fallen angel - n.h.

v. - like getting murdered a third time

✖️- v. -✖️

• n.h. •

"Holy fuck! Harry! Fuckin' scared the shit out of me! Thought you were-Where've you been?" I began to shuffle and sit up, mind racing. Imogen gives a mumble of protest.

We both hold our breath, hoping I didn't wake her. I gently continue to scoot up 'til my back is to the headboard.

"I've uh, been in LA." And he looked like it. I've never seen his hair this long. And atop his head, a pair of sunglasses pushed it back out of his face.

"Jesus Harry I would think you'd use more than two an' a half buttons on your shirt. What've those Americans been doin' to ya?" His face has me laughing. I reach out and poke out at the second pair of glasses against his chest. Hanging on fer dear life on those two buttons.

"Nice to see you too, Niall. I've missed that obnoxious laugh." He begins walking around the room. His hand runs over the comforter at the very edge of the bed. "I hope I'm not bothering you." Harry sits on the end of the bed. I had seen his boots. They looked beat and worn. That's what he usually did-wore his clothes until they were in tatters on his body.

"Nah you can never do that. Besides, it's fine. She's out." I pull the blanket further over her shoulder. "So how long's it been?"

"Almost ten years."

"Really? Felt like a few and a 'alf years."

"Feels like it. I finished up an assignment in Luxembourg back in the summer of '09 but I haven't seen ya because I got placed in America soon after."

I could see why. Harry might talk slower, but that doesn't make him dumb. More thoughtful was it. More careful. Not like me at all. I could be . . . impulsive. That's what fucked me up on my last assignment.

And put me on probation. If being with the girl can be called such.

Harry was good at what he did. I'd been dead longer than he has, but the lad's got an older soul. He'd won favor with God, and probably even more so with the Legion.

"You usually patron children don't you?" I ask though I knew. My hand picked at a loose thread on the bedspread.

The Archangels tended to assign us with those whose struggles we could best help with. While Harry guided the little uns, I had dealt with one other person, and then Imogen after. Both around the same age and with similar problems. Because of the circumstances of my death, they both seemed fitting for me to guide.

Besides, I never even knew how to properly hold a baby. Children make me nervous. I can never help much with them. I'm afraid of scaring them. I was an Irishman. People used to make fun of us for that. But they were hardly kidding. Of course I shut down when I'm stressed. Children crying was one o'those things that could do that to me.

"Ya they usually give me children to work with. Since they're young, helping them doesn't seem to take as long as your assignments do. I've helped around a half a dozen." I've hardly gotten by in two cases. I don't know how he does it with that many.

While I'm struggling, we've got Curly over here with children practically glued to his hip and Mother Mary herself kissin' the ground he walks on.

Do I?

"Hey! Have you been reading my mind this whole time?"

"Nah. Just then. A little thing I've been umm-" He rolls his lips in his mouth "-practicing." He gives out a short laugh.

"Sorry we can't all be as talented as yeh! Using the Love Lines takes a lot of time. And practice." Harry wouldn't know. He never needed to use them anyways. "I'm hoping I can do it better than the last time. With her."