At first when he left the Metatron's presence, he couldn't believe what he heard. He told himself uncertainly that it was the dilution of the voice from God on High to a voice a mere Wordbound Mercurian could hear. That was the only reason it didn't make sense. It was the only reason.

The scroll the Metatron had handed to him and told him to read after he left was clenched in one white-knuckled, shaking hand.

It couldn't be real. It couldn't be real.

After a moment his fingers unclenched and he unfurled the scroll to read.

Rebellion... join with... you will be... with the other side... our agent... serve us though you suffer...

The words made no sense. They just made no sense.

He began shaking, then laughing, raising his hands to his face to cover the tears as they leaked onto the page.

It was like something snapping, breaking free, his faith shaken, and he tilted his head back to scream at the sky, at the Higher Heavens, "How the *fuck* is this fair?? How can you do this to me?! I'm an angel! Where's your *mercy*?!"

Silence. God had given him orders and expected him to obey without question.

The scroll crumpled in his fist again, smeared beyond recognition.

Silence. The only sound his breathing loud in his ears, chuckling sobs rising, starting so low he couldn't pinpoint where they came from.

"I might as well," he said, as if from far away, and understood. This wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, and so he might as well side with Lucifer, Lucifer who had promised him laughter that never ended, but that understood more of humanity. He felt, tasting the ache in his chest, that there *was* more to humanity than the joy he'd felt. He'd never hurt so much; did humans feel this?

He let the paper fall and turned, his white wings behind him. It wasn't fair, he murmured in his head, as he walked towards Lucifer's meeting of angels. It wasn't fair.

When Heaven wasn't fair, what more was left for him?