Angel
by Arty

Chapter 5

2001
====

"How are things at university?"

"The same as they were the last time that you asked, which
was," Susan looked at her watch, "all of 20 minutes ago."

"Sorry, I never know what to say. I'm so pleased to see you,
I just can't say. It's so good to see a friendly face."

"There's been no let up, then?"

"It's not just Angela's mother any more. In fact, my mum
says she seems to have toned down her comments now."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I'm doing now, keeping my head down, keeping my nose
clean, keeping away from Angela." As I said this, I could
feel a distinct sense of unease. I'd become familiar with
this sensation over the last ten years, and it could only
mean one thing. I shivered and pushed the sensation away.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, someone walked over my grave, that's all."

Susan laughed and looked at her watch. "Time to go, I'm
afraid. I said I'd meet my mum and yours in twenty minutes.
We have some serious shopping to get in."

I shuddered in mock horror as we pushed back our seats and
made our way out of the food court. The place was seething
and a couple sat down at our table almost before we'd stood
up. We pushed our way through the throng into an oasis of
sudden calm and started to walk towards the place were Susan
and our mothers were due to meet. I listened with half an
ear to something that Susan was saying about life at
university. Up ahead of us, there was a knot of people. I
could hear shouting; my sense of foreboding grew deeper and,
ignoring Susan, I slipped through the press of people and
made my way to the front of the throng.

The shouts were coming from the building society. For some
reason, only people approaching from my direction were aware
of something going on. I looked in through the windows and
could see why; the window displays hid the action if you
came from the other way. Some sort of robbery was in
progress; it seemed to be going wrong, badly wrong. I looked
up to see what I'd dreaded: Angela and her friends
approaching, oblivious to what was going on around them;
chatting and laughing and looking simply gorgeous.

There was a bang as the door to the branch was smashed open
by one of the robbers; he was clearly deranged with fear.
Suddenly, Angela was caught in the glare of one of the
spotlights that were used for illumination in this part of
the shopping centre. For a long moment, she glowed, and I
knew at once that it was that time again. Heedless I rushed
forward and saw the danger. The robber pointed his gun at
Angela and screamed at her incoherently.

For the first time Angela and her friends were aware of the
danger. One of them screamed. Angela froze as she caught
sight of the barrel of the pistol. Some sort of .22 target
gun, I noted absently. I could see his finger curl round the
trigger as he took up the slack in it. I half dived in front
of him, putting myself between the gun and Angela and pushed
her away and to the side with all of my strength. I could
see her go down and heard the bang of the pistol almost
simultaneously. Angela seemed to fall in slow motion and the
crack of the gun seemed insignificant, something like the
sound that a toy might make.

I felt a tap on my back near my shoulder. It was almost as
if the robber was trying to get my attention so I would get
out of the way. For an instant, I thought he hadn't shot me,
but then I felt a strange weakness and, all of a sudden, I
was falling myself, my legs unable to sustain my weight. The
sounds that had seemed muted returned with full vigour and
my head reverberated with the screams and cries of shocked
shoppers. I felt a pair of hands holding my face and I
opened my eyes to see Angela's eyes very close to mine and
filled with tears.

"Mark? Oh God, Mark! What has he done to you?"

I wondered why I couldn't feel any pain, and then I could,
and I screamed as the wound in my back made itself felt. I
could hear Angela shouting that I wasn't to be moved and
then slowly, ever so slowly, the scene before me faded to
blackness…

.oOo.

The shock of the bullet hitting me was still fresh in my
mind as I popped through the last bubble. I thought I knew
what was going on now; at least I didn't think there was
anything else for me to experience. Even though I was
certain that I knew what was coming, I felt strangely calm,
which may have been something to do with the inevitability
of the process, or maybe it was just inherent in the
situation. Either way I was grateful, whatever was going to
happen next it was better to be calm than to be panicking
and incoherent.

It seemed that I wasn't ever going to re-experience the
barely remembered thrill of the first time that I held a
girl's bare breast, licked a nipple or saw a pussy. The most
feeling that I could dredge up was a mild disgruntlement. I
let my mind wander over the last decade or so and I felt
content. I'd made a difference. How many people could say
that about themselves? Without my intervention Angela would
have been dead, disfigured, raped or with a criminal record.
I let myself wallow in the good feeling.

Still it would have been nice to remember that time with…

I noticed for the first time that the blackness was looking
distinctly grey with overtones of pink. Then I saw a shaft
of bright light, at the same time I could hear the sound of
someone calling my name. Mentally, I squared my shoulders,
and moved towards the light…

Now
===

"Mark. Wake up Mark." I opened my eyes and blinked, blinded
by the strong light that a blurry shape was shining into
them.

"He's awake!" The voice sounded strangely familiar. I tried
to turn my head towards the voice but nothing happened, so I
moved my eyes instead. Another blurry figure swam into view.
"Thank God he's woken up!" I blinked rapidly and suddenly my
eyesight cleared. It was Susan! Another figure appeared, my
Mother!

"Oh Mark…" I could see tears streaming down both their
faces. I tried to say their names but all I could manage was
a strangled croak. Someone stuck a tube between my lips and
squeezed a sip of water into my mouth. It seemed to
disappear before it reached my throat.

"More?" I tried to nod and was rewarded by the feel of my
head moving. Another squirt, and some of it reached my
throat. I nodded again and received a further squirt for my
trouble. Eventually, I reached the point where my mouth felt
like it would work and I shook my head slightly. The tube
was withdrawn. I tried to speak. Again the words sounded
strangled and weak to my ears, but the two women smiled and
cried as if I'd made them the happiest people in the world.
After several attempts I managed to say what I wanted to
say.

"Mum, Susan, what happened?"

Before they could answer the first voice interrupted. "We'd
rather you remembered as much as you can before we tell you
anything, what's the last thing that you recall?"

With much croaking and a few more sips of water I managed to
answer his question.

"I was trying to push Angela out of the way of some madman
with a gun. I remember someone screaming and feeling like
I'd been punched in the back, and then it was just black."

"You were shot. You lost a lot of blood, but you were very
lucky, your shoulder blade stopped the bullet from entering
your lung, though it did quite a bit of damage in the
process. I think we managed to repair most of it. You seem
to have healed very well indeed, however you've been in a
coma for almost a year. I was beginning to think you were
never coming out of it. But these ladies persevered and here
you are." The doctor smiled at Susan and my Mother.

Susan spoke first, "You're a bloody hero!"

I shook my head in irritation. "Was Angela all right?"

"Of course. She probably saved your life in return by
stopping them from moving you until the paramedics arrived.
The surgeon said that moving you in the wrong way might have
allowed the bullet to end up somewhere dangerous."

I grunted at that. "I don't see how even Mrs Peters could
blame me this time."

There was a half-gasp from the other side of the room. I
turned my head and focused on the source of the noise. It
was Angela's mother! "Sorry." I wasn't sorry at all
actually, but one had to obey the forms, "I didn't see you
there."

"Before you say anything that you might regret I think you
should know that Angela and her mother have been helping us
with our vigil." I nodded; there wasn't a lot I could say. I
felt my eyelids drooping. The image of a string of pearls
floated into my mind. Oddly they seemed familiar, but even
as I tried to concentrate on them they faded from view. The
last thing I remember hearing as sleep took me was the
doctor shooing everyone away.

"I think that's enough for now; he needs some rest."

.oOo.

I'd been out of my coma for a couple of weeks and today was
the day that I would get to sit up on my own. The last
fortnight had been a continual round of physiotherapy.
Yesterday, they removed the last drip; it was a relief to be
able to move both of my arms freely without worrying about
dislodging anything. All of the monitoring equipment had
been removed. The room looked pretty much like any private
hospital room. The door opened and Susan came in, she looked
worried.

"Is everything all right?"

"Mark I have to show you something." She took a deep breath,
"If it makes you cross, I'm sorry, but at the time I felt I
needed to put right some wrongs, and the doctors were
worried that you would never regain consciousness, so I
wrote an article about you."

"What kind of article?"

She held a folded newspaper out to me, "This kind."

I opened the paper and started to read.

------

Guardian Angel in our Midst?
by Susan Jennings

Shot youth still in coma after rescuing same girl
11 times.

Today a young man lies in a coma. 6 months ago he
risked his life to save the life of young woman,
the daughter of his neighbour. Without a second
thought he 'took a bullet' as the American Secret
Service say. This is an amazing story of itself.
However, this is not the end of the tale.

6 months after the Building Society robbery, Mark
Connors, 18, is still in a coma. He was shot by a
robber while protecting neighbour Angela Peters.
Mark's "taking the bullet" for Angela is the 11th
time he's rescued her. Instead of recognition, all
he got was slander and abuse. Having been
neighbour to Mark and Angela since their birth,
and having witnessed or taken part in most of the
events described below, I feel obligated to tell
Mark's story. It seems uncertain now that he will
ever regain consciousness, and I am again hearing
disparaging remarks against his character, so I
wish to set the record straight.

1990

The first incident happened when Mark was 7 and
Angela 4. Mrs Peters, Angela's mother, left her
outside in her pushchair while doing purchases.
When the pushchair was jostled by a dog and began
to roll downhill, Mark stopped it. Alarmed by her
daughter's cries, Mrs Peters jumped to conclusions
and accused Mark of trying to hurt her daughter.

1991

On the same downhill street, Mark prevented a
runaway shopping trolley from crushing Angela,
taking himself, the brunt of the shock. When she
found him holding the trolley and her daughter
crying, Mrs Peters deduced he was responsible.
This became a pattern. Over the years, Mark would
leave the scene of a rescue, even if he had been
injured, rather than risk the inevitable tirade.

1992

Mark saved Angela as she fell from the climbing
frame that used to be in the local playground. He
broke her fall, but at the cost of a broken nose,
a mild concussion and a bleeding scalp wound. He
told no one of the cause of his injuries.

1993

When swimming in the river with all the
neighbourhood children, Angela got caught in the
reeds. Mark was able to untangle her and bring her
close to shore. Mrs Peters heaped further abuse on
him for apparently upsetting her daughter.

1994

This is the first incident I witnessed in full.
Angela stepped onto a street just as a car swept
around a blind bend. The driver of the car,
distracted by a conversation, never saw her. Mark
grabbed her and pulled her out of the car's way.
Before Mark or I could speak to explain the
situation, a weeping Angela's mother berated Mark
for injuring her daughter, struck him and knocked
him to the ground.

1995

Angela and her friends played a trick on Mark in
the local department store, slipping lingerie
items into his bag while he was browsing in the
bookstore. Mark realised their actions when a
guard stopped him, and managed escaping an
accusation of theft. As Angela and her accomplices
had been caught on CCTV, they would probably have
been arrested along with him.

1996

When Mark witnessed Angela and her friends pushing
childish experimentation too far and saw Angela
drinking half a bottle of brandy, he intervened
and tried - successfully - to make her vomit to
avoid alcohol poisoning. Covered in regurgitated
brandy and half digested food, Mark helped the
drunken girl to leave the woods and to make their
way back to her house. I came upon them as they
were leaving the woods and Mark asked me to 'phone
for an ambulance. Unfortunately by now Angela's
friends had alerted Mrs Peters and Mark was
accused of being drunk and assaulting her
daughter. The timely arrival of the paramedics
prevented the crowd from lynching him.

1997

Mark protected Angela from serious injury by a
falling scaffolding pole. He pushed her from the
path of the pole. As a result, he suffered
lacerations from the chips thrown up from the
paving stones and severe bruising to his shoulder.
Unwilling even to attempt to explain his
participation in a rescue, Mark was already
leaving the scene when I caught up with him and
persuaded him that he needed hospital treatment.

1998

Mark intervened when a gang of bullies assaulted
Angela. The injuries that she had already received
required in-patient treatment. In a tragic twist
to the usual aftermath to one of these incidents,
Mark received a beating from the gang for
interrupting their 'sport' and was yet accused by
Mrs Peters of being part of said gang.

1999

When the temporary seating at the local stadium
collapsed, Mark was able to catch Angela,
preventing her from being crushed, and dislocating
his elbow. Despite the pain, he also pulled me and
many others out of danger - he was the "mystery
youth" whose praises could be found in many
newspapers at the time. Despite several weeks in a
sling, Mark felt that he had got off lightly, as
he wasn't the target of abuse from Mrs Peters.

2000

Seing Angela slip out of her window at night to
meet her boyfriend in the park, and feeling that
she was out of her league with the older boy, he
followed her. Angela was about to be sexually
assaulted, and possibly raped, when Mark
interrupted them. She escaped relatively
unscathed, but Mark received a severe beating from
the enraged 'boyfriend'. Only the intervention of
my boyfriend and me prevented a real tragedy. By
now Mark had garnered an unwarranted reputation as
a troublemaker and a thug, so he received no
sympathy for his condition, which kept him
bedridden for several weeks.

2001

Today, as Mark lies in a coma after putting
himself between a gunman and Angela, that same
reputation is causing people to question the truth
of what happened six months ago. He can't - and
wouldn't - defend himself, so I am doing it for
him. Mrs Peters sometimes calls her daughter 'my
Angel'; I have to tell you now that, by his
actions, Mark has proved himself to be an Angel
too, at least in my eyes, and now, I hope, in
yours.

------

"Jesus, Susan! What possessed you to write this?" I could
feel the blush spreading across my face. "How will I ever be
able to face people again?" I moaned as I imagined everyone
staring at me and whispering. I almost preferred being a
pariah!

"Proudly, I hope." The sound of my mother's voice made me
turn towards her. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I
can't tell you how proud I was when I read Susan's article.
Why didn't you say something?"

"I don't know, it didn't matter what I did, I seemed to get
in the shit for it, eventually I gave up trying. The worst
of it was that you were disappointed in me, and there was
nothing I could do about it." I sighed. "Susan knowing kept
me sane, but once she left to go to college…"

My mother came close and hugged me fiercely. "I'm so proud
of you I could burst." I felt her tears on my cheek and then
she sat up and dabbed at her eyes.

I turned to Susan, "How did you persuade your editor to
publish it?"

"It was a quiet news day. I'd already written it, so I just
asked him if there was room for a human-interest story. It's
not my best piece, but it's the first thing I wrote that has
my by-line, and I can't tell you how pleased I am that I
wrote it about you - my surrogate little brother."

.oOo.

I woke to see that I was not alone; Susan and Angela were
sitting, talking quietly to one another. I felt uneasy and I
could not work out why I had woken when I did. I looked
about to see if I could see the see the reason why. Then I
noticed that Angela was, once more, surround by a pale glow.
Something tugged at my memory and then I remembered. Oh
shit, Angela was in some sort of danger!

"Angela, are you all right?"

The two of them turned to look at me, startled. I was
surprised to see tears running down Angela's cheeks. She saw
the concern in my expression and, for some reason, she cried
harder.

"Susan, what's wrong? Angela's in danger!"

"How do you know?"

I struggled to think of a way of explaining things and then
I gave up. I didn't have time for fancy explanations, and I
was in no fit state to help Angela this time!

"When I was in the coma I relived all of the times I helped
Angela. After a while I noticed that each time, a short time
before I would see the danger to Angela, a sort of glow
would surround her. Not long afterwards, I would need to
take some action to save her. I have to tell you she's
surrounded by the same glow now, and I don't see how I'm
going to be able to do anything useful when the time comes."

Susan nodded in understanding while she cradled a crying
Angela in her arms. Then she smiled a beatific smile at me.
"I think this time the threat is emotional and not physical.
I think you'll be able to help her just fine." With that she
guided Angela, who was still sobbing abjectly, from her seat
in front of the window and into the chair by the bed. She
shook the crying girl gently and spoke firmly to her.

"You have to tell him, tell him everything."

"How can I?"

"You just have to. One way or another, you owe him that
much." Angela nodded as the words registered. She took a
deep, shuddery breath and spoke more firmly.

"All right I will."

"I'll leave you to it then. Don't worry; you'll be all
right. You'll see." And with these cryptic, but reassuring
remarks on her lips, Susan left the room.

"What do you have to tell me?"

"I don't know where to begin." She groaned, "It's all such a
mess!"

"Start at the beginning, pretend you're talking to a
stranger. I practically am anyway; even though we live next
door to each other, I hardly know you."

"Yeah well, my mum…" I smiled and nodded to show that I
understood and that it wasn't her fault. She sat silent for
a while, trying to work out where she should start. I
waited, trying to look encouraging. She gave me a small
smile and started speaking.

"Ever since I was little, I've felt like someone was
watching me, not all the time, just when I was in real
trouble, and not in a bad way. Just, y'know, comforting. I
used to tell my mum that I had a guardian angel. Mum never
liked you. I don't think it was you exactly; it was just
because you were a boy. I guess she never got over the way
that Dad had treated her." Her voice broke slightly and she
calmed herself with a deep breath. "Most of the time, I knew
that you had saved me, but mum always blamed you. When I
tried to explain later, she would never listen. In the end,
I gave up trying. I'm sorry. When I saw the article… when I
saw everything written down in a long list like that, I
realised that…" She stopped unable to continue. I put out my
hand and held hers; she gripped it strongly. It felt so
right for me to be holding her hand, so when she carried on
I didn't let go. She must have felt the same thing because
neither did she.

"When you saved me from being shot, it was so public I
thought 'this time it will be all right, no one can say that
this didn't happen'. And within a couple of months I heard
my mother being derogatory about you. I was just devastated.
You were in hospital, in intensive care and she wouldn't
recognise what you did! Then Susan wrote the article. It was
just the ammunition I needed. I made her read it and then
told her all the things I remembered about you; about us;
about the times you saved me. At first she said it was all a
lie, but this time I wouldn't let her get away with it. I
realised that she had to deny it all; otherwise, it would
mean admitting to herself that she'd made a mistake,
probably the biggest mistake she'd ever made, and that she'd
been making it for over a decade." Angela had started to cry
again, her tears rolling unheeded down her perfect cheeks. I
stared at her, entranced by the sheer perfection of her
face. I watched her lips as she spoke and I wondered what it
would be like to kiss them. It was quite a while before I
became aware that she had stopped talking.

"Sorry, I was daydreaming." I blushed darkly at being caught
out like that. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and
smiled crookedly.

"Oh? What about?" I blushed some more and stammered out my
reply.

"Y… you."

"What about me?" She was enjoying this, I could see. She
grinned as she spoke, shy and challenging at the same time.

"I was…" I took a deep breath, "I was wondering what it
would be like to kiss you."

It was her turn to blush and then miraculously, she leant
forward and kissed me. It was chaste and promising, intense
and teasing, and totally wonderful. After an eternity we
broke apart. "Wow!" we spoke simultaneously and then giggled
as we realised that we had done so.

"So now you don't have to wonder do you?" She smiled again,
"So now that I've satisfied your curiosity can I get on with
what I was saying?"

I blushed again and stammered another apology, "S… Sorry."

"You're so cute when you blush." And she kissed me again!

"Now where was I? Oh yes, the row. I left my mum staring at
the paper with the article in it and went round to your
house. I was feeling so guilty; there I was, wallowing in
self-pity and your mum was coping almost on her own. Not
knowing if you were ever going to wake up again. When she
came to the door I saw that she had been crying, and she was
holding the paper too. We hugged and I babbled on and on
about how sorry I was and how I wished that I'd been shot
instead of you. Then she got cross with me, 'Mark didn't
spend eleven years keeping you alive and blameless just so
some maniac could shoot you!' I asked her why she didn't
hate me, knowing all the time that your bad reputation was
totally unjustified? And she said she always knew that her
son was good. But the article was a shock to her too. I
heard a gasp and I turned to see my mum standing behind me.
She told me she was sorry and she told your mum she was
sorry too."

Her tears were back and I took the initiative and kissed
them away. She sighed. "I've been dreaming of doing this
with you." I stopped kissing her face and looked at her. "We
decided to help your mother with the vigil that she had been
keeping, so for the next few months there was one of with
you at all times. We talked to you; we read to you; we
played your favourite music. After a month or so I ran out
of small talk and I started talking to you about the times
that you saved my life and stuff. As I did I came to realise
that I'd been hiding my feelings for you from myself for
years and years." She started to sob, "It's all so bloody
awful. How can you stand to be with me? My mum made you a
pariah, and all along, you were only guilty of saving my
life!"

"Would it help if I told you that I love you?" I was
shocked. Where had that come from? Even as my mouth was
taking on a life of its own, I recognised the truth of what
I had said. But before I could think about it any further I
found myself in a desperate hug with a crying girl. I tried
to achieve a lighter tone, "If I knew it was going to upset
you I would've kept my mouth shut."

She smiled a watery smile and punched me lightly on the arm.
"I realised that I loved you, Mark."

"So why are you upset? Don't you like being in love?"

"Not when the person I'm in love with probably hates my
guts."

"I hadn't noticed that I felt that way, was it something I
did?"

She hugged me again. "How could you keep on doing it? Saving
my life all those times and my mum always making trouble for
you afterwards?" I was about to say something flippant but I
stopped. It would have been the wrong thing to do. So I
thought about her question and answered it seriously. I
debated whether to say anything about what I had discovered
about why her mother had started disliking me. It didn't
seem the right time for it, but the understanding that came
with the memory helped me.

"Most of the time things happened so quickly that there
wasn't time to think. I mean, who wouldn't pull a child from
the path of a car, f'rinstance, if they were in a position
to? I must admit I didn't enjoy the things your mum said
about me at the time but they were soon over and I knew what
really happened. And then when Susan saw what was going on,
it was comforting to know that there was at least one other
person that knew the truth." I stopped and thought for a
bit. "As we grew older I became aware that I always knew
where you were, if you were nearby. I'd get a tingle of
anticipation when I saw you. I liked watching you. So I
think it was inevitable that I'd be able to help you when
things happened. Just now it all clicked in to place: I love
you. It seems that I always have."

Throughout my impromptu speech she remained in my arms. She
felt good there and for a long while we just held each
other. The sound of a throat being cleared came as a shock
to both of us. We jerked apart and turned to see who it was.

"Don't mind me," Susan smirked at us. "You make a lovely
couple. It's about time that you admitted what you felt for
each other."

"What will mum say?" Angela groaned as she rehearsed the
probable reaction of her mother, and then she snuggled
closer in an effort to escape from the visions.

"She will say that it's good that at least one member of her
family shows some judgement when it comes to men." Angela
turned to see her mum in the doorway, smiling broadly. Both
of us gaped at the matter-of-fact way that her mum seemed to
accept us. "Oh, close your mouths, will you? There's a bus
route nearby, they might mistake you for the Blackwall
Tunnel!" We closed our mouths in unison. "Why are you so
surprised? It's been obvious for months that Angela was in
love with you. My only concern, once it became certain that
you were going to wake up and not stay in a coma, was that
you might not feel the same way." She smiled at us both,
enjoying our dumbfounded expressions. "Since it's clear that
you do love her too, that's that." She looked pleased with
herself, it was not often that she had the satisfaction of
rendering her daughter speechless with astonishment, and it
was obvious that the feeling was surprisingly good. We were
both still too startled to speak, and the silence
lengthened. "What? I'm hardly likely to object am I? Without
you, I wouldn't have a daughter at all." At this her brittle
façade crumbled and she sat on the bed and sobbed quietly.
"I never said… I didn't know how… Shit! I promised myself I
wouldn't cry. Mark - God, this is so inadequate. Mark, I'm
sorry for the way I treated you. I owe you… I owe you
everything."

I relinquished her daughter and leaned forward to hold her.
"There was never any question about doing what I did. You
don't owe me a thing, but I'll take your daughter anyway."
She stiffened a little at this, "as long as you'll have me
for a son?"

"You're supposed to ask me first, Mark Connors!" I grinned
at the outrage in Angela's voice but I could see that her
expression belied her tone. "Even though you didn't ask me,
the answer is, yes."

"I'm glad that's settled then." Susan smiled at us from the
other side of the room. "It wouldn't do for our little angel
to be without her guardian angel now would it?" A stray beam
of sunlight broke through the clouds and struck Angela's
head, turning her hair into a golden halo. It seemed that
approval was universal! I lay back into my pillows and
looked at my angel and was content.

-Fin-

--
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