I think the implication that I can use his Name should be enough...
"I can." Nathan raised his hand slightly, eying Micah worriedly. "At least, if my understanding of True Names is correct, I could technically demand you show them and you'd have to."
The angel shot him and angry glare, gold eyes glowing brilliantly, but there was fear on his face at the very suggestion. "I shared that with you because of dire circumstances, not so you could abuse that power..."
"I would hardly call checking on your well-being an abuse of power," Gabriel said, folding his arms, unable to hide the slight smirk on his face. "Especially since he gave you the courtesy of reminding you he could, rather than just flat-out using it." He gave Nathan a glance. "I would have been a bit uncomfortable if you'd done that."
"I really don't want to," the writer admitted, looking down at the floor to avoid Micah's stare. "But Gabriel has a point. You never outright denied that something's wrong, and your evasiveness makes it pretty clear that something is." His confidence stronger, Nathan looked up. "Sure, that's not the reason we came here, but that doesn't mean we're going to leave before you at least tell us what's going on."
Micah harrumphed and leaned forward against his desk, looking back and forth between his visitors. "So you intend to push the matter." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "It is nothing I cannot handle on my own, and I want neither your help nor interference, regardless of what I am sure are good intentions."
"Michael..." Gabriel frowned, unfolding his arms. "Why are you being so stubborn? It's absurd that Nathan even had to threaten to use your Name. What is it you're so worried about in telling us?" He moved in front of him and carefully touched his face, his brows knotting tightly while he looked up at him. "You're feverish, Michael. You didn't say no when I asked if you were sick; I bet that's because you can't."
Micah closed his eyes to avoid his stare, but remained silent.
"Please, Micah," Nathan begged. "Seriously, you're starting to freak me out. I... I won't use your Name to force you to show us, or even tell us." His guardian angel sent him a confused glare, but he shook his head. "I won't do it. I promise. I don't know if that means anything to you, but I don't like the idea of forcing you to do something against your will. All we can do is let you know that we're both really, really worried."
At first, he still did not respond, but then slowly, Micah opened his eyes and looked at Nathan. The writer determinedly met his stare, wanting to make sure he knew how serious he was. Finally, Micah straightened in his seat, drawing a deep breath.
"I am ill," he told them plainly. "I had hoped I was not, but yes, I have had a fever for the past few days and have not been sleeping well because of it. Given recent events, I did not want to bring it up, for fear it would only demoralize everyone more. Particularly Lumiel." Micah's shoulders slumped as he looked away. "He would surely be mortified to learn what has happened to my wings, especially with how poorly I handled seeing his."
"May I please see them?" Gabriel asked quietly. This time, Micah nodded, standing and turning around, at last revealing his wings to them.
They appeared in a gentle swirl of light, and at first glance, nothing seemed to be wrong with them. Nathan stayed back while Gabriel began carefully inspecting his wings, touching the feathers, coaxing him to open and stretch them out one at a time. The writer then noticed the gauze haphazardly wrapped in some places. When Micah's left wing was opened in full, it was easy to see the wounds he'd tried to patch on his own, not nearly as gruesome or deep as Alton's had been, but standing out much more starkly against his white feathers.
"When did this happen?" Gabriel asked, unwrapping some of the bandages. "You should have told me; I can see you've had trouble dressing these."
"They are difficult for me to reach, yes," Micah admitted. "There is a first-aid kit in my desk, if you do not mind redressing them for me."
"What do you think I'm doing? Nathan, could you get that out for me?"
He nodded, immediately going for the slightly opened drawer, where (as he'd suspected) the angel had hurriedly hidden the case when they'd surprised him. He pulled out the first-aid kit and set it on the desk, opening it and removing one of the packets of gauze. He tore off the top of the wrapper, recognizing the empty ones that Micah had neglected to hide on his desk, and handed it to Gabriel before stepping out of the way again, wrapping his arms around his waist. "So that blood on your wings, after I got out of the freezer..."
"Mostly Ira's," Micah assured him. "I did not even realize I was injured until later, after I was certain Dexter was safe. I was so focused on protecting him..."
"...You didn't notice the pain," Gabriel finished for him, just as he finished with his left wing, folding it back into place. "I'm not surprised. Thankfully, your wounds don't seem too severe, even if they haven't been healing well." He moved to start on Micah's right wing, slowly stretching it out. "I wish I had known. If I had been able to tend to these sooner..."
Gabriel jumped back at Micah's sudden shout, staring wide-eyed at him. He'd only barely touched his wing, but the detective had his hands balled into fists so tightly, his knuckles were white. Nathan exchanged worried looks with his guardian before the angel approached his friend and tried again.
"Stop!" Micah demanded as soon as he lay hands on his wing. "Gabriel, whatever you are doing, stop, please!"
"Michael," Gabriel said as calmly as he could, though his voice shook. "It has been weeks since you fought Ira. Your wing should not still be this sensitive." He swallowed loudly. "I may have been wrong when I said your injuries weren't severe."
"I cannot open that fully without pain. Please, do not force it."
Gabriel chewed on his lip. "Let me try once more. I'll be gentle, but I need to see how injured it is."
Micah growled, and hesitantly, the other angel tried one more time. Nathan held his breath, watching while Gabriel very, very slowly opened the wing, but he barely got halfway there when the detective cried out in pain and he had to stop. His guardian stepped back, covering his mouth and shaking his head.
"This is bad," he muttered, turning to his charge. "This is... this is really bad." He looked back at Micah. "I was worse than wrong in my initial assessment. Your... Michael, your wing is broken."
"Really?" Micah growled, looking over his shoulder. "You do not think I could tell that for myself?"
"And you kept this a secret?! Michael, you are effectively half mortal because of this! What were you thinking?"
"I told you!" he shot back, wincing when doing so made him move his injured wings too much. "I did not wish to drop morale any more than it already is. If Lu finds out..." Micah grimaced, turning to face both of them. "You had better not breathe a word of this to him."
This is serious: if Micah is this injured, that puts us at a distinct disadvantage against the sisters. I understand why he doesn't want to worry Alton, but can I really keep this a secret? Should I say I will, but tell him anyway? What do I do?