In the Night

Azrael quickly yanked a sleeping Jemma out of bed, supporting her weight against his chest so that she didn't fall.

"Azrael, what--?" she asked groggily, glancing up at him with eyes bleary from sleep.

The tall creature smiled down at the woman as her hands knotted in his shirt, his red eyes filled with a kindness that was rare for him. Jemma blinked at him before she glanced down, just noticing that he was fully dressed in his usual bleak attire. She still wore one of his shirts, an excessive amount of material for her shorter, smaller frame.

"Congratulations, Jemma," The Reaper murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead. His hand slid around to the front of her abdomen, and he gently splayed his fingers over her stomach. "You're pregnant with my son."

The words dropped like a heavy weight on her shoulders.

"How...how do you know that? I-i-it would just be a few cells at most," she stuttered, trying to edge away from the man.

"I can already sense the soul that's growing alongside that little cluster of cells," he whispered, his arms dropping to his sides so that she could back away from him.

Jemma shook her head furiously, lowering herself onto the edge of the bed and hugging herself tightly around the middle. She let out an unsteady breath, tears stinging her eyes and threatening to break free.

Azrael furrowed his brow as he stared down at the woman, confused. "Jemma, this is a miracle. This was the whole point of me attaching myself to you. You know that. I need you to be pregnant. I need this heir-- baby. I need this baby." He crouched down in front of her, offering her a small smile. "Did you think I was just having sex with you because I care about you?" he chuckled. "This was the reason we were sleeping together. For this result."

A tear rolled lazily down Jemma's cheek as she lifted her face to stare at him incredulously, her chest tightening. Azrael frowned and his eyes darted over her face as he replayed his words in his mind. He quickly shook his head, realizing his mistake.

"No, Jemma. That came out wrong. That's not what I meant to say," he murmured, grabbing her hand.

The woman gave a short, bitter laugh, "I'm having a heartless monster's baby." She closed her eyes, her brows furrowed sharply while tears escaped down her cheeks. "Take me home," she said quietly.

"Jemma, I would have to take you outside to return you home, and that's too dangerous."

"That's bullshit. I'm sure you can do your little teleportation trick from here."

Azrael sighed, "Jemma, I can't," he lied, shifting closer to her.

She pulled away from him, climbing to her feet, "No. No, stay away from me. I can't handle this, Azrael. I can't do this anymore. I can't play your sick little game. I can't. I won't. Because--"

"Jemma, calm down--"

"--I love you and--"

"Jemma--"

"--you don't even care about me, apparently--"

"Jemma, stop."

"--so I just want you to take me home and--"

"Jemma."

"--stay away from me. I don't want to see you anymore, and I would appreciate it if you would respect that."

"God dammit, Jemma!" Azrael yelled, storming toward her and forcing her to back up against the nearest wall. "I'm not leaving you or my child. I'm not leaving you alone. I will never leave you alone." The woman before him was reduced to frightened sobs, cowering away from him and pressing herself as close to the wall as was physically possible.

"I don't understand why you won't," Jemma struggled to whisper, quaking with tears. "You got what you wanted. I'm pregnant. You can come pick up the thing in nine months. Just, please, stay away from me."

"I won't. I won't fucking stay away from you, Jemma, because I love you. Because I fucking love you, okay? I love your stupid sense of humor. I love the way you take care of people. I love the pureness of your heart," his words grew progressively gentler and more tender as he continued. "I love the way you smile. I love your hair when it's matted to your head after you shower. I love how peaceful you look when you sleep. Hell, I love the way you breathe, Jemma."

The woman stared up at him, her lips parted to speak, but no words came forth. Before she could gather her wits, Azrael suddenly tensed up in pain, his body convulsing. He made a face, clutching at his chest. Jemma quickly reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, watching in horror as a thick black scar slowly traced down his sternum.

"Sit down," she urged, guiding him to the bed. She had never seen him in so much pain. "I'll go get help," she reassured him, heading for the door.

"Jemma, no," Azrael coughed, but she was already gone.

Jemma jogged down the hallway, making her way back to the main room. It was completely empty. Frantic, she headed for the door and ran outside. It was still cold and dark, the storm raging on over head. She spun in a circle, looking for anyone who could help.

"What would those dogs do anyway?" she muttered to herself. They might have been able to tell her what was happening to him, at least.

Jemma spun back toward the building, but there was something blocking her path.

A luminous soul stood before her, its eyeless gaze trained on her. It cocked its head to the left before screeching angrily, its jaws cracking open wide. Jemma stepped back, watching as three more appeared from the darkness.

"Shit."

Azrael appeared beside her suddenly, and Jemma stumbled away in shock, her heart hammering in her chest.

"I thought you couldn't do your disappearing act inside," she accused breathlessly.

"I lied so I could spend more time with you. Sue me," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I'm taking you home."

"But you're still hurt."

Before Azrael could reply, the four creatures sprinted toward them, crowding in on them just as the pair went hurtling into the swirling shadows that The Reaper created. They plummeted through the warp, thrown through brilliant lights until they landed abruptly in Jemma's apartment, sprawled out in the hallway.

A heartbeat passed.

"Are you okay?" Azrael whispered, the first rays of sunlight peaking into the hallway from the bathroom window.

"Yeah," Jemma murmured back, sitting up, "Let's not do that again for awhile."

The brunette lifted her eyes to the tall man next to her, before pure terror took over her features.

"Oh my god."

Azreal glanced down at his chest, where the handle of a knife protruded from his heart. "They got to me before I could leave," he whispered, watching as blood dampened his shirt. Another knife stuck out from where his neck met his shoulder, and a third was imbedded in his back.

Jemma crawled toward him, shock and pain evident on her face. She reached out to touch the knife in his chest, but shakily drew her hands away and ran them through her hair instead. She watched as his body convulsed before locking eyes with him. Her hand flew to her mouth, muffling the strangled sob that escaped her lips.

"Jemma," he whispered, a line of blood rolling down his chin from the corner of his mouth, "I love you." He blinked out of existence the next moment, just before Jemma could reach out and touch him.

She clawed out blindly, patting the spot where he had just been. Then she crumpled onto her side and sobbed. It was a raw kind of crying, the kind that came from the very depths of her chest and burst forth painfully. It wasn't crying though, not really, because no tears fell. It was just the rough heaving of her chest that made her ribs ache. She wanted the tears to come, but they didn't. All the emotion built up, but it got stuck in her throat.