I was old. Old and fragile. My gnarled limbs and joints ached in winters. Catharax had taken over my eyes. My hair, once jet-black, dark as a night, Was now white as fresh snow. It was still long and thick, but as fragile as the rest of me. My skin, once adored, reminded an old, dried up parchment, stretched thin over my features. My body, once praised and lusted after, was now gnarled and hunched over, hollow husk. My teeth were not my own, I couldn’t hear properly. My body was slowly letting me down. Yet here I stood, every year. Same night, same time. When I heard the sound of the motorcycle pulling up the driveway I straightened my stance a bit. I still had my pride left.
“Sparrow.” He was the only one who still used my codename. Oh, of course others still called me with it too, sometimes, but with a mocking tone. My powers were fading, and I was just an old woman, more of a burden than a blessing. He didn’t mock.
“Wolverine.” I bowed my head slightly; he was after all my elder. This young, furious ox of a man standing in front of me, scent of cigars and gasoline clinging to him. He took my hands to his own, palms wide and warm under my dried, crippled fingers. Kissed my knuckles and breathed warmth over them. Arthritis. At first it took my wrists, then spread lower to my palms and fingers. Now it was creeping up my arms, and I knew that before summer it would reach my elbows.
“How have you been?” He asked, sitting on top of the gravestone and lifting me sitting on his lap, wrapping his jacket over my shoulders. It was so big and heavy I felt like I could crumble under it.
“You didn’t come here to listen me rambling about my aches and troubles.” He cleared his throat and nodded. It had been like this for six years now. Ever since I started to go blind. I think that was when he realized I would eventually die. He wasn’t as much worried about me. He was more worried about what would happen after I was gone. Because after I was gone, there would be nobody left for him. Absolutely nobody who could take him to Marie. I lifted my hand and trailed my fingers over his rough features. Dark eyes, strong nose, jaw and lips. He closed his eyes and wrapped his hands around me, hugging me carefully, like I might break if he were to squeeze too hard.
“Take me there, little Sparrow…” He whispered to my ear. That’s all what it took. Usually I had to concentrate for hours, sometimes even for days to perform the smallest possible task, but for him…
All he had to do was to ask, and I was able to fly again. His soul twirling around me, tangling to my feathers, making me strong again. I was just a little sparrow, but with him I was able to soar like an eagle. He patched up my damaged feathers, straightened my gnarled bones and soothed aching muscles. Up, up, through the clouds, through levels of time and space, until we reached the Gates. They stood in front of us, shimmering white, radiating light. And they were closed.
“Higher, little Sparrow. Higher…” Whisper inside of me. He was shifting now, molding me to a different shape. Never had he done this before. Never had those gates been closed to us before. My body was getting bigger, his power flowing in my veins, stretching and shaping. I could see my image reflecting from the gate’s surface. No longer a grey sparrow. Beady eyes of a hooded crow stared at me from my reflection. No longer a visitor, but something much more sinister.
“I’m sorry…” I could still hear his voice.
“Fly!” Stern command made me gain altitude fast. Faster than I had ever flown. We reached the top of the Gate. On the other side Guardian was waiting. Ageless figure shrouded with tattered veils, wielding a wooden pole.
“Find her!” Message burning in to my brain, making me to go on even when I felt him slipping away from me. From the corner of my eye I could see him dropping on his haunches in front of the guardian, light from the portal reflecting from his claws.
“Find her! Find her! Find her!” Over and over again. My head started to hurt, but I couldn’t disobey. I had to keep looking until I found her. My wings hurt. Light burned my eyes. I wanted to scream, but all that came out was a croak. Croak after croak. Hooded crow. Thief in Limbo. Looking for one jewel from a pile of kitsch.
There was still link between us, thin, golden straw from my tail feathers to him. Through that link I felt every blow he took. Through that link I felt every strike he made. Like I was standing right beside him. Like I was fighting for him. When I finally found her, I was exhausted. I fell from the sky, not caring what would happen once I reached the ground. She was there, arms wide open, and caught me. Marie. The one he had come for. At the same moment when she touched me, I felt something break. Horrible pain crept up along my left wing, and I could hear pained growl echoing from the distance. Shard of metal fell from under my wing. Piece of his claw. She kneeled and picked it up. Her hands wrapped around me tighter.
“Take me there!” New strength filled me. No longer a hooded crow. Just a little sparrow again. I clutched that small sliver of metal with my tiny claws. She was steering me towards the battle. Soon I could see two figures circling each other in the distance.
She told me to be quiet as a mouse. We flew almost soundlessly over the landscape, approaching the Guardian from behind. Creature’s whole attention was turned to Wolverine. Just as it looked like I was about to crash against that enormous back she made me turn over and thrust that small sliver of metal in front of me. It sunk deep. Guardian howled and fell on its knees. We skirted past it, swooped down and took Wolverine with us.
Air started to get cold. My wings were getting numb. I couldn’t feel the wind under them anymore. But I could hear his voice again.
“Just a little more, my Sparrow…” Just a little more. For him. Wind picked up again, and we flew over the Gate.
I’m still old, gnarled and achy. Maybe even more now than ever before. I don’t have my power left. It burned up somewhere between Limbo and her grave when we pulled her out of there. All I can do is to sit on my rocking chair, hands resting on my lap. I sleep often. Short naps, my head bowed against my chest. I can’t see. I can’t feel. I can’t hear. Except every year. Same night, same time. They come to me. Both young and healthy. For a few hours everything is bright as a day. Wolverine and Rogue. He still calls me his little Sparrow. Nobody around here knows them anymore. They assume those young strangers are my grandchildren. We have the same features if you look close enough. We are family. Proud papa and mama visiting their daughter.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sparrow belongs to me, rest is borrowed. Some day I may get her story finished. Luckily she's sleeping now.