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go_exchange2019-12-05 05:37 am
Happy Holidays, nevernooitniet!
Summary: Miss Fell believes in fighting for equality. She also believes there's a civil way to do it. Miss Crowley disagrees. That may be why Miss Crowley has found herself in prison as a notorious suffragette.
Rating: G
Suffering Suffrage
The guard was courteous at least as he lead Miss Fell through the prison. She had heard so many unpleasant stories about these places, about the sort of treatment the prisoners had to endure, that she had half-expected to be harassed from the moment she stepped inside the austere building. Instead the worst she had endured was some nasty looks from the clerk who had checked her in.
The guard, Officer Collins, was of the more gentle sort, at least when it came to whoever he considered a lady. He was still sexist of course, nearly everyone was, but it was of the more doting and protective brand.
“I want to thank you for coming in today, Miss Fell,” he said. “I know we don't see eye-to-eye on everything...”
Like the need for the empowerment of half the species, Miss Fell thought but did not say. It was a thought that she frequently did not say, at least not so bluntly. She was a suffragist, but she also prided herself on her manners. It was a difficult line to walk, being polite while also fighting to change society on a fundamental level.
“...but I think we can agree that things have gotten to a dire enough stage to warrant working together.”
Miss Fell pressed her lips into a thin line. “Things have been dire for quite some time, Officer. It's unfortunate that it takes something like this for you to recognize it.”
Officer Collins looked pained. He didn't like having a lady mad at him. Miss Fell didn't know if that was a sign that he was suited to working in a women's prison or not. “Miss, please, I...well, I know we disagree but...For God's sake, she hasn't eaten in two weeks!”
Two weeks? Oh dear, that was taking things quite far. Miss Fell felt ashamed to think it but it was hard for her to imagine going two weeks without food for anything, even a cause as important as suffrage. She couldn't help feeling impressed. And angry. Anyone who read the papers should be angry these days.
“Two weeks?” Miss Fell said with a sniff. “I'm surprised your lot didn't resort to force-feeding her long ago. That's been your specialty lately, hasn't it?”
There was a complex play of emotions across Officer Collins' face. There was shame there, but also a strong streak of stubbornness, as though he was both ashamed to be force-feeding ladies and ashamed to not be in this particular case. There was also the stubbornness, which suggested that he also felt ultimately justified in his actions and it wasn't the place of some lady civilian to be questioning them.
It was an intricate expression, but Miss Fell was very good at reading people. Well, most people.
They stopped in front of a cell. Like all of the ones they had passed it offered only the barest of comforts. The difference was, this cell looked empty. That is, it did until Miss Fell noticed the small lump of cloth in the far corner. Underneath it was a pile of skin and bones in a roughly human shape. Miss Fell sucked in a breath. She had never seen her like this before.
“Oh, Miss Crowley!” Miss Fell cried. “You look on the edge of death!”
As Officer Collins hurried to unlock the cell, the form on the ground began to uncoil. Miss Fell rushed to her side.
“Is that you, Miss Fell?” Miss Crowley asked weakly. “Or is it the angels calling my name at last?”
“Please leave us,” Miss Fell said desperately to the officer as she stooped and cradled her friend. “Oh, please give me a moment with my dying friend.”
Normally guards weren't supposed to leave visitors alone with prisoners, but Officer Collins felt it was warranted in this case. After all, the prisoner was hardly in a state to go anywhere. Best to give some harmless ladies their privacy.
As soon as he was gone Aziraphale dropped her companion unceremoniously onto the floor.
“Ow!” yelped Crowley. “Was that really necessary? I'm bloody dying here, you know.”
“Of all the ridiculous things!” Aziraphale exclaimed indignantly. “You're the one being unnecessary! Not eating for two weeks and making yourself look like a living skeleton! You've scared the whole prison out of their wits!”
Crowley grinned. “No, that's what I do whenever they come around with the feeding tube. Let them see just a bit of demon to make them piss themselves and run away!”
Aziraphale tried to frown disapprovingly but couldn't help smirking slightly at the thought. Crowley, of course seized the opportunity to press his advantage. “And really you should be supporting me! It's all in the name of our common cause, isn't it?”
Now Aziraphale was able to be properly angry. “Oh, a common cause, is it? Yes, I'm sure you've been having your fun breaking windows and starting fires and who knows what else in the name of spreading peace and equality. Admit it, the whole reason you're even here is just because you enjoy causing chaos.” She crossed her arms and turned away in irritation.
At first Crowley scowled. But she couldn't stay angry, not with Aziraphale, never her. Not once in nearly 6000 years. “You know I could get in a lot of trouble for doing this, right? My folks aren't always going to buy sowing discord as an excuse.”
That gave Aziraphale pause and she turned back to Crowley with wide eyes. “Are you saying that all your shenanigans as a suffragette have been in the service of hiding that you're ultimately fighting for a good cause?”
The angel was looking at her like she was some kind of martyr now, nobly fighting for the cause of equality despite the impossible position of being a demon. Crowley couldn't take it. “Don't be ridiculous, angel. I'm a suffragette because I'm sick of being talked down to when I take a female form. Causing mayhem isn't just fun, it's the only way that gets any attention from the stupid blokes in power. I really wish you'd get that through your head.”
Aziraphale sighed and rolled her eyes. This again. They had had this debate plenty of times already; whether petitions, protests, and rallies were really enough to change the world. Aziraphale liked to believe they were. She liked to have faith in humanity and the possibilities of good, civil persuasion. However, deep in her heart Aziraphale sometimes had doubts. The men of Britain, never mind the world, held on to their power so tightly. They imprisoned women far more innocent than Crowley simply for wanting a voice in how their country was run.
She wasn't naive. Aziraphale knew that the fight for the vote was a symbol for so much more. It was about saying that women deserved to be heard and treated with the respect that men afforded each other as fully-rounded and intellectual beings. It was about being treated as a human being before being treated as a woman.
There were few fights that Aziraphale had ever been so passionate about.
She knew that it would always rank second for Crowley. Nothing would compare to the first fight for fairness she'd ever had.
Suddenly Aziraphale felt guilty. Maybe she didn't agree with Crowley's methods, but Crowley was not the sort to enter a political fray lightly. This meant something to her, something important. Aziraphale could respect that, despite herself. When she finally looked back at Crowley, it was with a more tender expression. Crowley didn't seem prepared for that. She shifted uncomfortably on the floor.
”So, uh, are you going to lecture me some more or...” She looked back at Aziraphale, awkward but perhaps the slightest bit hopeful.
“No, my dear,” Aziraphale said with a smile. She offered her a hand which became more of an arm and a shoulder as she helped raise Crowley's weakened body to her feet. “Forgive me, I had forgotten my manners. The officers here are releasing you into my custody until you 'regain your health'. What do you say to a late lunch?”
Crowley looked surprised, then she smiled and snapped her fingers, filling out instantly to her normal skinny but healthy weight. She smirked at the sight of herself and Aziraphale understood what she was thinking. Let the guards be baffled by the sight of her walking out under her own power. She wouldn't be back. She had too much more trouble to cause.
She exchanged a glance with Aziraphale and they both laughed. “Lunch,” Crowley said happily, “sounds perfect.”
And they left the prison arm-in-arm, knowing full-well that no bars in the world would ever keep them apart.
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Crowley getting out of prison by pretending to starve to death is fantastic, and I love Aziraphale's reaction (we're immortal beings who don't need to eat at all, but OMG TWO WEEKS without food?!).
I loved this!
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