((Takes place immediately following The End of the Innocence.))

Avalon. The great secret. The heart of peace hidden from a world that no longer had the will or the belief to maintain it. A place where the soul could find nourishment, where the body could find respite. And into this peace, this serenity, came a unique being, beaten and broken, his life hanging by the merest thread. Gathered to the very deepest part of the Temple by the Handmaidens who had taken him from his rescuers, Zachariel lay by the Lady's pool, pale and unmoving. Created an angel, he was angel no longer, his grace flown, his immortal soul damaged beyond repair. No power on Earth, in Heaven or in Hell, could possibly be called upon to save him. Yet here ....there was a chance.

The Lady knelt at his side, gentle hands hovering over his form, ancient eyes closed as she sought some means by which to prevent a death that would only cause more harm. She had known the moment he had entered her domain, had sent her Handmaidens to bring him to her. She knew, also, that her Champion and Priestess waited outside her garden in the company of the little woman for whom this broken angel was glad to give his life. A little woman who might well be broken beyond repair herself, should he succumb to the darkness that reached for him. She had power, yes; she had the skill to save him, and yet it would all be for nothing if she could not find some way to anchor him to the mortal plane. His immortal soul would die, no matter what she did. A body without a soul was an abomination, robbed of all that made life worth living. She would not do such a thing, even in the name of saving his life.

Her hands passed over his chest, and paused, her eyes opening in shock. There was something missing, some part of that immortal soul that did not reside within him. But where ..." The Lady raised her head, calling to Helena, her most devoted Handmaiden. "Bring the girl here," she ordered softly. "Quickly. We do not have much time."

Rhys paced back and forth, as nervous as an expectant father waiting for his wife to give birth. He hardly knew the fallen angel whose life hung in the balance or even the sister who he'd lost all those years ago, but somehow that didn't matter. All the lost years didn't matter. She was his sister, his own flesh and blood, and whether he knew her or not, he loved her, and she loved the fallen one. That was all that mattered. He had given Natalya his jacket, bloodied and ruined as it was, to ward off the autumn chill, even here in Avalon. His wounds were slowly healing themselves, but the heaviness in his heart would not lift until they were informed of Zachariel's fate.

Rachel stood nearby, wrapped beneath the curl of Natalya's arm, both women silent as they waited with Rhys. For one, it was still confusing, the whole truth of the battle that had ultimately brought them here still shrouded in mystery. For the other, nothing mattered but the hope that Zachariel was going to live. Rachel didn't care about the ache in her body, the split at her lip, the cuts on her arms, the strange throb in her ankle. She wanted to see Zachariel, to know he was well. To keep her promise that he would not be alone.

As they waited, the vines that held the Lady's garden closed parted, and Helena, the youthful ancient who attended her, came into sight. She turned to Rhys. "The Lady requires the girl," she said in her quiet way. "You must remain here, for now."

Rhys stopped his pacing, turning expectantly as the vines parted and his heart leaped into his throat, hoping for news, the light in his eyes fading as he realized there was no news yet of Zachariel's fate, one way or the other. He looked to Natalya first, sharing his worries with only a glance, before moving over to Rachel and taking her hands in gentle reassurance. "Don't be afraid, Rachel. The Lady is going to do everything she can to save him. I promise."

The look in his wife's eyes was equally concerned, but like him, Nat didn't voice those concerns as she slipped her arm from around Rachel's shoulders. They had to have faith that the Lady knew what she was doing.

Rhys' little sister lifted her worried eyes to his as he took her hands, holding onto him as though she had nothing left to hold onto, as frightened as she could ever remember being. "But why does she want me?" she asked uncertainly, not even daring to look at the strange timeless woman who stood nearby.

"That I can't say, but your....life is tangled with his. You should be with him. Try not to worry. The Lady is wise and good and loving. You can trust her." He leaned in to brush a brotherly kiss against her cheek, hoping to offer what little comfort he could. "We'll be waiting."

Somewhat reassured by his confidence, by the kiss he pressed to her cheek, Rachel nodded, turning her frightened eyes to the Handmaiden who stood by. Helena took her by the hand, drawing her into the Lady's garden as the vines knitted themselves together once again in their wake.

Rhys held his sister's gaze until she was led away, watching as the Handmaiden drew her into the Lady's garden beyond his sight or knowledge. He watched her go, turning to Nat once she was gone and wrapping his arms around her both to offer comfort and receive it. He found himself close to tears, though he wasn't quite sure why. Tears of relief now that the battle was over, of grief for his mother and the lost years with his sister, of concern for two innocent lives snared by an evil that didn't involve them. Tears for his sister and for the angel she seemed to so desperately love. But if there was anyone who could help them, it was the Lady. He had done all he could; they were in her hands now.

Guided into the very beating heart of Avalon, Rachel was silent as she passed beneath the beautiful boughs that sheltered the Lady's sacred space. She had no real understanding of what was happening, no way to be certain this was not just some awful dream. But Rhys had told her to trust this Lady, and though they had not known one another for more than an hour, she was prepared to stand by his word. He was her brother, after all. As her eyes fell upon the tableau by the pool, she gasped, fighting back a fresh sob at the sight of Zachariel, so still and silent beside a woman who seemed to exude serenity.

At her side, the Lady breathed her own gentle sigh of relief, glad that her strength had been enough to guide them to their happier beginning. It would take days now for her to recover fully from the exercise of her power, first with a vision turned real, and now with a healing beyond any an earthly power might have attempted. But such a sacrifice of strength was worth the joy of reuniting that which had been severed.

He didn't know where he was or what had happened. He had no sense of time or space, though somehow he knew he'd been close to Oblivion - that endless sleep mortals called Death. It was different for them than for angels. Once an angel had passed on, its life was snuffed out forever, like a dying star fizzling, or a candle flame guttering out. It was permanent, forever, everlasting. There was no coming back from it. He had accepted his fate, so long as his beloved was safe, but it seemed it was not yet his time.

As he opened his eyes anew to look upon her face, he was filled with a strange sense of wonder and new-found desire to live. How had this come to pass" He had felt himself slipping slowly away, fading like a star in the sky. How was this possible" It was surely not the doing of angels. "Rachel?" he asked, his voice sounding different even to him, seeing all of life through new eyes, like a child newly born to life. "You're crying," he said, wondering at her tears. He lifted a hand to touch her cheek, the wetness on her face, the soft golden halo of her hair.

"Zachariel." Her voice was softly tender as he reached out to touch the tears that dripped over her cheek, her smile bright with renewed hope. Her hand rose from his chest to curl against his own cheek as she tried to suppress the happy tears that now wanted to flow. "You're alive," she told him. "I said you'd be saved, didn't I?"

He could not deny that she had been right all along, more right than even an angel who had been born at the beginning of Time. He knew he'd been on the brink of Oblivion. Who or what had brought him back" He searched her eyes for an answer, but only saw happiness mirrored in those emerald green depths. "But....how?" he asked finally, needing to know how this miracle had taken place.

"I don't know." Deception was not something Rachel had even the merest understanding of; she couldn't lie to him, even if she wanted to. Her thumb stroked gently against his cheek for a moment before she forced herself to tears her gaze from his, looking to the Lady at her side. "But she did it, somehow."

The Lady herself, wearied by her efforts, smiled down at the newly mortal man beside her, a smile that encompassed all the loving maternity of any proud parents. "Welcome to Avalon, Zachariel, and your new life," she told him, her own summer sky eyes deep with protective fondness for them both. "You are a mortal man, gifted with a human soul. A soul grown from that of the woman you love."

Like Rachel, he was incapable of lying and nearly as innocent, though unlike her, he had a far greater knowledge of the world and the mortals who inhabited it. He had somehow retained all that knowledge upon his rebirth, but this Lady who knelt beside them was something new, an enigma even to him. "Avalon," he echoed. He'd heard whispers of the place among mortals - a fabled magical island shrouded in mystery. No angel had ever been there or knew of its existence, believing it to be nothing more than myth or legend, an ancient tale shared among mortals but with no real basis in fact. Was it possible that such a place truly existed and if so, how had it been kept from the angels for so long" His eyes widened further at what she told him, looking down at himself and this body he wore, which was both familiar and unfamiliar.

"I am....human?" he asked, in wonder and disbelief. He could not deny the heart that was beating in his chest or the blood that was flowing through his veins. He sat up slowly, reaching around to touch the place on his back where the heavenly wings had been torn from him. Just as before, they were no longer there, but there was no pain, no torment. It was not only a miracle, but a blessing.

"Not only human, but newly born," the Lady assured him in her quiet way, settling herself with her back against the tree beside her. "There are greater powers in the world than those you have always known. You gave a part of your immortal soul to a mortal woman. She, in turn, has given it back to you, mutated by love into a soul that is human, mortal, and above all else, yours. I could not restore your grace, but you provided me the means to give you life once again."

Intelligent blue eyes took this all in - eyes that had witnessed the Dawn of Creation and all that had come after. There was only one other angel in all of millenia who had become human, and that soul belonged to Rachel's brother, Rhys, who had once been the Angel Rathanael. If Zachariel was also now human, with all the gifts that had been bestowed upon Man by the Creator, then it meant his soul was once again immortal, able to be born again and again in a new body, to live as many lives as he so desired, not as an angel, but a man. He turned his gaze once more to Rachel, his heart leaping at the possibilities before him, at the realization that he could now love her as a man, not only during this one lifetime, but again and again. "You have given me this gift," he said, reaching for her hand, to link his fingers with hers. "My life belongs to you."

For her part, Rachel was lost in the sea of explanations. She did not truly understand what had happened since the moment Rhys had broken into the only home she had ever known the day before, only that something had changed. She had seen pain and violence and death, and something inside her had broken away, never to be recovered. Yet despite that strange pain, she felt happiness in the fact of Zachariel's survival, gratitude to the Lady who had made it possible. Hope that she might start to live her life now, with the people she loved - her brother, his wife, and this newly mortal man who loved her. As her fingers curled between his, she met Zachariel's gaze tenderly. "I didn't do anything," she whispered, uncertain in the face of his vow.

Nothing had changed between them, and yet everything had changed. He was no longer an angel, free to love and be loved, his heart yearning for love like any other mortal. As an angel, he was free to love, but never knew love in return, nor truly understood the concept of mortal love, and yet, his angelic soul had been linked to this mortal soul for millenia, watching her live and die through eons of lifetimes, unable to touch her or make his presence known - unable to truly love her - until this very moment. But what if she did not share his feelings, did not want his love" "Rachel," he started, blue eyes swimming with tears, not only those of joy, but those of fear and worry and loneliness, of feelings and emotions he had never known before. "I-I do not know how to make you understand..." He glanced at the Lady a moment, as if asking for help in forming the right words. "Is the link broken then?" he asked, knowing he might have been saved only to lose her.

There was no need for to confirm his suspicions. He knew, better than most, that he owed his survival not just to her, but to the man and woman who had brought him here, who had asked her permission to allow him entry to this sacred place. "I ask nothing," the Lady told him, smiling to see how gentle Rachel was with him, as though he might break at her touch. "Live well." She sighed softly, letting her head ease back against the tree she leaned against, her eyes falling closed.

Helena, her Handmaiden, stepped forward, gesturing for them both to come away. "The Lady must rest," she told them. "As must you. Come."

He arched a blond brow, once more surprised at both her humility and kindness. There had been a time when he could have healed her, when he could have refreshed her weariness with a mere touch of his hand, but he sensed that was no more. He was mortal now, as vulnerable to the needs of the flesh as any other human. He turned a questioning glance toward Rachel, who had wrapped an arm around him in a familiar embrace, though he did not realize she had done so in an attempt to keep him warm. Cold was a new sensation and as unpleasant as it was, it reminded him that he was truly alive. He met her gaze, waiting for her and the Lady's Handmaiden to show him the way.

A little at a loss herself, Rachel held his gaze for a moment before realizing she was probably going to have to move first. She didn't know what to say, or how to thank this strange, powerful Lady for her help, and something in the way the Lady closed her eyes suggested that now was not the time in any case. As Helena beckoned to them, Rachel moved to stand, reaching to help Zachariel up with her. "We can come back," she assured him, though quite how she could be so confident of that was puzzling in and of itself. The Handmaiden smiled, gesturing once more for them to follow her from the garden, as the vines parted to allow them freedom.

He, too, was at a loss for words, unsure how to thank this Lady who seemed to possess some sort of power he did not yet comprehend. Perhaps in time, he would understand it, but for now, he could only accept it and be grateful for what she'd given him. He glanced at her again before drawing his gaze back to Rachel, allowing her to pull him to his feet. Even the feeling of cool grass beneath his feet was a new sensation and one he found both pleasant and troubling at the same time. He was not sure what was going to happen now, but he was content to follow, trusting Rachel and the Lady's Handmaiden to lead him onward to whatever awaited.

Helena led them from the Lady's garden, to where Rhys and Nat still waited for news. "The Lady bids you take them to your home here on the Isle," she informed Rhys in her lilting voice. "Food will be provided. Clothing will be provided. A shelter for them is being constructed." She nodded to the Champion and Priestess, stepping away to walk through the stone halls as the garden closed behind them all.

Rachel stared after her for a moment, turning her wide-eyed gaze to Rhys. "What does that mean?" she asked, her arm wrapped warm about Zachariel's back as she glanced between her brother and his wife.

Natalya smiled, relieved to see both Rachel and her angelic guardian safe and well. "It means, sestrenka, that it is time for you to eat and rest," she said, a touch of fondness in her expression. "Both of you."

Rhys sprang to his feet as they were rejoined by his sister and her guardian, who looked far healthier than he had back in Iowa, a relieved smile on his face. "Zach! Rach!" he exclaimed, full of excitement, unable to contain the joy he was feeling at knowing they were both safe and well. He even laughed a little as his sister's question, realizing how little they both knew of Avalon or of anything really. "You two have got a lot of catching up to do," he said, noting the way his sister had her arm protectively wrapped about the angel's back. "A lot of catching up," he repeated with a wink to his wife.

"So, what did you think of the Lady?" Rhys continued, his mouth getting the best of him, a million questions on the tip of his tongue, as he snatched hold of Nat's hand, linking his free arm with Rachel's and starting toward the quaint and comfortable home the Lady had provided for them in Avalon.

Zach looked between the other couple for the split second Rhys allowed him to before tugging them both in tow. "You recall nothing of your life as an angel?" he interrupted Rhys' monologue curiously.

Nat might have given the rather innocent pair a less hyperactive hello, but she couldn't blame her husband for being pleased to see them both alive and well. His less than subtle allusion to the relationship between Rachel and Zachariel made her snort with laughter, given little chance to make sense of it for them as Rhys took them all in hand, marching off in the direction of the towerhouse that was their very own. She leaned around Rhys' back to speak directly to Rachel, her lips quirked in a teasing smile. "Don't mind him too much," she warned familiarly. "Just don't say yes if he offers to give you a bath."

Despite herself, despite her confusion and ignorance and uncertainty, Rachel actually laughed, the first true laugh she could ever recall having made, a real release of years of tension and unhappiness in a burst of mirth brought on by her new sister's teasing of the brother who had saved her life.

"A bath!" Rhys echoed his sister's laughter, his mood lighter than it had been in weeks and months. "The only one whose back I'm scrubbing is yours. And your front, too!" he added with a cheeky grin at his wife. The teasing remark probably went straight over his sister's head, but Zachariel looked confused.

"Is she not capable of washing herself?" he queried.

Rhys laughed again, resisting the urge to give the former angel a friendly smack on the back. "That's not the point, but you'll get it eventually."

"And what of my question?" Zachariel pressed further, when his first question was not answered.

That brought a small frown to Rhys' face, but it was only temporary. "No, nothing," he said, hoping the angel turned mortal wouldn't press him further on the subject, at least not at the moment.

"Interesting," Zachariel continued. "You have become something of a legend among your brothers and sisters."

His attention was drawn back to that of his wife as she touched his cheek, a smile forming on his lips. "The way she's looking at him, it might be harder to preserve his," he told her quietly, carefully lowering his voice so the pair in question would not overhear. He wasn't as concerned with his sister's virginity so much as he was about her heart. If the angel - former angel, rather - broke it, Rhys might just have to break him. "I just hope he doesn't ever give me reason to regret saving him." It wasn't just Rachel's life he'd saved when he'd broken into their prison. Had he not broken through when he had, they would not be having this discussion as the angel would already be dead.

Nat smirked faintly. "Rhys, love does not form on a whim," she reminded him. "You, of all people, you know that. Look at them." Her head turned to take in the sight of the inseparable pair as they negotiated the doorway and entered the towerhouse. "How long do you think he has loved her" And would the Lady truly risk the chance of your sister's heart being broken by bringing him back, if he did not love her?"

"Doesn't it' I seem to recall falling in love with someone in the Mile High Club," he remarked, pointing out their first meeting. Whether he had actually fallen in love with her on the plane was another matter. "Since the beginning of time," Rhys replied, turning to glance at the other two again. Okay, so the angel had been willing to lay down his life for her, and for that matter, vice versa. "I just don't want to see her get hurt. She's been through enough." Though he suspected had the angel not survived, that might have done far more harm than any scenario he could conjure in his mind.

"I think, if you were to ask him, he would say exactly the same," Nat murmured, touched by how simple the love between the other couple was. She watched a moment longer, before her practical side made itself known. "There are clothes still, in the closet in our room," she said abruptly, looking up at Rhys. "They need to wash and to sleep, and I'm sure we can put something together for them to eat when they wake up. The question is ....are you going to help Zach, or Rachel, to wash and dress?" She smirked up at him, eyes twinkling mischievously.

Rhys watched the other pair thoughtfully, silently absorbing what Nat was telling him and once again finding her more right than wrong, even if he didn't openly admit it. He couldn't deny the love the pair seemed to share for the other. He snorted at her question, turning back to find her smirking up at him. "I don't think so, Obi Wan. They can figure that one out for themselves."

"Actually, dusha moya, no, they can't," she told him with a gentle chuckle. "They are both so tired, they could drown themselves in a glass of water, and I am not going to let them settle in for a long sleep while they are still covered in blood and dirt." She pinned him with a decidedly no-nonsense look. "Your call, milaya. Little sister, or fallen angel?"

"Oh, come on!" he whined, turning to look at the pair again. Either way, he was screwed. He didn't want to see his sister naked. That was just too weird, and there was a big Eww factor in helping the Clueless One learn how to wash his naughty bits. He sighed. "Fine, I'll take the cherub. You can help my sister, but I'm not holding it for him!"

"It will be good practice for you," she teased him affectionately, reaching up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Do not forget to dress him afterwards." She winked, slipping away to gently disentangle Zachariel and Rachel with a promise that it would not be for long. They were all going to have to get used to each other, one way or another, and the first step on that road would be to get the newest additions to the family comfortable. Unfortunately for Rhys, that now involved helping another man wash his manly bits.

"As far as I know, we're not birthing a full-grown adult, and our firstborn is supposed to be a girl!" he pointed out helpfully. He sighed in resignation, despite the kiss, glancing at the man-angel. "Come along, Clarence. I have to show you how to wash your naughty bits," he grumbled, making his way toward the bathroom.

"My name is not Clarence," Zachariel pointed out, looking confused again, echoing, "Naughty bits" To what are you referring?" His gaze followed Rhys as he started toward the bathroom.

"Your you know..." Rhys continued vaguely, gesturing with a hand in the general direction of the front of his pants.

Zachariel furrowed his brows a moment before he realized at last what Rhys was referring to. "Oh, you mean....My phallus?" he asked, uncertainly.

Rhys rolled his eyes and audibly groaned. "Oh my God....I am not teaching you about the birds and the bees."

The conversation continued, their voices fading as the two of them stepped into the bathroom, with Zach a little too close on Rhys' heels. "But I am already aware of what birds and bees are..."

Behind them, the two women watched them go, the one tucked beneath the arm of the other. "What are birds and bees?" Rachel asked curiously, looking up at Nat.

The Russian woman smiled down at her, choking back her laughter at the fact that, of all she had just heard, the innocent little woman had chosen to ask about that. "Come, I will explain," she promised warmly, drawing Rachel toward the stairs and up to the next floor, where the second bathroom awaited. Whatever else life was going to be for a while, it was certainly not going to be boring. Not with these two around.

((Adventure over! Sorta. The adventure's never really over for this lot. :grin: Hugimungus thanks to Rhys' player!))