Pairings/Characters (this chapter): The Angel Of Death (Bruce)/Jim (See Author’s Notes)
Genres: AU, Drama
Rating (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: Not sure if warnings are necessary, but it’s quasi-religious imagery.
General Summary: The Angel Of Death is charged with a Quest to save Gotham.
Chapter Summary: The Angel Of Death takes on a new Quest.
Date Of Completion: October 12, 2008
Date Of Posting: March 15, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC and Warner Brothers do, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 803
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Yes, this is a Bruce/Jim series, though it will be pretty unusual ;) Bruce-as-The Angel Of Death is a character I created in The Better Angels, a Clark/Bruce story I wrote last year. You need not have read that story to understand this one. And if ever a ‘verse fit...! ;)
As you can see by the chapter (first draft) completion date, I’ve had this one on the back burner for awhile. I finally worked out what I needed to (it was an Eureka! moment) so it’s time to post. :)
The entire series can be found here.
"City Of Darkness"
Shock coursed through Jim. “Wha…?”
“I am the Angel of Death.”
Mind reeling, Jim wondered if the poor soul was completely insane, and yet those wings…
“But…surely you’re not…”
“Mind your surroundings, James Gordon.”
The Dark Angel’s mighty wings propelled him up and away, disappearing into the starlit sky.
Jim stared up at the stars.
Jim stood on the roof of the GCPD. He kept his gaze on the sky, waiting as his mind raced. He leaned against the old signal light, watching the stars twinkle through wisps of clouds.
Jim was not a religious man. His Catholic upbringing had faded away over the years under the weight of too much darkness. He had seen too many rotted souls in his years as a policeman, especially in this city.
The Angel of Death?
Now he had to wonder at the old tales. Most angels were supposed to have white wings as emissaries of the Lord.
Wasn’t an angel with black wings a Fallen Angel?
He tried to remember his old religious training.
Fallen Angels…not good.
He heard a flutter of wings behind him and turned.
“The Angel bowed his head in acknowledgment.
“After our meeting last week…you’ve been watching me.”
“I will always protect you, Jim Gordon.”
Jim noticed the use of his nickname. “Why?”
“Gotham needs her Light.”
Jim laughed. “I’m hardly that. Just a man trying his best to do a job.”
“You do it well.”
Jim felt pride. “Thank you.” A gust of wind sent the ebony cape billowing. “You said you were the Angel of Death.” The Angel nodded. “An Angel with black wings…does that mean you’re…?”
“I am not a Fallen One.”
“Tell me about your Quest.”
The rasping voice said, “When a man or woman’s Time comes, Death arrives. Even the Shining Ones who seek out the Pure Souls when their Time comes, need me.
“I need no one to see those whose souls have rotted. I take those souls alone.”
Jim heard a slight tremor in the word ‘alone’.
Doubtful he hangs out with the other angels. He must be quite a damper on parties.
“How do you…?”
The Angel unsheathed his Sword. The amethysts glittered in the moonlight.
“Ah.” Jim crossed his arms. “So you’re here in Gotham to take those souls whose Time has come?”
Did he imagine a slight hesitation?
“Yes, I am here to fulfill my Quest.”
“Well, then.” Jim didn’t know quite what to say. Somehow “Good hunting” didn’t quite fit. This guy…creature…angel…wasn’t a murderer, but for some crazy reason he believed that this angel was a taker of souls.
Considering this was Gotham, maybe not so crazy after all.
“Well met, James Gordon.”
Death flew away, terrible in his majesty.
Death kept watch over Jim, a great sadness filling his heart. Grief cloaked him as his wings enfolded his body.
He thought of his meeting of less than twenty-four hours ago…
“I have found an honest man in Gotham, my Lord.”
“Who is this man?”
Death kept his head bowed as he knelt. The Celestial Light always hurt his eyes.
“James Gordon, Commissioner of Police.”
Amusement laced the voice. “I thought there were no honest police in that benighted city.”
“He may be the only one.”
Death rose gracefully, glad it was a private audience. The Shining Ones always made him uncomfortable, so bright and smiling while he was dull and kept his face hidden.
And he could hear their whispers.
He blinked and the Light was dimmed a little.
“You have spared Gotham…for now.”
“For now?” Distressed, Death protested, “But you said if I found an honest man, Gotham would be spared.”
A wave of the hand. “My game, my rules.” A pause, then, “Gotham is spared for now, but is still too much of a cesspool of sin and sorrow.
“Your new Quest, in addition to your primary charge, is to work with this honest man. If the two of you show that things are improving, then Gotham will be spared for good. You have a year- and-a-day.”
“My Lord, I request to be named James Gordon’s Guardian Angel.”
“It shall be done.”
A Sword adorned with jewels of every color appeared, shining so brightly that Death bowed his head and went to one knee.
The Sword touched each shoulder, the Lord’s voice intoning, “You are now the Guardian Angel of James Gordon, my Dark Angel. Let Death not touch James Gordon, the last honest man in Gotham.”
The Angel of Death watched over his charge.
…but do not touch.
Still to come:
Book II: Guardian Angel
Book III: Gotham And Gomorrah
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