The room was empty of sound and time. He'd have tried to sing that song again, but his breath was coming short, he couldn't sit up, everything hurt. He had no idea how long he was there alone, he could only hear his heartbeat echoing off the walls, it shook him like a crack in the skull, was it supposed to go that fast, how many were left?

Two hundred and fifty-seven, two hundred and fifty-six…

The door opened, the light was dull but blinding, it skewered him to the back of the head.

"Keep him alive."

And a creature was thrown in. Its silhouette was tall, gangly, and when the light was shut out, Matt could see the gold of its skin. Its last two fingers were long and stretched a membrane out from each elbow like a wing.

It was an angel.

Almost involuntarily, his hand moved to the wound.

"I don't need another guardian angel."

The angel briefly looked him over but didn't respond. It looked so nervous about something.

"Am I going to see Katie?"

It unfolded a small kit he couldn't see well and pinched his wrist between its fingers. What could an angel have to be so worried about?

"Don't worry, Gabriel, it's gonna be okay."

The angel uncurled his arm and stuck him with something.

His father used to say you couldn't help but be changed by space travel. And here he was, on man's oldest and final journey, talking to a messenger of God. His father would have been proud of him. And, Shiro…

He looked down at his hand, gritty with crystalized blood. Shiro had been watching over him for a long time.

"Tell all my friends that I'm coming too…"

When he woke, he was dizzy but didn't feel so much like death itself. The wound on his knee was dressed in something less rudimentary than his own previous attempts. He started to tug at the bandages.

"Shiro…"

A hand stopped him. It was the angel.

"Do you know him?" Matt asked before reaching for the bandage again.

This time the angel swatted him.

"No touch," it said, sounding stern yet tense at the same time.

"But he's my friend, Gabriel."

The angel gave him a cockeyed look, then shook its head and pointed to itself.

"Shaforni."

"Sorry, I don't speak Tongues," Matt said.

"Sick. No talk." Gabriel pushed him back until he was compelled to lie down.

But this was an angel. He wasn't going to not talk to an angel.

"It was nice of you to come be my other friend, Gabriel."

The angel shook its head again.

"Not nice. Patient die, Shaforni die." Then it hid its face. "Bad doctor…"

It must have been something awful that could make an angel cry.

He got it then. This was the angel of death, but it was afraid of doing its job. An angel could have a lot of human inside it.

"Gabriel…" Matt dared to sit up and touch the angel on the arm, "Don't worry, I think you're doing fine. I haven't been scared since you got here."

Gabriel smiled weakly.

"Actually, Gabriel," Matt went on, "I didn't really believe in angels until I met you."

There was no way for him to tell Gabriel how much that meant. He might have been the only one to see something larger than Earth and decide it was God. But angels knew things, didn't they? He didn't have to say it at all.

"Not 'Gabriel,'" the angel said.

Matt thought hard. He didn't know many angels by name. But he didn't want to disappoint another one.

"Michael," he finally said. "Michael with the boat full of souls."

"Shaforni."

The door hissed open and the angel sprung to its feet, immense at full height.

On the other side, the Galra warden pointed.

"You. Report."

The angel bowed its head, hands wringing.

"Not dead. But have... disturb."

The warden gave Matt a perfunctory look.

"Sufficient."

The angel released a breath and offered the warden its wrists. The warden snorted.

"Your obedience is valued. But I'm not here for you."

He pushed past the angel and rounded towards Matt. Matt reached for him with nothing but love.

"There was an angel that fell from Heaven…"

The warden hesitated, stared, then brought Matt's hands behind his back, surprisingly gentle.

And as he was led away, Matt realized he WAS one of the lucky ones, he was in one of Michael's boats on the Jordan, the river Jordan was swift and cold, the river is deep and the river is wide, in the black coldness of outer space, the river was wider than anyone had ever known, milk and honey on the other side, alleluia.

Not everything would be okay. But something would be.

Finally, he knew that, he could feel the hope rising in his soul.

Because he believed in angels.