Fallen had not met Kelvin’s parents. He did not understand the rules of the hospital when he demanded to see his lover. Even when he changed into his twisted and formidable appearance as one of Therakiel’s Fallen angels he was refused entry into the “operating room” that Kelvin was in. He was told to wait in a “waiting room” with his parents.
Fallen went to the room, angry and frustrated. He saw two people sitting together in the room, a woman reading a magazine and a man staring up at the television screen.
“I thought their leader told them to not go into these things alone,” the man was saying, still staring up at the screen.
“Kelvin thought he could take him on his own.” She pursed her lips and turned the page in the magazine. “You need to help him improve that suit.”
“I work in robotics, how many times have I told you?”
“Don’t you have any colleagues that know about power suits?” She put her magazine down and looked up at Fallen, who had been staring at them.
Fallen inclined his head – he would not bow to a mere mortal. “I am Fallen. I am Kelvin’s lover.”
The man turned and looked at Fallen. “Where were you in all this? Are you in that group he’s in?”
“I would have come at his call, but he did not summon me. No, I am not in that group.”
The woman was angry; it came off of her in waves. “I’m going to have to talk to him when he gets out of this.”
“How old are you?” asked the man.
“As old as God created the angels,” he said, “for I am an angel.”
“And you couldn’t do anything?”
“As I said, I was not summoned.”
“Don’t you angels know everything that’s going on?”
“Bob,” said the woman, putting a hand on the man’s arm.
“It does not work like that,” Fallen said sadly. “My form is physical and tied to the physical realm.”
“Some angel,” snarled Bob.
Fallen swallowed his anger, knowing that Bob was trying to take this out on someone, to blame someone other than his son for his son’s decisions. Kelvin was going to get a stern talking to, not only from his parents, but from his group leader, and Fallen himself. Bob returned his attention to the TV. The woman put aside her magazine. “Fallen,” she said, “I’m sure you would have helped him if he called you.”
“I would like to heal him, but they will not let me into the room.”
“You’re a healer?”
Fallen nodded. “By the Grace of God, that was not taken away from me.”
“Did you tell them that?”
“They said he was in an operating room and I could not go in.”
She said, “It’s a sterile environment. You would have brought germs into there if you didn’t have the right preparations.”
A man in scrubs came in and announced, “Mr. and Mrs. ______?”
Both the man and the woman rose.
“Your son is fine.”
They both let out sighs of relief.
“He had third degree burns over part of his body, and we had to surgically remove the suit that had burned into him. His internal organs were untouched, but he has a nasty burn on both sides.” The man illustrated, his hand going down one side of his body, stopping at the hip, and then his other hand rested over his liver. “We may have to talk about skin grafts.”
“We have a healer,” said the woman, and looked hopefully at Fallen. Fallen nodded solemnly.
“Let’s first get him stable. He’s in recovery right now. I can let one person in at a time.”
“I’ll go,” said Bob, gathering his jacket. The woman looked down, letting Bob walk by her to the man in the scrubs. She sat down when he left, and kept her head down. “When things are all right,” she said quietly, “he’s fine. When there’s anything amiss, he blames everyone else.”
Fallen sat down next to her. “I will heal and protect him,” he said. “All he need do is call my name, and I shall come to him.”
She wiped her eyes. “I don’t expect that of you.”
“I love him.”
She turned to look at him. His blue eyes glowed like blue fire. She nodded. “Thank you,” she said, a whisper.