her in an incredibly stressful moment, and had been in extreme pain just seconds before. 

Yasmin had even resorted to some ample googling afterwards, and apparently it wasn’t such a rare thing to hallucinate in a life-or-death situation, which Yasmin thought her altercation with the bank robber qualified as.

Rubbing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on the report she was supposed to type out. It didn’t help that she had trouble sleeping again, that feeling of warmth she had enjoyed so much gone once again. She missed it, and it almost felt as if someone who used to sleep beside her was no longer there.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thought. If the woman was real - and Yaz really believed that she was - she just had to find her. Only that she had no idea how she would go about looking for someone who could obviously disappear into thin air from one moment to the next.

—-

She had stayed away from Yasmin Khan for a full week. It hadn’t helped get rid of the strange feeling in her chest, which somehow only amplified with each day she spent away from her charge.

Right this moment, however, she could no longer ignore her, as she could feel the obvious danger the woman was in once more. So she flapped her wings, changing course in the sky, and followed the calling in the back of her mind that pulled her back towards Yasmin Khan. 

Once again, she found the policewoman; standing in an empty warehouse with a gun pointed at her head.

With a jolt, she realised that the other man was wearing a police uniform as well.

“Why?” Yasmin hissed through clenched teeth. “Why did you do it John? Just for the money? To make yourself rich?”

The man laughed, an ugly laugh that resonated in her bones, and threw his head back.

“Oh sweet, young inexperienced Officer Khan. Don’t you understand yet? It’s not just money. Money is all that counts in this world, and I’m afraid your naiveté will get you killed one day.”

“Is that a threat?” Yasmin hissed, arms raised over her head but hands balled into fists.

“No,” the man replied, showing off nicotine-stained teeth as he grinned. “It’s a prophecy.”

Her feet landed on the ground just as the man pulled the trigger. She stretched her hand out at the last possible moment, diverting the bullet by a mere inch, and looked over her shoulder to watch it fly right past the policewoman’s left ear, causing no harm. Turning back, she flicked her other hand towards the man, and, as he pulled the trigger once more, the unmistakable click of an empty chamber reverberated across the room.

“Shit,” he hissed, throwing the weapon to the ground before turning on his heels and running.

Satisfied with a job well done, she dropped her arms back to her side, smiling. Just as she was getting ready to unfold her wings, a voice rang out from behind her.

“How did you do that?”

In the same moment, she realised that Yasmin wasn’t running after the dirty cop and she froze.

It couldn’t be…?

Slowly, she turned around to see the young policewoman looking straight into her eyes.

“You can see me?”

The moment she spoke, the woman’s jaw dropped and recognition flashed over her face.

“You!” Yasmin exclaimed. “It was your voice!”

Stumbling backwards, she had no idea what to do next. Humans couldn’t see angels. Humans couldn’t hear angels. Humans couldn’t…

Panicking, all she could think of was to close her eyes, concentrating on all of her other charges, and a moment later she was halfway across the city, Yasmin Khan’s voice still ringing in her ears.

“Wait! Let me talk to you. Please!”

—-

“Please!”

But Yasmin’s voice was ringing through a now completely empty warehouse, no sign of the woman who had stood there just moments ago.

Just as she remembered why she had come here, suddenly panicking at the thought that there was a dirty cop running around free across town, she saw something shimmering on the floor, right next to where the woman had been.

She walked over and carefully sank down onto one knee, bending down to get a close look at what the woman had potentially dropped before disappearing.

A moment later, she lost all feeling in her face and hands when she recognised what was lying right in front of her.

It was a feather.

—-

She was flying as fast as she had never before in her life. Flapping her wings almost manically into the air, searching out the strongest winds, she darted aimlessly over the ocean with her eyes closed as she let out a scream that, for a moment, parted the waves underneath her.

Her right hand was burning like fire. She had noticed it just after she’d disappeared out of the warehouse and had held her hand up to her face to examine it. She started her mad flight with no particular destination in mind as soon as she realised what it was.

Across her right hand, there was a line of blistering, angry red flesh, something she had seen on human burn victims.

Only she was supposed to be invulnerable.

She had no idea what was happening to her at this point. All of a sudden, a human could see her. And apparently she had been able to hear her before that, for God knew how long.

Pulling up her wings, she shot up into the sky, away from the ocean, the strength of their movements causing waves to crash against each other beneath her. 

Yasmin Khan was unlike any human she had ever met in her two thousand years of being a guardian angel. She had watched over so many different people, from holy martyrs to hospital nurses, yet none of them had touched her the way the policewoman did. 

She felt a constant pull towards her, unable to stay away. The woman made her want to smile and sing, she made her chest ache in the worst and best possible way, she made a warmth spread through her entire being in a way she only knew from being in the presence of the Almighty when she had just been a couple of years old.

Something slipped over her cheek, and she raised her hand to touch it. When her fingertips came away gleaming with something damp, she finally stopped, floating in place.

Raising her other hand, hissing in pain as she moved the injured palm, she touched her other cheek, and found the same thing.

It took her a moment until she understood.

She was crying.

—-

The next time Yasmin saw the woman, she was standing right in front of her on a busy street. Stopping in her tracks, her eyes lit up and she opened her mouth, heart suddenly beating hard into her chest. She had so many questions she wanted to ask the woman, and she was going to ask them this time.

But before she could say anything, the woman darted towards her, slinging an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

Yasmin’s breath caught in her throat at the sudden contact, and she could hear the rush of her own blood.

It was over as quickly as it had started, and a second later Yasmin heard the woman draw in a sharp breath as something fell to the floor just inches away from their feet with a loud cracking noise.

Confused, she looked down to see the shards of what must have been a very large, heavy flower pot scattered all over the pavement, exactly where she had stood a minute earlier.

“You saved me!” she exclaimed, and turned to see the blonde woman standing next to her, holding onto her shoulder, face contorted in pain.

The smile that had been on her face just a moment earlier disappeared as she took a step closer to the woman, and saw that there was blood beginning to seep through her otherwise impeccably white blouse. Gently, she laid a hand on the woman’s arm, whose head shot up immediately in response, eyes wide.

“You can touch me, too?”

Again, the sound of her voice made something light up in Yasmin’s chest.

“Of course I can,” she replied. “We should get someone to look at your shoulder.”

“No,” the woman immediately said, taking a step away from Yasmin. 

It was then that she noticed that people were staring at her. They had stopped walking as the pot had fallen, and now they had formed a small circle around them, some of them with incredulous looks on their faces, others obviously barely biting back a laugh.

“What?” Yasmin snapped at one of them, a woman with a particularly condescending smile.

“Don’t”, the blonde spoke softly from behind her. “They can’t see me.”

Slowly, Yasmin turned around to look at her. That wasn’t possible. Was it?

“How?” she whispered.

“I can’t explain. I have to go.”

As the woman closed her eyes, Yasmin did the only thing she could think off, not caring what the people watching them - or rather, her - might think. Lunging forward, she grabbed the woman’s wrist, holding on to it tightly.

The blonde’s eyes flew open again. “What are you doing?”

“Please,” Yasmin said, not caring how she might sound. “Please, I want to talk to you.”

Something soft passed over the woman’s face. Slowly, she reached out for Yasmin’s hand, and she found herself letting go without really wanting to do so.

“I’ll come see you later,” the woman said. “I promise.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving Yasmin surrounded by strangers in the middle of the street.

—-

She didn’t know what had made her promise to Yasmin Khan that she would come talk to her. There were much more pressing things for her to take care of at the moment, like the fact that she was now apparently able to bleed. After leaving Yasmin behind, she had found her way to a human pharmacy, and taken some bandages off the shelves. She made sure to make some money appear in the cashier’s register - she might not know what was going on with her own body right now, but she did know that she wasn’t a thief.

Now she was sitting on top of a building, staring at the bandages she had bought, no idea how to actually use them. They didn’t exactly cover how to tend to your own wounds in angel training - nobody was supposed to be able to hurt them after all.

Sighing, she gave up trying to figure out the bandages, and realised at the same time that she knew somebody who would know what to do with them.

Should she really go see Yasmin? She had promised, yes, but she could probably still find a way out of it - she was an angel after all. On the other hand, if she could now be wounded like a human, her wounds might also be able to become infected like those of one, in which case she definitely needed someone to take care of it for her.

Calling Michael was definitely not an option anymore. 

There was only one solution, really. 

Her heart beating fast, she spread her wings.

—-

Yasmin had spent the whole evening pacing up and down her living room. Was the woman really going to come by? She had promised, and Yasmin wanted to believe her. There was something about the blonde, aside from the obvious fact that Yasmin was apparently the only one who could see or hear her. She had even gone as far as asking the bystanders about it before, but when a mother had started pulling her little girl away from her, saying “Don’t listen to the crazy lady,” Yasmin had gotten her answer.

She finally decided that she needed to keep herself busy with something, so she grabbed her laptop off the coffee table and sat down on the couch. As she opened her browser, she stared at the search bar for a couple of minutes, fingers hovering over the keyboard, then just closed her laptop again, throwing it onto the couch next to her.

What was she going to type in? Person who is able to vanish into thin air? I can see someone nobody else can? She was pretty sure those results would link her directly to a mental health crisis hotline.

Dropping her head into her hands, she let the memories of the last few weeks play out in front of her inner eye. All the times she had narrowly escaped some kind of danger and brushed it off as good luck, had it really been that woman?

“Who are you?” she mumbled into her hands.

“The name I was given is Sariel, but my brothers and sisters call me Sara.”

Yasmin’s head shot up, finding the blonde woman standing in the middle of her living room, looking just like she had hours before, except her blouse was now tainted with an even darker red stain at her shoulder.

Not knowing what else to do, Yasmin spoke.

“I’m Yasmin, but my friends call me Yaz.”

“Yaz,” the woman said, smiling. “I didn’t know that.”

Then her expression changed, and she swayed slowly, suddenly looking confused and scared.

Without thinking, Yaz jumped off the couch, gently grabbing a hold of the woman’s arm and guiding her over to sit down.

“I’m hurt,” she said, tears now shimmering in her eyes. “But I don’t know how to use these.”

Glancing down, Yaz now saw that the woman was holding bandages in her hand. They had obviously been opened, then messily rolled back together.

“You can’t use these”, Yaz said. “They aren’t sterile anymore. Stay here.”

When the woman nodded in reply, Yaz got up and walked out of the living room, over into her bathroom. She found what she had been looking for in the cabinet a moment later, hurrying back into the living room.

Relieved to find the woman still sitting on the couch, Yaz walked over, first aid kit in hand.

“You uhh,” she began, then felt herself turn bright red.

The woman looked up at her with such innocence in her eyes that Yaz almost completely aborted the mission. But one look at the blood on her blouse and she knew the wound definitely needed to be taken care of.

“I need to take a look at your wound. Underneath your blouse.”

She let out a long breath once the words had left her mouth. The woman just nodded, and seemingly without a care in the world, unbuttoned her blouse, slipping out of it until she sat in front of Yaz in a simple, white bra.

She was even more beautiful than Yaz could have imagined.

Mentally hitting herself over the head, she turned her gaze toward the wound. It was less serious than it had seemed by the amount of blood, yet there was still an ample number of cuts across the blonde’s shoulder, some even on her upper back.

“I need to clean these. It might sting a little, I’m sorry.”

The woman just nodded again. She hadn’t said anything since giving Yaz her name.

Sariel.

Yaz pondered the name while she carefully cleaned cut after cut. It was safe to say the name was very unusual. Sara was normal enough, yet short for Sariel? Yaz had never heard of anyone called like that.

Once the wounds were clean, Yaz proceeded to lay gauze over them, using some medical tape to make sure it all stayed in place.

“There,” she said, smiling as she looked over her work. “All done.”

That’s when she really saw the woman’s back for the first time.

—-

She knew as soon as Yaz drew in her breath that she had seen the welts that hid her wings when they were folded. Although she hadn’t minded undressing in front of the police woman before - it was how the Almighty had made her, after all - now all she wanted was to cover herself with her blouse once more.

Screwing her eyes shut, she braced herself for the inevitable question.

“What happened?”

Well, that wasn’t quite what she had expected.

“Nothing,” she finally replied. “It’s how I was born.”

She glanced over her now bandaged shoulder to see a questioning look in Yaz’s eyes. Somehow, she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the woman’s questions, no matter what she asked, even though she was well aware of the dangers of telling a human the truth.

“That’s where my wings are.”

She half-expected the woman to laugh or to scream at her to get the hell out of her house. Instead, her eyes grew wide and her mouth formed a silent “oh”.

“How?” Yaz finally breathed.

Sighing, she pushed herself off the couch. Her vision blurring for a moment, she found enough balance afterwards to turn around and face the woman.

“Like this,” she said softly.

And with a gentle gust of air, her wings unfolded; stretching out across the room, wrapped in a gentle golden shimmer.

—-

“Holy shit you’re an angel.”

There were probably other things to say when you were in the presence of a genuine angel, yet Yaz couldn’t think of anything else. She was almost speechless faced with the beauty that she was allowed to see. Feathers that seemed to be made out of golden light formed two delicate, yet somehow strong wings, and the woman they belonged to suddenly seemed to glow as well, a soft smile on her lips.

“Aren’t you supposed to say something?”

The woman frowned, then her face lit up in realisation.

“Oh! You want me to go all “Behold, I bring you good tidings” on you! We stopped doing that centuries ago.”

Yaz swallowed.

“We,” she whispered. Of course. Of course there were more of her. More angels.

Suddenly, she realised that she was probably not at all showing the proper respect right now, sitting on her old couch as she would if her sister had dropped by.

Jumping up, she wrung her hands.

“How do we do this? Am I supposed to kneel?”

“God no!” the woman exclaimed, darting forward to grab hold of her arm and stop her mid-motion. “Please don’t.”

“Alright,” Yaz said, now awkwardly standing in front of the woman who was still holding onto her arm.

Noticing Yaz glance at her hand, the woman dropped it, blushing. Yaz thought it looked beautiful on her.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m not used to directly interacting with humans.”

“You interacted with me a lot,” Yaz said.

“Yeah,” the woman replied, looking guilty. “You weren’t supposed to notice though.”

Then she quietly folded her wings behind her back, and a moment later, they were gone.

They both just stood for a moment, neither of them really knowing what to do.

“Tea!” Yaz suddenly exclaimed, breaking the silence. “Would you like some tea?”

A smile spread over the woman’s face. “I would love some tea.”

—-

“If you’re an angel, how come you’re bleeding?”

It was the first question in a very long list of ones that had already been asked by Yaz that made her stop for a moment. She drank the last sip of her tea, now cold, then leaned back into the couch that they had been sharing for the past couple of hours.

“I,” she began, then decided to be honest. “I don’t know.”

With all the answers she had given, this was the first one that seemed to throw the human off a little. She could see the woman pondering it, trying to make sense of it herself. A part of her hoped that maybe she could help her see something she was unable to.

“Are you ill? Do angels get ill?”

She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. Although it might be something like that. I mean, as I said, you’re not supposed to see or hear me either yet here we are.”

“Hm,” the woman said, frowning. They had covered that topic before, discussing the possibilities of why Yaz was apparently an exception to the rule.

“Do you have any other symptoms?”

She pondered the question for a moment, then felt herself blush. “I, uhm…” she began, then stopped herself. “I don’t think so.”

It was the first time she had lied to Yaz, but for some reason she didn’t feel comfortable discussing the way her heart skipped a beat every time she was around the woman, or how she was filled with the strangest pain whenever she wasn’t around.

Yawning, Yaz put down her own mug on the table in front of the couch.

“You’re tired! You should go to bed. Humans need sleep.”

Smiling, Yaz looked up at her. It made her heart to the thing again.

“Maybe I should go to bed. Although I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.”

“Oh,” she said, suddenly feeling guilty. “That might be my fault, actually.”

The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them.

“How?” Yaz asked, frowning.

“I uhm,” she began, feeling herself blush. “I used to sing you to sleep for a while, but then I stopped. Your subconscious might have gotten used to it and now you have trouble falling asleep without it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Yaz’s cheeks turn dark red and she felt her own blush deepen.

“Is that part of your angelic duties?” the woman asked.

“Not exactly, no,” she whispered, still not looking Yaz in the eye.

Then, a moment later, Yaz took her completely by surprise once more.

“Can you do it again?”

It was spoken so quietly that she almost missed it, and when she looked up, she found such vulnerability shining in the young woman’s eyes that she found herself unable to refuse.

—-

Sariel came by every night from then on. They sat together, drank tea, and talked. After a while, they gave up trying to figure out the mystery of Yaz being able to see the angel, and decided instead to just enjoy their time together.

Yaz told Sara about her life, her family, her friends, her work. 

Sara told Yaz about her home, her brothers and sisters, and what flying felt like.

“I wish I could fly,” Yaz sighed one night as Sara told her about how amazing it felt to float above the city, knowing that there was so much life bustling underneath.

Something shone in Sara’s eyes that made Yaz raise an eyebrow in question.

“Do you trust me?” she asked, an earnest look on her face.

Yaz found herself nodding immediately. “I do,” she said, then added, with a crooked smile: “With my life, apparently.”

The next thing she knew, Sara was holding her in her arms and they shot out through Yaz’s back door and up, up into the night sky.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Yaz wrapped her arms around Sara’s neck, holding on for dear life.

“I’ve got you,” the angel said, smiling.

And Yaz knew she was telling the truth. She had never felt safer in her life than she did in this moment, flying high above the rooftops of her city, a million lights shining underneath her, but somehow the brightest of them all being right here with her.

They flew over the city for a while, the angel clearing letting the wind beneath her wings set their course. After a while, they landed on a hill, and Sara gently placed her down on the soft ground.

Without speaking a word, she sat down on the grass, Yaz following suit next to her, and they laid back, watching the stars above their heads.

Yaz didn’t know who reached out first, but she did know that she never wanted to let go of Sara’s hand ever again.

—-

“You have to stay safe, I can’t properly protect you at the moment!”

“I know, Sara.”

“Then why did you do that today?”

“It’s my job!”

They were standing in Yaz’s kitchen, the teapot wheezing softly in the background, both women’s faces filled with a mix of worry and anger.

“You have to be careful!” Sara said. She had barely been able to catch the man’s blow before, and a nasty bruise was blooming across her arm for it.

“So do you!” Yaz countered, and Sara felt herself instantly deflate, shoulders sagging.

“I’m failing you,” she whispered, and felt the tears threatening to spill. “I can’t protect you like I used to.”

“It’s okay,” Yaz said, and a moment later Sara could feel the warmth of the other woman’s hand on her cheek. She would never get used to how it made her feel, she thought.

“It’s not,” she replied, covering Yaz’s hand with her own, and then bravely added “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either.”

They stood like that for a moment, neither woman speaking another word, until the teapot whistled behind them and Yaz turned around.

That night, when Sara sat down in what had become “her chair” to sing, Yaz wordlessly flipped the blanket aside, a silent question in her eyes.

And for the first time, Sara held her as she sang.

—-

Yaz woke up that morning to find Sara next to her, fast asleep. Surprise was quickly replaced with a warmth spreading through her chest.

The woman had always been gone in the morning, and Yaz wouldn’t see her until the evening as she came home from work. She didn’t know what the angel did during the day, but she had briefly mentioned other “charges” - Yaz faintly remembered the pang of jealousy she had felt at that - and Yaz had always assumed she would be out watching over those people.

A glance at her clock told Yaz that she had to get up and get ready for work, yet she found herself unable to leave the sleeping woman. She realised she could spend hours watching her; the way strands of blonde hair fell across her face, the way she occasionally scrunched up her entire face like she sometimes did when speaking, too, the way her chest slowly rose and fell, a soft breath leaving her mouth every couple of seconds.

She figured that the angel probably didn’t get a lot of rest in her line of work, so she decided to let her sleep. Carefully easing herself out from underneath the blanket, she sat up and turned around once more to look at Sara. In a split second decision, she leaned down, placing a soft kiss on the woman’s forehead.

“Hm,” the blonde mumbled, then smiled.

For a moment, Yaz thought she might have woken her up, but when she didn’t open her eyes, she realised the woman must still be lost in the land of dreams. Smiling, she got out of her bed, and started to get ready for her work day.

She walked out of the house half an hour later, softly pulling the door shut behind her.

—-

Sara was completely disoriented as her eyes fluttered open. She was in Yaz’s room, that much was clear, but she had no idea what had happened. The last thing she remembered was holding Yaz and singing to her, and now it was clearly day. Her heart fluttered at the memory of last night. She had never been so close to anyone, and lest she made herself guilty of blasphemy, but it was the most beautiful thing she had ever felt.

Sitting up, the blankets fell away from her, and she felt the sudden urge to open her mouth, her chest heaving upwards.

At the sound that escaped her, she covered her mouth with a hand, surprised.

“Was that a yawn?”

Then it dawned on her. She had slept, for the first time in her life. Slept like humans do.

Confused, she threw the blankets to the side and slowly padded out of the bedroom toward the kitchen.

She didn’t noticed the trail of feathers she was leaving in her wake.

—-

“Done,” Yaz sighed, throwing her pen onto her desk. The clock had just hit six as she finished her report, and she immediately jumped out of her chair. She couldn’t wait to get home.

She told herself it had nothing to do with Sara.

But her heart kept fluttering the entire bike ride back to her flat, and then it almost skipped a beat when she saw that the light in her flat was on. Sara must have gotten there early.

Yaz practically ran up the stairs and skidded to a halt in front of her door. Fumbling with her keys for a moment, she finally managed to open the door, throwing it shut behind her as soon as she walked into her flat.

“Sara,” she called out, smiling. 

“Sara’s not home.”

Yaz froze as the familiar, deep voice rang out from behind her and turned around slowly to find none other than John Barkley standing there; the dirty cop that had gotten away from her all those weeks ago. He was casually leaning against the wall, all the while pointing a gun at her.

“How did you get in here?” she hissed.

“Oh, easy,” he said, a slick smile plastered on his face. “Your girlfriend left the door unlocked when she left before.”

Cold dread ran down Yaz’s spine as what the man had just said hit her.

“He can see her,” she thought, panic rising at the back of her throat.

Walking towards her, the gun still pointing at her chest, John grinned as Yaz stumbled backwards into her flat.

“I should have taken care of you last time,” he said.

“I could say the same,” Yaz replied, sounding a lot braver than she felt.

“Well,” John said, “This time I made sure there are enough bullets in my chamber.”

Just as he clicked off the safety, the door opened behind him and Yaz stopped breathing for a moment.

“Sara!” she called out. “Run!”

But of course she didn’t.

—-

The moment Sara walked up the stairs to Yaz’s flat, she knew that something was wrong. Her instincts might be dulled at the moment, but she could still tell when one of her charges was in danger.

Sprinting up the stairs, she came to an abrupt halt in front of Yaz’s door.

As she heard the voices inside, her heart fell. She would recognise that man’s voice anywhere.

Pushing open the door, all she could hear was Yaz screaming at her to run, but Sara didn’t listen. All she could see was a man pointing a gun at Yaz, her Yaz, threatening to hurt her, kill her. She couldn’t let that happen.

—-

Yaz didn’t know what happened. One moment, she was screaming at Sara, standing in the doorway, to run, the next the woman was somehow standing in between her and John instead, shielding her with her own body. Then, a shot rang through the air.

And Sara fell.

Yaz barely managed to grab a hold of the woman’s arms, somehow slowing down her fall while being pulled down with her.

There was blood everywhere, and a moment later, a bright light filled the room, blinding Yaz as well as John, causing him to drop his gun.

Then, the air around Yaz was filled with snow, falling down softly all around her.

It took her a moment to realise that it wasn’t snow at all.

It was feathers.

“No!” she screamed, and she grabbed Sara’s body, cradling her in her arms.

“Yaz,” Sara spoke quietly, blood blooming across her chest like an ugly flower. “My Yaz.”

Across the room, John had fallen to his knees, eyes wide, but Yaz didn’t pay him any attention.

“Sara,” she spoke urgently. “Sara, hold on, help is coming.”

“Yaz,” the woman said again, her breathing becoming increasingly shallow. “Sing for me.”

Yaz hesitated, unable to think clearly as tears starting spilling across her cheeks.

“Please.”

Sara’s voice was nothing more than a whisper now, and Yaz opened her mouth, broken sounds escaping her lips as she held onto the woman in her arms as tightly as she could, feeling the blonde slip further and further away with every note.

Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you

And everything you do

Yeah they were all yellow

—-

Sara felt the world darken around the edges, but all she did was concentrate on Yaz’s voice, sounding so much more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. She smiled as she listened to the words of the familiar song, the one she had sung to Yaz so many times.

You know, you know I love you so

You know I love you so

“Oh,” she said, eyes widening as finally, after all this time, she realised.

Love

“Yaz,” she said again, suddenly desperate to hold on to the woman, lifting a hand up to touch Yaz’s cheek. “Yaz I -”

—-

Yaz balled her hands into fists, trying to grab a hold of Sara’s blouse, but it was like trying to hold onto water as it kept seeping through your hands. The light around her slowly dimming, Sara disappearing with it.

“Yaz, I -” 

But before she could finish, Sara was gone.

—-

Yaz spent the whole winter on leave, on recommendation by the police counsellor. Yaz hadn’t been able to fully explain to him what had happened, but he had understood enough to realise that there was a deep wound inside of Yaz, although he had no idea what it was.

In the spring, she moved into a new place. She had moved out the day after the shooting and moved back in with her parents for a while. When she finally found a new place, it wasn’t too far away from her family’s home. She needed them close by.

In the summer, she went about her days the same way she did before: writing reports, driving out on patrol, except that she no longer went straight home after her shifts, distracting herself with drinks with her colleagues instead. Some days it felt like it had all been a dream, as if Sara had never existed in the first place. Except Yaz knew she did, even though nobody else ever would.

In the autumn, Yaz got a new partner. She liked working with Ryan. They had known each other back in school, but had lost touch ever since. The moment they were partnered up together, however, it had felt like no time had passed between them at all, and Yaz was more than happy about being able to work with him.

“We’ll be right there,” Ryan spoke into his radio, then glanced over at Yaz.

“There’s someone out on Kingdom Street, a confused woman who doesn’t seem to know who she is or where she should go.”

Nodding, Yaz turned their car around. It wasn’t rare for older people, oftentimes patients who suffered from dementia, to find themselves out of the care of those who were watching them. Then it was the police’s job to make sure they got back home safe and sound.

As they drove around the corner, a small group of people had gathered, surrounding what Yaz presumed to be the woman they were looking for.

Getting out of the car, Yaz waved for the people to make space. “Police, let us through please!” she repeated, until the crowd in front of her parted.

As she saw the woman standing in the middle of the road, her world suddenly turned upside down and she found herself reaching out for anything - or anyone - that could steady her.

“Are you alright?” Ryan said, taking a hold of her arm, but all Yaz could do was shake her head.

In the middle of the street, wearing exactly what she always had, stood a woman who looked exactly like Sara, confusion and fear spread all over her face.

“Yaz!” she called out, and Yaz’s heart almost stopped. She watched as the woman ran towards someone in the crowd, grabbing a hold of their hands. “Do you know where Yaz is? She’s in danger, I have to help her.”

Tears were streaming down the woman’s face now as she grew increasingly agitated, running around from person to person, asking the same question over and over again.

“Where is my Yaz?”

Then, across the street, their eyes met.

—-

The last thing she remembered was Yaz’s voice as she sang to her, and how she wanted to say something to her, something so important that it couldn’t wait. And now she was standing here, in the middle of this street, surrounded by humans who were looking at her as if she had lost her mind.

“Yaz!” She shouted, feeling desperate enough to ask every single person present for help. “Where is Yaz? Have you seen her?”

As the people slowly backed away from her, she heard a car stopping nearby but didn’t pay attention to it, instead concentrating on finding someone who could help.

“Where is my Yaz?”

Then she turned around and stopped dead in her tracks. There, in the middle of a parted crowd, looking like she was seeing a ghost, stood Yaz.

“Yaz,” Sara breathed. “Yaz, you’re alright.”

And then, without thinking, she ran towards her.

—-

The woman who looked so much like Sara stopped just moments before she would collide full force with Yaz.

Yaz felt like her head was swimming. This couldn’t be.

One year. One year spent searching for Sara in every smile at the other side of a room, every tuft of blonde hair that disappeared around a corner somewhere. One year of refusing to believe that the woman was, indeed, gone.

With a jolt, Yaz remembered how it had felt, the woman’s life slipping through her fingers, and then she almost fell toward her, throwing her arms around the blonde’s neck.

“Sara,” she sobbed, feeling tears falling down her cheeks. “Sariel, is it you?”

And when she felt the woman nod against her shoulder, she decided that she would never let go of her ever again.

—-

It had been difficult, adjusting to life as a human, but Yaz had made it easy for her. She had a relentless patience in explaining things to Sara, no matter how many times she had to ask.

After the initial shock and joy of finding each other again, they had worried about the legal side of things; finding the necessary documents that would allow Sara to lead a real life on earth. Yet the Almighty seemed to have considered everything, as one day Yaz opened a drawer in her desk to find a passport and birth certificate for Sara Seraphim.

She spent her weekdays working in a music store - Yaz had found the ad, and it had proven to be a perfect fit - and her Saturdays leading the local children’s choir. On Sundays, they stayed cuddled up on the couch, drinking tea and telling each other stories of their childhoods; one spent on earth, one spent in heaven.

In the evenings, they laid together, always holding on to each other and never letting each other go.

Sara still sang to Yaz every night.

Except now, she finished every song by telling her she loved her.