Operation Guiding Light: Touched By An Angel

I had often wondered how my father fell in love with my mother when so much about her was a mystery to him, but now I think I understand.

Gabriel is all business as he goes about his work day; plotting co-ordinates, inputting them into the neon control panels in the navigation room and giving out commands and directions to the various crafts located across Andromeda. I sit on my hands and observe him, and the rest of the crew, from the corner of the room.

His poker face never wavers, not even once. No stolen glances or flirtatious smiles across the control panel when no-one is looking. No trace of the angelic being who had only yesterday swept me off for a spontaneous tour of the galaxy on his own two wings, kissed me until my knees felt weak and subsequently invited me to his room tonight. I'm still reeling from the admission of his celibacy so I'm not one hundred percent sure what this invitation means but at the very least I figure I will get a glimpse into his inner world and hopefully a little closer to unraveling him.

"Alright guys, over and out," he says, removing his earpiece and handing it to Zoe. 

"Will we see you at The Saloon, later?" She asks him.

My heart flutters into my throat and I try not to look at Gabriel as I wait for him to answer. It feels like an eternity passes before he does. 

"Oh, no, I think I'm just going to turn in. I'm pretty tired."

Zoe then turns her attention to me, "Misty, what about you?" 

I'm not certain but I think Gabriel is making a concerted effort not to look at me, too.

"Um, no, I'm not really in the mood."

"Suit yourselves," she shrugs, "Have a good night. Both of you."

Gabriel has to pass by me in order to leave the room and I first I think he's not going to acknowledge me but as soon as he's done saying goodnight to the rest of the crew he pauses, looks directly at me and says, "G'night Mist," his tone so nonchalant I'm left wondering if he's forgotten, whether it had been a sincere invitation or if I'd just imagined the whole thing.

I get my answer when he reaches about halfway down the corridor, when he's out of view of everyone but me, he spins around, walking slowly backwards with the biggest grin on his face which lets me know that, no, he hasn't forgotten, and yes, he is expecting me. 

I grin my response back to him and he salutes as he disappears behind the shiny elevator doors. 

"Misty," Solaris's commanding, baritone voice from down in the main cockpit brings me back down to earth, "you should think about turning in, too. It's not good for you to stay out of sync with your Terran sleep schedule for long stretches of time."

I know he means well when he says stuff like this but not even my own dad is this bossy or controlling - and he's as overprotective as they come. Still, I bite my tongue and resist the urge to remind him of this.

"I will," I tell him, "in a minute."

Of course, no-one knows the real reason why I don't want to leave yet.

I give what I feel is an adequate amount of time after Gabriel leaves to announce my own departure. The crew casually wave me off for the night then it's my turn to head down the long corridor towards the elevator at the end of it. 

I'm practically sprinting and I almost make it without anyone seeing me when the elevator doors slide open and Morgana steps out. Her face lights up when she sees me. 

I stop dead in my tracks.

She's wearing her medic clothing carrying her tablet on her hip, like a mother carrying her child, "Misty, darling, where are you heading in such a hurry?" Her soothing, feminine tone is, as usual, the polar opposite of Solaris's.

"Oh, I'm just... trying to burn off some of this excess energy before I go to sleep," I cringe internally, realizing how lame and unconvincing I sounded. 

"I see," she says, reaching out and touching my arm in a maternal way, "If you're having trouble sleeping don't hesitate to come see me, okay?" It will never cease to amaze me how Morgana and Solaris can express the exact same concern for me, but in completely opposite ways. 

"Okay," I nod.

She cocks her head to the side and gives me a knowing smile before continuing down the corridor. I can tell she doesn't believe me, but if there's one thing I've learned since I became an honorary crew member of the Manifest Destiny, it's what a hopeless romantic Morgana is. I know she won't say anything to the others. 

I press the button for the floor where I know the navigation crew's living quarters are located. On the way down I catch sight of myself in the metallic walls. I contemplate creating a tiny braid in my hair but change my mind half-way through and my charm bracelet jingles against my wrist as I run my fingers through to de-tangle it.

Confronted by my reflection, a memory of my mother that my father shares with me at least once a year pops into my head; back when their relationship was still a secret, they both got super dressed up one evening and snuck out from my grandmother's house for a formal dinner date event in the city. An event my beautiful but oddball, waifish mother would've never been invited to otherwise. It becomes more and more apparent each time he tells the story that that night was some kind of turning point in their relationship. It was Valentine's Day the year I was born and I'm a Fall baby so, reading between the lines, I've always had the sneaking suspicion that that was the night they conceived me.

I don't see the celestial side of my heritage, that is apparently so obvious to everyone else, in my reflection at all. Of course, this could just be because I've spent my life being constantly told I take after my father. My human father. I do resemble my mother in the face but she was dainty and dad and I are both slender-but-athletic types. All I see is me - in the same denim shorts, pink t-shirt and white sneakers I was wearing the night I was first brought onboard the Manifest Destiny - on my way to explore this fever dream of a relationship I'd found myself in.

I'm unsure whether it's nerves, excitement or both but I start to feel a bit... tingly. I fold my arms across myself in an attempt to hold myself together. 

As I exit the elevator and tiptoe down the softly lit corridor I can't help but notice how unearthly quiet it is. So much so that when I reach the door marked 'G. Reska' I don't so much as knock as tap on it with my fingertips.

The door slides silently open and cool, fluorescent aquatic blue light spills out from inside.

Gabriel stands there by the kitchen counter, all six feet of him, freshly showered, rubbing his hair with a towel, sweatpants on, perfectly sculpted torso on full display. He's so, so beautiful it makes me feel like I'm looking at a piece of artwork rather than a living, breathing being. It's almost overwhelming; everything about him from the dark warmth of his eyes to the milky coffee hue of his skin is so inviting. But that's hardly surprising when he has the blood of angels running through his veins.

"Hey you," I say softly.

"Hey," he says, mirroring my gentle tone, "come on in."

My sneakers tap on the shiny black floor as I make my way inside. The door slides shut behind me.

"Have you eaten? I can make you something if you're hungry?" He asks, tossing the towel into a side room which I assume is his bathroom. 

My stomach does a little somersault at the thought of him fussing over me in this way, "I'm alright. Thank you, though." 

His head cocks to the side a little as he observes me, "Are you nervous?" 

"What?" His question catches me off guard until I realize he's referring to my folded arms, "Oh, no, I'm not. I just do this when I don't know what else to do with my hands."

He nods, turns, then takes out two bottles from the refrigerator, twists the cap off one of them and hands it to me.

"Thanks," I say, gingerly taking a sip. It's beer.

"So, what do you think?" He asks me as he twists the cap off his own bottle and leans against the counter-top.

What do I think? I take a quick scan of the room. Immediately, I notice that, while his place isn't massive, it's at least four times the size of the little box I was assigned to sleep in. Everything is black; the floor is black. The ceiling is black. The walls are black. The furniture and bedding are black. Like most of the rooms I've been in aboard the Manifest Destiny, it's bathed in soft, neon ambience (in this case, blue). I can smell the distinct aromas of coconut and eucalyptus permeating the air. The far wall is one huge window so he has a panoramic view of the passing galaxy which helps give the illusion of space (no pun intended).

And, yes, it's as breathtaking as it sounds. 

"It's okay," I shrug. Then, I switch to ballerina mode as I twirl across the room towards the window, taking care not to spill a single drop of my drink, "the view could be a little better, though." I grin at him, throwing my arms out for extra emphasis.

Gabriel almost chokes on his drink as he tries to hold back his laughter.

"I know it isn't much," He says, regaining his composure and picking up the carton of, what appeared to be, ice cream from the counter-top, "but it's home to me."

Isn't much? I glance over my shoulder and sigh, "If my home had a view like this, I'd never want to leave."

I turn my focus back to Gabriel who is observing me just as keenly in between bites.

"So is this what angels get up to when they're not engaged in galactic warfare? Drink beer and eat ice cream?" I quip, taking another sip of my drink.

"You want to try some?" He asks. 

He doesn't wait for me to answer. I'm trying so hard to keep my composure but feel as though I'm failing miserably as he comes towards the window and offers me a generous scoop from his spoon. I can taste oranges and mangoes, slushy and sorbet-like.

His dark eyes settle intensely on me, "So, did you talk to Nico?"

And just like that, the spell is (temporarily) broken. I hastily swallow.

"Yeah."

"How'd he take it?"

I avert my eyes before answering, "Well, he tried to play it off but I could tell he was disappointed. I hope he isn't too mad at me." Nico and I may not have been in a relationship when I slept with him but he's a good guy and didn't deserve to be led on like that.

Gabriel sees my unease and reaches up with his free hand, threading his fingers purposefully through my hair, tilting my head up and stroking his thumb gently across my cheek. 

My gaze finds it's way back to his and he's got that look on his face where he wants to kiss me but is trying to stop himself from doing so. To my surprise, he does kiss me, but his lips land on my forehead, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," He whispers into my hair. 

I pull myself in closer. I'm close enough to smell the scent of coconut on his skin, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, either," I whisper back, my lips against his shoulder. I feel him sigh. He pulls back a little, rests his forehead against mine.

"Did anyone ask where you were going?" 

"Not really," I tell him, "I ran into Morgana on my way down and I think she knew." 

"Oh? What makes you think that?" 

"Because," I say, smiling, "Couple of weeks ago, I went to her for advice. We got onto the subject of half-celestials and sex and she agreed to fit an IUD inhibitor chip inside me."

That gets his attention. His beautiful brown eyes widen in surprise before he laughs in impressed amusement.  

I laugh, too. In hindsight, this particular action may have been a little preemptive and presumptuous on my part, but Gabriel wouldn't be celibate forever... right? 

I hoped not. The wanting was already unbearable and we'd only openly admitted how we felt about each other a matter of hours ago. 

"I don't think she'll say anything, though," I add, "I think we're safe."

He nods in agreement. 

"Do you want to sit down?" He asks. 

He starts to lead me away from the window but lets go of my hand, so that he can discard the now empty carton.

I'm standing in the middle of the room realizing that my choice of where to sit is as follows: a single black leather chair or, the bed. Like I said, his place isn't massive and there isn't room for a couch or any sort of communal sitting area. It's almost as if it wasn't built for socializing or entertaining guests in any way. It certainly wasn't built with the idea of couples in mind. The implication of that makes me feel bit sad. 

Apparently abstaining from sex didn't include not reading about it because as I set my drink down on the nightstand, I spy a book on spiritual sex practices with numerous neon post-it notes sticking out of the top illuminated by a spherical blue bedside lamp and I'm not sure if that unnerves or excites me. Has he been reading that with me in mind? I wonder. 

I make my way to the end of bed where I perch demurely and try not to look self-conscious. 

Self-consciousness is not an issue for Gabriel who falls back and sprawls out like a jungle cat beside me. I laugh as he lunges forward, grabbing me by the waist and starts to pull me up towards the head of the bed. "Now, where were we?" he purrs, presumably referring to our prolonged make-out session from the previous night because his lips and tongue quickly find their way to mine. I gently place my hand on the side of his face, returning the kiss as passionately as I know how. I can feel his fingertips on the bare skin of my thigh and slowly making their way up to my waist, over my hip, my ribs, before settling on my breast. His hand then wanders downward, tugging at my t-shirt, sliding under it and lightly caressing the small of my back. We lay together kissing and holding each other like that for a few minutes before Gabriel pulls me closer to him, gently guiding my leg over his hip and pressing his groin against me. I gasp into his mouth, deepening the kiss when I feel his arousal, hard against my thigh. Well, I guess that answers any questions I had about how he currently feels about his celibacy. I'm not sure what excites me more; that I turn him on, or that he wants me to be aware. Oh, it would have been so easy to give in then. God knows I wanted to. I want him more than the pony I begged my parents for six straight years for as a kid (which is a lot), but Gabriel had not said that he loved me and he'd explicitly stated he wanted to be in love with the next woman he slept with, and I couldn't afford any more regrets, especially not with him. It takes every last bit of self-control I have to pull away. 

"Gabriel, there's something on my mind that I've been meaning to ask you," I say, breaking the kiss.

He gives me this look, somewhere between confusion and amusement, almost as if he's wondering if I made Nico work this hard. I did, of course, but for completely different reasons. Besides, Nico is not nearly as stoic or mysterious as Gabriel; he readily offers up information about himself without me having to dig. Not that it justifies anything but, that's what largely contributed to him being the perfect target for me to take my frustration and jealousy out on when I thought that Gabriel and Sophia were together. 

I lightly trace along his collarbone and chest with my fingertips. His gaze follows my touch, before looking back at me.

"What do you want to know?" He reaches up to brush the stray hair from my eyes, tucking it behind my ear. 

I avert my gaze, "Just something I overheard Morgana say to Solaris, not too long after I first came here," I tell him, "Solaris said he was concerned that letting me stay here was a mistake because if either you, or Nico, fell in love with me, you might be tempted to leave the federation and abandon Guiding Light if I felt the same way." 

Gabriel lets out a small laugh, "Leave Solaris to me. I know he seems scary sometimes, but I can handle him," he gently strokes my cheek, attempting to reassure me, "You don't have to worry." It doesn't escape my notice that he sidestepped the mention of 'love'. 

"Thank you, but-" I hesitate. 

His eyes narrow and his brows knit together in curiosity. 

I sigh, "Morgana... she said that she wouldn't be surprised if you had feelings for me because we're soul-tied after what happened to you when you were a baby," I look him in the eye this time, "Gabriel, what was she talking about? What happened to you when you were a baby? And what does it have to do with your feelings for me?"

For a moment he freezes, as if searching for the right words to say. When the words don't come he sits up abruptly.

"Fuck," I hear him mutter under his breath as he sits at the foot of the bed, elbows on knees.

Part of me had hoped that Morgana was mistaken, but it's more than obvious by his reaction that he knows exactly what she was referring to.

I shuffle down the bed until I'm beside him. I place one hand on his thigh, while the other slides around his waist, "I'm sorry," I say, "I didn't mean to upset you. You don't have to tell me if you don't want-"

"-You didn't. And yes, I do," he interjects, "I mean, you deserve to know." He adds, quietly. 

I kiss his shoulder and he drops his head into his hands for a moment before he looks back up and at me, "Just remember I was a baby when all of this happened so everything I'm about to tell you isn't from memory, but how it was retold to me."

I nod.

He gets up, makes his way over to the kitchen where he plucks a photograph from the refrigerator door.

He hovers over me as he hands me a picture of a beautiful woman with long, golden, honey colored hair standing next to a dark haired, bearded man with tanned skin and oddly familiar dark brown eyes. I've never seen either of them before in my life, yet I have a pretty good idea of who I'm looking at. 

"Are these your parents, Gabriel?" I ask.

"The only picture of them I have," he states, matter-of-factly. 

I glance at the picture again and note that it's clear that Gabriel has inherited the most prominent, contrasting features from both his parents, which explains his own striking appearance. I also note that his mother is cradling her stomach, visibly pregnant.

"They're gorgeous. It's not hard to see where you get it from," I tell him with a small laugh, my feeble attempt to lighten the mood a little.

He takes the picture from me and looks down at it, wistfully.

"What happened to them?" I know that they were both killed by the Draco, but that's all I know. 

I watch him intensely from the foot of the bed as he makes his way back to the refrigerator, puts the photograph carefully back in it's place, before he picks the half empty beer bottle up from the counter-top, taking a generous swig before drifting over to the window.

"I was about three months old when it happened," he places a palm against the glass, leaning against it before he lets out a deep sigh, "See, the Draco had always feared my parent's power so they had mostly avoided Lyrica, at least up until that point anyway."

I can feel my heartbeat begin to pick up pace as he turns to face me before he continues. He puts his free hand in his sweatpants pocket and leans back against the glass, "But news of my birth and baptism had traveled and the Draco were feeling emboldened, I guess?" he adds with a resigned shrug.

As soon as he says 'baptism', I'm reminded of one of the first conversations he and I ever had and hot, stinging tears start to form in the corners of my eyes as my mind starts to connect the dots. Even though I'm almost certain at this point I know where this is going, I say nothing and continue to give him my undivided attention.

"A few days before it happened, the Manifest Destiny landed in Lyrica, after having rescued citizens from various planets throughout the galaxy, seeking refuge from the Draco who'd ramped up their attacks in the months prior. Most of the refugees and crew were guests at the party- including Solaris and Morgana," his mouth twists into a boyish smile before he says the next part, "After the ceremony, I was getting cranky so my mother wanted to put me down for a nap," he takes another long drink, swallows hard.

My stomach is in knots as he describes how, while his mother made her way back to the party, the Draco descended upon the city, storming the palace where the ceremony had taken place, slaughtering almost everyone in attendance- including the other refugees who'd survived at least one attack by them already. Solaris and Morgana where among the few who managed to escape. When she realized what was happening, his mother had tried to make her way back to the nursery in a desperate attempt to protect her son, but it was just... too late.

He drains the bottle of it's contents before drifting back over to the kitchen where he sets it down. His back is turned to me as he leans against the counter-top with both hands, "One of the refugees- a young girl -saw what had happened and somehow found her way to me before the Draco. She wrapped me up in a blanket, used it to strap me to her body and escaped out of a window, all before the Draco could reach us. Nobody knows how she did it but she made it safely to the outskirts of the city where she hid for hours until we were both rescued."

My tearful gaze bores into him, imploring him to reveal the one crucial detail omitted from his story. 

"The girl who rescued you? Who was she?"

I swallow hard, fighting to keep the tears from falling. I know the answer. He knows I know the answer, but I ask anyway.

I hear him sigh. 

He turns to face me as he leans back, crossing his arms across his body, mimicking my body language from earlier. It takes a moment before he looks me in the eye.

"It was your mom, Mist." 

I let out an audible sob. I drop my face into my hands, my palms drenched with the tears I'd tried in vain to keep from falling.

My mother carried me for nine months, she was my entire world for the first ten years of my life - and she'd never seemed more like a complete stranger to me than she did right now. This, more than anything, was probably the most devastating realization I'd had since she died.  

The bed sinks beside me as Gabriel sits down, he pulls me into his arms and I crumple into him in a fit of ragged sobs, "I just don't understand why," I choke, "why you didn't tell me..." 

He cradles the top of my head, presses a kiss into my temple, "I wanted to tell you," he says, "I was going to tell you, yesterday, but you were upset about Nico, then I took you out, you cheered up and seemed so happy," he pauses and runs his thumb slowly across my cheeks swiping at my tears, "I guess I just didn't want to upset you anymore. I shouldn't have kept something like that from you. I'm sorry." 

I lift my head a little, gaze up at him.

He isn't just talking about my mother. What he isn't saying, at least not explicitly, is that he's referring to himself. Admitting that he was the infant prince that my mother had rescued from the Draco would've meant revealing his true identity as intergalactic royalty to me. And for reasons I don't yet fully understand, it terrified him. I can feel the tension in him waiting for me to call him out for not being honest about who he really was. His embrace around me tightens, as if he's scared I'm just going to get up and leave. 

Instead, I rest my head back on his shoulder, "I'm sorry, too."

"Sorry? For what?" 

"For being a crybaby," I shrug, "And a mood killer. I know this wasn't what you had in mind when you invited me here tonight."

He chuckles, "I'm just glad you're here." 

For the next few moments neither of us say anything, we just sit there in silence, holding each other at the foot of the bed, two lost souls who've found each other in spite of the distance separating us. I'd almost convinced myself that nothing was going to happen between us that night when Gabriel's hand slowly starts to drift downwards from around my waist to my bare thigh again. I can hear his heartbeat thudding against my cheek. I close my eyes and breathe in, taking in the smell of lingering coconut emanating from his skin, mixed with his own natural scent, intoxicating me in a way that no drug or drink ever could. 

"It must get pretty lonely out here?" I finally whisper, reaching up and running my fingers through thick strands of gold. 

Outer space, for all it's awe-inspiring wonder and beauty was also immense and unforgiving. I'd felt overwhelmed by it many times in the short time I'd been here. I couldn't imagine what it must be like for him, living up here for such long stretches of time.

He averts his gaze from mine as I stroke his cheek with my fingertips.

"Sometimes," He whispers back.

I reach round the back of his neck and pull him in closer to me so that our lips are almost touching, "Gabriel," his name flows breathlessly out of my mouth, "Before, when you were kissing me, if I hadn't have interrupted us... would you have stopped?"

"No." He says without hesitation.

I draw back ever so slightly, just enough to look him directly in the eyes, "You said you wanted to be in love with the next woman you were with?"

His mouth slowly curves into a knowing smile, "Right."

Before I can say anything else, he leans in and rains a series of chaste, yet lingering kisses on my lips.

"I love you, Misty Dawn."

We kiss again, our tongues touching, gentle at first before escalating into a battle for dominance in one another's mouths. I let out a small whimper as his fingers weave through my hair, holding my head to him with one hand and stroking my thigh with the other. He reaches behind my knee, drawing me in close enough so that I can feel his blatant arousal pressing against the inside of my leg. Instinctively, I start to move my hips in response and then it's his turn to gasp. 

Old me- prude me -would've balked at my actions over the last three days. I try to reason with myself that these are not ordinary circumstances and neither Gabriel, or Nico, are ordinary guys. Nico is a friend, a good friend I deeply regret hurting, and Gabriel...

He starts to push me backwards (or maybe I'm pulling him?) As we hit the bed, everything feels hazy, like it's moving at both warp speed and in slow motion, simultaneously. My sneakers hit the floor with a dull thud. My t-shirt crackles with static electricity as I sit up and lift it over my head. Gabriel unfastens my shorts and I lift my hips as he slides them down over my knees and feet before tossing them aside. My hair feels like feathers on my skin as I reach up to unclasp my bra. He stops me before reaching behind me to do it himself, purposefully caressing my breasts with the palms of his hands as the fabric falls away. 

Gabriel's jungle cat reflexes kick in again as he stands at the foot of the bed to remove his sweatpants, his eyes never straying from me as he throws them into the pile of mounting clothing on the floor. If he's nervous or scared, he doesn't show it as I see him, completely bare, in his fully aroused state for the first time. He catches me looking and smirks, clearly enjoying my reaction to him.

Rejoining me on the bed, he tugs at the hemline of my panties until they too, are discarded. His hand dips between my legs, parting them further than they are already. I gasp sharply as his digits enter me, find their intended target and encouraged by my reaction he applies pressure, stroking skillfully. There's this look of mischief and unapologetic lust in his eyes as he studies my expressions. 

He kisses me, once again holding my head to him with his free hand as I come hard against his hand between my legs, stifling the cry from deep in my throat with his mouth and tongue. We wrap our arms around each other as we both go tumbling backwards onto the bed. 

With a swift motion of his hips he's inside me and my heart feels like it's about to beat itself right out of my chest as he starts to thrust, slowly at first but gaining momentum with each passing moment. 

He cradles my head as his lips leave my mouth to trail kisses along my chin, my cheek, my neck, collarbone and shoulder. My hands roam over his back and shoulder blades, over his angel wings tattoo, where his real wings would appear whenever he willed them to, reveling in the feel of him inside, the sensation of his hips grinding against the inside of my sweat-slicked thighs and the warmth of his ragged breath on my skin. 

Gabriel reaches behind my knee again, elevating my leg and pushing himself even deeper into me. I have to bite my lip to keep myself from crying out. His hand glides up from my thigh, over my hip, stomach and ribs before unabashedly caressing and stroking my breasts with a fervent touch.

I want to hold onto this feeling forever but I can feel the pressure building in my groin, begging for release. Gabriel feels it too because his hand abruptly leaves my breasts and reaches for my hand from around his waist, curling his fingers through mine and holding it against the bed in a vice-like grip as if he's bracing himself for impact. 

He kisses me again, hard. A deep, guttural groan escapes his throat, jerking forward several times as he releases over two years of self-imposed suppressed desire and sexuality, the sensation of his body colliding with mine pushes me over the precipice and the resulting wave of pleasure feels like a tsunami sweeping up from my groin into my chest and down to the tips of my toes.

Nothing else exists. Nothing but me, him, this bed, against an endless backdrop of stars all bathed in hazy, neon blue. 

Gabriel slowly lets go of my hand as he rests his full weight on me, his face nuzzling into the crook of my neck.

"You feel incredible," he rasps.

"So do you," I tell him, reaching up and running my trembling fingers through his hair. 

We lay together like that for a few moments, catching our breath. I can feel my surroundings spinning back into focus, his heart beating in perfect timing with mine. 

He stirs, lifting his head and flashing me a deliriously happy, yet oddly shy, smile before he rains another series of soft kisses in quick succession on my lips, book-ending our first sexual encounter with one another as he finally pulls out of me. 

He falls next to me on the bed with a heavy sigh. 

He puts his hands behind his head and stares up at the ceiling, entangled in the bed sheets from the waist down, looking dazed and contemplative, like he's thinking and feeling a million things at once. 

I turn on my side to face him, resting my head on my hand. 

Maybe it was because I was high on adrenaline or post-sex endorphins, but I didn't think it was possible for him to be more even more beautiful to me yet somehow, he was. I reach out and stroke his glistening chest with my palm, "Are you okay?" I ask. 

It takes a moment before he answers.

"I've never done that with someone I've been in love with before," is all he offers. 

"Me neither," I tease, leaning over to sprinkle kisses along his chest and stomach. Between the sweat and coconut he tastes both salty and sweet. I hear him exhale appreciatively at the gesture. 

I pull back and smile to myself. If only Jezebel could see me now. If I could only tell her that not only does the proverbial 'fairy-tale prince' in fact, exist, but I- Misty, the perpetual virgin and prude -had just finished making love with him in his bed. Only this wasn't a fairy-tale; this was more like romantic science fiction where I had to go all the way into outer space to find him. 

And to think he was once just a helpless infant that, without my mother's intervention, probably wouldn't be alive to experience this. Come to think of it, without my mom, neither of us would be here. Before I can stop myself, I start to giggle. I try to hold it in but it's too late. Gabriel glances at me quizzically from the corner of his eye.

"What's so funny?" He asks.

"Oh, nothing," I say, shaking my head, "It's just... I bet my mom never thought that the cute, innocent, little baby boy she rescued would be doing that with her future daughter someday."

Gabriel's eyelids flutter shut and he puts a hand to his forehead as he, too, starts to laugh. There would be many, many moments throughout the course of our relationship, where I'd wonder whether he questions what he let himself in for when he got with me - this was one of those moments. 

He sits up then, mirroring me, turning to face me with his head in his hand, "Not so innocent now, eh?" He says with a grin, reaching over to brush my hair away from my face.

I'm not sure which one of us he's referring to. 

"So," I say, my giddiness overriding my attempt to sound serious, "let's see, you're an intergalactic angel prince who apparently met my mother before I did," I take hold of his hand, interlacing his fingers with mine, "have you got any more surprises for me that I should know about?"

Gabriel stares at my hand for a moment before bringing it up to his lips, "No more surprises, I promise." 

Inwardly, I breathe a sigh of relief. It's been an emotional couple of months and while most of it has been positive, I'm not sure how much more upheaval I can take. 

We're still holding hands when he looks over at me with a soft, earnest look and asks, "Are you still upset I didn't tell you?"

"No, of course not," I tell him, "I'm just sad that you felt like you couldn't trust me."

He hangs his head, deflated, "Of course I trust you, Mist, it's just-" he pauses for a moment and starts to pull me towards him, lifting his arm and wrapping it around me. I eagerly accept his embrace, nestling into the crook of his neck and resting my cheek on his chest.

"It was always my intention to tell you, because of the connection with your mom, but honestly, if it weren't for that," he explains, gently stroking my back and hair, "I probably would never have brought it up at all."

I look up inquisitively, "How come?"

Another pause, followed by a sigh. He softly caresses my cheek with the back of his hand, "You know when I first realized I was falling for you? All I wanted was for you to see me, as I am now, today, not an idea of who I am or who I could've been if my parents had lived. It's an insecurity I have about myself, not about you." 

Beyond alluding to the shallowness and superficiality of the company he kept in the past, he was pretty vague about his reasons behind his decision to stay celibate when we spoke of it last night, but, as I listen to him speak, I detect a hint of hurt and defiance in his voice and secretly wonder if negative or superficial reactions to his heritage from women (or a particular woman?) had anything to do with it. I secretly wonder if the woman could've been Sophia. 

"I guess keeping parts of yourself hidden in order for someone to see a more honest version of you doesn't make much sense, does it?" He says, running a hand through his hair.

"I get it," I reassure him, my voice soft, "And just so you know, I do see you honestly. That's why I'm here."

I know I joked about Gabriel being the perfect 'fairy-tale prince' but my feelings for him were established way before tonight's revelations, when I thought he was 'just' a navigator onboard the Manifest Destiny.  

He holds me just a little bit tighter, "Thank you for being here." I feel the warmth of his lips in my hair as he kisses the top of my head. 

Apparently not even angels are immune to parental guilt as he then goes on to tell me about the tremendous amount of guilt he feels because he has no desire to return to his birthplace of Lyrica or continue his parent's political legacy. He feels like the work he does with the Galactic Federation to protect the galaxy from the Draco is a much better use of his time and skills, but can't shake the feeling that he's letting them down somehow.

I nod along empathically and try to comfort him, sharing what I would want to hear if I were in his place, "In my experience, I think your parents would just be happy if you're happy."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, I mean, my dad says that every parent's greatest wish is their child's happiness. And he would know."

Gabriel casts his eyes downward, considering my words with a contemplative smile. He takes my hand again, slowly bringing it up to, and brushing it against his lips, "If that's true, they would be ecstatic right now."

He looks at me then so tenderly, with such contentment in his eyes that I could cry. 

"...Gabriel?"

"Yeah?"

"You got a middle name?"

"Sure. Zion."

I smile. I lean in and press my mouth firmly against his, breathy and ardent.

As our lips part, I whisper, "I love you too, Gabriel Zion."  

~*~

The only thing better than falling asleep in Gabriel's arms, I think to myself, lazily nuzzling into him as I drift back into consciousness, is waking up in his arms.

As a lifelong troubled sleeper, and hopeless romantic, I'd always had this secret fear that I was destined to fall for a snorer and that I would be forced to break up with the love of my life due to not being able to sleep in their arms like this. 

Thankfully, Gabriel not only looks like an angel but sleeps like one, too. 

I dreamily glance up at him. I truly think I could've laid there for hours just watching him, reveling in the warm smoothness of his skin against mine and the weight of his arm draped over me, if it weren't for the urgent signaling from my bladder causing me to groan and forcing me to wriggle stealthily out from under his embrace. Even then, I can't resist gazing down upon him one final time, observing him from different angles and lightly brushing his hair away from his eyes with my fingertips, before I pull the covers back and get up.

I tiptoe around the bed, bunny-hopping my way back into my clothes one item at a time before making a dash for the bathroom. 

With mother nature's call answered and Gabriel still asleep, I'm faced with the task of occupying myself until he wakes up.

I wonder, mischievously, whether I should curl up in his leather chair with a coffee and flick through a couple of chapters from the spiritual sex book on the nightstand. The sudden reminder of what we did last night is enough to make my bare toes curl into the cool, shiny floor but, inevitably, I chicken out and decide to just make coffee instead.

The kitchen area, while not as small as mine, is still very small so it doesn't take long to locate the coffee and two mugs. As I wait for the water to heat, I reflect on how at home I feel; how the lack of weather, natural light, bird song and street noise doesn't feel quite so strange as it once used to.

This feeling is paradoxically accompanied by a vague feeling, not of 'regret' exactly (I could never regret what we did), but cold, hard reality hanging over me like a bucket of ice water on the verge of spilling, ready to remind me that this is not my home. My home was a million miles away. And I was thinking of it less and less.

I peer over my shoulder at Gabriel's still-sleeping form. My mouth twists into a smile when I notice that he's shifted positions slightly since my visit to the bathroom. I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for him, holding me in his arms in the same position all night. The way I felt about him was indescribable. He and I don't even feel like a newly cemented couple. Maybe Morgana was right. Maybe we really were soul-tied on some level. 

I can feel the bucket of cold water threatening to spill over onto me again as I think about my father. My friends. My dancing career that I'd worked hard my whole life for. I couldn't just give that all up, could I? Was I crazy for even considering it? 

I sigh, pour the coffee, pick up my mug and softly pad over the window to take in the gorgeous view. I bring my drink up to my lips, gently blowing on the hot liquid before taking a sip. 

The only reason I was still here at all is because it's too dangerous for me to return home with the Draco in pursuit. And if what Solaris said was true and I, an organically conceived human-celestial hybrid, was the Galactic Federation's best hope of infiltrating Purgatory and helping them dismantle the Draco's power over the galaxy, there just didn't seem to be any way for me to return home without being in mortal danger in some way. 

Even if I could go home, would I ever see Gabriel again? Would I end up like Sophia; patiently waiting around for the man I loved to come into town, living for the few hours we'd spend together before he leaves, always hoping for the day he'd come to his senses, only for him to fall for another woman? 

As amazing as it was, maybe having sex with him at the first opportunity wasn't the good idea it felt like at the time. The stakes and the potential for gut-wrenching, soul-destroying heartbreak just seemed so much higher than it  did a few hours ago.  

I give my head a shake and try to push my thoughts to the back of my mind, for now. 

As I take another sip of coffee, the reflection in the window of Gabriel's refrigerator door anchors my attention. Last night, I hadn't noticed the pictures on there, other than the one he showed me of his parents, as there was so much else going on. I can feel the butterflies in my stomach spring to life at being given the opportunity to get an even deeper glimpse into his world and at the people and moments he deemed significant enough to keep a visual reminder of them around.

The butterflies quickly turn into knots of sadness, however, when I take a closer look at his parents. I note the happiness and pride in their expressions, completely oblivious to the fact that they would only have just a few short months with their son before they would be cruelly snatched away from him. I find myself wishing with all my heart there was some way I could let them know what an incredible, kind, patient, smart and loving man Gabriel had become.

Next to the picture of his parents is a multi-sunned sunset over a beautiful silvery white sandy beach. It almost looks like a postcard. Curious, I turn it over to see if there's anything written on the back -a name, a location, a clue as to why this place might be special to him- but there's nothing. Part of me thinks he has a picture like this, of a crazy, bright neon pink, purple and orange sky on display due to being up here in the dark for so long. As breathtakingly beautiful as the cosmos was, he must long for skies like these. 

I place the sunset back in it's designated spot and turn my attention to the third image; a recent photograph of Gabriel, Nico and Zoe in their civilian clothes, hanging out and being goofy together in some kind of restaurant, judging by the drinks and half-eaten food on the table in front of them. Or, to be more specific, Nico and Zoe being goofy, pulling silly faces and posing while Gabriel casually leans on the table, coolly half-smiling into the camera. I softly giggle into my coffee. From my experience, in the relatively short time I've known all three of them, it's an accurate visual representation of their respective personalities.  

My gaze flickers to the fourth, final photograph and I pause, gasp a soundless 'Oh my God' to myself as I pluck it from the refrigerator door. In my hand is a picture of Gabriel, around age five or six, dressed in what I can only assume was one of his first, if not the first, of his Galactic Federation uniforms, standing on the veranda of some futuristic looking (at least, to me) house in the middle of a lush, tropical location. I can just about make out what appears to be a pool or lake in the near background and a silvery white sandy coastline farther back. 

It's reminiscent of those photos parents insist upon taking of their kids on their first day of school. Or the many, many pictures my dad took of me in my various ballet costumes over the years. 

He's so, so sweet and adorable that it makes my gut twist and ache in a way that I've never experienced before. At least, I think it was my gut. Oh God. I can feel my toes curling into the floor again. This time in panic instead of excitement. Suddenly I couldn't shake the feeling that I was gazing into my possible future with Gabriel where he and I stayed together and we-

-"Whatcha lookin' at?" Gabriel says softly over my shoulder, his arms encircling my waist from behind.

Oh, just a vision of what our future babies could potentially look like. No big deal. 

I'd been so engrossed that I hadn't even notice him awaken. 

I hold the photo up to him, suppressing a smile.

"Ugh," he pretends to cringe, "I thought I took that one down." 

"Sorry if I woke you. I didn't mean to."

"It's alright. Don't apologize."

"I told you I'm not a very good sleeper." I shrug.

"Nobody's perfect." He says, kissing my cheek. He slowly runs his hands over my abdomen, which does absolutely nothing to assuage the maternal twinge I just felt.

"I could get used to this, you know, " he whispers against my neck.

That makes two of us. 

"Where is this?" I ask, holding up the photo again.

"That," he reaches over with one arm while still holding onto me with the other, picks up the coffee I made him, "is Nibera," he takes a big gulp, "I grew up there until I was eighteen. That's when I came up here."

I turn my attention back to the picture and smile to myself as I wonder if being raised somewhere like that is the reason he always smells like an island breeze.

"It looks beautiful," I tell him.

"It is. They have some of the most stunning sunsets in the entire galaxy there. Thunderstorms, too."

"I'd love to see it someday."

"You will. We'll go together. I just know you'll love it." He sounds so calm, so sure, so... happy. 

Until now, I've been able to hold myself together but just then, the dam bursts and my emotions get the better of me. Overwhelmed, I abruptly turn around, burying my head against his chest. I can hear the splash of spilled coffee hit the floor. 

"Hey, are you alright?" Gabriel asks, taken aback. 

No, no, no! I'm not! I love you so much and now I feel like there's no possibility that life will never go back to the way it was, yet I don't know how any of this is going to work. There's so much to think about, so much to figure out... and I don't want to deal with any of it! 

"Yeah," I lie, "I'm fine."