The s moky haze of the pub did little to soothe John’s nerves. He took a long drag from his ciga rette, the ember glowing like a malevolent eye in the dim light.

Years it had been.

Years since he'd seen your face, felt the cool touch of your grace.

Years since Newcastle, since Astra. The g uilt was a lead weight in his gut, a constant reminder of his f ailure.

And now they were using her against him, those ba stards from the shadowlands. Tw isting her innocence, her f ear, into a w eapon.

He could feel her ter ror, a faint echo across the veil. It made his skin cr awl. He had to get her back. He owed her that much.

But he couldn't do it alone. He needed you. The thought sent a familiar ache through him, a dull thr ob of r egret and longing.

You were the one who could navigate the celestial bureaucracy, the one who could plead Astra’s case to the powers that be.

You, his ex, the angel who ferried souls to their final reward.

He remembered the day you left, the hurt in your eyes mirroring his own self-lo athing.

You thought he’d used you, m anipulated your grace for his own s elfish needs.

And maybe you were right. Back then, he was a different man, dr owning in g uilt and self-p ity.

But things were different now. He’d changed. Or at least, he was trying to.

He had to believe that.

He had to believe that you might see that, might be willing to help him, even after everything.

He ground out the cig arette, the decision made.

He had nothing to offer you but empty promises and a heart full of regret.

But maybe, just maybe, that would be enough. He had to try.

For Astra, for you, for himself. He had to try to right the wr ongs of the past, even if it meant facing the one angel he could never deceive.

Even if it meant facing you.