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It was just too damn hot to sleep.
Every year, as the temperatures began to climb, I would vow to leave the inescapable desert heat for someplace with a more forgiving climate. It almost didn’t matter where as long as it had seasons and proper snowfalls. My bravado lasted until the weather would calm itself to what most people considered normal, while I dragged out my heavy coat, scarf, gloves and heated blanket. The desert became a more pleasant place as it cooled; laughter and smiles came easily, conflicts were resolved more quickly, and spirits were lifted simply by talking a walk through fresh air not sullied by sand or fumes.
Maybe that’s why I was so keen on packing a bag and running away for a nice, refreshing vacation. I hear Mt. Everest is mighty chilly.
Thrashing around beneath my sheets, I finally kicked them off with an irritated growl. The hum of the air conditioner dutifully chugging away told me I was imagining being overheated. It wasn’t truly the weather that was giving me fits; it was the completely oblivious, pig-headed, tight-lipped, dynamic and sexy musician I’d left sulking in his Basement Fortress for Moody Musicians. Bastard.
I supposed I couldn’t blame him completely. Those last few weeks I’d spent at the compound had felt like Hell on Earth, even though there were large gaps missing from my memory. Something was amiss in the main house but I hadn’t been strong enough to stick around and investigate – it was either leave or go completely batshit. Whatever affected me was surely affecting Omega as well, but to what degree? Both Air and Alpha confirmed his hermit-y habits, even if they were more intense (and supremely disturbing) this time around. I was allowed to be mad at him.
I glared at the ceiling for a long minute and growled again. Laying here being angry wasn’t making me feel better, so I forced my feet to the floor and padded out to the kitchen to fix the tea Water insisted cured insomnia. Knowing the lights would be much too bright for eyes used to the darkness, I flipped a switch to turn on a lamp in the living room.
And barely managed to transform an outright scream in to a muffled “Eek!” as I found Papa Emeritus III sitting on my couch.
“Papa!” His appearance knocked the wind out of my sails. “What are you doing here? In the dark?”
Papa chuckled softly and gracefully moved up and away from the couch, coming over to kiss both of my cheeks. I thanked my lucky stars the nightgown I chose to sleep in covered my more important bits.
He kept his face close enough to my own that it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He was a thrice Fallen angel with power so great it was vibrating the air around him, though he usually kept it tightly controlled. It spoke to how well he regarded me, this minor display of his abilities, and I would have felt proud had it not made my skin itch.
“My dear Ellie! Lucifer told me I would find you home and unharmed, but I had to see for myself.” He tapped my nose with a gloved finger. “You gave us all quite a scare when Alpha and Air visited Omega and found you missing.”
I dodged his questioning gaze and sidled away from him to sink in to an armchair, sighing deeply as I did so.
We made it three months, three whole months, before Omega turned emotionless and distant. It hadn’t helped my nightmares came back in full force, the pain over losing him scarring my heart more deeply than I’d realized. He pulled farther and farther away from me, always writing, recording, producing his precious music while insomnia became my best friend, transforming me in to an irritable recluse who hid out with books for days or weeks at a time.
That was probably the worst part of it all. We didn’t even fight. He simply ignored me until there was nothing left but endless silence. Then one night I found myself in the library with a book I’d fallen asleep on top of stuck to my cheek, startled awake from yet another nightmare full of shattering limbs and death. Omega’s haunting music floated up from the studio (what used to be a romantic gesture now ruined by turmoil) and in that instant I wanted to march down there and break every instrument he owned. I was jealous of inanimate objects, things he seemed to care for more than me.
That’s when I knew my crazy train had left the station and I needed to get out.
I’d come barreling through the portal to HQ like a mad woman, babbling incoherently before collapsing on the stone floor of the cavernous shared workspace. I entered a coma-like state for a few days, and took a few more after I woke up to convince my friends and boss I would feel more comfortable in my own home. Well, borrowed home. The weight I hadn’t realized I lost came back faster than anyone could have expected and day by day I looked less like an escapee from The Walking Dead.
“Ah, Papa, I’m sorry. It’s only been a few weeks since I left. I told James I didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone.” Except maybe Omega. That hope was dashed when a week passed and I heard nothing from him. “How did they figure out I had left permanently?”
A flash of humor touched his eyes. “The state of the library. It was in such disarray poor Alpha thought you kidnapped at first. He was not able to return immediately after the last time he spoke with you and believed you fell victim to another nefarious plot. ”
I looked down at the floor to hide the guilt eating away at me. “I haven’t been feeling very rational.” It was a difficult confession.
If anyone had come calling immediately after my departure I know for certain I would have ended up a sobbing, snotty mess of frantic insanity, terrified of sleep and unable to explain the exact moment when things started falling apart. Depression is not erased by miracles but even I had underestimated its desire to shred me to pieces.
Papa sank back down on the couch across from me and opened his mouth to speak, but the question I needed an answer to sprang from my lips before I could stop it. “Did he even realize I was gone?”
Giving me a sympathetic look that told me everything, Papa cleared his throat delicately and said, “Alpha…does not believe Omega to be in his right mind. I understand the two of you have discussed this, yes?”
I nodded.
“I have seen the boy lost in himself before but not quite like this.” His sadness mingled with mine, making the air in the room oppressive. “I do wish he would talk to me. I did not expect anger for this long.”
I smiled wistfully. “He loves you, Papa. You know he does. By the time you’re ready to go back to the studio I’m sure he’ll be there.”
Mismatched eyes met mine. “What about you, Ellie? Do you love him?”
I jerked as though he had struck me.
“I might never let you go.”
Words spoken in the library only a few months ago but ones that held the weight of eternity in them.
Tears stung my suddenly tired eyes. “I-I thought so.” I whispered.
Papa pulled a plush blue blanket off its resting place on the back of the couch and patted the empty space next to him. Hesitating for only a moment, I decided I wasn’t too proud to take the offered comfort. Papa had the capacity to be terrifying when he so chose, but the fact that he could still be sweet and caring to those around him made him a rarity.
Fallen angel or not he was still slightly smaller than me, so I only rested my head on one of his thighs as he pulled the blanket up to cover my arms. One of his gloved hands rested on my shoulder, the other on my head. He began humming a melody I couldn’t quite make out, but the beauty of it dried up my unshed tears and had my eyelids drooping lower and lower. His hands seeped warmth in to my battered spirit.
Too much warmth.
The skin beneath his hands felt as though it were blistering, and soon the flaming heat spread over every inch of my body. I cried out from the pain of it and tried to extricate myself from his iron grip but he refused to let me go.
“Hush now, broken Eliana. Papa is here to help.” His tone was apparently meant to sooth but only served to sharpen my panic.
Fingers traced my cheek in soft swirls as he murmured, “Sleep. Everything will become clear. This will solve many problems.”
My pounding heart immediately settled and my eyelids once again grew heavy, though this time against my will. I reached up to bat his hands away from my face but my hand only made it halfway there before falling limply back to the couch.
Sunlight streamed through open blinds, crashing into the darkness behind my eyelids to smack me awake. Gods, it felt like someone smacked me in the head with a brick.
As flashes of what happened the night before bombarded my brain, I flailed beneath several heavy blankets I didn’t even know I owned. Someone had moved me from the couch, the last place I remember being as Papa pinned me down, to my bed. It was nice to know he cared enough to make me comfortable after scaring the unholy hell out of me.
I laid still and took stock of the rest of my body, feeling surprisingly fit aside from my pounding head. I threw back the covers and slowly twisted around, careful not to jostle my head or stomach too much, lest one betray the other and send me to the floor in an ungainly heap. My legs felt steady enough but I shuffled cautiously to the bathroom for a shower; whatever Papa had done to me to heat me up had made me sweat profusely as I slept. I was sticky and smelly, my nightshirt clinging to all the wrong places with my long hair crammed in the spaces in-between. Ick.
The lukewarm water helped clear away the cobwebs in my mind and even erased most of the aching in my head. Wrapping a towel around myself I dawdled at the sink, intending to brush my teeth, but a glance in the mirror told me normalcy might be gone from my life for good.
The face looking back at me was my own, but transformed. The sharp cheekbones, upturned eyes, pointed ears and nose…I looked exactly as Omega had when he was still a Ghoul.
What had Papa done?