Then I Shall Make You Wings
Thyme

"A fish may love a bird, Seņor DiVinci, but where would they live?"
"Then I shall make you wings."

The lands and powers of Heaven know no boundaries; they spread effortlessly into oblivion, spiraling and twisting downwards and upwards, from side to side. The kingdom of the Lord exists wherever people exist, and wherever the kingdom of the Lord exists, his angels exist, also. His angels are beautiful, up to the very backbone meaning of the word and even farther. They are both male and female; each one inexplicably divine and mystical. And should anyone ever chance to see one, that person needs go down on his knees and thank the Father for such a blessing.

Unless, of course, that person should happen to be a demon. The demons are ignorant to the glory of God, if not hateful towards it.

And a demon is exactly what this person just so happened to be.

*

Trowa sat silently as physically possible underneath the safeness of a birch tree, absently picking away large pieces the bark, all the while humming a soft, tuneless little ditty to himself.

Peel it away, careful of the splinters, toss it over your shoulder. Peel it away, careful of the splinters--

"Ouch!"

He grimaced, pulling his hand from the tree to inspect it. Sure enough, he'd managed to lodge a little sliver of the bark in his pointer finger. He frowned, switching his hands with which he'd been stripping the bark, and continued.

Get one anyway. Peel it away, careful of the splinters, toss it over your shoulder. Peel it away, careful of the splinters, toss it over your shoulder. Peel it away...

He sighed, halting in his work and sparing another tiny glance at his finger.

"Great. It's bleeding. Just what I needed," he grumbled, rather annoyed at the small prickle of black blood that was bubbling up from where the splinter had entered.

That's just why I hate this human world, he thought irritably to himself. I'd rather be back in that infernal hellhole with all the others, but... His thoughts trailed off, and his heart clenched.

He hadn't been accepted there, and when he'd begged for entrance to live with the angels, he'd been denied there, too.

Trowa wasn't accepted anywhere.

And now he was damned to live forever in mortal terrain, taken in by people for short periods of time -- that is, until he slipped and showed his wings or spilled his black, black blood; both of which signified him as a demon. Then the people were horrified and they turned him away, causing him to seek shelter elsewhere.

Noticing a figure approaching him, though from a good distance away, he cast another look down at his finger and his blood and sighed. It was about time for him to be moving on, anyway. He stood.

He remained perfectly still, hand clutched to his chest in an almost futile attempt to hide the color of his blood. He leaned back against the tree very lightly with his head bowed, watching the figure with careful eyes as he waited to be discovered again.

A glint of shimmering white light caught his attention, and his hand snapped up just in time to catch the air around the form coming towards him ripple, then glow, and the outline of two beautiful white wings faded away. Trowa's eyes narrowed.

"So that's the way it is, eh? An angel... Hm. I can't leave now -- he'd just follow me." He almost smirked at his next thought. "Naive do-gooders; that's all they are. Deceptive little bastards."

His face setting into a scowl, he stepped away from the tree and stood rigidly in wait for the angel to reach him, and when he did, his scowl disappeared into a mere frown. It was hard to look intimidating when in the presence of quite possibly the most magnificent and beautiful being in existence.

The angel -- it was a boy -- had pale blonde hair that almost glowed in the light, and his eyes were so lovely and blue that they put all the oceans to shame. Contrary to Trowa's expectations, the angel wasn't dressed in white, but instead the normal garb of the common people.

Probably ditched the white along with the wings, he realized.

"Hello."

A soft, melodious voice yanked him out of his thoughts. He blinked, flat green eyes regarding the amazing boy in front of him.

"What?" he asked, his tone snappish and curt. The angel didn't seem to mind, though, gesturing to the hand Trowa held protectively to his chest.

"You're hurt," the angel said, his words becoming more and more beautiful with each syllable.

"So what?" Trowa sneered, the memory of how Heaven had turned him away so eagerly coming back to prod at his brain. "It's not like you'd help me, anyway."

The angel smiled brilliantly, the sight of it almost washing away all of Trowa's doubts.

"Actually, I would help you. Here, let me show you..." A pale hand reached for Trowa's arm, but he pulled away violently before the slender fingers had a chance to grasp his limb.

He's just like all the others, he reminded himself.

"No!" His eyes became suddenly wide as he pressed himself up against the tree trunk, something within him stirring. The innocent part of him that all the demons had hated him for desperately didn't want to hurt the angel, and he was finding it harder and harder to fight it. Tilting his chin upwards, emerald met sapphire.

The divine blonde tilted his head to the side, a bright smile playing across his lips.

"I'm inclined to disagree," he said, and reached out gently for Trowa's arm again.

"Dammit, no!"

The tall brunette recoiled fiercely, spinning away from the tree and taking a few hasty steps away. "Please, leave me alone!"

"Why?" The angel looked positively perplexed.

Trowa remained silent for a few moments, steadying his ramped heartbeat for the words he would say next.

"I am not ... what you think I am." Determination setting into his features, he turned to face the angel completely.

"What? I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"Then let me show you."

He released his hold on his hand, holding it in plain sight for the angel to see. Blue eyes widened, and Trowa's face grew grim as he stepped further away from the beautiful boy in front of him.

"And now that you've seen what I am," he said, very quietly, "I can't have you telling anyone else."

A look of remorse and guilt creeping into his brilliantly green eyes, he wove his hands in the air briefly before pressing his index and middle fingertips together, the other two fingers bent out of sight with his thumbs sticking out to the side.

I guess we'll just have to settle this with power, he told himself.

He stared straight ahead, gaining an absent look about him.

"I, Trowa, call upon those spirits subject to me. Gather forth and share with me thy powers."

He wove his hands about in the air again, bringing his elbows out to the side and covering his right hand with his left. He closed his eyes in concentration.

"My happiness is also yours. Appear before this symbol!"

The way is open, a breathy voice whispered in his mind, and a white whirlwind spiraled around his form briefly. He thrust his hands out, eyes snapping abruptly open as he removed one of his hands, an intricate design appearing on the bared flesh of the other.

"Appear!"

A symbol rose from the palm of his hand, changed, moved, then glowed and faded back into his palm. A black, crackling ball of energy took its place, and the design vanished. He grasped the ball firmly within his previously marked hand, remaining impassive as the ball dripped in a liquid-like state onto the grass below, forming another elaborate design.

"Oh, no," the angel gasped, and stumbled away from Trowa a few paces. He fell back into his angelic form, two white wings sprouting majestically from his back and shining in beautiful iridescence as his mortal clothing fell away, replaced by shimmering white garments. He was even more breathtaking in his angel form.

Trowa tried not to notice, concentrating solely on the energy on the ground, and soon trails of whispery gray floated up from the design placed on the ground, shifting shapes rapidly. It eventually halted upon reaching the shape of a horrible creature with gaping jaws and a large snout and nostrils, demonic wings flapping twice. It was a terrifying thing, made from the shadows themselves with strong teeth and claws.

The angel closed his eyes and bowed his head, pale hands clasping each other tightly, desperately as he held them to his chest.

"Oh, Lord, please give me a miracle..."

The air around him rippled briefly, and that was all.

Trowa smirked, yanking the black ball of energy back. The creature moved back, also, flapping its terrible wings and screeching. Then Trowa abruptly thrust his fist forward, and the monster lurched at the blonde angel.

"Oh, Lord..."

The shadow creature smashed against an invisible wall where the air had rippled moments before, howling as it crumpled to the ground.

"Hn. This isn't going to work," Trowa mumbled, and threw the energy back into the symbol on the grass. It dissolved immediately, along with the shadow creature.

He held his hands straight out in front of him, palms facing the angel, and smirked.

"Powerful spirits of the guardian world, show me the source of your mystic energy. Fulfill your contract with Trowa here and now."

He brought his hands up, circling them around his head once. White light shown there, odd characters and letters circling where the light glowed. He held his hands out at the sides of it.

"Bring forth the power of the ancient scriptures, and place them upon the name of Trowa."

He closed his eyes.

"Fulfill your duty to me as your prince and lend me your strength..."

Letters to match that of the glowing white light appeared all over his skin, and he suddenly shouted out three strange, incoherent words as he opened his eyes. The same white whirlwind from before swept him upwards into the sky, where he stood suspended with his arms to his sides, palms still facing out.

The angel gasped at this, going down on his knees.

"Oh, Lord... Please give me a miracle..."

The air rippled again, just as Trowa let out a throaty, earsplitting scream. The white wind erupted from the writing on his tanned skin, wrapping him in a cocoon of sorts.

"Please give me a miracle, Oh, Lord, please give me a miracle..."

The cocoon exploded, Trowa standing transformed in the middle of the debris that eventually fell away into darkness. Large black wings extended behind him, and his clothing consisted of black leather that covered hardly anything. He twirled around thrice, then halted, the feathery texture of his wings swaying in the wind that had gathered. He looked down at the angel, whom still kneeled on the ground with his head bowed, and frowned.

"I'll never forgive you," Trowa growled, and flew forwards forcefully. The blonde angel looked up, a little afraid, but remained determined to stay put.

"Oh, Lord, please give me a miracle!" he yelled, saying the words more loudly than ever before. Trowa spun, lashing out with his foot, and connected with the rippling air around the boy. He danced away around the little angel, doing a flip in the air and kicking off the forcefield to do another spin. His wings spread and he flew upwards and backwards, then suddenly sped forward with his fist outstretched. Again, he hit the rippling air.

"Damn you!"

The blue-eyed youth shut his eyes tight, gripping his hands together. "Oh, Lord, please give me another miracle..."

Just as Trowa was about to attack again, his eyes -- which had turned pale gold during the transformation -- widened and regained their natural green color. The wings faded, and he fell to the ground.

"I can never ... forgive you ... for what you've done," he managed to choke out, just before slumping into stillness on the grass. The leather adornments fell away, replaced by the clothes he had been wearing previously.

The blonde opened his eyes, looking up timidly.

"Oh, Lord, what have I done? Why does he hate me, when all I wanted to do was help?"

"Because..." Trowa stirred on the ground, impervious green eyes looking up from an emotionless face. "You ... rejected me."

The blue eyes widened even more, rivaling the size of saucers.

"But our Kingdom would never reject anyone!" He paused for a moment, noticing the disbelief in the eyes of the demon. "Ever!"

An ironic smirk claimed Trowa's lips, and he raised his eyebrows slightly. "Ever?"

The angel nodded. "Never," he said, sounding a little breathless.

Trowa closed his eyes, still smiling. "You're wrong."

"What? No! I know I'm right." A pale hand was set on the brunette's heaving chest. "I know it."

"You're mistaken," Trowa said. "Terribly mistaken. My people ... rejected me. Then ... your people ... rejected me."

"No, it's not true!" The angel suddenly pulled his hand away, as though he'd been burned. "We welcome everyone with open arms; the Lord has told me so." He narrowed his eyes. "And the Lord never lies."

Trowa opened his eyes slightly, staring up at the angel as he stood and began stumbling in the direction opposite him. His smirk faded.

"That may be true. Perhaps he only leaves out important details. He welcomes everyone with open arms, and then crushes them within those arms. And then he deposits them in his trash pile. He hides his mistakes from the humans in the underworld."

The blonde stepped towards him, holding out a small hand to the green-eyed boy below him.

"Please, you're so badly mistaken. Let me show you how wrong you are. The Lord is loving, and he would forgive you for living the way you have. Just come with me, and I'll show you. I'll show you everything you've been missing, please. Let me help you."

Something flickered within Trowa's eyes, and he remembered what he'd thought earlier.

He's just like all the others, he had told himself. But now, looking up at the divine boy, he had to wonder. Or is he?

"Tell me," Trowa said, very carefully. "What is your name?"

The angel smiled, blonde hair falling across his large blue eyes briefly.

"My name's Quatre."

Quatre kneeled down, touching a hand to Trowa's softly. "What's yours?"

The taller boy looked at the hand making contact with his and slowly, very hesitantly curled his fingers around it. Maybe this one was different. He looked up at the angel and into his eyes. They were bluer than anything he'd seen before, pure and innocent.

Maybe this one was different.

"Trowa," he said, maintaining eye contact while he spoke. Quatre smiled, closing his fingers over Trowa's.

"It's nice to meet you, Trowa."

The brunette nodded.

"Yes," he said, staring into Quatre's eyes. "It is."

A shout from the distance slammed into his ears, and he abruptly tore his hand away from Quatre's.

"I-- I'm sorry," he mumbled hurriedly, stumbling over his words. "I have to, to, I have to go, now, before they see me ... before they see who I am -- for the demon I am. I ... I ..."

Quatre nodded, moving away from Trowa.

"I understand," he said kindly, and his image began to melt into the air around him, evaporating into the sky. "I'll see you again, Trowa."

The blonde smiled, then dissolved completely from the mortal world. Trowa was sad to see him go.

"Goodbye, Quatre," he said to the air that remained. Another shout, closer this time, brought him back to the present.

"Damn it."

Wiping the blood from his finger off on his slacks, he rose to a standing position. He shielded the sun from his eyes with the hand unhindered by injury, and scanned the area around him. There was a woman dressed in ruffled skirts and an off-white blouse climbing the hill, her hands holding up the heavy material of her skirts up so she didn't trip.

"Oh, hell, what does she want? Did she see?"

His face slipped back into stoicalness, a hand raking through his awkward brown hair as the woman came closer and closer. Upon closer inspection, he noticed she was carrying a cross and a large knife. A frown fell over his face.

"Damn, I guess she did see."

A submissive slump dragged down his shoulders as he realized this was the end for him. He'd sapped all of his powers during the fight with Quatre only minutes ago. Closing his eyes, he stopped trying to hide the stain of black blood on his fingertips. Instead, he only frowned as he leaned against the birch tree he'd been stripping bark from earlier.

"You there! You! Stay there, or I'll get the men!"

The woman was roughly one hundred yards away at this point. He opened his eyes and looked up through the branches of the tree.

"I'm sorry, Quatre. It looks like I won't be able to see you again, after all."

As the woman reached him and the steel of the knife reached his heart, the black blood there spurting forth, he had one final thought:

The blue of the sky looks like Quatre's eyes.

*

Elsewhere, deep within the kingdom of the Lord, one small little angel watched sadly, regretful as the demon died. A comforting hand was placed on his shoulder, and Quatre turned to see one of his fellow angels there, smiling. His fellow angel said,

"Don't worry, Quatre. It is said by the Lord that if two people in love are not joined in one life, then they shall be joined in another. A demon and an angel may fall in love, but they may not live in peace. The Lord knew this, and knew that your Trowa would not be happy here, for then he would not have met you like he did. He has given Trowa another chance. He will also give you another chance, when the time comes."

Quatre's tear-filled eyes softened at the other angel's words, and hope glowed faintly within them.

"Really?" he asked.

The other smiled.

"Really."

*

Metal crunched against metal as two mobile suits fought. Inside one, a small blonde pilot clutched at his chest as something stirred there. Memories.

"I'll see you again."

The promise pounded in his head, along with two brilliant green eyes. A flickering.

"Oh, Lord, please give me a miracle..."

"This is wrong," he whispered to himself. "Wrong."

He stopped fighting, leaping out onto the hatch of his Gundam. "We must stop fighting against each other!" he yelled, watching the hatch of the other suit for another pilot.

A young boy soon emerged, brown hair covering most of his face. His arms were raised over his head.

The boy smiled.

"Please, put your hands down. I'm the one who came out first to surrender."

The hands lowered, and the other pilot lifted his chin slightly, just enough to give the blonde a view of the other's face.

His eyes were green.

Something in his heart clenched, and a name suddenly clicked with the face.

Trowa, he thought, and a smile touched his lips. I told you we'd meet again.