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Uncle Amenadiel takes them flying, when Charlie is ten and Rory is nine. They’ve flown before, a bit, but never this high or this far.
He lays down the ground rules - don’t fly too low, or too high, avoid planes and helicopters and particularly angry birds (Charlie breaks that last one quickly and winds up with poop in his hair). Uncle A makes a bunch of funny faces as he tells them about a time when he flew smack into a bridge, and they all laugh. Rory has a difficult time imagining him actually doing that, though, because Amenadiel flies with such grace, such an air of calm collectedness that he always has (save for when Aunt Maze teases him about something or other that Rory is too young to understand). She asked her mom once if Amenadiel was always like that, or if it came from being God, and her mom just sort of smiled and shrugged and said she’d have to ask him. Typical. Uncle A wouldn’t tell her, either.
What Rory finds out for herself is how exhilarating it is, how strong and powerful she feels when she zips through the air, diving and doing a corkscrew that makes her wings glint red in the bright California sun. Charlie’s wings look almost exactly like his father’s, the two of them a matched pair as they circle and practice landings. Rory and Charlie clearly need a lot more of it - their twists and spins are sometimes awkward and wobbly, their flight not as sure or confident as Amenadiel’s, or perhaps that’s simply their half-human side showing itself. Laughter bubbles up in her chest and she’s still grinning and breathless as they all find a perch near the top of an impressively tall art deco building near downtown. She flips her scraggly hair out of her face and skips to the edge, fearless as she looks down because she knows she won’t fall.
“That was awesome,” her cousin says from behind her, and she can hear Amenadiel’s warm chuckle as well.
“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” he agrees. “But you two know the rules - while you’re still learning, you shouldn’t come out this high without me to supervise. Promise?”
“We promise,” they say in unison, knowing that at some point, they’ll probably break that rule, and Amenadiel will catch them (because he’s God), and they’ll be grounded, but it’ll be worth it anyway.
“Does this mean we can visit the Silver City with you soon?” Charlie asks, voice dripping with curiosity as he sits on a ledge, swinging his legs back and forth.
Neither of them have ever been. For as long as she can remember, Rory has known about the Silver City - heard stories about it from Uncle A, and from the occasional celestial aunts and uncles who come to Earth for temporary visits. But whenever they’ve asked to go, the answer has always been “no”.
Uncle A gets an expression on his face that Rory has seen before, like he’s a little bit regretful about what he’s about to say, and then says, “wellll….no - oooo. Not yet.”
“But why not?”
“Because of me,” Rory says quietly, but Uncle A hears her. He always hears everything.
“What makes you say that?” he asks, tilting his head in confusion.
“Because,” she says after a minute. “Because of my dad. He wasn’t allowed there, so I’m not, either, and you make Charlie stay out too because you don’t want me to feel bad.” It all comes out in a rush, her latest theory. She’s been stewing about this for a while now, and figures that must be it.
Amenadiel looks shocked - and a little upset. She didn’t mean to upset him! It’s just what she’s been thinking about, after doing a little reading at the library and getting lots of non-answers from her mom.
“No, Rory, that’s not why,” he finally says quietly. “You will both be welcome in the Silver City, when the time comes. But - your moms agreed, and I agreed with them, that you shouldn’t go until you’re older. That’s all.”
“Why?” Charlie asks, confused.
Amenadiel shakes his head. “You’ll have to ask your moms.”
Rory lets out a frustrated sigh, even as Charlie demurs. She hops up, takes wing, and flies up a bit - right up until she hears her uncle, ever calm, ever capable, following behind her. He could overtake her if he chose, but he hangs back a bit, waits for her to decide to give it up.
“If I kept going,” she asks, hovering just above his head so she’s looking down at him, “how long would it take me to get there?”
“You wouldn’t,” he says, gently, sympathetically.
Frustrated, she dives, stopping just below where he’s still hovering, and points down. “And if I flew down?”
He just shakes his head slowly.
“But why?”
She doesn’t understand, and she gets so frustrated when she doesn’t understand things and the grown-ups won’t explain to her. Charlie never seems to be so frustrated - he seems to accept things, and that frustrates her even more sometimes.
“You have to talk to your mom about it,” Amenadiel says solemnly.
“But she won’t tell me anything!”
“Ask her again,” he says, putting a hand on her shoulder as they come back to the ledge where Charlie is waiting for them. She shrugs his hand off, annoyed and unwilling to let him comfort her. “It was her decision, hers and Linda’s. You should ask her.”
—--------------
When Amenadiel brings her back home, she immediately makes a beeline for the kitchen, where her mom has her special egg sandwich already waiting for her. She focuses on her food, but she’s still hyper-aware that her uncle and her mom are having a quiet, serious conversation in the living room. She knows it’s about her - both of them sneak glances at her at certain points. She can’t hear all of what they say, except when Amenadiel prepares to leave.
“She’s so much like him sometimes,” he murmurs as they approach the door.
“I know,” she responds, in that weird tone of voice she gets sometimes that seems both happy and sad, proud and concerned.
Then Amenadiel is gone, and it’s just Rory and her mom. Her mom approaches her, perching at the stool across the kitchen island from her as she eats.
“Had fun?” she asks.
“Yeah,” Rory says - honestly! Even if it’s not the whole truth.
“I heard you, uh, got a little upset with your uncle,” she offers quietly.
Rory eats in silence for a bit. She knows how her mom works - she’s giving her an opening to bring it up, ask whatever she needs to ask, without pressuring her too much.
“I want to visit the Silver City,” she finally says, and tries not to let it sound petulant, but - it kind of does. She frowns and takes another bite of her sandwich.
“I know, monkey,” her mom says, glancing down at her hands on the counter. “I know. And I’m sorry I haven’t… really explained why you’re not allowed. You shouldn’t blame your uncle. This is how I wanted it to be.”
“Why?”
Her mom takes a deep, steadying breath. “You know, I went there once.”
Rory can feel her eyes widen as she looks at her mom. She knows what that must mean - she’s always been aware of the differences between her and her mother. If her mom was ever in the Silver City, it meant -
“You - you died?”
Something strange flickers in her mother’s eyes, and she nods. “Obviously, I was okay, and I came back. I wasn’t there for long. And it was… nice. Really nice. But…”
She reaches across, puts her hand over Rory’s.
“Even though I was barely there for long, I almost forgot about everything back on Earth when I was there. I almost forgot about all the people I care about, and all the things in my life that are important to me. And - look, I don’t know if that’s how it would be for you, maybe not. Probably not. But I can’t just… let you go there without me, not now, not yet. Someday, I promise, you will. I promise. You’re half-celestial, and you’ll go there. But you’re also half-human. And you’re mine. Is it okay if I want to keep you here where I can look out for you right now?”
Her mom’s hand is warm. Her eyes are a little wet. Her mom is so strong, and she doesn’t often let anyone see her like this. Rory finds herself nodding.
“I…I guess.”
“Thanks, babe,” her mom whispers with a smile.
“What about Hell?” Rory hears herself ask. She hates, hates the look that crosses her mother’s face, almost hates herself for bringing it up, but here they are.
“I never want you to go there,” she says, quiet, but firm.
“But what if dad -”
“He would never want you to go there, either,” her mom adds. “There’s nothing for you there. Nothing.”
Her mother rarely gets angry, and she’s not angry now, but the look on her face is saying that this line of questioning is done. She’s not getting any further.
“If he cared so much, why’d he leave?” Rory mutters, shoving the last bite of sandwich into her mouth. It’s a question she’s asked before, and she always gets the same answer.
“He does care,” her mom says, right on cue. “I know that’s hard to believe, but it’s true.” She tucks a lock of hair behind Rory’s ear absently, and tries for a smile. “C’mon, tell me what it was like to fly. Did you do a corkscrew like you were planning?”
Rory lets herself be distracted, regaling her mother with an exaggerated tale of her flying adventure, but she still feels unsettled, dissatisfied. She always does after these conversations. She wonders if that will ever change.