mistersmith_tm | Black Bird: Homecoming

(Continued from here).

He was floating in pain and darkness haunted by brief, fleeting images of illumination. Delirium. Bliss lying on the floor of the temple, soaked in sweat, his feathers molting. And darkness. Kurdy, arms folded across his broad chest, glaring at him in defiance and disgust. Calling him a madman; just another basketcase who believed he heard voices. And darkness. Joan in the arms of the Devil, jeering at him. Darkness. Sister Hannah slamming the doors to the school in his face. He was nothing but trouble. Where we walked death followed. Shades of grey. Rose, pulling away from his embrace. Afraid and angry. You're not my Daddy! I want my real Daddy! Swirling shades of red and black. Aille raging at him, a heavy clock in her hand poised to throw at his head as she screamed her anger. How she never wanted to see him again. How she didn't love him. Had never loved him. He wasn't worthy of her. Had never been worthy . . . Darkness and pain, deep and cold and soul biting. His heart broken in a million pieces. His mind scattered and . . .

Babies crying. The soft brush of tiny wings against the palm of his hand. Twilight through red pain. A gentle voice and cool, soothing touch on his brow. Twilight, high above. Murky, as if seen from a great depth. A small hand slipping into his, squeezing gently. Wake up, Daddy. I know you're in there. Glimmering motes of light, thinning twilight. Voices. Many voices. Sometimes together but sometimes alone, coaxing. Pleading. Encouraging. And her voice, speaking to his heart and his soul. To the very deepest part of him. In frustration. In love. Guiding him closer to . . .

A glimmer of light, as thin as a razor's edge. The Voice. In his mind, always in his mind, but distant. Sympathetic. Almost apologetic. And proud.

Pain, sharp and red and angry and alive filled his body like a fragile vessel, making him moan. The thin white line became a growing dawn on the surface of the darkness as . . .

Mister Smith's eyes fluttered and weakly opened to the living world.

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He looked at her with shocked disbelief. Five times? He'd been shot five times? And . . . through the heart? That wasn't . . . that couldn't be . . . possible. One look at Rose's face . . . one glance at Aille's expression, and he knew. It was true. It had to be true. He was here, alive, as proof of it. Shot multiple times in the chest . . . through the heart? And still alive?

Immortality.

But more than that . . . the wrenching pain in his soul as he realized what he'd done to them. Not on purpose. Not willingly. But there just the same.

"Oh god." To put her through that agony and fear again . . . so soon after . . . after . . .

He began to weep with anguish.

Squeezing his hand tightly and leaning over and giving him a soft kiss, "It's alright love, you're alive. But when you're well enough, you are going to hear it, from each of us." She loved him deeply, but she was very upset with him.

"Just so you know love... Theo's injury... it would have been a lot worse if not for you. The bullet wasn't at full speed, because it went though you first."

The tears did not stop falling nor did the anguish in his heart disappate. She had every right to be angry with him. To scream and yell and throw things if she needed to. He nodded his understanding, weakly twining his fingers with hers and trying to give them a gentle squeeze.

Sims had failed. Theo was alive, and that was important. To Clairfield and the Alliance. But right now he hated the Voice. Hated being a pawn. Being forced to rip apart his family's emotions.

"We love you, Daddy! And you saved Miss Theo and her baby and lots of other people. But we're mad at you, too, because you snuck out of the house and didn't tell us where you were going and we want you to stop getting hurt!" said Rose, tears streaming down her face.

Aille reached over and pulled Rose into a hug, she'd ben torn between the babies, Smith and Rose the past three days, most of the time the twins only getting attention from her while breast feeding. They'd been cared for by Bliss and Joan. Where as Rose hadn't left her daddies side.

"This is the last time Smith... the very last. I can't deal with this again. None of us can."

"I'm sorry, honey," he said wretchedly, new tears rolling down his cheeks. "God . . . I'm so sorry." He moved his hand across the mattress, extending it to Rose and Aille. "I . . . promise." He met their eyes, their beautiful faces blurred by his tears. Let the Voice give him warts and hives and bleeding sores. Let it do whatever it wanted to him. He didn't care. He wasn't going to put his family through this torment again.

"Never again." His heart cried out it's anguish to the Voice as well as to them. He was tired of being the chosen one. He was tired of hurting the ones he loved. And being hurt.

Rose hugged her Mommy with both arms and kissed her. Keeping one arm around her, she reached out her small hand and laid it in her Daddy's palm. He was still too sick to hug just yet, even though she wanted to.

"Promises were important. That's what you've always told me, Daddy," she said seriously. "Once you make them you had to keep them."

"Thank you love." She laid her hand over his mark, the one she'd placed on him. "You'd best keep that promise though... or I'll let you know it." Giving Rose a soft kiss on the top of the head, "You're daughter is right, promises are important."

"You're babies have missed you..."

"This one . . . I'll keep." It was difficult to talk and it hurt to breath, but he was determined that they know he was sincere. Because he was. He intended to that promise, no matter what it took. He hadn't intended to get hurt when he answered the Voice's urgent summons. He never did. But that never stopped it from happening. His family deserved better. "I love you . . . so much." More tears spilled from his eyes as he looked at them. "And the . . . twins . . ."

"Bliss has them right now... they're being watched over." Even though her arms ached to hold them, they didn't need to be around this just yet. "They missed you though. They both make motions over towards you while I'm feeding them. Haven't they Rose?"

"They have," she nodded emphatically. "When I was holding Brigid so Mommy could change Angus, she started to try and fly and I think she wanted to come to you." She gave his hand a squeeze.

He wished he could look at the babies, the way he was looking at Aille and Rose right now. Wished he could touch them and hold them, just like he wished he could hold the two dear ones here by his side. But he knew it probably wasn't wise. Not just yet. It hurt so very much to move his head or to take a breath . . . he doubted he could sit up or lift his arms long enough to hold any one of them. And that hurt even more.

If only the Voice had given him more warning, he might have convinced Theo to get out of harms way and none of this would have happened. But what was done was done. He sighed. "I'm sorry . . ."

He'd never be able to say it enough.

"I know darling." She soothed his hair out of his face, "I'll bring the twins into see you later, when it's time for their feeding, right now though, I just want you to close your eyes and go back to sleep. You need to heal up."

"Mommy's right. You need to sleep. And when you wake up again, we'll be right here. Maybe you can even have some chicken soup! Sister Hannah says chicken soup is one of the best medicines in the whole world, next to lots of love."

Oh God, how he loved them so! He wanted to kiss them and hug them desparately!

"Sister Hannah's . . . a wise . . . woman," he whispered. "I think . . . chicken soup sounds . . . great. But . . . love . . . even . . . better."

"Shhh baby, your throat is still healing, don't over do it." Leaning down and kissing his cheek gently, "You'll always have both from us. Love & soup." Giving him a half grin.

"And chocolate chip cookies," volunteered Rose. "Now go to sleep, Daddy. You need to get better and sleep is really important."

He gave a little laugh, trying not to wince as it sent a shiver of pain through his body. "Yes . . . Nurse Rose . . ." he said obediently. "And . . . Doctor Aille . . ." he added, with a weak smile for his beloved wife.

With Aille's gentle touch on his forehead and the warm weight of Rose's hand in his palm, he closed his eyes . . . and was almost instantly asleep.

Black Bird: Homecoming

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