mGabriel 3

[moonshadows]

Gabriel woke slowly, feeling that heavy drowsiness of having gotten a really good night of sleep and wanting just a little more. He tried to roll over, and that lassitude evaporated in panic because he couldn't move. He was in a cold room, wrapped in a robe made of some sort of silk or satin, something slickly smooth, and he was secured to - what, was this an actual stone fucking slab? - by big metal shackles around his wrists and ankles. There was some sort of pillow under his head, at least. Probably to keep him from hurting himself. But someone had undressed him to put him in this robe. Someone had ogled his private parts and he wasn't afraid of what was going to happen to him only because he was furious that he had been stripped. They couldn't even leave his fucking underwear? Would the Reaper reject him if he wasn't in the ritual robe? How did the transition even work? it better not involve sex. Gabriel was gonna straight-up murder everything in the room if it involved sex.

Focus.

The room was small, the slab of stone positioned in the dead center as far as he could tell. By craning his head around he could see little shelves in he corners, each one with a lit candle that had some sort of herb in it. The walls were black; could've been made of anything. He heard footsteps, faintly, coming from...the wall he couldn't see, the one that faced the head of his perch. Of course. Fucking great. It sounded like claws on a stone floor and maybe bare feet. He opened his Sight.

Sterile thread, cold needles, feathers, old books. Angela? Jamison had said she was a healer. Figures she'd be able to heal herself.

"You have a date with destiny, Gabriel."

Angela. She stepped into view on his left, naked except for a black silk robe that was the mirror of what Gabriel was wearing, hair hanging loose. But then another set of footsteps came down the hall, the distinctive click of high heels, and a second harpy stepped up to his right. She had long, dark hair and crow's feathers, high cheekbones and hard yellow eyes. Apparently it was ritual silk robe night, because she was wearing one as well, and it showed off that she looked like she was starving to death.

"Let me get to the point, Gabriel," she said in a French accent that grated on her nerves because it made his name sound feminine. "I am dying."

"Good for you," he spat.

"Keep your snark," she told him coldly. "The Reaper is killing me, as it has killed so many others. As it will kill you. It sees into our minds and our hearts. I was not a good host. I was not the Mantle it is looking for. I took the Reaper for short-sighted vengeance. Vicious as it is, the Reaper is not a fan of those who actively desire its power."

Well, wasn't that interesting?

"And your point is...?" he drawled, being deliberately annoying.

"I am getting to it. Once the Reaper leaves its host, the old Mantle dies. But if the Mantle dies, the Reaper is forced to abandon its former host. There is still much I wish to accomplish, and had I not taken the Reaper I would have decades still in which to achieve my goals." She balled her hands into fists, black smoke leaking out from between her fingers. "But as the Mantle, I will not live out the year unless I cheat death. You are my means of escape," she finished, eyeing him hungrily. "It wants you. So it shall have you, and I shall be free."

"You'll be dead," Gabriel pointed out.

"I will." She took a few steps back, and Angela came around the table...altar...thing to stand behind her. "But not for long."

"Amelie..." Angela's voice was soft and shaky.

Amelie glanced at her, cool and composed. "Do not waver now. I believe in you."

One white-feathered arm came up to hold the other harpy's head still; the other raised a silver knife and slashed her throat.

Gabriel closed his eyes. Whatever was happening, he was very sure he did not want to see it. There were soft cries, gasping, and the splash of liquid. Angela murmured 'don't be scared', but he wasn't sure if the words were for him or the dying Mantle. Then the gasping breaths ceased.

"I'll be with you in a moment," Angela said. "I need to revive Amelie first."

Oh good, she could raise the dead. That wasn't creepy at all.

"Wait!"

The alarm in her voice made Gabriel's eyes fly open. There was a dark cloud coiling above him. Moving towards him. Was that...the Reaper? Was she talking to the Reaper?

"Stop, what are you doing? No! You need-"

Whatever Angela thought it was supposed to need, apparently it had other ideas because it dove for his face. He opened his mouth to shout, but it slid inside like the cold of the morgue, down his throat to suffuse his entire body.

Then the pain began, agony such as he'd never imagined could exist, and he started screaming.

===

Gabriel woke up feeling, weirdly, like something was still asleep. Like there was a cat asleep on his lap, warm and purring, only he was laying down and there was no cat. There was something touching his hands under the covers, little phantom feet or whiskers, but his head was pounding and his throat was sore and he felt like he needed a long, hot bath.

All in all, he wasn't impressed.

He tried taking stock of the situation, but only got as far as I guess I'm the Reaper before the accumulated pain and uncomfortable sensations made it too hard to think. Screw it, he'd go back to sleep and figure shit out later.

=

The next time Gabriel woke, it was to frantically roll over without taking stock of the state of his body and scramble for the edge of the bed. Hands attached to white-feathered wings held out some sort of basin, and Gabriel vomited back, tarry nastiness into it. When his stomach stopped heaving, one hand held out a glass of water. He rinsed his mouth and spat into the basin, then sipped gingerly before flopping onto his back to pant, eyes closed.

"How do you feel?" Angela asked in a very clinical voice.

"Fuck off," he shot back.

"I am not your enemy, Gabriel," she chided. "I'm here to help you."

"You're the one who did this to me!"

"I did not." She actually sounded indignant. "The Reaper chose you. I was prepared to guide it into your body, but..."

It hadn't waited. All kinds of interesting implications there.

"You will be weak and ill for a few days while your body struggles to reject the Reaper," Angela said. "Common complaints include tremors, headache, sneezing, coughing, black fluid leaking from various orifices, and the nausea you have already experienced. You may also spontaneously manifest some of the Reaper's abilities."

Despite his anger, Gabriel asked, "Like what?"

"Dissolving into mist and regeneration are the two most likely to manifest. Some Reapers can teleport, although I do not expect such an advanced ability to show itself so early."

That...didn't sound so bad, Gabriel thought. Then he started shivering, and realized he was still in flimsy silk.

"I want some fucking clothes," he snarled, opening his eyes to glare at the fluorescent light mounted in the ceiling.

"We don't have-"

"The clothes I was wearing," he spat. "I'm not putting on a godamn peep show over here. Bring me my fucking clothes."

Angela was silent for a long moment. Stiffy, she said, "Very well. I will return shortly."

He listened as she crossed the room. A door opened, then closed, and he was alone.

Okay. Time to take stock. Aside from an ache in his abdomen from vomiting, he actually didn't feel that bad. Moving slowly to pull the blanket back over himself proved that he was still sore from his impromptu run through the woods, but he could work with that. The bottoms of his feet tingled a little, but the damage from the blisters seemed to be...gone. The imaginary metaphysical cat was awake, but watching him. Angela was either brainwashed enough that she was obeying him against her will, or she had some sort of caretaker complex like the crazy chick from Misery. God, he hoped she wasn't going to treat him like some sort of royal baby who had to be kept out of danger. He was going to kill something if she tried that.

Cautiously, he looked around the room. There was...not much there, actually. He couldn't see much of the door without changing positions, which he was about to do when Angela came back with an armload of grey fabric.

"Do you need he-"

"No," he snapped before she could even finish the word. "Just...leave them on the bed. I'll take care of it."

She set the clothes down and said, "I took the liberty of including clean socks and underwear from the package."

Through gritted teeth, Gabriel thanked her. She beamed, cheeks slightly flushed. He wasn't sure what to make of that just yet.

"I'll be back in an hour or so with food," she told him cheerfully.

He stared at her, a hard look that stopped just short of being a glare. "Fine."

The pink of her cheeks got slightly more pronounced. "I'll...let you get changed," she said, and retreated again.

=

Once he was fully dressed, Gabriel felt a lot more comfortable and a lot less inclined to just sit in bed like a helpless child. He opened his Sight and took a good, long look at his surroundings, getting a sense for who else was in the building. Angela was easiest to identify, and there was another...probably a harpy, but she was angrier and had a sort of dark greasiness to her, like that one person in his apartment building. The radio static was here, too, meaning it was probably the chica with the purple nails. There were about two dozen remarkably easy-going fire-and-rock things, a tiny angry volcano with a hammer, a serene mountain peak, and-

Gabriel's breath sucked in. Fur, feathers, fierceness and loyalty and loneliness.

Jack was alive. Jack was here.

Before that thought could fully sink in, the mountain peak was suddenly there, in his metaphoric face, cold winds and clear skies. It is rude to pry, whoever-it-was said, and Gabriel found his Sight shut as if the mountain entity had reached out and closed the door.

For a second, he thought about getting angry, because he hadn't meant to pry, but then he shrugged it away. The mountain was right, and he had more important things to think about. Like the griffin somewhere nearby. Gabriel sat up, but some combination of moving too fast and the metaphoric cat also sitting up made his head spin and he leaned forward to brace his arms on his legs and rest his head on his arms.

Naturally, that's when Angela opened the door with - fuck, was that maple syrup? She'd brought a full breakfast, from French toast and bacon to coffee and orange juice and she was saying something but he wasn't listening, he was fucking starving and the food had all his attention.

"Gabriel? Did you hear a word I said?"

He sat back and let out a deep, rumbling, satisfied belch. "Nope."

The harpy sighed. "I said, it's about two in the morning and there's a call button on the bedside table in case you need anything, but you should try to sleep."

He was feeling kind of sleepy again, now that his stomach was full. Angela watched as he lay back down and pulled the blanket up, then she took the tray and turned the light out on her way back out of the room. Gabriel still had no idea what the inside of the door looked like, or if it had a handle at all. He considered creeping out of bed to explore by touch, but a yawn broke his train of thought. Maybe he'd just rest a bit first...

Gabriel slept.

===

He woke up into pitch-blackness with a tickle in his lungs that threatened to turn into coughing up a lung if he so much as thought about breathing. Fortunately, he remembered seeing a box of tissues and a bucket on one of the shelves, and with the oxygen he had remaining in his lungs he lunged out of bed, through the dark room, and felt the shelves blindly until he found the bucket. Then he sat on the floor in a controlled fall, because his legs were not having any of that bullshit this early in the morning, and coughed up substances he was glad he couldn't see until his lungs were clear and he was exhausted.

As he put the bucket aside, it occurred to him that he was now closer to the door than he was to the call button, and his legs absolutely refused to work. Maybe he could crawl to the door and knock on it? Wait - Jack was alive, and he was here. The emotional weight of that settled on him all at once with no other distractions, and his breathing turned shaky. No, damn it, he was a man, men didn't cry. His eyes were just tearing up from the intensity of his coughing fit, that's all. Still, the griffin was alive and suddenly, Gabriel wanted to see him, feel his warmth, make sure he was okay.

Carefully, he tipped over and tried to ignore that the stone floor was freezing as he rolled onto his belly and stretched his hands out to feel what was in front of him. The cold made them go numb, but strangely, he could still feel texture. Slowly, he crept - or tried to, he couldn't really feel any part of his body - until he reached what felt like a door. It was only when he stuck his fingertips under the bottom edge and the rest of him followed that it occurred to him that he'd turned into smoke.

Put it back! he thought in a panic, trying desperately to curl into a ball, to make a fist, anything. The imaginary metaphysical cat ran off with a metaphoric bottle-brush tail, startled by his reaction, and his momentary impulse to apologize was overridden by the fact that he had a body again. He could cry, he was so relieved. Except he didn't cry. Ever.

Okay. Take stock. Fingers and toes flexed. Eyes and ears worked. He was still clothed, and now on the outside of the room he'd been kept in. Open his Sight just long enough to triangulate on Jack and he was...what seemed to be down the hall. Right. He could do this. Gabriel uncurled and attempted to stand up. His legs tried to obey, but they were wobbly and weak and it made his head spin.

Maybe he could crawl?

Nope. His arms had the same problem. He tried commando-crawling, but the distance traveled didn't justify the effort it took to try to propel himself along with his rubbery limbs.

Heavy footsteps came up behind him, startling a bird that chirped out an alarmed warning. Why the fuck was there a bird? The footsteps passed him and he could see they were made by...stone? Connected to other bits of stone with an orange glow? Whatever it was, it turned around and offered him a stone-and-glow hand with another distressed bird noise and Gabriel realized this construct or golem or elemental or whatever the fuck it was not only wanted to help him up, but was making fucking bird noises.

Whatever. He put his hand in the golem's and let it pull him gently to his feet, the other hand under his armpit keeping him there. Another chirp.

"I have no idea what you just said," he told it, "but I'm trying to get down the hall." He pointed with his free hand. "There's someone in another room I want to see."

The thing chirped doubtfully, warbled for a few seconds, then scooped him up to carry him, bridal-style, down the hall. It stopped in front of one door and made an inquisitive sound.

Gabriel checked the Sight and was nearly bowled over by the sense of restrained strength, scent of gunpowder, and memory of stern blue eyes.

"Yeah," he gasped. "This one."

The rock creature set him on his feet again, one arm around his waist, and opened the door. Gabriel muttered awkward thanks and held himself up by the doorframe long enough to get inside, and the door closed behind him.

The fluorescent light was on in this room, which looked like his but shabbier and with a smaller bed off to one side. His room was also missing the chains coming off the wall that ended in thick gunmetal manacles that were closed around Jack's wrists. He was sitting on the floor, on a worn braided rug, because the chains weren't long enough to let him lie comfortably on the bed. The flannel shirt was gone, leaving him bare from the waist up, and Gabriel was surprised to see he had no scars under the pale hair that dusted his chest and arms.

He looked like hell. Gabriel knew that look - he'd been kept without adequate food and water for however long it had been since he last saw the griffin, and probably denied access to bathing materials. At least he was breathing, even if he seemed to be unconscious and looked like he hadn't really rested in days.

"Jack," he called quietly, forcing his exhausted limbs to get him from the door to the rug.

Jack's eyes snapped open. A second later, they widened in disbelief. "Gabriel?" The elation left his face almost before it arrived. "Oh no, they got you."

Gabriel accepted the griffin's hand, helping him into a sitting position next to him on the rug. "Yeah," he sighed. "They were waiting for me at my apartment."

"Tell me," Jack urged gently.

"I ran. Found a stream, followed it for a while, ran some more. Got to the edge of the forest and rolled down the hill to the road. I guess someone called the police because they saw me fall or thought I was dead or something, but the officer turned out to be part of Overwatch-"

"Who?"

"Zhao. She called Liao and I spent the night in a holding cell with Liao coming to get me in the morning. Let me shower at her place, and then Liao told me everything on the way back to LA."

Jack put his arm around Gabriel, his warmth easing some of the chill. "You said they were waiting at your apartment?"

"Yeah. Some chica with purple nails and crazy hair-"

"Shaved on one side?"

"That's her."

Jack growled wordlessly. "That's how they got me. She just touched me, and next thing I know I'm in this room, locked up with enchanted manacles that keep me from shifting. What happened to Liao? Is she here, too?"

"Not that I know of? She went up to my apartment first while I warned the landlord I might not be back. Chica probably knocked her out and left her in my bedroom - the door was closed, and I never close it."

The silence stretched for a bit before Jack said quietly, "Liao's going to be pissed."

Gabriel laughed tiredly. "I know."

He moved just a bit closer to the griffin, who pulled him tighter until he could feel Jack's body heat on both sides. It was apology and comfort all in one, maybe with a little bit of concern for the temperature of Gabriel's skin. Gabriel relaxed slightly against the griffin's side, and when neither of them objected, Jack let his hand slide down to cover Gabriel's, thumb brushing the backs of his knuckles in a small, comforting gesture. Like petting a cat. The imaginary metaphysical cat relaxed under this tiny show of affection, and Gabriel relaxed with it.

“If you want to cry...” Jack trailed off.

“What do I look like, a pussy?” It was the protest he'd used since puberty, second nature to deny his childhood, and it didn't quite have the usual bite to it.

Jack snorted. "I'm a bigger pussy than you could ever be."

Remembering the griffin's lion-headed form, Gabriel laughed, unsure if he was more amused by the thought of anyone calling a giant white lion a pussy, or the fact that Jack had just cracked a joke at his own expense.

“It’s not a bad thing to cry sometimes,” Jack said gently when Gabriel's laughter wound down to tired chuckles.

“I already did when I realized you were alive.” He probably shouldn't have admitted to that, but he was tired enough that he didn't care. Jack had been the only one Gabriel had felt safe with since he'd woken up on a cliff, and he hadn't recoiled at Gabriel being the Reaper, so maybe...

It had been a long, long time since Gabriel had found someone he could trust to not turn on him when they found out. He didn't want to lose the only friend - potential friend - he had in this place.

"I didn't think you cared," Jack said, turning an honest statement into a joke.

Gabriel swallowed emotions he didn't care to examine. "You cared about me. I was worried they'd kill you. Or, worse, injured you and left you to die."

"Griffin saliva has strong regenerative properties," Jack reassured him. "That's why you were healed when you woke up in my hoard."

"Oh. Thanks." It was a relief, knowing Jack wouldn't die so easily, but what about him? He was the Reaper now. He'd turned into smoke. What would it take to kill him?

Jack's smile faded. "Are you okay?" he asked, quietly worried.

A protest leaped to Gabriel's lips, flippant disavowal and blatant lies. He swallowed it. "I needed a golem’s help just to get down the hallway. I’m fucking tired, white bread.”

“If you call me ‘white bread’, I’m calling you Gabe.” Jack responded idly.

No doubt Jack meant that to be gentle teasing, considering they'd shared nicknames they hated, but it made Gabriel feel warm inside. He laid his head on Jack’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Jack glanced at him in surprise, knowing Gabriel hated the implied intimacy of the nickname. The thumb that had been tracing Gabriel’s knuckles paused, and Gabriel wished he’d keep doing it. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Are we friends now?”

"If we weren't, I wouldn't be leaning on you. But you let me spend the night and then babysat my city-boy ass through the woods without making me feel useless. Plus, you know, not freaking out that I'm the embodiment of murder now. Yeah, white bread, we're friends.”

The griffin looked incredibly flattered and almost...flustered. "Good to know," he said softly, and his thumb resumed its soothing motion.

It was...really comfortable, having Jack's warm bulk next to him. Gabriel chose not to think about how it made him feel past comfortable. He was tired, that's all. That's why his eyes were sliding shut.

"Are you cold?" Jack asked quietly, the words jerking Gabriel out of the doze he'd fallen into.

"Yeah. Fucking drafty castle, or whatever this is."

"Get in bed, then."

Eyes still closed, Gabriel scowled. "We're friends, Jack, not...I'm not sleeping with you."

"We already did that, remember?" Jack's voice was warm and teasing. "But that's not what I meant, Gabe. I'm used to the cold, you're shivering, and the bed's not close enough for me to use anyway. So as your friend, I'm telling you to get your ass in bed because it's warmer than sitting on the floor with me."

He made several good points. Gabriel ignored them. "You're warm."

===

"Gabe. Gabriel!"

"Mm?"

Jack squirmed, making Gabriel sit up. "You're bleeding."

"Where-"

He could feel it, warmth trickling from one nostril. Cautiously, he dabbed at it and his finger came back with sticky blackness on it. Right. Angela had mentioned that.

"It's not blood," he said carefully. "Um. Tissue?"

"I don't have anything. Use the bedclothes?"

Gabriel crawled frantically across the floor and flung the blanket back to expose the top sheet. He had just enough time to pull it towards his face before a sneeze exploded out of him, more black goo than he thought his sinuses could possibly hold splattering the cloth.

"You okay?" Jack called, concerned.

He sneezed again. More tar. "This is normal, apparently. Side effect of my body trying to fight off the Reaper."

"It's gross."

Gabriel blew his nose and laughed. "Tell me about it." Awkwardly, he pulled the sheet off the bed entirely and crawled back to lean against Jack.

"You're sure you're okay," the griffin said warily.

"This is the third, and most tolerable, time my body had tried to expel the Reaper," Gabriel assured him.

"Not reassuring, Gabe."

It surprised him, how comfortable he felt hearing that nickname from Jack's lips. It wasn't something to tolerate, like it was with Liao. He wanted Jack that close.

"Sorry. I'm still adjusting to the new weirdness my life apparently is now."

Jack put an arm around him again. "It's okay. Just try not to get any of whatever that is on me."

Gabriel hesitated before asking, "Have they given you anything since they put you here."

The tense silence was answer enough.

"That's fucking bullshit," he growled. "I'll kill them for that."

"No," Jack protested immediately, arm tightening around him. "No killing. Gabe. No killing."

He hadn't realized how furious he was until he was calming down and the black smoke that had been emanating from his fucking skin was stopping. "Holy shit," he breathed. "What was that?"

Quietly, Jack said, "The Reaper is said to be given to fits of intense anger. This is the first time I've seen it firsthand."

"That wasn't me. That wasn't me." Gabriel was babbling, but he didn't care. "I don't kill, holy shit. Yell and threaten, maybe beat the shit out of someone, but I don't kill. Jack, you have to believe me."

"I believe you," the griffin said soothingly. "You didn't go for the head shot with Angela. I believe you."

The imaginary metaphysical cat was crouched under the metaphoric bed, confused at Gabriel's vehement reaction. He was starting to have suspicions about that nonexistent cat.

In the meantime, the silence was now awkward, and Gabriel scrambled for something to fill it.

"What's griffin school like?" he blurted.

Jack's hand found Gabriel's and resumed stroking his knuckles. "Transhumans and magically gifted humans other supernatural creatures go to special schools, where accidentally letting something slip won't cause a panic. From what I understand, it's basically like human school only fights are a lot more serious because the bully could be an ogre or your gym teacher could be a dragon."

What sort of shit did monster kids give each other, Gabriel wondered. Did Jack get picked on for being built backwards?

"You ever get into any fights?" he asked casually.

"Of course. They were basically unavoidable, but I pride myself on winning every one of them," Jack said proudly. "Or, at least, fighting the other guy to a draw."

"Were any of them because you've got a lion's head instead of a bird's?"

The griffin went still, and Gabriel held his breath.

"A few," was the cautious answer. "How about you? Get into many fights?"

The urge to brush it off was nearly strong enough to choke Gabriel, but he forced it away. He wanted someone to commiserate with, someone who understood what it was like to be built...wrong. Jack accepted him as the Reaper. This shouldn't be nearly as big.

"All the fucking time," he said in a low, intense voice. "Started most of them, when I was little. Hated being called a girl. Didn't start winning them until I was about fourteen..." He took a deep breath, bracing himself. "...and started looking like a man."

Jack looked dismayed. Maybe disappointed. "You started fights just because you got called a girl?"

Gabriel glared at the wall. "Not...just. I was assigned female at birth."

"So you're transgender. There's nothing wrong with-"

"I'm not!" Gabriel shouted, fists clenched, keeping his head turned away from the griffin while the imaginary cat ran for cover again. "I'm a man. I had...ambiguous genitalia at birth. It's a condition. Testosterone didn't work right in the womb. It's called eggs at twelve in the Dominican Republic. I was raised as a girl even though I knew and insisted I wasn't, but no one fucking believed me until puberty. Balls finally dropped when I was fourteen and what they thought was a clit grew into a dick. My parents finally had to admit they were wrong, the doctors admitted they were wrong, and I got a prescription for testosterone. Parents finally let me take martial arts classes, bought me some free weights for my birthday, and I stopped being a girl."

The silence stretched, broken only by Gabriel's angry breaths. Then Jack covered his hand again, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back until Gabriel unclenched it from a fist and leaned back against the griffin again.

"I haven't told anyone that in fifteen years," Gabriel said quietly. "Not since I cut ties with my family and everyone, and moved to a different part of LA. Last one who found out was Liao, when she ran my background check before hiring me."

"I won't tell anyone," Jack said, his voice equally quiet. "Being a lion-headed griffin is...something like that. Got into a lot of fights because of what was or wasn't between my legs."

Tenth grade biology. Birds don't have dicks. Gabriel winced.

"Did you cut ties with your folks because of the mis-gendering?" Jack asked in a blatant bid to change the subject.

Gabriel snorted. "Nah. Punched my dad - well, step-dad - in the face on Christmas because he called me a pig for being a cop."

"I've thrown down with my old man a few times," Jack said. "Of course, our whole family fights, and the fights are organized."

It was a gesture of solidarity, and Gabriel was absolutely going to take it. "I'd like to hear more."

===

The door slammed open, startling them both and making Jack freeze mid-word. Angela, Amelie, and a somehow guilty-looking golem all filed in, the harpies scowling and the rock creature almost cringing. Clearly, they were in deep shit.

"Oh boy," Gabriel said under his breath. "Here we go."

“Gabriel, there are no words in the English language I can use to express how disappointed I am in you.” Angela looked furious, which just made Gabriel's stubborn temper flare.

"Don't blame the language for your lack of creativity," he taunted.

Amelie looked torn between outrage at the slight to the other harpy, and mild amusement. The golem  covered its face with its hands.

“How did you get out of your room?” Angela demanded, ignored his smart remark while simultaneously looking like she wanted to tear him in half.

He shrugged. “I don’t remember.” It was a blatant lie.

"Gabriel..."

It wasn't very threatening, coming from what looked like a 30-year-old white girl with feathers, but Gabriel gave her points for effort. Then he sneezed into the sheet. "That's my name."

“Gabriel, you need to stay in your room until you’re fully recovered.”

She wanted to treat him like a child, she was going to get a child. "Why?"

“You are not yet the Reaper.” Angela ground the words out. “You are a fledgling Reaper who is neither invincible nor untouchable. Until you grow fully into the Mantle, you’re a mortal man riddled with disease and abilities he can barely control.”

"I don't see what this has to do with my staying in my room."

Angela’s face flushed slowly. “Before you interact with anyone, you need to learn how to control your abilities.”

Gabriel didn't have an argument for that, but he sure as fuck wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. He just glared at her and she glared at him, both of them refusing to budge. The world narrowed. The imaginary metaphysical cat arched its back and hissed, and distantly he was aware that smoke was coming off of him again.

“Gabe.” Jack’s voice, gentle and worried. “You should go.”

“What?” He broke the staring contest to look at Jack, surprised and a little hurt. “Why?”

“Because she’s right.”

Gabriel felt distinctly betrayed. He shot Jack a tiny glare, but the griffin shook his head. Then the metaphoric cat slunk away and he could feel the fury seep back out of him. Shaken by how strong it had been without him noticing, he tried to stand up but his legs still didn't want to work and the only reason he didn't fall on his face was because he caught himself with his forearms.

"Fuck," he muttered. "Jack, help me up?"

Even starved and neglected, the griffin lifted him easily to his feet and held him there while Gabriel clung to him for support. Gee, this wasn't fucking humiliating at all. To top it all off, full-body shudders wracked him as soon as he was upright. The golem whistled reassuringly and took a step forward, motioning to Jack that it would take Gabriel's weight.

"No," Gabriel growled. "I want Jack to help me back."

Angela and Amelie looked at each other.

"That's not possible," Angela said firmly.

"It is if you unchain him."

"That's not happening," Amelie snapped. "We'd have a wild griffin on the rampage."

"What-"

"Shifting immediately after being forced to remain in one form can temporarily damage the mind." Angela gave Gabriel a look of pity crossed with irritation. "Jack can't bring you back to your room."

Gabriel had had just about enough of Angela's shit. "Then unchain him safely." His fingers tightened on Jack's arm, the imaginary cat hanging back but ready to jump in at a moment's notice. "Why the fuck is he chained up to begin with?"

"He knows too much," Amelie snapped. "We can't let him go."

"You don't have to let him go, just stop keeping him chained up!" Gabriel could tell by the closed looks on the harpies' faces that they weren't going to agree. "If you don't," he said in a low, threatening voice, "then as soon as I can turn back into mist, I'm going to escape again and come back here. Jack is my friend. I don't want him being kept prisoner."

The thought of Gabriel escaping again was making Angela waver, he could tell. Amelie, though, was unconvinced.

"If he is not kept restrained, there will be nothing preventing him from escaping."

"I won't," Jack said quietly, making Gabriel's heart leap. "Gabriel needs help while he adjusts. I'll stay here and help him. On my word."

Both harpies were hesitating now. Apparently, Jack's word meant more than Gabriel's threat. Angela relented first.

"Fine," she sighed. "Once you're back in your room, we'll start the process of unchaining your friend. He'll be responsible for keeping you in your bed until you're stronger. I promise," she huffed when Gabriel didn't move. "If that's what it takes to keep you from exhausting yourself, then so be it."

"I'm holding you to that." Gabriel hesitated a moment longer, then allowed himself to be transferred from griffin to golem. "I'll see you soon, Jack."

Jack ran his thumb over Gabriel's knuckles one more time before stepping back. "See you soon, Gabe."

He turned his head to get one last look at Jack before the door closed. The griffin flashed him a reassuring smile, but once the door was shut, Gabriel felt like his heart was shriveling.

“I’m glad this is over,” Angela cooed. “Gabriel, you had no idea how worried we were when we entered your room and found you were missing… I’d almost thought you’d teleported away while you were confused and weak, and then how would we have found you?”

You wouldn't, Gabriel thought resentfully, but all he said was, "That's another reason you need Jack to keep an eye on me."

A sneeze tickled the inside of his nose. He tried to hide it so that Angela wouldn't catch on and move, fully intending to splatter her with black tar when he finally sneezed. The tickle built; it was going to be a big one, he could tell. Wait for it...wait for it...

Gabriel sneezed, his whole body convulsing, and the golem dropped him. When he opened his eyes, however, any smug glee he might have been preparing to feel dried up and blew away in the surprisingly cold wind.

That was the Eiffel fucking Tower in the distance.

===

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. He was in fucking Paris, at night, in December, and he didn't even have shoes. He didn't have a phone, he didn't have ID, he didn't have money, and the only French he knew wasn't fit for polite company. Even if he borrowed someone's phone, he thought as he rubbed his arms and shivered, who the fuck would he call? Liao?

Hey, Liao, it's me. Listen, sorry about being kidnapped from my apartment again, but I'm the Reaper now and I'm in Paris...no, I don't know, I just sneezed and now I'm here...help?

Yeah. That wasn't going to work. And he was getting scared looks from what he guessed were the transhumans on the street, so chances were very slim anyone would be willing to help him.

The tinkle of a shop bell beside him almost made him jump out of his skin, and when he turned to look, a woman with strong Greek features in an elegant but conservative dress was looking back at him. "Monsieur," she called, "it is very cold outside. Please come in."

She was inviting a guy in a t-shirt with no shoes into her store. Gabriel was inside without a second thought, sighing in relief from the cold and noticing the fancy glass display cases of jewelry. There was no one else inside, just him and the woman he assumed was the owner.

"You are the Reaper?" she asked, like she already knew the answer. He nodded, and her face lit up. "And you are acquainted with Jack Morrison?"

"How did you know?" he asked warily.

She laughed. "Human senses are so dull. He is an old friend, and I recognized his scent on your clothes. I knew your predecessor," she told him proudly. "Amelie was a joy to design for. I designed several pieces for Jack, but could never convince him to wear any of them." She sighed, clearly mourning the one who got away, and the metaphoric imaginary cat laid its ears back and lashed its tail.

"Well, thank you for letting me into your store," Gabriel said awkwardly. "I'll te-"

A sneeze interrupted him, and then he was wet but warmer and - was that the fucking Sydney Opera House? Why the fuck was he in the ocean? Thankfully, he sneezed again and wound up somewhere drier. Unfortunately, the elegant architecture that soared and swooped was also full of massive, unglazed windows that appeared to open onto a mountain range and now he was not only wet, but rapidly becoming hypothermic.

"Oh, my," said a melodic voice in gentle concern.

Gabriel whirled and his give-a-fuck meter gave up and dropped to NOPE. He did not have the energy to freak out while his core temperature was this low. The figure was seven feet tall, had nine little blue eyes, and otherwise looked like a Tibetan monk with some sort of ritual gold dust on his chin.

"Hello," the figure said warmly. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting this at all." Oh, the shudders were starting. "Listen, were you expecting me to show up wet? Because it's fucking freezing and I'm soaking wet."

"Of course. Follow me."

He wasn't sure what the guy(?) meant by 'of course' but he followed the monk into a smaller room where a fire and a warm-looking robe, socks, and boots were waiting.

"I will wait outside while you change," the monk said.

"Thank you...uh..."

"Mondatta. Leader of the Shambali. You are in our monastery. Leave your wet clothes by the fire, and I will fetch you tea."

Gabriel nodded and stepped into the room, Mondatta closing the door behind him. In seconds he was out of the wet clothes and tying the robe's belt around his waist. Then he peeled off the wet socks, warmed his feet by the fire for a minute, and stuck them in the dry ones, followed by the boots. He was sitting, warming his hands, when Mondatta came back and set a thick mug next to him. Gabriel picked up the mug more to heat his hands with than to drink.

"Has Zenyatta told you about our case?" Mondatta asked delicately.

"Who?"

"Oh, dear."

"Look, I've only been the Reaper for...uh...actually, I'm not sure. I think it's my first day, but I slept a bunch and there's no clock in the room..."

Mondatta made a soft sound of understanding. "This was not a planned visit. I see now. You are still in a recovery period, new to your position."

"Yeah." Gabriel sniffed the tea, but it made his nose tickle. Quickly, he put the mug down.

"Reaper?"

Gabriel held up one finger in a mute warning, turned away from the monk, and sneezed.

Was that Times Square? He stood up warily, sneezed-

-some wooden farmhouse with a huge porch and a pale gold eagle-headed griffin who had been dozing in the winter sun but was now leaping over the side, squalling in terror. Sneezed-

Jesse howled in surprise as he appeared on Ana's couch.

"Shut up, you damn mutt!" shouted a muffled voice from upstairs. Footsteps rattled down the stairs, pounded down the hall. "I don't know why my brother tolerates y-"

Genji broke off as he turned the corner and stared at Gabriel.

"Well, well," he purred, somehow looking a lot more intimidating than Gabriel remembered. "Isn't this a pleasant surprise? Don't mind if I do..."

He licked his lips while Gabriel stared, feeling like his brain was a tiny mouse being stared down by a snake. In the corner, Jesse was growling.

"It's only fair, right? Hanzo got to taste you...you enjoyed that, didn't you? You'll enjoy it so much more with me..." His voice was smooth, inviting, hypnotic.

Slowly, Genji was moving closer. The imaginary cat squirmed like it was being held too tight and sank its metaphoric teeth into Gabriel's arm.

He sneezed.

"Who are you?" demanded a giant, muscular woman with short pink hair and a Russian accent.

"Gabriel Reyes, LAPD." It was an instinctive response. "Well...former LAPD."

From the kitchen, a familiar voice called out, "Gabriel?"

Oh. He was in Zhao's apartment. "Hey," he said as she joined them in the living room. "Heard from Liao since we left?"

"Yes! She told me that someone had knocked her out and she had no idea where you were."

Gabriel grimaced. "Well, you can tell her they got me. I-"

He sneezed.

"Welcome back," Mondatta said calmly.

The metaphoric cat sank its imaginary claws into Gabriel's arm again and he sneezed five times in a row before winding up in a pasture full of cows. Weirdly, there was no fence around it - just a bunch of tightly-woven thorn bushes with pine trees behind them. He started following the perimeter - the cows had to get out somewhere - and one of them started following him.

Just as the exit came into sight, the cows all started heading for it. His legs weren't feeling all that steady, but there was nothing to lean on except cows and thorn bushes. The cow following him, though, seemed to want to be leaned on.

"If you insist," he muttered, leaning against the animal's shoulder only to have it lay down, causing him to lose his balance and fall.

The cow stood up while he was trying to get to his feet, resulting in him sitting on the thing like it was a living couch. Then it started to walk off.

"I give up," Gabriel sighed. "Take me to your leader."

It was a remarkably brisk ten-minute walk - ride? - through what sure as fuck looked like a fairytale forest, complete with harmless wildlife and gratuitous flowers, before they emerged into a smaller clearing.

"Where is the intruder?" demanded an angry Indian woman. Or at least, something that sounded like an angry Indian woman.

"Over here," he called, raising one hand because fuck, how hard could it be to see a six-foot Latino sitting on a fucking cow?

The woman made her way over to him, every inch of her regal and imperious and proclaiming that she liked when things lived up to her expectations and he, sadly, came nowhere near them. Considering it had been close to a week since he last touched a razor (because like hell was he going to put anything near his face that might have been between someone's legs, so shaving at Zhao's was out), he really couldn't blame her.

"This is an unexpected visit," she said in the sort of tone that people usually reserved for phrases like 'your dog pooped on my lawn', arms crossed and...oh. One arm was actually made out of wood. Interesting. "You are the new Reaper, I take it." She sounded beyond disappointed. "You are sitting on one of my cows."

"The cow insisted."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"You are not one for pleasantries," she declared. "That suits me. I have a dispute with a naiad, and I need you to mediate."

That seemed a little weird, asking the host for the embodiment of violent death to settle a dispute, but it wasn't outside the range of his experiences. Gabriel sat straighter on the cow's back. "Tell me about the dispute."

The - what was she, a dryad? - woman beckoned to the cow and began walking down a path. "My name is Satya. I am a dryad; these woods belong to me. There is a small river that runs through them; it is owned by a naiad named Hana, who is enamored with human culture."

"And the problem?" Gabriel asked as they came to what had to be the river.

Satya made a sweeping gesture with her living-wood arm, indicating the empty soda cans and junk food wrappers strewn across the river bed and gathered like driftwood against bigger rocks, or lodged in sand bars. "She refuses to clean up her mess. My forest depends on this river, and she is polluting it."

The cow knelt, allowing Gabriel to dismount easily.

"Hana!" the dryad called. "Come here! We're settling this!"

The naiad surged up out of the water, looking like a Korean teenager who had seen way too much anime. She crossed her arms and stuck her tongue out at the dryad, then paled as she saw Gabriel walk up and stop at the bank.

"You got the Reaper?" she squeaked.

Satya lifted her chin, smugly satisfied. "Yes, I did. He will make sure you clean up your river."

"Oh, yeah?" Hana glared at Gabriel."This is my river! I can do what I want with it, and you don't scare me!"

Fury filled him, making him feel powerful, graceful, unstoppable. He waded out into the shallow water and grabbed Hana by the throat, lifting her until her feet left the pebbled river bottom.

"Clean up your river," he growled, low and ominous.

"No! I don't care if you're the Reaper, it's my river!" One hand scrabbled at his wrist. The other swung out and slapped him across the face.

Time slowed down.

Satya brought both hands up to her mouth. Hana went still, eyes wide as her actions sank in. Gabriel smiled, cruel and hungry. This was rebellion. This was assault. He was within his rights, and he would have what was due to him. His other hand plunged into her body, fist closing around something small that wriggled desperately as he pulled it out. Oh, this was going to be good. So very good. It had been so long, and he was so hungry...

He raised the wiggly, glowing thing to his mouth. Licked his lips while Satya screamed in horror. Hana...

Hana was hanging limp in his hand, head lolled to the side, arms dangling. Not blinking. Not breathing.

Oh god, she wasn't breathing. Training kicked in - she needed CPR. He had to get her to the bank, he had to-

The imaginary metaphoric cat slunk away, disappointed, taking the rage with it and leaving Gabriel with the sudden understanding that he'd ripped Hana's soul out of her body and had been about to fucking eat it.

Oh god. Oh god. Jesus fucking Christ. Could he put it back? He shoved his hand back into her body and let go, watching as the little glowing wriggly shape swam back and anchored itself in place. The naiad gasped, suddenly clawing at his wrist again as he lowered her back down to the river bed. He had to get out of here, he was going to completely lose his shit in a moment, but he also had to make his point before he did.

"That was a warning," he said in a tight voice. "Clean up your river."

Then he let go and stalked back up onto the bank. Satya shrank away from him. Hana was starting to cry hysterically. He needed to get out, he wanted Jack-

The imaginary metaphoric cat peered at him from hiding, pupils blown wide.

He sneezed.

=

Jack looked up at him, face full of concern, and leaped to his feet as Gabriel's legs gave out. Instead of falling to the floor, he found himself held against a warm, muscled chest with the griffin murmuring, "I've got you. It's okay."

No. It wasn't okay. He's almost eaten someone's fucking soul. Was this was it was going to be like, being the Reaper? Was he going to be a fucking soul-eating monster for the rest of his life?

"Gabe? What happened to you?"

Jack was sitting, Gabriel was sitting in his lap, head on his shoulder, but he didn't have anything left to be ashamed with. He'd comforted a number of people like this himself, and now he understood how reassuring it was because he felt safe, he didn't have to be the protector, he could let it all out and let Jack protect him.

Gabriel wrapped his arms around the griffin and cried until the world went dark.

=

"-without telling him what it meant!"

Jack was yelling at someone.

"-didn't know he was going to-"

That was Angela, distressed but defensive.

"-him for three years and it didn't occur to you-"

Man. Jack was fucking pissed.

"-him to Bastion, so we can take him back to his room."

Back to his room. Right. "S'you c'n unchain Jack," he slurred, still only half awake.

"Gabe, you okay?"

Gabriel shuddered and hugged the griffin tighter. "No. Tired."

One handed rubbed his back soothingly. "Then you need to go with them and rest and they'll bring me to you as soon as they can. Okay?"

"Jack?"

"What is it?"

Gabriel's stomach twisted. "I didn't eat her soul."

The griffin hugged him tighter. "I know. I'm proud of you."

A seed of warmth settled into his belly. Gabriel sucked in a deeper breath. "Thanks."

"Gonna let them take you to your room now, so I can join you?"

He sat up with a small, teasing grin. "I suppose."

The golem chirped, and Jack stood up to transfer him into the thing's arms. "No more teleporting," he said sternly. "I know you can't see your eyes, but they're red now and they glow when you use the Reaper's powers. Right now, they're almost grey. You're burned out. Running on fumes. Got it?"

Sheepishly, Gabriel nodded.

Jack smiled in relief. "Good. Rest. I'll be with you as soon as I can."

As soon as he, the golem carrying him, and Angela were out of Jack's room, Gabriel cleared his throat.

"So...this is Bastion?"

Angela nodded. "He's the oldest of the golems."

"Tell me about them."

He listened as Bastion carried him to his room and put him to bed. Angela told him about the golems, the dwarf who'd made them, and the technomancer who'd kidnapped him. When he asked about Zenyatta by name, she explained what djinn were and that the Shambali monk was there to present a case to the Reaper for mediation. Then, flushing with what he hoped was shame, she explained that over the millennia, the various powers of the world had agreed that none of them should employ the Reaper as a weapon of war and set up an order of keepers. The Reaper now mediated disputes, and everyone knew that the Reaper typically ate the souls of the ones it ruled against.

Before he could do more than glower, she protested that teleporting on the first day was unheard of and she hadn't thought he would need to know yet. But clearly she was wrong, and she should have anticipated that someone the Reaper was so set on would be extremely compatible and have greater access to its powers. Then she reminded him that he needed to stay in bed and rest before excusing herself to oversee the process of unchaining Jack, leaving Gabriel alone with his thoughts.

Not really a good idea.

Within minutes he was opening his Sight, spying on everyone. Jack was tense and unhappy, slicked-down feathers and flattened ears, straining towards the sky. Angela was apologetic, soothing, a beak preening feathers. One of the golems was headed his way from Jack's cell-like room. He could feel the serene, centered presence of Zenyatta but didn't direct his attention there. He wasn't trying to spy, but the Sight was...omnidirectional. The best he could do was focus on Jack and hope that intent carried.

A little while later, he became aware that the djinn was...aware of him. The equivalent to a side glance was reflexive, and contact was made.

What are you doing? the djinn asked with soft amusement. A curious soul, our new Reaper...or perhaps, a defiant one?

Both, Gabriel thought. He wasn't some stoolie to just take everything at face value, especially when it was happening to him and the harpy had already demonstrated an astounding lack of transparency.

Determined, then. A warm, gentle laugh. Tenacity is an interesting quality in a Reaper. And affection seems to be another trait in your possession, to judge from the focus of your little excursion. A teasing tone, but not cruel teasing. A far rarer attribute, but a good one none the less.

That was not a conversation Gabriel wanted to have. He snapped his Sight shut and waited sullenly for the golem to show up and do whatever it was going to do.

What it was going to do, it turned out, was stuff Jack's bed into the room between his bed and the wall, leaving a tiny space between them. Gabriel tried not to think about how comforting it was to know that Jack would be in his room with him. That he wouldn't be alone. Shamefully, he snuggled down under the covers and let his body warm up.

At some point, he slept.

=

Commotion woke him: two harpies, two golems, and one exhausted-looking but unchained Jack all crowded into his room. Gabriel struggled to sit up as the golem supporting Jack brought him to the smaller bed. The griffin half-fell onto it and crawled a little ways up the mattress before leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. Amelie hmphed and stalked out with the golem following her, leaving a worriedly-hovering Angela and the other golem.

It whistled, and Gabriel noticed that it seemed to be wearing an apron and holding an order pad.

"You missed breakfast," Angela accused him, as if it were Gabriel's fault that he'd sneezed himself all over the world. "Place an order for lunch."

Gabriel eyed her warily. "What are my options?"

"Anything."

Anything, huh? Fine. "Thirty-two ounce prime rib, medium-well, with glazed baby carrots, corn on the cob, horseradish sauce, three buttered yeast rolls, and ice water. With a slice of lemon."

Jack looked impressed. And hungry. The golem turned to him and chirped.

"Same, but make mine medium-rare, no lemon, and add a glass of coke with two shots of whiskey in it."

Gabriel snorted. "You mean a-"

"Don't say it, Gabe." The griffin looked like he'd heard the joke so many times that he was beyond tired of it and into actively annoyed.

"Sorry."

The golem whistled at Angela and then stumped out of the room.

"Well," the harpy sighed, "at least you're focused on the needs of your body."

"Do you have any idea what I've eaten this last week?" Gabriel demanded, giving her a scathing look. "Do I look like a man who survives on salad? I've got a serious calorie deficit going even without the Reaper...thing."

Angela colored slightly. "Well, adjusting to being the Mantle is a significant metabolic demand. There will be a golem stationed outside your door at all times, both to fetch anything you require and as extra insurance that you stay in your room."

"I said I'd keep him here," Jack protested.

"And I appreciate your assistance," she shot back, "but considering how much trouble Gabriel has already given us, you'll forgive me if I leave the golem there anyway."

Jack chuckled. "Fair enough."

Angela left.

"Thanks for speaking up for me," Jack said quietly. "It's...not pleasant, having my ability to shift blocked."

Gabriel patted the bed beside him. "I don't want to carry on a conversation from across the fucking room. You don't have to, but I'm not going to bite."

The griffin sighed. "I want to, but I need to save my strength for lunch. We're a real pair, aren't we?" he teased, flashing Gabriel a tired smile.

"Yeah. Hey, Jack, the first place I teleported to was Paris."

That got his attention. "Why Paris?"

"I was right outside some transhuman's jewelry shop. Apparently Amelie bought stuff there."

Jack groaned. "Oh, no."

"The lady said you were old friends...?"

"Melina," he sighed, face in his hands. "She's a Grecian Sphinx. Loves designing jewelry for transhumans and supernatural creatures, has a fetish for reverse griffins."

Gabriel laughed. "I bet she's disappointed I'm human, then."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm sure she'll design something for you anyway." Jack made it sound like a threat.

"Thanks," Gabriel said dryly.

Two golems came in with big, sturdy trays that also functioned as little tables, and set them down on Jack and Gabriel's laps. They each had a small pitcher of water, Gabriel's with lemon slices floating in it, aside from their plates and glasses. They chirped, bowed, and left the room with Jack and Gabriel murmuring thanks.

For several minutes, the silence was broken only by sounds of eating - the clatter of silverware, soft moans of appreciation, and the clink of ice cubes against glass. Jack finished first, draining his pitcher and then lingering over his drink while Gabriel polished off his enormous slab of meat and stuffed the last roll into his mouth.

"Good lunch choice," Jack said lazily.

Gabriel patted his stomach and burped. "I think this'll hold me until dinner," he joked.

"Mm. Naptime?"

That sounded like a very good idea, except for the trays. He reached over and pressed the call button. A buzzer sounded somewhere, and a golem opened the door with an inquisitive chirp.

"Could we get these trays out of here?" Gabriel asked.

The golem chirped affirmatively and collected both trays before leaving again.

"Naptime," Gabriel announced, yawning.

They stretched out on their respective beds, groaning, and fell comfortably asleep.