I must give my profoundest thanks to Tavares, who is an angel of distinction and status, but who was kind enough to listen to my request and agree to assist me. I was most flattered to know that he has been following my humble work, when he is one who helps to translate the Choice Web itself. When I said this to him, he laughed and said to me, “You should not be surprised. I am, after all, a Reader.”
Know then, Tavares, that our plan has succeeded. All is in motion, and everything has changed.
Tavares sought out the appropriate section in the Choice Web for me, and provided me with a small vision of Morgan’s possible future, if she does choose to give in to her director. As you all know, the Web does not lay out what will happen in certainty—only the Father-King can know such things—but it does give impressions from what-might-be. I was able to take these impressions and give them to Brooke in a dream.
It is difficult for me to describe what it was that I gave to her. They were human emotions, and while I have gained a greater sensitivity to such feelings in the months I have worked with them, I still do not have the ability to understand them fully. No angel does or ever will, until we are called to the vanguard of the Fight as humans ourselves. I think the best way to describe it all is in Brooke’s words.
She woke early from her dream, and it weighed like a stone on her heart as she rose from her bed. In the hour between her waking and Morgan’s, she turned it over in her thoughts, etching it in her memory, though she wanted to brush it away like a clinging spiderweb. Her conscious mind tried to dismiss its importance, tried to explain it away, but I pressed hard on her sore heart, merciless in my persistence. “This is your last chance,” I told her, more than once. “Speak, or you will lose her forever.”
Morgan’s door opened, and she came out to pour herself a cup of coffee. “Morning,” she said to Brooke through a yawn, her sleepy eyes missing the stricken look on Brooke’s face.
“Speak,” I said to Brooke.
“Don’t do it.”
The words cut through the morning haze, and Morgan looked up, blinking. “What?”
Brooke set her coffee cup down on the table and folded her hands in her lap. “Don’t do it,” she repeated. “Don’t give that jerk what he wants.”
I was surprised by how suddenly she had become decisive. All those days of resisting, and suddenly she was fully committed to telling all, gathering the words in her mind. I would have been irritated if I had not been so glad.
Morgan put her own cup down. “Brooke, if I say no to him he’s going to fire me.”
“Maybe not.”
Morgan snorted. “Definitely yes. I think I’ve figured out that much of his implications.”
“Then you’ll find another job.”
“Where have you been the past few months? This is me we’re talking about, remember? The unemployed waste of space wearing out the sofa? If I miss this chance, then I won’t be able to afford rent in a month or two.”
There was an edge of desperation in her voice that did not come from fear. I nearly lost my resolve in the face of her dream, which is to transform herself, to understand the motivations and passions of someone who is not real except through Morgan’s work, Morgan’s heart. She does not see destitution in her future; she sees the loss of that future, the vanishing possibility and the diminishing of her own soul. Most tragically, she no longer believes that she can do it on her own.
Brooke did not waver when I did. “I can pay rent on my own for a month or two.”
Morgan sighed and shook her head. “That’s sweet of you, Brooke, but you don’t have to do that for me.”
“Well, I would.” Brooke took a breath and went on, her voice shaking only slightly. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you, Morgan.”
Morgan frowned at her. The words were put mildly, but Morgan heard the depth of feeling behind them. I could hear her thoughts trying to deny that truth, to say that yes, it was a bit different from what Brooke would normally say, but that didn’t mean anything crazy. It couldn’t be…
“Don’t stop now,” I whispered to Brooke.
Brooke made herself meet Morgan’s eyes and smiled, tears in her own eyes. “Fact is, Mo, I think I’ve been in love with you for months.”
And just like that, it was there.
I was watching Morgan carefully, her face, mind, and heart, but there was no change for the first few seconds. Morgan blinked, and then—“What?”
Brooke looked down. She was shaking, quite suddenly. “Are you going to make me say it again?”
Now the heavy shock was waving down over Morgan, like fog down a mountain. She stared at Brooke’s face, trying to find a joke, a tease, something to give her the excuse to disbelieve what she had heard.
I went to her immediately. “No,” I said to her. “It is exactly what you think. Look at her face; look at her hands. How can you doubt it?”
Morgan looked, as I had advised her. She saw the tremors, the pallor, and her disbelief became something insubstantial—still present, still overwhelming, but nothing she could hide behind anymore.
“Oh,” she said.
Brooke laughed faintly. “Yeah.”
In the silence that followed, I could clearly hear someone on the floor above shouting, the words indistinct.
Morgan opened her mouth, closed it again. Then she spluttered, “I didn’t know you were—” She could not make herself say the word.
“Gay,” Brooke supplied, looking up. “Yeah. To be fair, I didn’t know either until I met you.” She puts her hands on the table. “It took me a while to—figure it out. And when I had, I didn’t know what to say…”
“Oh,” Morgan said again.
They were silent once more.
Brooke reached out for her coffee cup, took a sip of the lukewarm coffee, and set it down again. “The thing is,” she said, trying to set her thoughts straight again, “I don’t expect anything. I know you don’t swing that way, and I respect that. But I can’t let you go face that guy without knowing.” She took another deep breath, tears in her eyes. “I think you are the most amazing and talented person I’ve ever met, and you don’t have to sell yourself to succeed. You are so much better than that. You can figure this out.”
She got to her feet, taking her coffee cup to the sink. “Now, if you want to start finding a new roommate, I’ll understand.” The heartbreak in her voice was well covered, but I heard it and felt it, and I passed what I could of the feeling to Morgan. “But if you need me,” Brooke went on, turning to face Morgan again, “I’ll be here. Always and forever.”
Morgan only stared. Her heart was a turmoil of emotions, and all I could understand of it at that moment was shock.
Brooke sniffed and wiped the tears from her face, checking her watch. “I’m going to be late for work. I’ll see you tonight, okay?” Unable to look back at Morgan, she turned and left the room, closing her bedroom door behind her.
Leaving Morgan for a moment, I joined Brooke, who was leaning against her door, hands pressed against her face. “Well done,” I said to her. “I am so proud of you.” I warmed her with my wing, and she drew herself up and went about her regimen.
When I returned to Morgan, I found her sitting at the table still, but some of the shock had faded. She was running through many of her memories with Brooke, trying to find the moment when their relationship had changed. Various encounters were taking on new significance to her; things that Brooke had said now had new interpretations.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, and it wasn’t profanity, but a plea. “She means it, doesn’t she?”
Now she is gone, off to make her decision, and I was required to return from the Garden. I protested the necessity, but Danit rightfully reminded me that while we may guide humans to certain choices, we cannot make those choices for them. Their free will is the power that we can never touch, the power that makes them the warriors on the front line.
I will return the instant I can, of course, to see what she has chosen to do. I hope very much that she will have the strength to see the best way. I hope that I have given her enough strength to do what is best for her.