Arch Angel

She stood huddled in the darkness, grasping her arms tightly as she stared at her feet. She was alone, but an insistent voice pressed upon her from all angles.

"We know why your father joined Delphi."

She flinched as tears stung her eyes.

"It was because of you." The cruel voice hissed, pouring coldly onto her body. She bit down on her trembling lip.

"Because of you, hundreds – thousands – of people have died."

"I'm sorry . . ." she hiccupped.

"Sorry?" The quick scoff sliced through her and drew a visible wince from her body. "Is 'sorry' going to bring these people back?"

The cold ground trembled beneath her feet. The movement startled her, pulling the initial gasp from her throat into a short scream as something burst through the ground just a few feet away. Her feet stumbled uneasily as the earth continued to quake and an ocean of tombstones pushed up as far as her tear soaked eyes could see. Her hand flew to her mouth, her coarse breath pushing through her fingers, and she frantically backed away. The retreat was cut short by a glass panel that slammed into her shoulders.

Startled again, the air was pushed from her lungs in a short yell. She whipped around, the speed of her turn sending her long hair to twist and ensnare her frame.

"Will 'sorry' restore the life that was destroyed in your place?"

Within the glass tube floated a decrepit figure, withered and twitching in agony. The emaciated skull was barely able to hold in its discolored and bloodshot eyes. Yet, the bulging orbs stayed in place as it heaved painfully, its beam of sight stabbing directly in the girl's green irises. Her hands found their way back to her mouth as she grazed it with her trembling fingers. "Oh my God . . ." she whispered, thankful when her tears distorted the figure, for as much as she wanted to, she could not turn away from it.

Her feet, on the other hand, had not succumbed to the paralysis and were slowly taking her from the horrific sight. Blessings were with her for a brief moment, when her heel was roughly tripped, sending her plummeting backwards and ripping her gaze from it. The force sent her into a harsh landing on her back. Her eyes clenched shut from the pain in her skull and a grey ceiling awaited her upon peeling them open again.

Through her breath, which turned to mist in the cold air, a single dim light glared down on her. She curled up in response to the cold, rolling over to her side as she wrapped her arms around her body. She had only enough time to let out a half shuddering breath before it caught in her throat.

A white hand dangled before her. Stiff and frozen, the arm that it was attached to swung ever so slightly from the edge of a cot. Her knees jerked into her chest and the grip on her sleeves tightened. Before she could stop it, her eyes were locked onto the lifeless body above her. Still clutching her arms, she frantically pushed herself away, sliding rigidly on the floor until a set of cart wheels pinched her backside. She gasped as she felt the legs of a different cot shift against her and was unable to stop a throat tearing scream as another hand dropped just above her, nearly smacking her in the face.

She clawed herself away from it and climbed to her feet only to find herself surrounded. Cots were wedged into every nook and cranny of the room, each holding a lifeless body. Each vivid yet unfamiliar face was etched in pain, forever capturing their final agonizing moments before the disease within claimed them.

"This is all your doing, Thompson. Were it not for you, your father would have been living as a freeman, and these people would not have died."

"No . . ."

"This is a mere fraction of the damage you've caused." One of the many shelves that lined the walls thrust open before her, missing her torso by an inch and sending her stumbling to the floor. Like an opened wound, a mass of grey limbs flailed and oozed from it. Her breath once again choked her as she clumsily scooted herself away from the swelling drawer, the pressure within building up and spilling more bodies to the floor. "The blood of each of these people is on your hands. Look at them . . . Look at those you have murdered."

Another drawer opened above her. A desperate and rigid crawl just barely spared her from the cadavers that poured from it. Still, she felt their cold fingers brushing her ankles as she climbed to her feet. Unable to suppress a sob as she heard a third shelf bang open, she made a fumbling dive for the door. Any life the door knob had would have been strangled in her grip, but she got it to do nothing more than teasing jiggle, the door itself not giving her a single budge.

"Let me out! Someone! Please!" she screamed, pounding her fists on it. Even as her throat turned raw and her fists bruised, no one answered her cries and soon, even she could barely hear herself over the flooding of the dead behind her. Pressing her forehead to the door, she allowed a brief fit of sobs to overcome her before a cold grip on her ankle sent her screeching to her feet. The bodies toppled over one another as they continued to pile up. She slid uneasily against the wall as she retreated, finally crumpling to her knees as her back collided with the corner. Even with no where to run, she curled up against the wall as much as she could, hugging her knees to her chest as she turned towards the nook.

"I'm sorry . . ." she choked again, repeating the desperate gasps as she waited for the dead hands to claw at her form. She did not have to wait long before a hand gripped her arm and sent her whimper into a hysteric scream. "No! Let me go!"

"Angie."

A few strands of hair clung to her tear stained face as she whipped her head around. A sharp gasp stilled her trembling lips as she looked into a familiar set of eyes. "Dr. Stiles."

The whisper of his name calmed her slightly and she longed to suckle her breath back in. He did not react at first, his face was stoic as he frowned lightly, but there was a notable swirl of motion in his eyes. "Stand up." he said pulling on her arm. Her shaking body was in no position to protest and supported her as best it could. The soles of her unsteady flats barely scraped the floor before she collapsed into his chest, taking in his warmth as he wrapped his arms around her.

"C'mon. I'll get you out of here."

He gently scooped her up and she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck. She closed her eyes and nuzzled his cheek with her face, partly to press as much of him onto her as she could, but mostly to block out the grisly sight she knew was just over his shoulder. The sickening crack of stiff bodies was still very audible and her stomach knotted with each cold thump.

She was thankful to hear the door creak open and slam shut behind them, cutting off the deads' fowl stench, though it was not enough to stop guilt thrashing inside of her, tearing her apart and churning her innards sickly. Angie's heart continued to pound and her lips quivered in tiny wails.

The arms that held her tightened in a hug, hoping to still her trembling frame. "Angie, it's okay . . ."

"No it isn't." she whispered. She bit her lip as a fresh wash of tears streaked her face. "All those people . . . all because of me . . ."

"Angela."

His voice struck down on her sharply. Every syllable of her full name was well enunciated by the mere fact that he had called her by it. He looked at her, his eyes narrowed and serious. Her chest fluttered as her heaving breath pressed against it. She was not threatened by his severe glare, but it was enough to silence her as she waited for him to speak again.

The tension from his face released as he closed his eyes and sighed. He carefully set her on her feet and held her swaying body. Her arms were still linked around his neck as she rested her head against him, hearing his heart beating strongly. "Angie . . . look at me."

She flinched at his command, her face scrunching as she bit her lip. "Dr. Stiles . . . I . ."

His warm hand on her cheek hushed her, his thumb tenderly massaging it as he flicked away the tears. He brought his free hand to her other cheek, cupping her face and slowly tilting her chin up to him. Her eyes opened as he guided her glance to meet his eyes. The soft chocolate brown she was met with was still surrounded by a narrowed glare, but the frown had lifted, allowing for a timid smile to brush his lips.

"If it hadn't been for you . . . if you hadn't been there to shape me into the surgeon I am today . . . there'd be a lot of devastated people in the world right now." He said, he slowly pressed his forehead against hers. "Whatever sins you think you have, you've more than repented for. But, that doesn't matter . . . . because you've always been a pure, good person, no matter what anyone else says."

"Derek . . ."

"Shhh . . . I told you before . . . it's okay."

His lips nearly tickled her own as he whispered sweetly then moved to press a light kiss against her forehead. Closing her eyes, she felt him breathing into her from the kiss, pouring a loving warmth into her body. A fresh wash of tears trickled down her cheeks, bleeding out her pain and making room for his sweet presence.

The arms draped around his neck tightened. He slowly pulled back from the kiss and mirrored her actions, holding her against him as he nudged his cheek against her soft hair.

Derek's hand rubbed her back slowly. Angie took in the feeling of the warm path he stroked on her back and her head collapsed into his shoulder. "Derek?"

"Yes?"

"Will you . . . stay with me?"

"Of course, Angie." She further snuggled into him as his words spilled over her. "I'll be here to watch over and protect you . . . so don't be afraid."

"I'm not . . ." she whispered, lightly clutching his uniform as her eyes closed

--

Derek tucked Angie back in the blanket she had kicked off in her sleep. Sitting on the edge of the couch, he gently washed off her dried tears with a damp towel. A tiny whimper escaped her but was silenced as Derek gently pressed his fingers to her soft lips to still their quiver.

"I'm here Angie. I always will be . . . just like you'd always been there for me."

Gently stroking her furrowed brow with his free hand, he shushed sweetly to her until her fearful twitches died down. He gave a sigh as she finally settled into what appeared to be a restful sleep.

Anger flowed through him as he continued to wash her face. He knew exactly what she had been dreaming about. Her cries would have alerted the rest of the staff had he not intervened and calmed her. Through her tearful thrashing her breaths carried the pain and fear she had bottled inside. Watching it come out had nearly sickened Derek to vomiting.

Those bastards . . .

Even after the GUILT outbreak, the lives Delphi had touched were still writhing in agony. Derek had found himself falling back into the horror they caused many nights, his dreams twisted into a Hellish bloody puppet show, but to see Angie undergoing the same torment, the sweet and hardworking nurse that had been at his side through the ordeal . . . seeing her suffer like that ripped his heart out. He would not allow her to endure a sleepless night at the hands of those monsters . . . not if his life depended on it.

So there he sat, gladly trading the time of night he would usually be sleeping himself to watch over her.

A/N: I know it's been for-freakin'-ever since I wrote something, but there's a reason for that. In addition to work and school, I've been having some personal issues that I'd really rather not go into. Long story short, I've been having a hard time.

So, I apologize for the wait and especially to Tristan, who's been waiting for a request. It's in the works, as I said before, so bare with me please.

Anyway, after I wrote Coffee Break I realized that I had Angie being the one to comfort Derek a little too much. I don't think I'd written one where he was there for her since Embrace, so this is kinda overdue. Dammit, why do Derek and Angie have to be so cute?

I was thinking of entering this in the Valentine's Day contest, but it seemed far too morbid for it. Anyway yeah . . . tada! Here it is! Enjoy it.