elrhiarhodan: (Angel Neal)
[personal profile] elrhiarhodan
Title: At the Other Side of Heaven
Author: [livejournal.com profile] elrhiarhodan
Artist[livejournal.com profile] kanarek13
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, The Devil
Word Count: ~2000
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Beta Credit: None
Summary: Because his God is jealous and vengeful, Peter has been cast out of Heaven for loving Neal. Written for the third annual Caffrey-Burke Day.

Author’s Notes: The story in each Act was inspired by artwork created by [livejournal.com profile] kanarek13, Tim as Winged Jonesy from Carnivale (Act Two), and then Winged Matt from his Details shoot (Act Three). The art for Act One was created by Kanarek for that part of the story when I first started working on it, back in August.

The titles of each Act are from The Writer’s Book of Days, which were additional inspiration for the story.

Please see additional (and spoilery) author’s notes at the end of the story.



__________________





Act One – In Anticipation of Catastrophe

From the moment he first lays eyes on him, Peter knows that loving Neal is disastrous, wrong, a crime – at least in the eyes of their God. And for an eternity, he looks and does nothing. He keeps his thoughts, his hands, his heart, to himself – his forbidden love shielded behind the armor of an immense will.

Amongst the Angels, there is but one stricture, one Law: “Thou shalt love none other but She who is your God”. Peter knows that he cannot divide his heart between Her and another creature and survive. But loving Her is an exercise in cold dutiful adoration. Loving Neal – even if just in the privacy of his mind – is hot and joyful.

Peter understands that such disloyalty means death, and he is prepared for that. The single moment of the love he bears for Neal, a love that he believes is returned a thousand-fold, is worth an eternity in oblivion

Except that he doesn’t die. His God, when She discovers his betrayal, is jealous and wrathful. She breaks his body and his mind and expels him from Her gardens in Heaven.

In Her punishment, She leaves him little more than his existence.

Peter has his wings. They are still magnificent, but they now uselessly attached to a shattered body. His mind is gone, too. She’s stripped him of his vast intelligence – it takes decades before he can form anything more than simple sentences that articulate more than the pain he suffers.

Memories of worship and companionship and long-ago glories are mere echoes – like the light from distant stars. The destruction of his intellect may have been a gift of mercy or an act of utter cruelty, because she leaves him just one clear memory – a moment of golden perfection.

He has taken a rose taken from Her garden. Not a blood roses – those are forbidden, but a white one. She never wants those – they are too banal, too simple in their symbolism. They might mean something to the humans who worship her in fear and awe, but she would just as soon cut them down and salt their roots. And so foolishly – and with knowledge that this might mean his death, Peter takes a single white rose and gives it to Neal without a word. But there is love and honor and trust in his eyes.

When Peter closes his eyes against the searing heat of the desolate plains, he can see Neal, holding his love gift. There is a smile of sweet and innocent delight on his lips, his pure white wings curving around him like another smile.

And that moment is the moment of his destruction for his god is not only jealous of Her angels and their power, she is fickle and greedy, too. When She sees what Peter has done, Her wrath is terrible, Her punishment immediate, the torments She inflicts as endless as the oblivion he expects.

And when She is finished with him, She casts him out, dropping him broken and bleeding and all but dead on the vast desert plain that was the other side of Heaven,

Peter survives. And as long as he has that one memory of love, he lives.



Act Two – The Stranger at the Crossroads

Peter approaches the crossroads, a bleak and desolate place between Heaven and Hell. He comes here most every day to wait and has done so for years. Maybe for centuries.

But today, he will not be alone.

The Devil is at the crossroads, waiting for him. Although his memories of their prior encounters are dim, Peter knows this is not the first time they’ve met. But it might be the first time that the Devil is wearing a good suit and better tie, a white shirt that reflects the hot desert sun like a mirror or polished armor.

As he lifts his arm to shield his eyes and prepares for an attack, Peter wonders if he could possibly win this battle. Once, he could have easily withstood the Devil’s might, once, he was strong enough.

But that was so long ago, before he had been forsaken by his God and thrown from his place in Heaven for loving another Angel.

Peter is Outcast. He still has his wings, but his body is too broken to fly, his mind too damaged to fight.

His God hadn’t let him go so easily, she broke him for his sin.

The Devil’s first foray is subtle. He moves behind Peter and murmurs, “Just say the word, and all of your pain, your suffering will become a soon-forgotten memory.” The voice is seductive, beautiful in its promise of cool greenness, of peace and pleasure. “You can have anything and anyone you want.”

As damaged as he is, Peter can still understand what is wrong about the Devil’s promises. He doesn’t have the currency to pay what they’ll cost him. “No.”

“But admit it, you’re tempted.” The Devil doesn’t touch him, but Peter can feel his words like a caress against his dry, dirty skin.

“I’d be foolish to admit that.”

“Ah – and the Greatest of Her Angels is no fool.”

“I am not, nor was I ever, that”

“But of course you were. You did battle in Her Name for time immemorial. You lead the Heavenly Host. You fought and won, you even beat me a time or two.”

Peter keeps silent. He doesn’t have the wits to argue with the Devil.

Not anymore.

Of course, the Devil isn’t letting him go so easily, not ready to concede the fight. “She loved you best of all, and all you had to do was love Her back. Only Her. Forever. But you didn’t, did you? You thought you could have your heart and still serve Her in Heaven.”

Silence is his best defense, but it’s tattered and dented armor at best when the Devil speaks.

“You betrayed Her love and She cast you out. She left you bleeding and broken and alone. She took such great pleasure in damaging you.”

Peter clenches his jaw, the need to deny these twisted truths are almost too powerful to resist. But he maintains his silence.

“I have to wonder what She did with your lover. Did She break him or did She keep him? Maybe he now occupies your place at the right hand of God? Maybe he wields your sword and wears your armor? Maybe he loves Her more than he ever loved you?”

The Devil’s words are like the sharpest of knives, flensing his heart from his soul like a butcher working skin from bone. Peter keeps quiet even as the Devil details each of his fears.

“Ah, Peter – you’re waiting for him, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here, hoping that he’ll descend into this vile world and remember the love he had for you. But he’s never going to come back to you. You’ve lost him.”

Peter closes his eyes and calls up the lone perfect memory of the angel that cost him everything. He takes refuge in that. Not even the Devil’s poisoned tongue can steal that from him.

And he had one weapon against the pain. He has the truth, and he wields it will all his strength. “I love him, regardless. And I’ll wait here for him forever.”



Act Three – What Is Forbidden

Neal serves his God with honor and strength and passion, and She rewards him. He is given bright armor and a powerful sword and he sits at Her right hand. All of the other Angels know that Neal is the first of Her warriors. The first and the finest.

Or maybe not.

Neal has memories of another Angel. Tall and broad with dark eyes and dark wings and a smile that makes his feathers shiver. He thinks he remembers this Angel seated at Her right hand – his own seat. He thinks he remembers following this Angel into battle and celebrating victories with him. But this Angel is a phantom, this Angel doesn’t not exist. She who is their God has created perfection in the full complement of her Angels, and they live only because of Her. To think that there is an Angel that does not serve Her is the grossest heresy.

He cannot ask the others about this false memory, they would think him mad. And Neal knows that outside of battle, it is best to avoid any congress with the other Angels, for She is a jealous and wrathful God and he fears Her as much as he loves Her.

Except that sometimes, when he is alone, he flexes his wings and believes that they are not his. He remembers having white wings and once, holding a perfect white rose. Except no white roses grow in Her gardens, only blood roses. And his wings are dark, like the sky just before dawn.

Preparing to go into battle against the Devil, he dons his armor, tugging at the straps that secure it to his body and he wonders why it doesn’t fit quite right. The other Angels wear armor that is like a second skin, but his breastplate is ill-fitting, it chafes and rubs at his flesh like a punishment shirt.

Neal touches the sigil in the center of the breastplate and is – as always – struck with a memory. It’s that other Angel, the one he has never seen. The one that doesn’t exist outside of the madness in his head.

Suddenly, he can’t bear the idea of wearing this cursed armor and he sheds it before taking to the skies. Neal doesn’t hear the shocked mutterings of his compatriots as he leads them, unprotected, them into battle.

The Devil is there, but this time – he does not direct his troops from the rear. He engages with Neal directly. They grapple and struggle in the blood-red sky. The shock of contact wrests the sword from his hands and it falls, unheeded, into the darkness.

Neal is stronger than the Devil, but the Devil takes advantage of Neal’s vulnerable state. He hugs him tightly, his fingers sinking deep into Neal’s flesh. This punishing grip, though, is not his weapon. Words are the Devil’s weapon and he wields them without mercy. “Peter waits for you, Beautiful One. He’s been waiting for you for an eternity.”

Neal stiffens – his body goes motionless as memories return in a forbidden cascade. The angel he never sees, the one that he has imagined, now has a name.

“Peter?” The name on his tongue is pure sweetness.

“Yes, Peter. He waits for you. Foolish Outcast that he is, he never loses hope. You are the only thing he remembers” The Devil smirks and lets go. Neal forgets to beat his wings and he falls out of the sky, he falls out of Heaven.

As he falls, he hears his God cry out, “NO!” and he keeps remembering. Peter giving him the white rose, love and longing and joy in his eyes.

Neal Falls and remembers that they never touched, not once. They never spoke, not a word.

But he loved Peter as Peter loved him. And She destroyed Peter for that love. But he didn’t go without punishment either. She ripped his memories from him; She gave him Peter’s armor and sat him in Peter’s seat. She made a mockery of his love and his devotion and his honor.

The Devil had nothing on his twisted, selfish, jealous God.

Neal Falls and lands on a vast desert plain. He needs to find Peter. He needs to tell Peter that he remembers. That he loves him.



FIN


Additional Author’s Notes: In case you are wondering, although the Deity in this story is female, she is not intended to be Elizabeth.

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