Author's Note: I have to admit, I am a sucker for horror movies. And despite being totally over-the-top and ridiculously corny, I really loved Legion. Needless to say, I was particularly inspired by the strained, brotherly relationship between the two Archangels. This fic is my attempt to explore their bond more fully. I do hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Legion.

Absolution

Chapter One Mea Culpa

Gabriel heard the click of the gun, the chamber coming up empty. It was a ghost of sound, the echo of false hope and bitter, bitter disappointment.

"You were going to kill him, weren't you?" a voice near at hand whispered. There was something of cautious awe in the tone, which in and of itself was cracking and faint. A boy's voice, he thought. A boy just cresting the ridge into manhood.

"Shut up, Jack." The second speaker was female. Her breath washed over Gabriel in a cloud of scents. Old coffee. Chewing gum. Maybe blood.

He stiffened, feeling his eyes roll behind closed lids. An ache extended down to his limp hands and he wanted only to take up his mace and smash it through the skulls of these people, these humans.

God damn them all…

A wry thought pushed through the haze of his anger, bringing regret, metallic and raw, to the back of his throat. Yes, God had damned them all. That's why he was here now, lying prostrate and bleeding on some harsh, unforgiving little spit of land on a polluted planet. Tormented by foul smelling, babbling humans. Humans that he would have killed…had he the strength.

Gabriel kept his eyes closed, too indifferent to open them and get a good look at the faces that belonged to the voices. He had thought he was safe, huddled in the bed of a dried gully, his back, his great, razor wings tucked against the space between two boulders. Safe and sound, like a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes. Safe and sound, so he could die from the wounds inflicted by his own brother.

Michael.

The first injury, the neat hole in his shoulder, was his fault. A bit of rare overzealousness. He remembered Michael grappling at his back, his tattooed arms twisting over his throat, crushing the breath out of his windpipe. Gabriel had done what only he could do. Had traded one pain for another. Had taken his mace and driven it through his own shoulder…and through Michael.

That wound was certainly his fault, for he fully knew the dangers of a weapon forged in Heaven. A weapon forged not in fire, but the purest of light. Light transformed into matter. Light transformed into steel. The epitome of holy wrath and vengeance. His mace was made from the only steel that could harm an Archangel, as was Michael's sword.

The same sword that had driven Lucifer from Paradise.

The same sword that had sliced across his gut not three hours ago.

That wound, yes, that wound had been Michael's fault.

But because his brother was merciful, he had left Gabriel to suffer from his injuries instead of finishing him off. The irony itself was wicked. Deadly.

Blood still ran down his side now, the blood of the Nile, the blood of the babes slaughtered by King Herod, the blood of the martyrs and the saints.

And he was, in this moment, in this fleeting, unrecognized time of space, completely powerless. The strength had been drained from his arms, the reason from his mind. His wings had trembled pitifully when he tried to master the currents of air, when he tried to ascend only to dive back to earth.

Gabriel had fallen, fallen from flight and into this wretched gully. The dust of it caked his lacerated stomach, soiled the fine metal of his armor with dullness and matted his hair. It was in such a state, in such a lonely, reviled state, that the humans had found him.

And one of them had put a gun to his head.

Gabriel knew this, even though he had his eyes closed. His ears echoed with the click of the chamber, and somewhere, in the back of his mind, his pride was mollified to know that a bullet couldn't pierce his skull.

Which also meant that there would be no easy end to his suffering.

The voices rose up against him now, inane in their rambling, spewing coarse and useless words. He heard the woman speak. Her tone was tight and angry.

"It's not human," she said. "Jack, don't touch it!"

"He has wings." This from the boy. The boy who sounded alight with wonderment. With awe. "Max, he has wings."

"I said get away from it!" A scuffle ensued. More dust kicked up, causing Gabriel's nostrils to dilate ever so slightly.

The boy called Jack seemed upset. He started wheezing. "You were going to kill him."

"No, it's dead already."

"But look, his chest is moving. I think he's hurt. Do you see the blood around his stomach?"

The woman's voice reached Gabriel from across the gully. "There's blood everywhere," Max said. "Good. Let it die."

Although her words were spoken with force, Gabriel didn't know if he believed them. There was a slight waver in her pitch, an unreliable vibrato.

Plastic slid against leather and Gabriel guessed that she had holstered her gun.

"Let's go."

"Wait, Max. Wait!" Jack had drawn closer, too close, evidently, for Gabriel heard him being yanked back again by a rough hand. "I don't want to leave him!"

"Fuck." The word was muttered, an expression of worry, not anger. "Jack, you can't start doing this-"

"Please. We'll take him back to Gram's house." The boy was leaning over him, his scent reminiscent of sweat and fear and clothes that had been washed with too much bleach. "He can stay in the garage if you don't want him inside."

"Are you crazy?" Max was adamant. "Are you…are you….Jack, he's at least two hundred pounds, probably more. You want me to carry him home?"

"I could run back and get the car."

"No!" This time, she did succeed in yanking him back. The boy whimpered, a noise of protest, not fear.

Gabriel knew the difference.

"I didn't get you out of L.A. to have you run off." Urgency had replaced the cynicism in Max's voice. "We're not separating. You saw…you saw what happened to those people…in the streets, Jack. You saw them!"

Gabriel was surprised when the boy sobbed. "Max."

"I know. I know." This was whispered, an awkward lullaby meant to soothe. "It's just you and me, bud, understand?"

"Until my Mom and Dad get here, you mean?"

"Yeah, yeah." Again, the waver, the uncertainty.

Gabriel recognized it. The boy did not.

"Can't we just, you know, bring him some water? Something?" Jack said, his words still tinged with hope. The hopeless sort of hope that Gabriel had seen so many times before in humans.

The hope that existed in the young man who had stood against him on the mountaintop. Who had stood between him and the child…

"Leave it," Max replied. They were out of the gully now, making their way along some desert track. "Forgot about it, Jack."

Gabriel listened as their footsteps crunched over the hardened ground.

"Max?"

"Huh?"

"What…what do you think he-"

But the woman cut him off, her disparagement drowning out the last of Jack's youthful awe. His unsullied and perfect bewilderment

"It's nothing," Max said with all the blind decisiveness of an adult. "Nothing."

And then they were gone. And then Gabriel was alone.

He wondered if he slept. Or perhaps the blood loss had pushed him off some vast cliff into oblivion, blurring the precious little he was aware of until he could not remember where he was.

Gabriel forced his eyes opened and saw the sky above him. The stars were out. Despite all that had happened, the stars of God still shined. Arrogant in their ferocity. Keen as the light on the newly sharpened blade…

Michael's blade.

Gabriel could still feel its keen edge as it whipped across his stomach, but the regret had been worse the pain. It always was. His brother turned against him. His brother with the hard face and the compassionate eyes.

Was it betrayal? Had Michael been the traitor?

Remember, a small voice told him. You raised your hand against him first. Remember that.

Gabriel tried to shake his head, but was forced to let it loll uselessly on his shoulders.

He was weaker now. Unable to draw his breath fully. Unable to move. Unable to wipe the droplets of sweat that inched down his brow. He would die in this little gully, his soul swift returning to Heaven to be renewed. Or Michael would come and heal him.

Michael would come. Michael would come.

And even then, Gabriel knew he was lying to himself.

The wind had picked up and the night was cold. He felt the whisper of the world on the bare skin of his arms. Felt the pain in his stomach, fatally dulled with exhaustion.

Gabriel tried one last time to spread his wings, tried one last time to-

The sound of footsteps. Quick. Nervous. Someone jumping down into the gully.

A boy stumbled across the uneven ground before him, the light from his flashlight finding Gabriel's face in the darkness.

"Hey!" Jack breathed, his cheeks flushed with the chill, his eyes bright and eager and hopeful. "I came back."

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! If you have a free moment, please leave a review. I would absolutely love to hear from you. The next chapter will be posted soon.