The Space Between

13

The world outside, it seemed from the newspapers, hadn't changed a lot since her captivity. She folded and refolded the paper, creasing it into shapes and knowing she had an item she could use as a distraction now, even though she felt unhappy about using the only kindness she'd been shown down here as a method to escape him. He'd doubtless get into trouble, and trouble in hell was probably about as bad as she could imagine. Yes but what's the alternative? Face it. There is no good option here. You know you can hurt them enough to distract them, and then...fly. Hide. Run. You know there is a place in this pit where you can get out. Find it. Call them. Go. You have to. You can't afford to get caught up in feeling bad. Maybe he doesn't but someone here has some sort of unpleasant plan for you. They're not taking bits of you for a collage, are they? She stared at the printed faces of glossy human politicians smiling glassily up at her. If only they knew.

She got up and paced, as much to stretch her legs as anything. A shadow fell over her through the window as she turned, and her heart fluttered oddly. He's back? But as she spun, the face there wasn't the lopsidedly smirking one she'd hoped – hoped? Expected, I think I mean - but a blank, flawless, silent one. And this time, she was unlocking the door and coming in.

Not that it needed much unlocking – her chest tightened under her ribcage as it practically fell open the moment Silver pressed on it. Soon. Soon! So soon... she pressed a hand to her mouth as the dizziness of excitement, fear and anticipation threatened to overwhelm her. This place was madness, absolute madness. She just about remembered to shield her empathy from the girl as she moved in. If you're eviscerated by a silver monster it doesn't matter anyway! But even with just her normal senses, she didn't feel threatening. Barely breathing, she shifted her weight onto her back leg – if Silver changed her mind she could probably duck around her and run to – heavens help her – the guard demon, on the logic that she wasn't meant to be harmed just yet if she was guardworthy – and watched the girl glide in. Her subconscious was oh-so efficiently giving her all these logical solutions to everything but her subconscious didn't have to actually carry any of them out. You know with enough determined force angels and demons can be...destroyed. More permanent than any death. Their very essences returned not to the oneness of the Heavenly One above or the hell from which there is no return, the eternal loneliness of complete selfishness, but...to nothingness...to the silent wastelands of the void – why is balance so important? Why do we avoid war so earnestly? And if not, getting torn apart isn't going to be nice, is it? Even if you survive it? Her miserable brain babbled on to itself in the habitual way anyone's does who's spent any time studying. What did she do to deserve being here?!

And for a moment, there they stood, regarding the other, angel and silver demon.

Silver raised her hand, palm up, just as she had done against the window the last time. Her lips behind the metal mask formed an 'o'.

"Are you OK?" she murmured. The urge to reach out was almost magnetic. Sense warred with sympathy inside her. Those knives...those eyes. "What's your name?"

Silver shook her head, and her lips moved. Please.

She's afraid. The rush of pain that hit her was so very human, that even without her extra senses she couldn't leave her there, scared and alone. Very carefully, gathering her courage, she moved forward and avoiding touching Silver's palm, the bare skin, hurting her, she placed her hand lightly on her arm, above the welding of one of the knives. Close to, she could see the metal ran under the skin, into the bone underneath.

"Who are you?"

"You. A human." Silver's voice was soft and sweet.

"I was a human," she replied. "Like you."

Silver shook her head. "I. No. This is..." She stared at her metallic arm where hand met metal. "All I am. To kill. To win. To destroy. Forever."

She stared at her, following the train of thought to a shrieking brakes-off conclusion into the tunnel wall. She can't mean...? Her hand tensed on Silver's arm, suddenly needing the demon to balance as much as Silver had seemed to need her touch.

"This is. Wrong," said Silver, and her blue eyes were flicking left and right. "Yet I cannot. Cannot stop. I do not...remember? I was...my name?"

You have to get out of here! You have to speak to Helena, to someone, anyone, get her to tell the archangels, the seraphim, the whole heavenly host, they can't upset the balance like this, they'll tear apart the whole fabric of reality! Who could think that is a good idea?!

"Silver?" she said, looking into her blue eyes, trying to catch her gaze and hold it. "Silver. Is that OK? Can I...? What happened to you? Who did this to you?" He said he brought her down - fought to win her over. That's the start of a demon - where they give in to hell or...fight to break out. But what happened to her then?

"He...I can't...!" Silver flinched. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to - !" She pulled back, her long fingers arching into claws, knives held high.

"Hey, hey! Stop! It's OK!" Once again afraid, her voice rising hideously in pitch, she backed away, hands held up in the automatic gesture of harmless unarmed placation. "Silver...I can't hurt you. I won't hurt you. It's alright. Maybe I can help. You don't have to do anything..." the words poured out as she prayed they weren't lies. As if you could stop her if she attacked you – if the legions of hell rose up against the world, what chance would they stand? You wouldn't be a speck on their radar. She glanced over to the door again, ready to bolt. A tiny thing like her would have perhaps one chance against an armed warrior to escape, or she'd be a smear on the wall. But she doesn't want to hurt you. But, if she can't stop herself, intentions don't mean a thing! They might count if the host gets to hear of it but it'll be too late for you...The self-preservation, rising above everything in her mind, above all virtue and philanthropy, was all-consuming, animalistic, terrifying.

"Hell does this," she snapped aloud, as much to herself as Silver. "You only think of yourself! But it doesn't always have to be like this. Not for everyone. Sometimes, I'm sure – there's another way..." She stared back up at Silver, forcing herself to think through the terror. I'm able to. I'm meant to. That's what an angel does. Help people! So help her. Help yourself! You got this job to work with the everyday humans because they thought you could make a difference, just a little, somewhere, to someone! Not everyone, sure, but some. The lost. The saveable. Because you could do it! There's something human in her still.

"Silver," she said, forcing herself to walk towards the girl. "All souls can rise. Even from here. It's OK." And she placed her hand back on the metal arm.

Silver stared at her, and slowly, silently, tears started to well up in her eyes.