Among us, they live.

Their wings, they hide.

Their lives, they give.

Known fates, they abide.

Inspired by ß This (ø)

...xXx...

She knew, the second that snow began to fall, that this winter was the last for her. Her eyes fluttered open then closed, repeating the pattern slowly so that her vision cycled between light and dark. The sky was, she noticed faintly, still a shade of blue, a sort of clash between grey and blue that lit the sky despite its closing darkness. There was a warm palm against her forehead and she turned towards it, familiar with its weight.

"Hey," he greeted, his blond hair almost white in her color-losing vision. 

"Morning," she returned, her voice shaking around the word. He brushed aside a loose strand of her hair and already, she felt better, could feel his magic working in her lungs with every breath. 

"You're not looking so healthy," he muttered, pulling the chair left out for him - a feature they had added two visits in after facing his unswerving determination - and sitting close to her bedside. 

"That's why I'm here," she agreed, managing a half-smile though she could feel her lungs stutter once he paused his magical assistance. He frowned, taking her hand in his. 

"You shouldn't have to be," he complained, eyes sliding shut in a moment of weakness. "I should be able to do something, to make you better."

"You already are," she comforted, moving her thumb so it pressed against his pulse point. You always have.

"There should be more," he hissed, eyes opening to look into hers. The fire in his eyes warmed her more than he would ever know. A later side effect of her disease, one that usually killed within the early years and had no hosts this long, turned out to be eventual color blindness, but she could still clearly see the color of his eyes.

"You fulfilled my purpose in life," she reassured, feeling the steady reassurance of his life under her fingers. 

"Writing down stories that you come up with hardly seems to be enough," he muttered dryly. He grasped her with both hands, pressing it to his forehead in prayer. 

"Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder," she stated lightly, feeling his grip on her tighten slowly. His face twisted with frustration and rejection until finally his eyes snapped open and he glared at a random point on her bed. 

"Hey. Hey," she called, waiting until his eyes met hers. "It's ok. We all knew how this would end. I was never strong to begin with. You were my miracle."

"And you were mine," he whispered, looking so close to tears she could feel them on her own cheeks. 

"You know," she called, feeling his gaze settle on her eyes with a focus that never failed to have her heart skip a step. "I think I've lived a good life."

"Don't talk like that," he interrupted, voice throaty. "I promised, didn't I? 'I will protect you with my life.' "

"And you did," she replied, pulling her lips into an easy smile. She repeated the promise, mouthing the words easily on her tongue. "Jeju Do in '05."

"That is not what I meant," he complained, returning her expression weakly. "What am I going to do without you?"

"Find another person to guard. And this time, you'll live out until old age with her - or him; I won't judge," she answered, teasing lightly. He rolled his eyes and they both pretended his eyes weren't glassy. She looked away from him to give him privacy - not that he would cry still, trying to be strong - and her eyes caught on the calendar. She knew.

"It's going to be tonight," she whispered with certainty; it had to be tonight.

"Not if I can help it," he muttered, tightening his grip on her. He unfurled his wings, the warm shade of brown exactly like his eyes, and she could see the almost-golden light, the same color as the feathers lining his back, flowing from him to her. It brought strength to her lungs and life into the cold, faded hospital room, but she had none left and she didn't want to exchange a little time for his.

"Stop," she stated firmly, careful to leave no argument because she knew him - knew him better than he knew himself - and she did not want to leave him with half-hearted guilt. The light transfer stopped, lingering in the air, and already she could feel her lungs dying again, fading far too quickly. "It's going to be tonight."

"Why tonight?" he demanded, brow wrinkled with frustration and anger and fear and sorrow and-

"Because today is when we first met."

-and his eyes softened, the wrinkle giving way to tears that finally passed his eyes and lashes, making their way down his cheeks.

It was surreal, the muffled sounds from the outside city and the muted colors from her weakening vision combined with the rare gift of grief. Even crying, she mused lightly, he was so beautiful.

"Don't leave me alone," he whispered, pressing his lips lightly to her hand captured by his. 

"Can't you see? I'm setting you free," she corrected, eyelids feeling heavy. "You have a life - a duty - and now one of them is over."

"My life," he answered, his tears resting in the crevice between her knuckles.

"No, your duty," she retorted simply. She called up one last smile, returning the grip he had on her lightly, giving him pressure to hold on to. "Now go live your life."

Her last vision was of him, his face tear-streaked and pressed against her hand in prayer while his wings hung around them protectively like a nest. She did not hear his cry of grief or feel the panic within the room, doctors and nurses trying in vain to bring her back. 

She simply fell asleep and awoke in another surreal place where she told more stories, true ones about a weak but hopeful girl and her determined guardian angel, to friends she never knew he - and by extension, she - had.