fandomweekly | [#011] Even Judas Knew He Had Lied (Original)

Theme Prompt: #011 – Handle With Care
Title: Even Judas Knew He Had Lied
Fandom: Original (Riftverse)
Rating/Warnings: Implied violence and death.
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 929
Summary: She used to be a real girl.
Notes: The Riftverse is not technically created by me, it came from the beautiful brain of the creator of

beyondtherift, but she is kind enough to let me play in her universe, and all of the characters mentioned here are from my own brain.

She used to be a real girl.

Once upon a time, before her Calling, she remembers. She smiled and laughed and cared about things like clothes and boys. But then her wings came and the Calling and the high of it all that she couldn’t control. It sweeps her up and crashes her down, and when she comes down it’s so hard that she barely even realizes what she’s doing before it happens.

She’s stronger and faster, strong enough to crush the windpipe of that girl who just couldn’t keep her mouth shut and in the moment, in that time when she’s feeling her struggle, gasping for breath, she felt herself climb higher than she ever had before. It’s the crash back down to reality again that changes her, that takes the thing she thought she would be able to control and proves to her just how wrong she is.

Her dad tries to help. He deals with the cops and whisks her away and tries to help get her back to who she was but you can’t go back from something like that. You can’t stop it either. A Calling is for forever and demons live for centuries. She’ll have to live with the blood on her hands for the rest of her life, and she doesn’t know how to live with that. Not at seventeen.

So she runs. Far, and fast, and free and there’s a part of her that knows that this isn’t the way to deal with this. But logic isn’t what’s speaking to her at the moment, it’s the fear that the next time she hurts someone, it will be someone she loves.

She won’t hurt someone she loves.

It’s the only thing she has left.

***

She doesn’t remember the first time she meets him.

There has to be a first time, when their eyes met because that’s how it works, but she doesn’t remember it. Its twenty years after she left home and she’s living in a subway tunnel in New York City, still hiding from the person her Calling wants her to become. It doesn’t mean she hasn’t taken steps along the way. Her hands are still dirty, stained with red and white and black now, but they aren’t people she cares about. They aren’t people she loved. They’re people who tried to hurt her, so she can live with that. It’s just the rest of the world that she worries about.

The first time she remembers seeing him, he brings her a cup of coffee and a doughnut. The coffee gets set down first, close enough to reach it on her own, but not close enough to be invading her personal space. “I don’t know how you like it.”

She stares back at him, trying to figure out what he’s after. He’s attractive, he’s normal, he’s nice. People like that don’t stop and pay attention to her. “I don’t,” she whispers. Even if she did, she probably wouldn’t drink it anyway. She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t know why he’s giving her the coffee. She’s heard about organizations that try to round up wayward members of the supernatural community and she’s not interested.

He blinks clearly startled by the idea that someone doesn’t like coffee. Then he laughs just a little. “Okay, I deserve that. I probably should have asked first.” He shifts a bit, holding up the brown paper bag in his opposite hand. “Do you like doughnuts?”

“Why?”

“Because you seem like you’re hungry.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because … I’m a nice guy?” Her eyes watch him sharply, trying to find the lie she’s sure is there. She reaches out for the bag as he extends it to her, her hand brushing against his, and they both jerk back in surprise. Him from the warmth and her from the cold.

“You’re an angel.”

“I am.”

“Why … ?”

He cuts her off, his words quiet but somehow loud enough to be heard over the low roar of the subway. “I’m a guardian.”

She knows what it means. Her father taught her a long time ago about the different kinds of angels, but it doesn’t register at first what it means for her. That he’s trying to tell her that she means something to him now, something that she hasn’t meant to anyone in a long time.

“For … for me.” It’s a statement but it should be more of a question. She’s asking, even if part of her already knows the truth. “But—but I’m a … ” Rakshasa. They’re killers. They don’t deserve anyone’s protection.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “It doesn’t work that way. I could wind up with anyone.” And he wound up with her. He takes a breath, running his hand over his face. “Okay. Can we … just start again?” He reaches across to her, extending his hand for her to take. “My name’s Griffin. What’s yours?”

He could be lying to her. He could be any number of things, an archangel trying to con her so he can gain her trust before he kills her, but she’s dealt with archangels before. She may not be as skilled or trained, but they still haven’t gotten very far. She extends her hand to him again, sliding it into his.

“Leta.”

“Hi, Leta.” He nods, squeezing her hand softly. “Why don’t we go get something to eat?”

She reaches up and takes his hand, and for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel like she has to do this alone.