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The baby was barely a few days old. He was nestled inside a Moses basket at the side of his parent’s bed as the two of them slept. A green blanket with tiny white sheep lovingly hand stitched was tucked around his tiny form. With bright blue eyes and rosy cheeks, the infant was the picture of innocence. He was also born for a greater purpose.Michael could see it already as he crouched down in front of the Moses basket. That aura of his, it was shining brighter than the saint had seen before. Michael could see the pulse of gold emanating from infant with every breath he took, it shone like a light in the darkness of the world.He reached out towards the baby, his palm coming to rest upon the child’s long torso. His fingers came to rest in the space where his heart beat, he could feel the constant thrum like a hummingbird underneath his fingertips.He closed his eyes, a smile twitching at his lips as the rush of images flowed through his mind. Already he could see the baby’s future, the man he was meant to become, the people that he would help.Michael pulled his hand away from the baby’s chest, instead using his fingertips to chuck the child underneath the chin.“Sleep well little one.” He murmured as infant stirred. “You have a long road ahead.” Nobody knew where the silver sovereign had come from. It had appeared beautifully wrapped amongst Dominick’s other christening gifts swaddled in a hand tied gold ribbon and blue wrapping paper. It was an oval design with the figure of Saint Michael etched into the surface, hanging on a silver chain with links that felt strong and sturdy.Isabelle Carisi had wanted to express their thanks to the generous gift giver. However, nobody seemed to know where it had come from.Whenever Isabelle held it, a sense of security would roll over her. It felt like every single worry she had ever had regarding her baby boy would wash away.That night she threaded the sovereign through the mobile that hung above Dominick’s crib so that Saint Michael could watch over him as he slept.Sonny couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t wear his Saint Michael medallion. He had carried it through his teenage years, even during track and swim meets. It had seen him through his adulthood, through good times and bad.Whenever Sonny had a crisis of faith, his fingers would seek out sovereign that hung around his neck. It gave him the comfort, it gave him strength. It reminded him to endure.When his lover Peter Stone had started receiving death threats Sonny didn’t even consider the ramifications of handing over the medallion. They had been wrapped up in one another, hearts pounding from the aftermath of their love making when Sonny had removed the sovereign from his throat and after some argument, fastened it around Peter’s neck.The thought of losing the Peter was deplorable. He loved Peter in a way that transcended words, he couldn’t imagine a world without him.It was late the next night when it happened. Peter had been rushing down the courthouse steps, late to meeting Sonny for dinner when the gunman had appeared in front of him. He had known he was going to die, he’d seen the squeeze of the trigger, heard the roar of the explosion. He had expected to feel the agony of the bullet tearing through his flesh but instead he felt nothing.That was when the screaming started.The gun had exploded in his attacker’s hand, propelling the shrapnel backwards into the other man’s head. His face had been a mask of blood as he tumbled down the steps, clutching at wounds.It had been an underloaded round, Peter was told later.His fingers ran over the silver sovereign through the material of his shirt. He felt it thrum against his fingertips. He knew somehow…That this necklace had saved his life.He returned it to Sonny that night, pressing his lips gently to his lover’s mouth and thanking him for the loan. There was no doubt in Peter’s mind that the medallion was special and in his line of work Sonny needed it more that Peter ever could. It was in his final moments that Sonny finally laid eyes on the entity that had been watching over him his entire life. At ninety-eight, his health had been in decline since Peter had passed away earlier on in the year.That day he was sitting in front of the window in his daughter’s house, tucked up in that red tartan blanket that he had come to love so much over the years. He watched as their grandchildren played outside on their bikes, laughing and smiling. He saw flickers of himself and Peter in every single one of them.“It’s time?” Sonny said inclining his head towards the dark-haired man who had appeared alongside of him.“Yes.” Michael responded in that hushed tone of his. “Peter is waiting.”A small smile tipped at the corners of Sonny’s mouth at the thought of seeing his husband again. He cast a final look at his grandchildren, savoring the happiness that radiated from them before uttering the words.“I’m ready.”