InsaneJournal

Who: Zadkiel Thrush and Gabe Wilder, with guest appearances by Julie Hade (NPC) and Avinoam (future Gabe)
When: Saturday, June 19, 2096
Where: Gabe's apartment
What: A rather personal conversation
Status: Log, Complete


There was a Coke sitting on the table, the orange price sticker still stuck to the outside. It wasn't cold and Gabe had stuck it in a bucket of ice to try and minimize that fact. It jutted out at an angle, pointing towards the small refrigerator that was resting on the floor. He picked up a can of pasta and grimaced as he looked at Zadkiel.

"Um... I hate how everything's in a fuck- um, a can. Seretech had all this sh-stuff that was fresh." He reached out to a windowbox. A few spindly herbs were still in it, stretching towards the sun. With careful fingers, he plucked a few leaves of basil and rested them on the counter. "I... uh, Sean never bought fresh food when I was a kid. Grandma used to grow things but I'm not any fu-good at it." He halted after he said the sentence, feeling awkward as he tried to modify his language.

"I didn't know what to make of it," Zadkiel said, perched on the edge of a chair because he didn't want to be in the way. "When I first came to Seattle. I was staying with a friend from work, and I went into the pantry to see what I might be able to make for dinner, and there was just cans and cans of... I hesitate to call it food. I'd never eaten anything out of a can in my life. Things we'd jarred, yes. Dried beans and things that had been rehydrated, yes. Cans, no. I keep thinking there must be a way to have a garden. It's pretty late to plant anything, though, now." He frowned slightly, looking down at his hands where they were clenched between his knees. He wasn't sure if he was saying too much, but there was only so long a person could stand to say nothing at all to anyone.

"My grandma cans. Calls it a dying art. Um... I guess I ought to ask her but they're down in Alabama now." Gabe shrugged. "I'll... um, try to get something good out of this." He placed the can into the opener and watched as the lid popped open.

"Wish I could live on the fucking mountain though." His eyes went wistful. "Cities... uh. I dunno." He set a pot down on a piece of watercolor paper, the colors of his painting reflecting in the surface of it. "People aren't meant for this."

"Canning like she means isn't actually in metal, though. It's glass. I assume. I could be wrong. Which we did at home a lot with things that wouldn't keep. It always seemed awfully complicated to me, but then..." Zadkiel bit his lip, stopping himself. "I don't know. I think cities originally were for protection? People gathered in one place against whatever threat might come. And for convenience, as well. One central place where you could get the things you need. Only they got out of hand. It's... I don't know. I miss the farm, but..." He stopped himself again. "What mountain?"

"Rainier, mostly. Um... I like St. Helens too but there was a fucking eruption that uh, took the top off or something. It's uh, more deserty, I guess. I like snow." Gabe shook the can until the pasta fell inside, glopping to the sides as he grimaced. "Mom used to make me this all the fucking time. Except you know... just like that."

He showed Zadkiel the mess of red sauce and uncooked noodle still held in its can shape.

Zadkiel wrinkled his nose. "I assume it becomes less... cylindrical with heat? Is there anything for a salad or anything? I could have stopped somewhere. Now that I don't have to pay rent, more of my money goes towards food that might actually have had more than a passing acquaintance with the earth." He smiled crookedly, not meaning any of it as an insult. "It didn't ever snow much at home. The kids always got really excited when it did."

"Yeah. I used to eat it cold when I was little." He pressed his spoon against it, stirring it to even out the mixture more before picking up the basil and scattering it over the pasta. Continuing in quiet for a few moments, he dug into the fridge, finally coming out with a small block of cheese that he began to shred as he spoke. "Um, it doesn't snow much here. I lived all over and fuck... I hated snow when I was little. Too fucking cold."

It was hard to tell if it was the cursing or the idea of eating the stuff cold that made Zadkiel twitch. "I only ever lived in Oregon," he said. "And now here. It's tempting sometimes to try and find somewhere to go where it didn't feel like all of the buildings and everything are pressing in around you. Where the air hadn't already been breathed by someone else. Or at least that's what it feels like. Where you know where your food comes from. Only I'm not sure how many of those places there are left, and I couldn't manage it alone. And I'm supposed to have some kind of responsibility for other people here. It's hard for me to feel it," he admitted.

"Why?" Gabe asked, dropping a handful of cheese into the pot and resting it on the burner. He hesitated, then handed Zadkiel the illustration it had been sitting on, now splattered with tomato sauce.

It was an image, crudely sketched in pencil, then painted over with a child's watercolor set, all that he'd been able to afford. One man stood over another, the one underneath his fist clearly bleeding... unrecognizable as a man even beyond the blood and ruin. But both men looked monsters-the attacker's face only half that of a human, the other half wolf.

"I saw that," he said. "And I tried to stop it but I was too late." Gabe inhaled. "Dude, haven't... haven't we got some responsibility to people? Fuck, man, we can't- someone's got to reach out because nobody's reaching out." He glanced down. "I... people are all the same. Everybody's hurting, maybe, right now."

Zadkiel's fingers clenched then flexed, staring at the image. "I just... don't know what I can do. I can't save the world. I couldn't even—" But no. He couldn't say that. He frowned, his shoulders tightening.

"I wasn't..." Gabe reached out, taking the image back and crumpling it up with a sigh. "Fuuuuck." He leaned into the counter for a moment, fingers clutching the wooden spoon and ignoring the glops of tomato sauce on the floor. "I guess. What I mean is.... um... uh... someone has to take the first step. And I want to but... I just... I feel like... if someone paid me to do it, it wouldn't be... heroism."

He stuck the spoon back in the pot, stirring the pasta quietly. "I mean... I don't want to be a hero... not like that. I just want there to be something good in the world. Right now... it's not."

"I came here because I thought, I was told, that it would be safer. Than home. But now... it's not. I can't keep running, but I don't know how to be a hero. If that's what we're meant to be. I don't know how to start." His knees jittered up and down, and he couldn't look at Gabe.

Gabe noticed the way that Zadkiel's knees shook and his hand reached out, turning the burner off. He hesitated for a moment, then gently walked over and rested his palm on the other man's shoulder briefly before taking it away.

"You already have, maybe," he said.

Zadkiel looked up at him, startled. He wanted to ask how Gabe thought that he was any kind of hero, but the words wouldn't come out. He shook his head slightly. "I don't think whether or not we're paid for it makes a difference. A lot of them lost their jobs, might have lost their housing, so it's good they have somewhere to be, someone paying for it." He shrugged. "I don't know. My letter said I had to help save them. Them who?" He sighed and changed the subject. He didn't know how to do this. "Who's Sean?"

"Sean's my dad," Gabe said, startled by the change in subject. "Um... I guess... I didn't really grow up normal, you know?"

"Neither did I," Zadkiel said. "Not by most people's standards. Why do you call him by his first name?"

"He..." His arms stretched out in front of him as he hesitated again, feeling the unnerved feeling in his stomach that hinted at his ace. He pushed it back. "I... Mom and him. He went to jail when I was little. Didn't get out until I was older and I just... it was like, I didn't know him then, you know? And he just said I could call him Sean so I did. He didn't feel like Dad then, not after... I dunno."

Zadkiel blinked, surprised. "Why did he go to jail?"

"Um... that time? Armed robbery, I think."

"He went more than once?"

"Yeah." Gabe gulped for air, looking as if he wanted to say something else, then added weakly, "Yeah."

It didn't seem fair to be given that sort of information and give nothing in return. He opened his mouth, then closed it, his forehead furrowing. When he spoke again, it wasn't much more than a whisper. "Where I'm from... they don't like Jokers. Or Aces. Or anyone who isn't normal. It's why I left. Had to leave. I wouldn't have been safe there."

The other man didn't ask why. Instead, he nodded.

"I don't... most people..." He stumbled over the words. "Fuck, I wish... we've got these abilities.. why can't we just use them?"

"Because people fear what they don't understand. My family... community... believes that the Wild Card virus was divine retribution. If you're not good enough, if you're too much of a sinner, that when it turns up, only..." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "What I can do, I can't think of it as a punishment. What kind of revenge is God taking by giving me the ability to heal? My mother was one of the only ones who knew about it, and she thought it was a gift. Thought it was somehow angelic." He laughed softly at that, although not in a way that made it seem like he thought it was funny.

"I... I dunno what I think about my ace." It was hard to say but Gabriel managed, pulling the words out slowly. "It makes me... fuck, it's hard to see the people I become. And... it's just not something... other people can take."

He inhaled, then added, "But at least it keeps me from being alone, yeah?" And there was no humor in it although there ought to have been. Realizing it, he laughed just a few seconds too late.

Zadkiel didn't respond. The mention of Gabe's ace made him think of the library, and how disastrously that had ended. He was pretty sure that anything he might have to say would likely result in upsetting Gabe. It seemed to be a habit, or perhaps a skill, and one he didn't really have any interest in honing further. The silence stretched awkwardly between them.

Gabe felt the silence and that tense pressure in his stomach intensified. He forced it down, realizing that he'd implicated Zadkiel in those "other people." Somehow, that made him feel even more alone, realizing that one of the only other Wild Cards he'd ever met didn't know what to do with it either.

"Um..." He started again. "What happened before... it's okay, right? I mean, we're good, yeah?"

He was surprised that Gabe forgave him so easily, but then, the incident had been weeks ago, so he'd had time. "It's okay," Zadkiel agreed. "I was the one who was rude. It wasn't meant to be."

"No." Gabe swallowed. "That question... it bothered me because... I should be. And I'm not. And we're getting married next month and I just... um. Whatever." He shrugged. "It's all... drama. And this is going to sound fucking stupid but... um... never mind."

What was he going to say? He wasn't even sure.

He walked over to the stove and turned the burner back on as he began getting plates out. It was strange, but pleasant, to set a table for two. Julie was consumed in planning the wedding, so much so that he rarely saw her at night.

"Then why are you marrying her?" Zadkiel asked. He didn't really expect an answer, and didn't give Gabe time to give one. "Where I come from... why I asked... is because we don't get a say in it. Men do, sometimes, but mostly they assume - the Elders, I mean - that they know better, and that the decision is being handed down to them from God, and you're just told, this is who you're going to marry. Whether you like it or not. So love and marriage don't go together, really. So when I asked... it's not that unusual a question where I come from. Is all. But if you don't know God, then... why?"

"Because she wants to." Gabe looked miserable. "Dude, she's stuck with me for years. I mean, if it'll make her happy... at least, she loves me. She needs me." Only the last sentence rang true.

"But will it make you happy?" Zadkiel watched him intently.

"She won't leave," Gabe said to himself more than to Zadkiel. He reached out and scooped up a spoonful of pasta, dropping it on a plate. The remaining cheese and basil was sprinkled on the top. He handed it to the other man, his eyes steady on Zadkiel's face.

"So she'll be happy and you won't be and that's good enough?" He didn't mean for it to come out as sharply as it did. "That's... I thought it was different out here." He looked from Gabe's face to the food. "Thank you."

"Zadkiel, it's- I'm a fuck-up, alright? An accident." He looked down at his own plate. "Julie... she's pretty and smart and she needs somebody. I never expected anyone to give a shit, you know? And she's the one who does so... fuck, I don't want to lose that, you know? What else is there but other people?"

One day he would learn to keep his mouth shut. He'd done it for the first twenty years of his life. Why, suddenly, was it so difficult to keep his thoughts and opinions to himself? "I don’t know," he admitted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't..." He shrugged, poked his fork at the food but he had no appetite. "I just..." It was no use. He bent his head for a moment, giving silent thanks before eating.

"You know... you know... fuck." Gabe bit his lip as he realized what Zadkiel was doing. Taking a breath, he bowed his own head, not sure of how to pray himself or even if it mattered.

Zadkiel glanced up at him, then turned his attention to his food. He took a bite and chewed slowly. The texture was less than ideal, but the addition of cheese and basil made it edible, at least. "It's not so bad," he said. A weak compliment at best, but he wasn't good at lying. "I don't know much of anything, I'm discovering."

"What I mean is, um, it's good to have someone say that. Because no one does." He paused. "Sean just doesn't say anything. He doesn't like her but... it's like he gave up giving a shit. Or something. I dunno. He never actually says anything about her. And... there's no one else to. Mom..."

His voice drifted off. "Well, like, she doesn't call anyhow." He started eating, shoveling the food in quickly, an old habit that hadn't yet died. "Maybe you'd actually like Julie. You guys have stuff in common."

"Like what?" Zadkiel asked. He had his doubts about liking her, but that was uncharitable, as he hadn't met her, and maybe she was actually good for Gabe and... He took another bite, watching the other man eat like he didn't know where his next meal was coming from, or like he expected someone to take the plate away if he didn't clean it quickly enough.

"Faith." Gabe set the plate down. "I wish I had that."

"Which brings me back to my earlier question," Zadkiel said. He studied him with a calm expression. "Were you not raised in a church? It's strange for me to think of, as that was the center of my life for twenty years."

"Mom was raised an orthodox Jew but she never talked-talks about it. My middle name's for someone she knew as a kid but that's all the religion I got." He paused. "Sean's an atheist, doesn't believe in God. The only god my grandparents have seems to be the union. Their families were Irish Catholic but neither of them stuck with it."

He shook his head. "So, nope. Fuck, I never even read the Bible."

"Most people haven't," Zadkiel said. "Even those who call themselves Christians. They leave it to someone else to read it for them, to interpet it. I've read the Bible. It was one of the only books we had. If you've never had it, why do you want to have faith?" Can you miss something you've never had, he wondered.

"It seems... important. Julie talks about it as if it was... her foundation." He was struggling with what he meant to say. "I don't even mean faith in God.. um, I'd be.. happy with, like, faith in people."

"Perhaps it is," Zadkiel said. "It's mine, certainly, although as I got older I started to see where the Word was being bent to suit the purposes of man." He cocked his head. "What do you think of as faith?"

"Knowing that when you fall, that person... or idea... or concept... will always be there to catch you. Hold your hand, pick you up off the ground. Make it better."

"Oh." Zadkiel wrapped a strand of squidgy pasta around the tines of his fork. "If you put it that way, I can't really say I have much faith either." Which was perhaps one of the hardest things he'd ever had to admit, to himself or to anyone else. "I have faith in my sister Eva. I miss her more than anyone."

"Why?" He took a seat, listening quietly.

"She was one of only two people who knew about my ace. My mother was the other. I have five sisters, see, and Eva is the one closest in age to me. She's five years older. I grew up with all of them sort of mothering me, but I was closest to Eva. She was the one who helped me get away, when it hit home that I really might not be safe there for much longer. She gave me the keys to her husband's truck and I took it to get here. I abandoned it after, and I don't know if he ever got it back. If they found out she'd done that, she would have been in serious trouble, but she did it anyway. And I know she'd do it again, would do anything to keep me safe. I miss having someone I could be that close to. I have no one here." Zadkiel stared at his plate.

"Not no one," Gabe said. "You've got roommates. And at least one friend... I think." His voice was hesitant as he added, "And... you know... sometimes even five or six when he gets really fucking stressed."

Zadkiel looked up at him, startled for a second, but then he smiled. "Well, unless they decide they don't like me any more than they like you." His tone was light, almost teasing.

He laughed. "Um, sometimes, they're all over the place. I never know how they're going to be." Gabe scratched his head, then added, "I like you though."

"Dude, no. It's totally cool." Gabe waved it off. "Things are just... fuck. It's weird. That's all. This whole fucking thing with that meeting and finding out you were an ace and then the goddamn other mes being so fucking awful." He grinned. "It's not like it was you really, yeah?"

The younger man frowned. "No, it was really me. There's only one of me."

A flush shot up Gabe's neck as he said, "Your fault, I meant."

"Oh." Now it was Zadkiel's turn to blush. "Well. I suppose it doesn't matter whose fault it was. We're managing all right this time." Except he had no idea what was actually safe to talk about to keep it that way.

"Yeah. Maybe we shouldn't worry too much about it." He glanced up at the clock. "Uh. Julie's gonna get home soon." Gabe paused, wondering if he should invite Zadkiel to stay.

"I suppose I should go, then," Zadkiel said. "Probably easier than trying to explain why you know me. If she doesn't like... that." He waved his hand in a vague gesture.

"Dude, she'd just be so happy that you don't have tatts or weird hair... fuck, you've got no idea."

"Why? Does that matter? I mean, your hair is blue."

"Yeah," he drew out the word slowly, then said, "I have to let it go back to brown for the wedding."

Zadkiel frowned. "Why?"

"She wants me to look nice for her family." He shrugged. "It's just... hair, right?" There was a note in his voice that wanted to disagree.

"Exactly. It's just hair, so why does it matter what color it is? It's not as if the blue doesn't look nice." His cheeks flushed. "You'd think she'd be more concerned with whether or not you'd washed behind your ears." He quirked a crooked smile.

Gabe glanced at Zadkiel, wondering if he'd still think that if he actually met Julie or if the woman would convince him that she was right. She had a way of doing that with her opinions, voicing them so loudly that your own were lost in the din. His hand scratched at the back of his neck for a while, then just rested there.

"Well. I'm always clean," he said helplessly. Then it struck him how strangely funny that was and he grinned, unable to help that either.

"I suppose if it would cause a fuss, you could always dye it back after." Zadkiel shrugged. "It just seems rather... trivial. If she's willing to accept that you don't know God, when it's so important to her, but gets caught on the color of your hair."

"It's something she can change," he said, standing up. "I don't know. Maybe I'll find her God too, in the end, but I just... I don't fucking think so."

"Why does she need to change anything? If... if she loves you, shouldn't it be as you are? Blue hair and Godless and all?" Maybe he was just hopelessly naïve, to think that it would be different, better, out in the so-called real world than it had been at home.

"All my life people've wanted to change me," Gabe shrugged. "Um... after a while, you know,.. maybe... they've got a point." He hunched forward slightly, then said, "Dude, it's okay. It doesn't... like, matter."

But it did. How many times had he asked himself the question that Zadkiel had? But Julie stayed. That was what he kept coming back to. She was always there like a rock in the middle of the ocean. It was something to cling to, even if it wasn't much support in the end.

"Of course it matters!" Zadkiel said, more heatedly than he intended. "It's your... you. Who you are! How can you say that doesn't matter, that maybe people are right to try and change you? I don't see anything wrong with you from where I'm standing." He bit the inside of his lip to stop himself.

"Yeah but... you don't know me. And you fucking wince every time I swear- is that something you can really say you wouldn't want to stop?"

"Do I?" He supposed he probably did. "But no. It's how you talk, and I'll get used to it. Because it's not fair of me to expect you to change how you speak to suit what I'm used to. Any more than it would be fair for you to expect me to not mention God or something." Zadkiel's jaw was set stubbornly.

"But you don't love me," Gabe answered quietly. "You don't want to spend the rest of your life with me- it's easy for you to say that I don't have to change."

"That's my point, though," Zadkiel objected. "Does she love you, or does she love who she wants you to become, who she thinks she can turn you into? It's all utterly backwards from what I'm used to, where it's the woman who has to change herself to suit her husband, but it's wrong either way!"

A short blond woman stepped into the room, dropping her purse on the table with a loud THUD. Her face was still as it looked at Gabe for a long moment, white with anger. Then she turned her gaze on Zadkiel and said flatly, "Hello. I'm Julie."

Gabe swallowed, looking between her and Zadkiel, his jaw dropped open. The tension in his stomach was mounting and he forced it down, his fists clenched. She shot her head around and spat out at him,

"Gabe. We need to talk. Just you and I. Not you and you and I." Her arm reached out, clawing at his just as the tension released and a tired, weary version of him walked out of the bathroom.

Julie's head looked over at Zadkiel.

"He knows," Gabe said, tired.

Zadkiel stood frozen in place, wondering what she might have overheard. What if he'd made it all worse? What had he been doing, arguing with Gabe over all of this? All he was likely doing was making him feel bad about all of it, when obviously it was already not Gabe's favorite thing to think and talk about. Wasn't trying to convince him that all of it seemed off, somehow wrong, wasn't that trying to change him, too, in a way? "I should probably go," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't go," the new Gabe said as his original added, "Don't- dude, it's not your fault." Julie was staring at Zadkiel with narrowed eyes, clearly trying to keep herself calm.

I don't think she wants me here, Zadkiel thought, but didn't say. "I'm Zadkiel," he offered finally, to break the awkward silence. He held out his hand to her.

She inhaled slowly, then said, "I'm sorry about my manners. It's... nice to meet you." She looked pained as she took his hand, shaking it gently. The two Gabes flanked her. The Avinoam had brown hair, Gabe noticed as he looked at the double that he'd summoned. It was mingled with streaks of grey, the face that it matched it far too old for a man in his thirties.

Straightening up, Julie said, "Gabe's told me about you. Would you like a cup of coffee?" There was a slight, sharp undertone that implied distrust.

Zadkiel glanced at Gabe, the real Gabe, and his eyes flicked to the other one. He wondered what future he came from. At least he didn't seem inclined to harm anyone. "No. Thank you. I'm all right." He forced a smile that didn't come anywhere near his eyes.

"You know," Gabe said, "Maybe it'd be easier if I walked Zadkiel home." He took a step forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. His double smiled, glancing over at Julie. She shuddered and took a step back, then pointed at Avinoam, "He can do it."

"I can find my own way home," Zadkiel said, so softly he wasn't sure he'd be heard, but he didn't try to repeat himself. He wasn't sure his opinion mattered at this point, anyway.

It was clear from Julie's posture that she was about to crack. Gabe let his hand drop from Zadkiel's shoulder with a sigh. "I'll, um, see you guys out." With a low whisper, he told the shorter man, "Just... um... walk out the door together. She can't... she doesn't handle the other mes. They scare her."

Avinoam sighed, stepping out in front of him and shoving the door open brusquely. There was something about the older man's mannerisms that frightened Gabe to see in himself- then he realized what it was. They were so clearly a mirror of Julie's.

It relieved him to step out into the cold, crisp air and shut the door behind.

Avinoam glanced at them both, then said, "Kiel? You look so... young."

"I'm twenty," he said, cocking his head slightly. "It's 2096. When are you from?"

"3006. We're friends there, or we used to be."

Gabe grimaced and said, "C'mon, Gabe, just... just wait here, okay?" He hoped that this version remembered Julie although considering how old he looked, Gabe didn't doubt that in the least. "He... I just met him."

Zadkiel had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying about how it looked like Gabe had aged far more than ten years in this particular future. He kept glancing at him, his frown deepening. "I can get myself home," he said, sounding slightly defeated. "You probably shouldn't leave her waiting."

Gabe looked at the door for a long moment, noticing how his other self was standing just barely in front of it as if he was warning him not to pass. With a sigh, he said, "Yeah." He ducked his head and stepped inside, shutting the door on them both.

The shorter man looked up at the alternate future Gabe. "A lot's happened in ten years, then?"

"Yeah. Julie and I get married in... I dunno. What month is it? We got married on the last day of July," he sighed. "And it kind of goes on from there." This version of Gabe walked with a limp, dragging his left leg slightly behind him as he took the last small step that led up to the apartment. "Ten years is a long time but I guess... we just met. Here."

"Are you hurt?" Zadkiel asked, noting the limp.

"I... no, not recently." There was one thing Gabe's future selves never revealed - what circumstance they felt brought them. "Don't bother, Kiel. I don't want you limping around- I won't be here long."

"If it's old I couldn't help it anyway," he said. The shortening of his name threw him a little. No one had ever called him that before. "We did just meet here. Or rather, we met back in February and then I didn't see you until May, when the whole thing started at the Anhalt. Are you... you look tired."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm tired." Avinoam said. "It's really not a problem." He smiled at Zad, the smile lifting some of the exhaustion from his face. "I remember all of this. It was the same way back where I'm from. You must still be back at the Anhalt then." His eyes were awakening, looking curiously at Zadkiel.

"I am. We're still figuring out exactly what we're supposed to be doing there, to be honest. Are we supposed to be heroes? How do we do that? That sort of thing. I mostly keep to myself. It's a bad habit, I think, but there's a lot I feel like I can't say so it's easier to say nothing."

Zadkiel wondered how much this Gabe knew. He wanted to ask if things got better in ten years. If they succeeded in changing anything. The fact that he and Gabe were both still alive and apparently free was something, wasn't it?

"I don't know... how much do you want to know about my future?" This Gabe's voice was clipped in ways, as if the slowness of his thoughts had been forced out of him. "By now, I've seen so many versions of my own future that... I don't know which ones I even think you guys might pick."

He sighed. "Me. Back then, I really wanted to be a hero. I just didn't know it." He shrugged. "You do what I can't, in the end."

"Why can't you? What keeps you from it?" Maybe he could help the real Gabe from making the same choices, so that he didn't end up so worn down.

"I think you already know." This Gabe's smile was sharp, not pleasant at all. "Just don't let him take her word for it this time." He shook his head. "I guess we better get you home. Are you sure you don't want someone to walk with?" The sound of a raised, shrill voice was echoing through the door. "I figure, I pretty much have got to wait until I disappear."

"I don't mind the company," Zadkiel said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and started to walk, keeping his pace easy to accommodate for Gabe's limp. "She... I don't like her. I know I haven't even really met her but I don't like her. I don't think he'll be happy." He frowned. He shouldn't have said that.

"I'm not." He said easily, then added, "Hey, do I... where do we hang out here? Now? Have I stopped pissing you off every five minutes?" He breathed in, then said, "Um... Jesus. I'm fucking this up. I spend all this time thinking what it'll be like when he calls me backwards and all the time I want to say and ask and now... I'm fucking terrified of changing the future. Even though I know they're all different. I... um... I don't even know if you're the you I know."

Avinoam paused, then said, "Things about people change sometimes. Gender or appearance or one simple fact." His look was curious again.

"I don't know either," Zadkiel said. "It's strange to think there are infinite other future mes out there. Just slightly different or very different. Maybe there are mes who never left Oregon, who aren't aces. If I hadn't been, I wonder if I would be happy there?" He paused for a moment, letting his mind wander, then brought himself back. "This is only really the third time or so that we've spoken in person. There were a few notes and emails. I upset you as much as you upset me. We did better this time, but even then in the end I got upset."

He kicked a pebble along the sidewalk. "I don't know why it matters. Why he, you, matter. But you do. To me." His cheeks flushed rosy at the admission, even though there was no reason to be embarrassed by it, was there?

"It's not a bad thing, to matter to someone," was all Avinoam replied with.

He walked next to Zadkiel in continued silence but this silence was different. It was the silence of a man who felt that he was walking next to an old friend whom time and tide had mellowed, no fear in his step now, only harmony. His breath caught the air, lightly drifting in front of the younger man. Despite the fact that it was June, the weather was cold and that reminded him too of when he'd first met Kiel. Though- and it caught in Avinoam's throat suddenly- he was there all over again.

He wondered if they ever got do-overs, any of the hundreds of Gabriels who existed. He wondered if they ever actually returned or if this was the end.

"I'll try," Zadkiel said as they arrived at the Anhalt building. He turned to look at Avinoam. "I'll make him see that being a hero is the right thing to do. That she's not right about it. That it's something worth doing. Something he has to do."

He hesitated for a moment, then replied, "This night... this is different. What did you say?"

"I said a lot of things," Zadkiel responded. "Mostly about how if she loved him, then why would she want him to change? I asked if she loved him, or loved the idea of him, whatever idea she has in her head of what she can change him to be." He shrugged. "It was all pretty unfair. It's his life."

"I guess..." He smiled. "I'm pretty stubborn." Avinoam paused. "It's... um.. kind of odd talking about him and knowing it's me."

"Was you. A you that needs to make a choice, to determine whether he becomes you or someone else. If you could tell him one thing, what would it be? Or is it what you already said, to not let him listen to her?"

"I'd..." The taller man halted. "I'd tell him to grow a fucking spine."

That drew a short, startled laugh from Zadkiel. "I'll see if I can slip that into the conversation somewhere. Only without the swearing."

"You sure? Cause the swearing'd definitely have an impact." He stopped walking and simply stood there for a moment. "I guess... I better let you get inside. Um, rain and all." He tilted his head slightly, looking awkward and much more like the Gabe that Zadkiel knew, even with the gentler language and grey hair.

"It's not really raining that much," Zadkiel said. "If you want to stick around for a little while." He shrugged. He didn't know how long the other Gabe would stick around, but it seemed unfair to just send him away. "Or you could come inside." Although that might confuse his housemates.

"Nah. I don't want to impose." He shrugged, this time a little shyly, glancing at the building as if he remembered it.

"I can stay out here with you if you'd like," Zadkiel offered.

"It's okay." Avinoam looked up at the sky. "I mean, he won't remember or know anything you say to me." He shrugged with a slight smile. "That kind of makes the whole fucking thing a bit of a waste, doesn't it? I come and then I'm gone."

"But I'll remember what you say, and I can tell him. It's not all for nothing. Isn't that the point? For you to be able to maybe help him make better decisions? It's not an ace if it has no purpose, is it?"

"How do you know I'm an ace?" He sighed, then sat down on the curb. "Okay. Um... you know, I might be telling you things he wouldn't. The other you's..." He rested his head on his knee and said, "Close. It's been a lot longer for us."

Then Avinoam grinned. "Uh, like the fucking swearing? I finally managed to stop."

Zadkiel laughed. "Mostly. And I suppose I don't know that, but you said that your world seems to be pretty similar to this one. What do you mean, the other me is close? As in similar to me? Or...?" He wasn't sure what else he might mean.

"We're friends. Were friends." There was a slight waver in Avinoam's voice. He rocked a little forward, not looking at the other man. He shifted the subject slightly. "You know, there's a couple times when other mes and other yous really don't get along." He grinned. "You're just not going to learn that much from talking to us, Kiel, because the future always changes."

He leaned back, then asked, "Do you know one thing that scares me? Fuck... it's that... this. That someday, I'm gonna get called and I can't escape and then... I disappear. And never fucking come back. It's one of the reasons Julie hates us, you know. We remind her that someday, maybe, her Gabe is just going to be gone. But she holds on anyhow." His eyes were tired. "That's where she has us. There's been a lot of us... who try to love other people. But not that many of them love back."

"But you don't love her. He doesn't. It just seems all wrong. Maybe love is just a story we tell ourselves. Maybe it's not real." His shoulders slumped, like it hurt to admit.

"I don't think so," Avinoam said. There was a spark in his eyes for a moment, the green brilliant as he looked at Zadkiel. "I don't love her like you think love is but there's other versions of me that don't walk the same path. It's just hard to love someone who's constantly reminding you of your own future. And his."

"I mean, think about it, Zadkiel," he leaned back over, elbows resting on his knees again. "How would you feel if every so often an alternate version of the person you loved came and told you that they hated you? Or that they loved someone else? Or even tried to hurt you? That's what my wife's life has been for years. Since before this time." The exhaustion was coming back into his face. "It makes her old too."

"Then why does she stay?"

"I'm not the only one who's broken," he said quietly.

Zadkiel didn't really have an answer for that, so he didn't say anything. He just sat next to Avinoam in silence, his arms crossed over his knees, his chin propped on the crook of his elbow.

Avinoam shrugged again, then said, "Do you see? It doesn't matter why she stays. That she does, that's what matters." He looked tired as he forced himself to grin, lightly punching Zadkiel in the arm. "Stop worrying about my love life, Kiel- go get one yourself."

The younger man shook his head slightly. "That won't ever happen," he said. Apparently even ten years later he'd managed to keep that secret. "But thank you for thinking of me." He forced a smile.

The older man smiled back, though it didn't quite touch his eyes which looked wearier with every passing moment. Gabe was tired- he could feel it from where he sat- and he sighed deeply, letting the exhaustion take him over. Slumping over his knees, he said, "I... hate it when you talk like that."

It's only the truth, he thought. He laid a hand on Avinoam's shoulder, like Gabe had done to him earlier. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "It'll be all right. I'll be all right."

Avinoam twisted away from the touch, pulling back gently. "Of course you will. " He repeated it, standing up. "Of course you will." He was curling in on himself now, waves of emotion flooding against him, battering him from some distant place that he didn't understand. "Ki- Zadkiel? I'm going to leave soon. Uh, I guess this is your last chance for questions."

His fingers were knotting in on one another as he looked at the younger man.

Zadkiel just shook his head. "No. Just... take care." He seemed to shrink into himself, not watching as the other Gabe disappeared.