Who Am I?

Instinctively, Roan pushed his hand over Clea’s mouth. He’d long ago realised that his semi-obsession with keeping her safe was unusual, and one that was likely to attract a lot of attention if it got out. He could already see the headlines, and none of them were pretty. But Ellie finding Clea standing in their doorway in the dead of night was going to at least raise her eyebrows a little – not that Michael had ever given her anything to be suspicious or worried over. “She has other things on her mind.” He said sternly. Honestly, Michael kept a lot from Gabrielle. There were simply things that she didn’t need to know until he was sure it wouldn’t worry her. So as he slipped back upstairs to find a sweater to pair with his sweatpants, he was relieved she was still showering and that he didn’t need to try and explain to her that the 400 strong army may be a bit bigger than Koji usually allowed. Reentering his study, this time with more clothes on than he had been wearing while Ellie was out running, his eyes scanned for Clea, half expecting to find her flipping through sensitive documents that would end up in the Repository when this part of their history was over. “I…” Roan paused, annoyance bubbling through his usually stoic self. “I told you not to touch anything!” He cried, a touch exasperated at the sight of the liquor in her hand.

“Hey!” Clea protested as soon as his hand left her mouth. “I’d rather not be manhandled, thank you very much.” She glared at him. Unfortunate that Ellie was busy. In all honesty, she was pretty sure most people would go to Ellie if they needed any help. She was much more open and kind. Most of the time with Roan, it seemed she was either being ordered to do something or being lectured. The man seemed to have some weird thing about making sure she was safe, and she wasn’t even sure why.

Staring up at the screen after the silence set in, Zane let out a low whistle that was neither amused or concerned, merely observant. He had recognized the swish of blonde hair, the whispers that Azrael had gone missing, but as far as he knew, nothing was confirmed or denied. Michael, unsurprisingly was avoidant as per usual, and taking into account his own distance from the Clave, he wasn’t sure if it was another one of Laney’s ploy’s for attention. When he turned to his side and met the familiar gaze of a face he had crossed paths with in the repository, he tilted his head. “Is this some sort of joke? Because if it is, it’s pretty fucked up.”

Turning her head, Clea found herself next to the same man she had bumped into at the memorial. "Oh!" The words left her lips unbidden. She flashed a quick smile at him before her brows knitted in confusion. "What do you mean? Isn't it for show? I mean, it is a movie trailer ..."

“Please, you’ve probably seen far worse on the front of Abercrombie & Fitch down the street. besides, this is my apartment and its nighttime… you’re not being particularly gracious since if you were fifteen minutes later you’d be pulling me out of bed.” Though he was a touch miffed. Michael was a warrior, a fighter, an archangel carved depicted in mythology as a chiselled Zeus look-a-like, and every cycle Michael managed to live up to the expectations of humans without them even realising. Just as Gabrielle was always beautiful, despite the fact they depicted her as male… Michael always enjoyed reminding her of that. Clea’s presence at the door was shocking enough, but the marks on her arm were something completely different.

“I avoid it as much as I can. But at least they have something to look at …” She mumbled, continuing before he could comment. “Anyway, the point is, what the heck is this,” she said gesturing at the sapphire lines once again. No matter what he said or how much he aggravated her (and vice versa if she was being honest) she still needed answers, and her instinct told her Roan had them, or at least some of them.

Nodding he gave her a short smile, “Yes, twelve.” A lot happened at twelve for Cole, his first cigarette, his first crush, his first attempt on his life. Always melancholy, always feeling like parts of himself were missing, like being born had caused him to leave something behind, something he couldn’t put back and he didn’t realize what that something was until he begun coming into his true memories.”I’ll try to stop smoking if you agree to come over to my place with me..” He couldn’t  help but smirk, a light hearted innocent invitation. His ulterior motive not to get her alone, but to get himself away from the horrible things that had just happened, to be able to look at her and not see the blood traces on his shoes, to not be reminded of the last breaths so many took. He just wanted to be alone, to be alone and be with her before his guilt kicked in and told him to push her away again. “What do you say-” Stuffing his hands in his pockets his smile softened, he wanted to tell her and keep her from the murders all the same time. She was too beautiful, too kind, too untouched for him to so easily cast shadow over her light.

Cole scoffed, his lips twitching into a sad smile. “I started when I was maybe twelve because I thought it made me look cool-” Shrugging he looked down at her with a genuine smile. “I guess I’m addicted now-”  Cole had always been terrible at saying no to things that were bad for him, to things he shouldn’t be doing. Here he was drawn to Clea when his sou mate was in heaven, dying. The truth stung, but Anmegarice would understand. Would she not? He was hurt, his faith in life wavering after what he saw and it was Clea who was making dealing with it bearable. Even as his hands shook just being near her was putting his stomach at ease. “The park?” Looking down at the girl Cole gave her a daring smile. “Afraid to be alone with me, Clea?” He questioned when truthfully he just couldn’t bare being in the outside world much longer and wherever he went he wanted to drag her with him. He was selfish and unapologetic.

Clea's brows rose at that, she couldn't stop it. "Twelve? That's really early ..." She trailed off, before shrugging her shoulders. "You could always try to stop now, you know. As long as you try, there's no reason why you won't succeed at it eventually." She knew there were many, many exceptions to those words, but for him now, for smoking, they were true. She rolled her eyes, scoffing at him. "Oh, please. Of course I'm not afraid. You were the one who asked where I was going." One side of her lips lifted up, giving him a wry grin. "I wouldn't mind going somewhere else." Of course she wouldn't. She would go almost anywhere with him, and her words to him just seconds earlier came back to her. If she worked hard at it, perhaps it would be easier for her to stay away. But yet, she didn't want to do it.

Roan’s ears had been straining for Ellie’s return all night. It was the one thing that stopped him from going to bed in the first place, but paperwork had kept him busy. He looked up and couldn’t hold back a smile when he saw her. Was it relief? Or love? Could one exist without the other? “I’ll be up in a bit, just going over something.” Roan promised as she hovered in the doorway. I just don’t want to ask Luke for any more money than I have to, but he kept that to himself. Roan was fairly sure that his bond mate was starting to consider his many person feuds with their fellow blue bloods petty and counterproductive, and perhaps she’d be right. But Roan would never tell her that she was… or at least, tell her that he was wrong. He was tired, he was strained and stretched out, and he just needed everything to settle for two or three days so that he could make sense of everything that was happening. Hell, he was still trying to come to terms with Anmegarice’s death, still wondering whether Cole had thrown himself in front of another train only to get up and walk away. A knock at the door caught his attention, and he quietly (though she would hear him that he knew) called to Ellie to see if she’d answer it… silence.

It was first her shock at seeing Roan open the door that left her initially speechless, but the state of his clothes (or lack of) jolted her vocal chords back into working order. "What are you wearing?!" She groaned, covering her eyes. "I think you just corrupted my very innocent eyes." Sighing, she cautiously opened her eyes, careful to keep her gaze on his face. "I just wasn't expecting you. And besides, I'm pretty sure they won't miss me until the next morning." It was true, though. The longer she stayed at the hospital, the less attention they payed to her. The length of time between people checking up on her was about four hours, unless it was at night. They didn't bother her at night after her dinner.

Looking to the ground Cole stubbed the still burning embers out with his foot. “It’s ok- bad habit any way.” People had been smoking since, well since people figured out fire plus herbs had a plethora of effects on how you felt, behaved and responded to daily life. The nicotine wasn’t even his most dishonorable vise; the faded scars paler than his brown skin were perhaps the addiction that did the most damage. His thoughts trailed he often did this forced his thoughts other places to avoid the truth, to avoid his wants, and desires. As an ambulance passed, the sirens silent Cole couldn’t help but follow it as it went. Turning his hands over the blood was long gone but he still felt it creeping into his life line, under his nails. Rubbing the palms of his hands on denim covering his legs he forced a smile and shrugged. “As far away from here as possible. Where were you going? We can go there?”

A corner of her mouth lifted in a smile when he said that. "Well why do you do it, then? I mean, if you know it's bad." As the words left her mouth she realized that it could very well be applied to her too. Didn't she know that being around him was bad? Or well, that was what everyone else said. Troublemaker, delinquent, those were only a few of the things they told her. But she was still here anyway, wasn't she? The sound of the ambulance made her jump, and she automatically looked around, the irrational thought that they had somehow found her and were coming to bring her back making its way to the front of her mind. Shaking it off, she shrugged. "I was just walking around London. Didn't really have a particular place in mind and then I saw you. Maybe the park?"

Maybe he slightly relaxed at the sound of her laughter; maybe he didn’t have a need to relax. Emotions played like wildfire in Roman, never pausing for too long for him to understand. So like a human; so like a Blue Blood as well. It must be he existed that left him emotions in a whirlwind.

"I'll be sure not to." She laughed, adding jokingly. "How do you know I don't say the same things to them?" She felt comfortable enough to joke around with him, and she didn't know whether she was becoming more confident in dealing with people or whether everyone just seemed so much easier to connect with these days. Maybe tragedy did bring people together, whether they realized it or not. "That's right." She smiled at him, pleased that he had remembered. Most didn't remember her, some didn't even notice her, but he had.

As soon as it sunk in that he had snapped at Clea, her of all people Cole wanted to slam the lines of communication shut and run, pretend he hadn’t just projected the deaths of a park full of innocent people on her, but her smile- her tone; she didn’t know, did she? Hadn’t watched the news, didn’t see him there among the blood and carnage, she was still safe from it all. “I’m sorry, Clea-” He didn’t know what to do with hish ands, he tapped his things, ran his fingers through his hair, once, twice, four times, then he sighed. “Are you busy? I could use a distraction.” Yea great one, Metatron use the poor human girl to distract yourself. Closing his eyes Cole swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking again. “I mean I could use a friend.”

"Its alright," she waved off his apology. "I'm sorry I made you drop your ... cigarette." She hadn't actually realized what it was until the words had left her mouth, and she couldn't leave her sentence hanging like that. One of her biggest pet peeves was smoking, yet so many people seemed to enjoy it. Roan, Cole, her own father, even. Of course he didn't do it in public, having to protect his image and whatnot. Distraction. She couldn't help the pricks of hurt when he said that. But isn't that the same thing you're doing to that boy? Nathaniel? Her conscience decided to make itself known again. And it was because of this that she smiled brightly at him, disregarding his earlier sentence. "Nope, what do you have in mind?"

Kinsie smiled lightly at Clea, trying to feel comforted. Instead she just had a pit in her stomach. She felt queasy. “On second thought. I’m… I think– I’ll just pass on going. You can meet me… erm, just text me when this is over.” She didn’t want to see sad people anymore. She didn’t want to feel like she was surrounded by death and destruction. Kinsie wanted to forget that night. “We can get food at by that pub I like.”

First he was running, then walking away from the bloody mess laid at his feet. Their screams echoed around him. Each scream followed by one finale tick of ole’ faithful Big Ben. The sounds would forever haunt him, the sights were there every time he closed his eyes. Cole needed to get away from it all he wanted to end it all. Scratching at old faded scars reminded him of how impossible it was for him. No good at being human and no longer really a proper Angel. There was nothing here for him. No love, no tomorrow no humanity. No that was brutalized in Parliament park. What was he here for if not to find absolution to restore humanity. Pulling his half empty pack from his pocket Cole placed an unlit cigarette between his lips, using shaking hands to light the end. Only hearing someone call his name caused him to drop it from his lips, the hot flame snuffing out on his shirt burning a hole just over his belly button. “Fuck-” Muttering he turned to face the voice calling to him. “What the hell do you want? He snapped a little more crudely than he should have, instantly softening the boy dragged his hands over his face, “What is it, I mean?”

Clea had seen the familiar face turning the corner, and she had hurried up to catch up with him. No matter how much she knew she should stay away, there was just something that pulled her towards him, like they were connected by a string. The red string of destiny, was that what people called it? She had called out his name, but just as she reached him he had snapped at her. She was unable to hide the hurt on her face immediately, but managed to compose herself after that. She supposed it was just another one of his off days, where he seemed to want nothing to do with her, and yet could do a hundred and eighty degree turn in personality the next day. His next words gave her some reassurance that perhaps he hadn't meant to be quite as harsh. "I was just taking a walk ... Just wanted to say hi, I guess." Liar, her inner voice rebuked. You wanted to spend more time with him.