Da Capo Aria, pts IV-VI
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go_exchangeFor headers, see Pts I-III.
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yummycoffee, from your Secret Writer!
Part IV: Glissando
Derived from the French glisser, to slide, the Italianised word is used to describe sliding in music from one note to another. On the harp or piano this is achieved by sliding the finger or fingers over the strings or keys, and can be achieved similarily on bowed string instruments, and by other means on the trombone, clarinet, French horn and pedal timpani among others.
*~*~*~*
3:01 Ante meridiem
There had been a dispute over a drug deal, and since that had brought him to the area, Aziraphale dragged himself into one of the all-night bars in Madrid. The stiffness had settled in his tendons again, so much so that he was finding it difficult to walk properly, and he needed water. Thirst, he had decided, was the ultimate suffering. He had been on Earth since the Beginning, and even knew somebody who had experienced Hell firsthand, so he knew the tortures outside Heaven’s wall, and thirst was the worst. Aziraphale stumbled to the counter and called for several glasses of room-temperature water. Having it cold just made it worse. He downed them with alarming rapidity.
“Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, ‘I am thirsty.’”
Aziraphale, feeling his bones and muscles soften, turned to look at the man who had spoken. He was sitting on a bar stool, nursing a half-drunk glass of Tahitian Tea. At the sight of his aura, Aziraphale nearly fell backwards in his scramble to place distance between them, leaving his water on the counter.
“Please, drink as much as you like. I’ll even buy you some more,” he said. “There’s no weakness in it—thirst is unbearable. Even LORD the Almighty, through his Son on the Cross, had complained of only one thing: being thirsty. All other discomforts…nope, beared gracefully. But having every cell in the body shrivel and scream for water…why, that’s too much even for God Himself. So drink.”
Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at the man, whose tar-colored hair just graced his shoulders with unevenly cut, jagged edges. He was impeccably dressed in black and gray, with a leather coat that seemed to challenge even the richest men to even be able to afford to look at its price tag. He gave a spider’s smile, perfectly white teeth with canines that were perhaps a bit too sharp to be comfortable glistening with a mother-of-pearl sheen between pale lips.
--Lucifer, Aziraphale breathed. His hand automatically fell to his side in search for his sword, and he unconciously took another step backwards when he sensed it missing. As an angel he had no delusions towards his ability to hold up against the Morningstar in a fight, and his current state left him feeling little better. He was Death, to be sure, but that did not mean that Lucifer could not still damage him severely. He did not know what he could do in return to the Devil, and he decided rather quickly that he would not like the opportunity to find out.
Lucifer watched Aziraphale with eyes the color of newly sharpened knives.
“I’ve heard about you, Angel of the Eastern Gate. Or should I now say, Death? Please, I’m not here to fight. Come sit with me. I’ll even buy you some more water. The money’s even been legitimately gained,” Lucifer said, holding up a business credit card. “Come on, I want to talk to you.”
Nervous, but unable to resist the offer of unlimited water, Aziraphale hesitantly returned to the counter. Lucifer tilted his head, smiling happily.
“Hooray. Now sit. Bartender! As much water as you can charge at a time. And add a Black Russian. Now,” Lucifer said as he turned in his seat to face Aziraphale, leaning to the side so that he could prop up his arm and rest his head on his hand. “Why don’t you tell me about this promotion of yours.”
--It’s only for a day. It should not matter to you.
“Not in the long run, no. But I still want to know when a change has been made, especially when it concerns my new guests. And when it means a new Horseperson is being broken in. I know that His Royal pain in the ass is having His lovey-dovey sugar fest, but what I want to know is why El Elyon picked you to take Azrael’s job. I would have thought that Uriel would be the better choice. Or no, Gabriel. He was always good at killing a party. Which reminds me, does that prick still run the staff meetings?”
A little confused, Aziraphale nodded. Lucifer grimaced and stuck his tongue out in disgust.
“Ugh. Talk about the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’ll tell you, Moloch asked me once about why I staged the Rebellion so soon after I thought it up, and the truth is, is that the week after was the end of the year meeting, and we were all supposed to come up ways to increase our efficiency for the next year and I hadn’t done it yet. I am the ultimate procrastinator.”
--That was the reason? Aziraphale asked, dumbfounded.
“Complete truth, and believe me, take that when you can get it from me. What really made it great though was that, after we were in Hell for a while, I sent Gabriel my work proposal talking about how there should be a suggestion box for a positive outlet in expressing concerns, and that work improvement could be elevated by eliminating stupid staff meetings about work improvement.”
Despite himself, Aziraphale snorted and smiled against the rim of his waterglass. Lucifer laughed loudly and held up his drink.
“Oh how I wish I could have been there to see his face. Trust me, the absence of Gabriel is what makes Hell bearable. But enough of these digressions. Tell me. What was El Shaddai’s reasoning in picking you?”
--You should know, Aziraphale answered, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from his tone. Lucifer regarded him over his glass.
“And why is that?”
--Don’t play these mind games with me, First of the Fallen! Aziraphale snapped. –I know why you’re here. Why else would you be? The Great Punisher of Sins.
“And what would be your sin?”
Aziraphale glared at him.
“What?” Lucifer asked defensively. “I need to know what sin you committed if I am to know where to place you. I can’t have people just running all around Hell just as they please, the paperwork is bad enough as it is. So tell me what you did.”
--You already know! The whole situation with Adam and the end of the world and I—I went against God’s Plan. I defied Him, and now I’m no better than you. But I—the thought of killing all those people—
Lucifer tilted his head back and laughed loudly, his drink nearly sloshing on to the table from the abrupt motion and consequent shaking.
“Oh my,” he said in between gasps. “He must really like you to let you get away with that. Ah, Aziraphale of the Eastern Gate, I could drag you down right with me for that arrogance. Hell, I could even set you up in an official position in Pandaemonium and no one would say a word. You don’t seem to be doing it maliciously, though, or even intentionally. That’s probably the reason why He’s having you do this instead.”
--What are you talking about? Aziraphale asked, worry crawling an icy trail down his spine. Lucifer calmed himself and settled once again against the counter. When he spoke, his voice was low and full, each change in pitch sliding effortlessly into each other.
“Let me tell you something about the day of the Rebellion, Aziraphale. Something that no one else knows. After my duel with Michael and my consequent, and let me assure you, temporary, defeat, he pushed me out. However, before that, literally the second before I Fell, God spoke to me. He said that, if I were truly sorry, that if I didn’t mean it and if I still loved Him, He would forgive me. I didn’t accept, of course, and I Fell.”
--Why are you telling me this?
“The point is, Aziraphale, that God doesn’t really care if you go against Him. He doesn’t care if you disagree or do something differently. That’s what free will is all about. You claim that you’re being punished because you went against the Plan, but let me assure you that if you were going to be punished you would have been sent straight to me and you would currently be working under..well, I guess it would be Belphegor because one of his secretaries fell into the Phlegethon a while back and hasn’t come back yet…he’s short an employee. Anyway, like I said, if it had been a punishment, you would have been sent straight to me.”
Finished, Lucifer twisted back around and called for a Long Island Ice Tea.
”Is this my punishment?”
God halted in His tracks, but did not turn around. “A punishment?” He murmured. Aziraphale waited, hands shaking. “No. You have been on Earth for a while, my angel.”
Aziraphale watched a drop of water fall down the side of the glass into the circle of condensation on the counter.
--You were sent to me, he said. Lucifer, his lips to the rim of his glass, paused before he tilted his head back to take a sip.
“Say what?” he asked.
--I wasn’t sent to you. You were sent to me, Aziraphale explained. –You were right. This isn’t a punishment. It’s an admonishment.
“You’re smarter than I first gave you credit. But now it’s time to really impress me. What are you being admonished for?
Aziraphale wracked his brain for the answer, but he only kept coming back to his original thought.
--I…don’t know.
Lucifer sighed.
“Revel—“ he stopped. Aziraphale watched in confusion as a dawning realization crept across Lucifer’s face, and the Devil laughed in disbelief.
“That son of a bitch. I wonder if He didn’t stage the whole thing just for you. He must really, really like you. I’ll have to ask Him later.”
Lucifer shook his head and continued on. “As I was saying. Revelations. Chapter 22, verse 12.”
Aziraphale blinked at the easy reference to the Holy Bible, but he recited the text anyway.
--‘Behold, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to everyone according to what he has done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the—
Aziraphale cut himself off, and minor hyperventilation pulled at his lungs as he came to an understanding. Lucifer smiled and went back to his drink.
“Now you get it,” he said. “This wasn’t about stopping the Armageddon or ending daylight savings time on His World Clock to gain an extra hour. This was about thinking you had any control over killing people. As of right now, only God has the power of Creation, and since He is the End, it is only He who has the power of Destruction. You cannot kill men, Aziraphale. In the great scheme of things, they’re already dead. As Death, you would understand this. It is only their souls that matter, and how dare you think you could kill those.”
--I put myself on the level of God.
“Which I find myself in begrudging admiration for, by the way. And you weren’t even trying. Let me know if you ever want a different job. Benefits aren’t that great, but the pay is unmatched.”
--I understand…
“Aziraphale,” Lucifer said, regarding his companion seriously. “The real question is why did you really stop the end of the world? Only as Death can you answer it.”
Aziraphale stood.
--Thank you.
He made to leave, but as he reached the door, he turned back around.
--Oh, and, Lucifer?
“Hmm?”
--You aren’t dead. Not all the way, Aziraphale said, and he disappeared back into the world. Lucifer’s brows furrowed, and he frowned as he took up a glass of Sex on the Beach.
“What did he mean by that?” the bartender asked, leaning down on the counter.
“Beats me, Beelzebub. Go figure angels,” Lucifer answered. “And you suck at making drinks. These all taste terrible.”
“Then you should have brought Belial.”
“I wanted to, but he’s busy finishing his quarterly reports. Malachi is giving him grief again. So, I had to get stuck with you.”
“You’re just made to suffer. You know, I’m a little disappointed in you. Those weren’t clues you gave him. Those were billboards. I wanted to see your subtlety and mind games in action, and not on me for once.”
Lucifer shrugged.
“I wanted to get done early. Leviathan brought cake into the break room and I want to get some before everyone else gets it all.”
“Cake? Really? Kick ass,” Beelzebub said as he climbed up over the counter to stand next to Lucifer and help straighten his jacket. “And then what do you want to do after that?”
Lucifer stood and prepared to make the Jump.
“The same thing we do every night, Beelzebub.”
The second in command of Hell rolled his eyes. “You know, Lucifer, the first step in curing an addiction is admitting you have a problem.”
“You shut your mouth,” Lucifer said. He, along with Beelzebub, took a step and vanished.
*~*~*~*
Part V: Aubade
An aubade is a morning song. A well known example is the Siegfried Idyll, a work written by Richard Wagner to be played for his second wife Cosima on the morning of her birthday.
*~*~*~*
9:53 Ante meridiem
Hospitals were hard. People were frightened of death everywhere, and always fought to survive, but in a hospital, even if they were ready for death, they all carried a larger than normal grain of hope. And doctors made his job only that much harder. There were quite a few times where Aziraphale had ended up at a person’s bedside only to be pushed away quite violently by a defibrillator.
And hospitals were the worse when it came to questions, and not just by the dying. Still, feeling better about his position, Aziraphale took a deep breath and walked into Toronto’s finest hospital.
He passed unnoticed, not for any real supernatural reason, but for the mere fact that most people chose not to see him. He was going slowly, taking his time to listen to the people both milling and rushing about, and also to gather his courage. His talk with Lucifer made him feel better, but he was still nervous. Humans had an uncanny ability to be heartbreaking. His next appointment at this hospital was with an eleven year old African-Canadian girl with pancreatic cancer. Normally, the cancer would not attack her age group, but since she was already suffering from diabetes, it had entered in quite easily.
Aziraphale made his way through the labyrinth of hallways towards the oncology ward, ready to face the first human he had gathered up the courage to speak with, when a voice stopped him.
“Well, well, well. So it’s true. Death has taken a holiday.”
Stopping, Aziraphale looked around to see who had spoken, and he found the source in a nearby room. He checked to make sure there was no one else around, and he walked in. An old woman was lying on the bed, attached to several beeping machines. Aziraphale had never understood what all the symbols on them meant—Raphael had always been the one to tell him if the rare occasion ever arose—but he did know that they were not telling the best of news. However, no one would need to check the machines, as a more telling sign was the look of discomfort on the woman’s sleeping face. Sitting at the foot of the bed was the man who had spoken, or at least a being shaped like a man, dressed in a surgeon’s scrubs. Aziraphale knew immediately who it was. Throughout the centuries Aziraphale had encountered him frequently, and the angel would be able to recognize that sickly sweet aroma that hung around the other being like smog anywhere.
--Hello, Pestilence.
The retired Horseman grinned up at Aziraphale.
“Hello. Just checking up on one of my patients. She’s contracted an evolved form of a virus that I’m working on…is it going to work?”
Aziraphale looked at the woman, who shifted in her sleep.
--Not today.
Pestilence slapped his palm against his thigh. “Damn. And here I thought I was going to break my record.” Pestilence stood and brushed long strands of dirty blond hair from his face, and his pale, watery eyes glittered in the flourescent lighting. He was tall, perhaps on par with Lucifer’s intimidating height, but his form was far more slim.
‘Like a snake,’ Aziraphale thought wryly. ‘Or a rat. Able to squeeze in and out of the tiniest opening.’
“So you’ve taken over for Azrael for a day. How are you enjoying it?” Pestilence asked amiably, leaning on the bed’s plastic guard rails.
--I’ve had better days.
“Oh, that’s no fun!” Pestilence scoffed. “Leave it to you to not take the full advantage of a really amazing opportunity. Have you at least met the others?”
--No. But, I have been given a well-rounded presentation on all the different forms of their work, Aziraphale answered. Pestilence nodded.
“Yeah, they’re pretty shy. They aren’t nearly as social and people-friendly as I am. None of them like strangers…it took me forever to get them to accept Pollution into the group. Personally, I think they really need to work on that clique mentality. I always thought it was bad PR.”
--If you’re finished, Pestilence, I need to be going.
“The eleven year old with cancer? Let me walk with you. I want to check the growth rate history on it.”
Aziraphale sighed, fighting the urge to rub circles on his temples.
--I’d rather you didn’t, Pestilence. Go start a cold outbreak or something. You still have yet to perfect that, Aziraphale said and he left the room. Pestilence scrambled after him.
“Hey! I’ll have you know that nothing is more perfect than the common cold! It mutates, lasts for days, sometimes weeks, makes people absolutely miserable, spreads easily, is caused by over 200 different viruses, and I even promote the horrors of big business in Kleenex.”
--But the cold doesn’t cause a great majority of death by virus.
“Exactly! What use is a dead host to a disease?”
--The same use that I have for you?
Pestilence stopped in his tracks, gaping after Aziraphale as the angel continued on. “You know, Aziraphale, that hurts me. And why are you so mean?”
--I’ve been told that I’m a bit of a bastard.
Pestilence jumped forward, catching up to Aziraphale.
“What is it about being Death that makes people so sarcastic? How can you be so mean to me after all that time we spent together in the seventeenth century?”
--We did not spend any time together. Excuse me sir, sorry. It was you that followed me everywhere.
“Oh yes, I remember. And people wonder how the Plague became so widespread. You know, I tried to so hard to get it to be contagious to demons, but I never could figure it out.”
--Stop trying to kill Crowley.
“But he stole you away from me! It would be so much easier if you just left him and came to me.”
--Aren’t you late for some sort of flu outbreak?
“Oh, shit, you’re right! I have to leave!” Pestilence exclaimed, taking a look at his watch. He leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale’s forehead. “Sorry to run off on you my one true love, but I have to keep the vaccine companies on their toes. Bye!” He turned and and quickly strode off, but he stopped when he reached the corner. He looked back at Aziraphale, who was standing and staring at the door in front of him.
“Hey,” he called quietly. Aziraphale half turned, and Pestilence smiled at him. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing to be afraid of, and she’ll be glad to see you. Just be yourself. It’s the best possible thing that you could do.”
Aziraphale nodded, only to roll his eyes a second later when Pestilence placed his thumb against his ear and pinkie against his lips and mouthed the words “call me.” The former Horseman vanished around the corner, leaving Aziraphale alone.
‘Just speak with them, don’t listen,’ Aziraphale mentally recited. One deep breath later, the hospital room door was pushed open.
The little girl was in her bed, propped up on several pillows that her family had brought from home. Hospital pillows were always too flat. She was coloring, the oversized book making her thin dark arms appear much smaller than they already were. Aziraphale looked about the room, which was filled with mylar balloons and get-well cards. He picked one up, and it was covered in signatures signed in crayon and marker.
“My class gave that one to me,” the girl said, not looking up from her book. Aziraphale turned to her, setting the card down.
--You can see me? He asked.
“Yeah. I’ve been in the hospital a lot. I learned when you were around.”
Aziraphale picked the girl’s chart out of its plastic holder on the foot of the bed, and read through the first few lines before returning it to its spot.
--Well, Chioma, you’re a very smart girl.
“God said you’d be nice, so I wouldn’t be scared.”
--He did?
“Yeah. In my dreams last night. He also told me what you would look like. I didn’t believe Him.”
Aziraphale blinked, a little taken aback by that statement.
--You didn’t? Why not?
Chioma stopped coloring and looked up at Aziraphale.
“I never pictured Death in a sweatervest,” she said simply. Her voice was so earnest that Aziraphale could not help but chuckle. He moved to the chair next to Chioma’s bed and sat down.
--I suppose you’re right. I’m not really dressed the part. But you see, all my black robes are at the cleaners, and they can never get my stuff back on time, Aziraphale answered, causing Chioma to giggle. She closed her coloring book and set it carefully on the bedside table.
“I know why you’re here,” Chioma said, and Aziraphale smiled. She was sitting straight and giving off a very professional air. “And I’m glad it will stop hurting. But…I’m scared.”
Chioma looked down at her folded hands, her deep gulps giving away her fight to keep from crying. Without stopping to think about his own fears, Aziraphale reached out and rubbed her shoulders.
--Sweetheart, there’s nothing to be scared of. You’re going to Heaven. And I promise you’ll like it.
Chioma shook her head.
“That’s not it. Momma already talked to me about it. She said that I’ll have all the lemon drops I want there. It’s…something else.”
Tilting his head, Aziraphale waited for her to continue. Chioma sniffled, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
“You see, I always heard that, when a person dies, everything closes around them and goes dark. But I don’t like small spaces. They scare me. Why does it have to be so scary?” Chioma was crying more openly then, and she wiped at the tears with the back of her hand. Aziraphale’s heart went out to her, and he leaned in closer. He grabbed her hands in his and rubbed circles in the back of them with his thumbs.
--Oh, I see. Well, Chioma, I know a lot of people think that’s what happens when a person dies. That the world closes around them like a tunnel. But it’s not true. It doesn’t get smaller. It gets bigger.
“Bigger?”
--Mm hmm. That’s right. Here, let me tell you what really happens. First, to understand what it’s like, you have to lie down.
Chioma nodded and started to lie down halfway on her side. Aziraphale pulled her back up.
--No, no. You don’t have to do it the way the doctors tell you. Lie down in what ever position feels the best, he instructed, and Chioma settled down to rest fully on her back.
--Good. Now, close your eyes and pretend you’re at home, in your bedroom, in your bed with your favorite, warm blanket. Are you pretending?
At Chioma’s affirmative, Aziraphale kept her hand in his and continued. –Okay. Now, breathe. Make sure your breaths are as deep and soft as you can make them. Good. Now, I want you to listen, but not to yourself. I want you to listen to what’s around you, and start close. Um, let’s see. First, there’s a mouse by the wall, scratching at the floorboards, and a clock is ticking on the wall. Listen to them, Chioma, starting close. Then, outside your room, there’s someone walking down the hallway, towards the living room, where there are people talking and laughing. Dinner is cooking on the stove, and you can hear it sizzling. A car drives by your house, and they turn on their headlights. See, they’re driving to the diner down the road, where someone is slicing in to their very first bite of cherry pie. It’s raining outside, and there are telephone wires that go over the roof. Listen to the wind in the wires, Chioma, as it races through to the forest. The trees are growing, and you can hear them growing. They…grow all the way to the edge of a lake, where small waves are lapping at the sand.
Aziraphale moved his other hand to Chioma’s forehead.
--You can hear the waves, right, Chioma? Everything else is quiet. A fish jumps—
The monitors next to the bed screamed in a shrill flatline.
--And it never comes back down, Aziraphale finished. –That, Chioma, is what death feels like. See? Not frightening at all. A tear slipped from his eye, and he removed his hand from Chioma’s nonexistant grip.
--Good girl, he whispered and kissed her temple. He left the room, ignored as he passed by the doctors rushing in.
*~*~*~*
Part VI: Da Capo al Segno
Da capo (Italian: from the beginning), abbreviated to the letters D.C. at the end of a piece of music or a section of it, means that it should be played or sung again from the beginning (Da capo al fine) or from the beginning up to the sign (Da capo al segno). A da capo aria, often found in the later baroque period, is an aria in three sections, the third an ornamented repetition of the first.
*~*~*~*
2:59 Post meridiem
Aziraphale sat in the middle of a clearing, the dark trees surrounding him in a thick cluster of branches and snow. He was in the North, he knew that much, and by his best estimate it was Norway, or Lapland. In any case, it was quiet, with both life and death silenced by winter’s sleep. He could still hear the voices and conversations rustling on the outer edge of his conciousness, but the snow kept them distanced. Sighing, Aziraphale laid back in the snow and outstretched his arms. He smiled and moved his arms up and down, pushing the snow away in a sweeping arc to create the minimalistic lines of an snow angel’s wings.
--God, Aziraphale murmured into the cold, gray air. “I’m ready to go home.”
And Aziraphale let his entire being be pulled to his final stop as Death—a small bookshop in the heart of London.
*~*~*~*
Time was sticky. Tiny pieces of it clung to Aziraphale’s sweater like burrs, and he could feel all of them poking through the fabric. As he pulled himself from the the gelatin of frozen time, he immediately began to try and brush them off, at first not noticing the hand, which was clutching a mayfly, supporting him.
“I know that’s not comfortable, I’ll work on it to see if I can improve the texture,” God said as he helped Aziraphale to stand solidly. Aziraphale looked to God, who had by then turned to beckon the still fully cloaked Azrael to come closer. Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak, but God cut him off.
“All right, let’s switch you both back. Azrael has been driving me nuts for the past few hours. You need serious help, my workaholic friend.”
Without ceremony, God brought both Aziraphale and Azrael close to him and pushed to the sound of pianos.
The clock on the wall ticked.
Everything was right, and time was moving as it should.
Aziraphale climbed to his feet, feeling the warm, heady rush of blood through his body and the deep, fulfilling weight of filled lungs. The muscles flexed easily, he could feel water flowing like a river. Against angelic reasoning, the human body felt good. And comfortable. Aziraphale ran a hand through his hair, relishing the somewhat wiry curls, and checked his surroundings. Azrael was also standing, with God complaining that the black robes were cliché and that the Angel of Death needed something more approachable.
I WOULDN’T LOOK GOOD IN ANYTHING ELSE.
“Fine. Suit yourself. But that’s all your own doing. Don’t come complaining to me if you have people running away from you and not ask you to dinner parties.”
I’LL TRY TO RESTRAIN MYSELF.
“Sarcastic jerk,” God lamented and turned to Aziraphale. He smiled. “Ah, see? Good as new, just as I promised.”
“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, deciding not to comment on the rather copious amounts of dust along the side of his sweater.
IF YOU BOTH WILL EXCUSE ME, I MUST GET BACK TO WORK. YAHWEH, AZIRAPHALE, Death said with a nod of his head and faded away. God moved to the center of the floor and shook His fist at the ceiling.
“And don’t wait another two thousand years to come visit me, or I’ll make your life miserable!...Even if you defect!” He shouted. He looked towards Aziraphale, expression changing from one of dire threat to contentment with somewhat frightening ease.
“Thank you, Aziraphale, for taking over for Azrael. It really helped a lot, and you did a wonderful job. And now I must be going as well, as the end of the year meeting is coming up and Raphael has asked me to try and prevent Gabriel’s speech from passing the two hour mark this year. I have to go and prepare some editing, so I will talk to you later. Thank you again, Aziraphale.”
God shrugged into His light winter coat and had reached the shoe mat by the door when Aziraphale spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly as his body so kindly reminded him to use its vocal cords. God froze, His hand stilled on the doorframe.
“For what?” He asked softly.
Aziraphale took a moment to think of his response.
“Earlier today,” he began. “One of my assignments was a little girl named Chioma. She had cancer. She had been sick for a while, and she was ready for the pain to stop. I could have left, after that, but I didn’t. I stayed and waited until her family got there. I listened as the doctors told her parents and siblings that there wasn’t anything anyone could have done. And they cried. Even though Chioma was no longer in pain, or depressed, or frightened, or tired…they were crying. And that made me realize that they weren’t sad for Chioma. They were mourning their loss. And that’s the reason why I did what I did. I stopped the end of the world because I was sad and scared for myself. I didn’t want to lose what I loved. I had just thought about it the wrong way. And that’s why I’m sorry.”
God slowly turned back around, and Aziraphale was stunned to see both tears and a smile.
“There are a lot of people who think that the world isn’t worth the pain,” He said. “And so it means a lot to me that you love it so much. That’s what I like to hear. I’m really glad you like this place.”
“I’d also,” Aziraphale continued. “If it’s not too much, like to spend a day with you too.”
“Yes, that sounds wonderful. I’m available whenever, so, when would be good for you?”
“I was thinking….perhaps next Friday.”
“Next Friday? The winter solstice?” God questioned.
Aziraphale nodded.
“Okay, that sounds wonderful. However, this is a pretty busy time of year for the field agents, so I’ll have to find someone to cover your shift.”
“Maybe….Gabriel could do it? He is my superior, so he would be able to handle the job easily enough,” Aziraphale suggested, trying his best to keep his tone innocent.
“But the solstice is the date of the end of the year meeting, and if Gabriel covered for you, he wouldn’t be able to—“ God stopped and gave a conspiratoral smirk. “I’ll go inform him of his temporary job change right away. See you in a week.”
God turned and left the bookshop, the bell jingling cheerfully.
“It’s about time, oh my God! I’m bloody fuckin’ freezing out here.”
Lucifer stood up from the bench he had been sitting on, brushing the snow off his jeans. It had not dared to fall on his leather coat. “And how the hell did you manage to rope me into this feel-good quagmire of roses and candy bracelets? I don’t want to spend a frickin’ whole day with you.”
“Because you owed me a debt from our card game in 1329.”
Lucifer scowled.
“I was hoping you had forgotten that.”
“Never, my dear. I never forget anything, especially when it comes to you having to do what I say and being, in essence, my ‘bitch’.”
“Blech. But before you drag me around with leash and choke chain, I want to ask you something. Did you really set the whole thing up just for that angel?” Lucifer asked, tucking his hands into his pocket. God stared innocently up at the Morningstar.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on. The Book of Revelations deals with the end of the world, with which subject your darling angel messed up on. The answer to his problem with the end of the world is found in the Book of Revelations, which you had me quote so he could have a ‘revelation.’ That’s a setup with your girly signature written all over it. I doubt it was coincidence, because you don’t do that. So I can only figure that you had this entire thing planned since you dictated the Book to that crackhead John what’s-his-face.”
Lucifer was practically convulsing by the end of his spiel, but something else caught God’s attention farther down the street.
“Oh look! A kitty!” God quickly chased after it, and he was followed by an indignant Devil.
“Oh no you don’t! Get back here and answer me!”
*~*~*~*
In his bookshop, Aziraphale sat at the counter staring at his phone.
‘Come on. You did everything else.’
He took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialled. It rang only five times before it was answered.
“Hello, Crowley? I was wondering if you would like to go get dinner with me tonight. You don’t even have to eat.”
*~*~*~*
THE END.
Enjoy!
Happy holidays,
yummycoffee, from your Secret Writer!Part IV: Glissando
Derived from the French glisser, to slide, the Italianised word is used to describe sliding in music from one note to another. On the harp or piano this is achieved by sliding the finger or fingers over the strings or keys, and can be achieved similarily on bowed string instruments, and by other means on the trombone, clarinet, French horn and pedal timpani among others.
*~*~*~*
3:01 Ante meridiem
There had been a dispute over a drug deal, and since that had brought him to the area, Aziraphale dragged himself into one of the all-night bars in Madrid. The stiffness had settled in his tendons again, so much so that he was finding it difficult to walk properly, and he needed water. Thirst, he had decided, was the ultimate suffering. He had been on Earth since the Beginning, and even knew somebody who had experienced Hell firsthand, so he knew the tortures outside Heaven’s wall, and thirst was the worst. Aziraphale stumbled to the counter and called for several glasses of room-temperature water. Having it cold just made it worse. He downed them with alarming rapidity.
“Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, ‘I am thirsty.’”
Aziraphale, feeling his bones and muscles soften, turned to look at the man who had spoken. He was sitting on a bar stool, nursing a half-drunk glass of Tahitian Tea. At the sight of his aura, Aziraphale nearly fell backwards in his scramble to place distance between them, leaving his water on the counter.
“Please, drink as much as you like. I’ll even buy you some more,” he said. “There’s no weakness in it—thirst is unbearable. Even LORD the Almighty, through his Son on the Cross, had complained of only one thing: being thirsty. All other discomforts…nope, beared gracefully. But having every cell in the body shrivel and scream for water…why, that’s too much even for God Himself. So drink.”
Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at the man, whose tar-colored hair just graced his shoulders with unevenly cut, jagged edges. He was impeccably dressed in black and gray, with a leather coat that seemed to challenge even the richest men to even be able to afford to look at its price tag. He gave a spider’s smile, perfectly white teeth with canines that were perhaps a bit too sharp to be comfortable glistening with a mother-of-pearl sheen between pale lips.
--Lucifer, Aziraphale breathed. His hand automatically fell to his side in search for his sword, and he unconciously took another step backwards when he sensed it missing. As an angel he had no delusions towards his ability to hold up against the Morningstar in a fight, and his current state left him feeling little better. He was Death, to be sure, but that did not mean that Lucifer could not still damage him severely. He did not know what he could do in return to the Devil, and he decided rather quickly that he would not like the opportunity to find out.
Lucifer watched Aziraphale with eyes the color of newly sharpened knives.
“I’ve heard about you, Angel of the Eastern Gate. Or should I now say, Death? Please, I’m not here to fight. Come sit with me. I’ll even buy you some more water. The money’s even been legitimately gained,” Lucifer said, holding up a business credit card. “Come on, I want to talk to you.”
Nervous, but unable to resist the offer of unlimited water, Aziraphale hesitantly returned to the counter. Lucifer tilted his head, smiling happily.
“Hooray. Now sit. Bartender! As much water as you can charge at a time. And add a Black Russian. Now,” Lucifer said as he turned in his seat to face Aziraphale, leaning to the side so that he could prop up his arm and rest his head on his hand. “Why don’t you tell me about this promotion of yours.”
--It’s only for a day. It should not matter to you.
“Not in the long run, no. But I still want to know when a change has been made, especially when it concerns my new guests. And when it means a new Horseperson is being broken in. I know that His Royal pain in the ass is having His lovey-dovey sugar fest, but what I want to know is why El Elyon picked you to take Azrael’s job. I would have thought that Uriel would be the better choice. Or no, Gabriel. He was always good at killing a party. Which reminds me, does that prick still run the staff meetings?”
A little confused, Aziraphale nodded. Lucifer grimaced and stuck his tongue out in disgust.
“Ugh. Talk about the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’ll tell you, Moloch asked me once about why I staged the Rebellion so soon after I thought it up, and the truth is, is that the week after was the end of the year meeting, and we were all supposed to come up ways to increase our efficiency for the next year and I hadn’t done it yet. I am the ultimate procrastinator.”
--That was the reason? Aziraphale asked, dumbfounded.
“Complete truth, and believe me, take that when you can get it from me. What really made it great though was that, after we were in Hell for a while, I sent Gabriel my work proposal talking about how there should be a suggestion box for a positive outlet in expressing concerns, and that work improvement could be elevated by eliminating stupid staff meetings about work improvement.”
Despite himself, Aziraphale snorted and smiled against the rim of his waterglass. Lucifer laughed loudly and held up his drink.
“Oh how I wish I could have been there to see his face. Trust me, the absence of Gabriel is what makes Hell bearable. But enough of these digressions. Tell me. What was El Shaddai’s reasoning in picking you?”
--You should know, Aziraphale answered, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from his tone. Lucifer regarded him over his glass.
“And why is that?”
--Don’t play these mind games with me, First of the Fallen! Aziraphale snapped. –I know why you’re here. Why else would you be? The Great Punisher of Sins.
“And what would be your sin?”
Aziraphale glared at him.
“What?” Lucifer asked defensively. “I need to know what sin you committed if I am to know where to place you. I can’t have people just running all around Hell just as they please, the paperwork is bad enough as it is. So tell me what you did.”
--You already know! The whole situation with Adam and the end of the world and I—I went against God’s Plan. I defied Him, and now I’m no better than you. But I—the thought of killing all those people—
Lucifer tilted his head back and laughed loudly, his drink nearly sloshing on to the table from the abrupt motion and consequent shaking.
“Oh my,” he said in between gasps. “He must really like you to let you get away with that. Ah, Aziraphale of the Eastern Gate, I could drag you down right with me for that arrogance. Hell, I could even set you up in an official position in Pandaemonium and no one would say a word. You don’t seem to be doing it maliciously, though, or even intentionally. That’s probably the reason why He’s having you do this instead.”
--What are you talking about? Aziraphale asked, worry crawling an icy trail down his spine. Lucifer calmed himself and settled once again against the counter. When he spoke, his voice was low and full, each change in pitch sliding effortlessly into each other.
“Let me tell you something about the day of the Rebellion, Aziraphale. Something that no one else knows. After my duel with Michael and my consequent, and let me assure you, temporary, defeat, he pushed me out. However, before that, literally the second before I Fell, God spoke to me. He said that, if I were truly sorry, that if I didn’t mean it and if I still loved Him, He would forgive me. I didn’t accept, of course, and I Fell.”
--Why are you telling me this?
“The point is, Aziraphale, that God doesn’t really care if you go against Him. He doesn’t care if you disagree or do something differently. That’s what free will is all about. You claim that you’re being punished because you went against the Plan, but let me assure you that if you were going to be punished you would have been sent straight to me and you would currently be working under..well, I guess it would be Belphegor because one of his secretaries fell into the Phlegethon a while back and hasn’t come back yet…he’s short an employee. Anyway, like I said, if it had been a punishment, you would have been sent straight to me.”
Finished, Lucifer twisted back around and called for a Long Island Ice Tea.
”Is this my punishment?”
God halted in His tracks, but did not turn around. “A punishment?” He murmured. Aziraphale waited, hands shaking. “No. You have been on Earth for a while, my angel.”
Aziraphale watched a drop of water fall down the side of the glass into the circle of condensation on the counter.
--You were sent to me, he said. Lucifer, his lips to the rim of his glass, paused before he tilted his head back to take a sip.
“Say what?” he asked.
--I wasn’t sent to you. You were sent to me, Aziraphale explained. –You were right. This isn’t a punishment. It’s an admonishment.
“You’re smarter than I first gave you credit. But now it’s time to really impress me. What are you being admonished for?
Aziraphale wracked his brain for the answer, but he only kept coming back to his original thought.
--I…don’t know.
Lucifer sighed.
“Revel—“ he stopped. Aziraphale watched in confusion as a dawning realization crept across Lucifer’s face, and the Devil laughed in disbelief.
“That son of a bitch. I wonder if He didn’t stage the whole thing just for you. He must really, really like you. I’ll have to ask Him later.”
Lucifer shook his head and continued on. “As I was saying. Revelations. Chapter 22, verse 12.”
Aziraphale blinked at the easy reference to the Holy Bible, but he recited the text anyway.
--‘Behold, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to everyone according to what he has done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the—
Aziraphale cut himself off, and minor hyperventilation pulled at his lungs as he came to an understanding. Lucifer smiled and went back to his drink.
“Now you get it,” he said. “This wasn’t about stopping the Armageddon or ending daylight savings time on His World Clock to gain an extra hour. This was about thinking you had any control over killing people. As of right now, only God has the power of Creation, and since He is the End, it is only He who has the power of Destruction. You cannot kill men, Aziraphale. In the great scheme of things, they’re already dead. As Death, you would understand this. It is only their souls that matter, and how dare you think you could kill those.”
--I put myself on the level of God.
“Which I find myself in begrudging admiration for, by the way. And you weren’t even trying. Let me know if you ever want a different job. Benefits aren’t that great, but the pay is unmatched.”
--I understand…
“Aziraphale,” Lucifer said, regarding his companion seriously. “The real question is why did you really stop the end of the world? Only as Death can you answer it.”
Aziraphale stood.
--Thank you.
He made to leave, but as he reached the door, he turned back around.
--Oh, and, Lucifer?
“Hmm?”
--You aren’t dead. Not all the way, Aziraphale said, and he disappeared back into the world. Lucifer’s brows furrowed, and he frowned as he took up a glass of Sex on the Beach.
“What did he mean by that?” the bartender asked, leaning down on the counter.
“Beats me, Beelzebub. Go figure angels,” Lucifer answered. “And you suck at making drinks. These all taste terrible.”
“Then you should have brought Belial.”
“I wanted to, but he’s busy finishing his quarterly reports. Malachi is giving him grief again. So, I had to get stuck with you.”
“You’re just made to suffer. You know, I’m a little disappointed in you. Those weren’t clues you gave him. Those were billboards. I wanted to see your subtlety and mind games in action, and not on me for once.”
Lucifer shrugged.
“I wanted to get done early. Leviathan brought cake into the break room and I want to get some before everyone else gets it all.”
“Cake? Really? Kick ass,” Beelzebub said as he climbed up over the counter to stand next to Lucifer and help straighten his jacket. “And then what do you want to do after that?”
Lucifer stood and prepared to make the Jump.
“The same thing we do every night, Beelzebub.”
The second in command of Hell rolled his eyes. “You know, Lucifer, the first step in curing an addiction is admitting you have a problem.”
“You shut your mouth,” Lucifer said. He, along with Beelzebub, took a step and vanished.
*~*~*~*
Part V: Aubade
An aubade is a morning song. A well known example is the Siegfried Idyll, a work written by Richard Wagner to be played for his second wife Cosima on the morning of her birthday.
*~*~*~*
9:53 Ante meridiem
Hospitals were hard. People were frightened of death everywhere, and always fought to survive, but in a hospital, even if they were ready for death, they all carried a larger than normal grain of hope. And doctors made his job only that much harder. There were quite a few times where Aziraphale had ended up at a person’s bedside only to be pushed away quite violently by a defibrillator.
And hospitals were the worse when it came to questions, and not just by the dying. Still, feeling better about his position, Aziraphale took a deep breath and walked into Toronto’s finest hospital.
He passed unnoticed, not for any real supernatural reason, but for the mere fact that most people chose not to see him. He was going slowly, taking his time to listen to the people both milling and rushing about, and also to gather his courage. His talk with Lucifer made him feel better, but he was still nervous. Humans had an uncanny ability to be heartbreaking. His next appointment at this hospital was with an eleven year old African-Canadian girl with pancreatic cancer. Normally, the cancer would not attack her age group, but since she was already suffering from diabetes, it had entered in quite easily.
Aziraphale made his way through the labyrinth of hallways towards the oncology ward, ready to face the first human he had gathered up the courage to speak with, when a voice stopped him.
“Well, well, well. So it’s true. Death has taken a holiday.”
Stopping, Aziraphale looked around to see who had spoken, and he found the source in a nearby room. He checked to make sure there was no one else around, and he walked in. An old woman was lying on the bed, attached to several beeping machines. Aziraphale had never understood what all the symbols on them meant—Raphael had always been the one to tell him if the rare occasion ever arose—but he did know that they were not telling the best of news. However, no one would need to check the machines, as a more telling sign was the look of discomfort on the woman’s sleeping face. Sitting at the foot of the bed was the man who had spoken, or at least a being shaped like a man, dressed in a surgeon’s scrubs. Aziraphale knew immediately who it was. Throughout the centuries Aziraphale had encountered him frequently, and the angel would be able to recognize that sickly sweet aroma that hung around the other being like smog anywhere.
--Hello, Pestilence.
The retired Horseman grinned up at Aziraphale.
“Hello. Just checking up on one of my patients. She’s contracted an evolved form of a virus that I’m working on…is it going to work?”
Aziraphale looked at the woman, who shifted in her sleep.
--Not today.
Pestilence slapped his palm against his thigh. “Damn. And here I thought I was going to break my record.” Pestilence stood and brushed long strands of dirty blond hair from his face, and his pale, watery eyes glittered in the flourescent lighting. He was tall, perhaps on par with Lucifer’s intimidating height, but his form was far more slim.
‘Like a snake,’ Aziraphale thought wryly. ‘Or a rat. Able to squeeze in and out of the tiniest opening.’
“So you’ve taken over for Azrael for a day. How are you enjoying it?” Pestilence asked amiably, leaning on the bed’s plastic guard rails.
--I’ve had better days.
“Oh, that’s no fun!” Pestilence scoffed. “Leave it to you to not take the full advantage of a really amazing opportunity. Have you at least met the others?”
--No. But, I have been given a well-rounded presentation on all the different forms of their work, Aziraphale answered. Pestilence nodded.
“Yeah, they’re pretty shy. They aren’t nearly as social and people-friendly as I am. None of them like strangers…it took me forever to get them to accept Pollution into the group. Personally, I think they really need to work on that clique mentality. I always thought it was bad PR.”
--If you’re finished, Pestilence, I need to be going.
“The eleven year old with cancer? Let me walk with you. I want to check the growth rate history on it.”
Aziraphale sighed, fighting the urge to rub circles on his temples.
--I’d rather you didn’t, Pestilence. Go start a cold outbreak or something. You still have yet to perfect that, Aziraphale said and he left the room. Pestilence scrambled after him.
“Hey! I’ll have you know that nothing is more perfect than the common cold! It mutates, lasts for days, sometimes weeks, makes people absolutely miserable, spreads easily, is caused by over 200 different viruses, and I even promote the horrors of big business in Kleenex.”
--But the cold doesn’t cause a great majority of death by virus.
“Exactly! What use is a dead host to a disease?”
--The same use that I have for you?
Pestilence stopped in his tracks, gaping after Aziraphale as the angel continued on. “You know, Aziraphale, that hurts me. And why are you so mean?”
--I’ve been told that I’m a bit of a bastard.
Pestilence jumped forward, catching up to Aziraphale.
“What is it about being Death that makes people so sarcastic? How can you be so mean to me after all that time we spent together in the seventeenth century?”
--We did not spend any time together. Excuse me sir, sorry. It was you that followed me everywhere.
“Oh yes, I remember. And people wonder how the Plague became so widespread. You know, I tried to so hard to get it to be contagious to demons, but I never could figure it out.”
--Stop trying to kill Crowley.
“But he stole you away from me! It would be so much easier if you just left him and came to me.”
--Aren’t you late for some sort of flu outbreak?
“Oh, shit, you’re right! I have to leave!” Pestilence exclaimed, taking a look at his watch. He leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale’s forehead. “Sorry to run off on you my one true love, but I have to keep the vaccine companies on their toes. Bye!” He turned and and quickly strode off, but he stopped when he reached the corner. He looked back at Aziraphale, who was standing and staring at the door in front of him.
“Hey,” he called quietly. Aziraphale half turned, and Pestilence smiled at him. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing to be afraid of, and she’ll be glad to see you. Just be yourself. It’s the best possible thing that you could do.”
Aziraphale nodded, only to roll his eyes a second later when Pestilence placed his thumb against his ear and pinkie against his lips and mouthed the words “call me.” The former Horseman vanished around the corner, leaving Aziraphale alone.
‘Just speak with them, don’t listen,’ Aziraphale mentally recited. One deep breath later, the hospital room door was pushed open.
The little girl was in her bed, propped up on several pillows that her family had brought from home. Hospital pillows were always too flat. She was coloring, the oversized book making her thin dark arms appear much smaller than they already were. Aziraphale looked about the room, which was filled with mylar balloons and get-well cards. He picked one up, and it was covered in signatures signed in crayon and marker.
“My class gave that one to me,” the girl said, not looking up from her book. Aziraphale turned to her, setting the card down.
--You can see me? He asked.
“Yeah. I’ve been in the hospital a lot. I learned when you were around.”
Aziraphale picked the girl’s chart out of its plastic holder on the foot of the bed, and read through the first few lines before returning it to its spot.
--Well, Chioma, you’re a very smart girl.
“God said you’d be nice, so I wouldn’t be scared.”
--He did?
“Yeah. In my dreams last night. He also told me what you would look like. I didn’t believe Him.”
Aziraphale blinked, a little taken aback by that statement.
--You didn’t? Why not?
Chioma stopped coloring and looked up at Aziraphale.
“I never pictured Death in a sweatervest,” she said simply. Her voice was so earnest that Aziraphale could not help but chuckle. He moved to the chair next to Chioma’s bed and sat down.
--I suppose you’re right. I’m not really dressed the part. But you see, all my black robes are at the cleaners, and they can never get my stuff back on time, Aziraphale answered, causing Chioma to giggle. She closed her coloring book and set it carefully on the bedside table.
“I know why you’re here,” Chioma said, and Aziraphale smiled. She was sitting straight and giving off a very professional air. “And I’m glad it will stop hurting. But…I’m scared.”
Chioma looked down at her folded hands, her deep gulps giving away her fight to keep from crying. Without stopping to think about his own fears, Aziraphale reached out and rubbed her shoulders.
--Sweetheart, there’s nothing to be scared of. You’re going to Heaven. And I promise you’ll like it.
Chioma shook her head.
“That’s not it. Momma already talked to me about it. She said that I’ll have all the lemon drops I want there. It’s…something else.”
Tilting his head, Aziraphale waited for her to continue. Chioma sniffled, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
“You see, I always heard that, when a person dies, everything closes around them and goes dark. But I don’t like small spaces. They scare me. Why does it have to be so scary?” Chioma was crying more openly then, and she wiped at the tears with the back of her hand. Aziraphale’s heart went out to her, and he leaned in closer. He grabbed her hands in his and rubbed circles in the back of them with his thumbs.
--Oh, I see. Well, Chioma, I know a lot of people think that’s what happens when a person dies. That the world closes around them like a tunnel. But it’s not true. It doesn’t get smaller. It gets bigger.
“Bigger?”
--Mm hmm. That’s right. Here, let me tell you what really happens. First, to understand what it’s like, you have to lie down.
Chioma nodded and started to lie down halfway on her side. Aziraphale pulled her back up.
--No, no. You don’t have to do it the way the doctors tell you. Lie down in what ever position feels the best, he instructed, and Chioma settled down to rest fully on her back.
--Good. Now, close your eyes and pretend you’re at home, in your bedroom, in your bed with your favorite, warm blanket. Are you pretending?
At Chioma’s affirmative, Aziraphale kept her hand in his and continued. –Okay. Now, breathe. Make sure your breaths are as deep and soft as you can make them. Good. Now, I want you to listen, but not to yourself. I want you to listen to what’s around you, and start close. Um, let’s see. First, there’s a mouse by the wall, scratching at the floorboards, and a clock is ticking on the wall. Listen to them, Chioma, starting close. Then, outside your room, there’s someone walking down the hallway, towards the living room, where there are people talking and laughing. Dinner is cooking on the stove, and you can hear it sizzling. A car drives by your house, and they turn on their headlights. See, they’re driving to the diner down the road, where someone is slicing in to their very first bite of cherry pie. It’s raining outside, and there are telephone wires that go over the roof. Listen to the wind in the wires, Chioma, as it races through to the forest. The trees are growing, and you can hear them growing. They…grow all the way to the edge of a lake, where small waves are lapping at the sand.
Aziraphale moved his other hand to Chioma’s forehead.
--You can hear the waves, right, Chioma? Everything else is quiet. A fish jumps—
The monitors next to the bed screamed in a shrill flatline.
--And it never comes back down, Aziraphale finished. –That, Chioma, is what death feels like. See? Not frightening at all. A tear slipped from his eye, and he removed his hand from Chioma’s nonexistant grip.
--Good girl, he whispered and kissed her temple. He left the room, ignored as he passed by the doctors rushing in.
*~*~*~*
Part VI: Da Capo al Segno
Da capo (Italian: from the beginning), abbreviated to the letters D.C. at the end of a piece of music or a section of it, means that it should be played or sung again from the beginning (Da capo al fine) or from the beginning up to the sign (Da capo al segno). A da capo aria, often found in the later baroque period, is an aria in three sections, the third an ornamented repetition of the first.
*~*~*~*
2:59 Post meridiem
Aziraphale sat in the middle of a clearing, the dark trees surrounding him in a thick cluster of branches and snow. He was in the North, he knew that much, and by his best estimate it was Norway, or Lapland. In any case, it was quiet, with both life and death silenced by winter’s sleep. He could still hear the voices and conversations rustling on the outer edge of his conciousness, but the snow kept them distanced. Sighing, Aziraphale laid back in the snow and outstretched his arms. He smiled and moved his arms up and down, pushing the snow away in a sweeping arc to create the minimalistic lines of an snow angel’s wings.
--God, Aziraphale murmured into the cold, gray air. “I’m ready to go home.”
And Aziraphale let his entire being be pulled to his final stop as Death—a small bookshop in the heart of London.
*~*~*~*
Time was sticky. Tiny pieces of it clung to Aziraphale’s sweater like burrs, and he could feel all of them poking through the fabric. As he pulled himself from the the gelatin of frozen time, he immediately began to try and brush them off, at first not noticing the hand, which was clutching a mayfly, supporting him.
“I know that’s not comfortable, I’ll work on it to see if I can improve the texture,” God said as he helped Aziraphale to stand solidly. Aziraphale looked to God, who had by then turned to beckon the still fully cloaked Azrael to come closer. Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak, but God cut him off.
“All right, let’s switch you both back. Azrael has been driving me nuts for the past few hours. You need serious help, my workaholic friend.”
Without ceremony, God brought both Aziraphale and Azrael close to him and pushed to the sound of pianos.
The clock on the wall ticked.
Everything was right, and time was moving as it should.
Aziraphale climbed to his feet, feeling the warm, heady rush of blood through his body and the deep, fulfilling weight of filled lungs. The muscles flexed easily, he could feel water flowing like a river. Against angelic reasoning, the human body felt good. And comfortable. Aziraphale ran a hand through his hair, relishing the somewhat wiry curls, and checked his surroundings. Azrael was also standing, with God complaining that the black robes were cliché and that the Angel of Death needed something more approachable.
I WOULDN’T LOOK GOOD IN ANYTHING ELSE.
“Fine. Suit yourself. But that’s all your own doing. Don’t come complaining to me if you have people running away from you and not ask you to dinner parties.”
I’LL TRY TO RESTRAIN MYSELF.
“Sarcastic jerk,” God lamented and turned to Aziraphale. He smiled. “Ah, see? Good as new, just as I promised.”
“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, deciding not to comment on the rather copious amounts of dust along the side of his sweater.
IF YOU BOTH WILL EXCUSE ME, I MUST GET BACK TO WORK. YAHWEH, AZIRAPHALE, Death said with a nod of his head and faded away. God moved to the center of the floor and shook His fist at the ceiling.
“And don’t wait another two thousand years to come visit me, or I’ll make your life miserable!...Even if you defect!” He shouted. He looked towards Aziraphale, expression changing from one of dire threat to contentment with somewhat frightening ease.
“Thank you, Aziraphale, for taking over for Azrael. It really helped a lot, and you did a wonderful job. And now I must be going as well, as the end of the year meeting is coming up and Raphael has asked me to try and prevent Gabriel’s speech from passing the two hour mark this year. I have to go and prepare some editing, so I will talk to you later. Thank you again, Aziraphale.”
God shrugged into His light winter coat and had reached the shoe mat by the door when Aziraphale spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly as his body so kindly reminded him to use its vocal cords. God froze, His hand stilled on the doorframe.
“For what?” He asked softly.
Aziraphale took a moment to think of his response.
“Earlier today,” he began. “One of my assignments was a little girl named Chioma. She had cancer. She had been sick for a while, and she was ready for the pain to stop. I could have left, after that, but I didn’t. I stayed and waited until her family got there. I listened as the doctors told her parents and siblings that there wasn’t anything anyone could have done. And they cried. Even though Chioma was no longer in pain, or depressed, or frightened, or tired…they were crying. And that made me realize that they weren’t sad for Chioma. They were mourning their loss. And that’s the reason why I did what I did. I stopped the end of the world because I was sad and scared for myself. I didn’t want to lose what I loved. I had just thought about it the wrong way. And that’s why I’m sorry.”
God slowly turned back around, and Aziraphale was stunned to see both tears and a smile.
“There are a lot of people who think that the world isn’t worth the pain,” He said. “And so it means a lot to me that you love it so much. That’s what I like to hear. I’m really glad you like this place.”
“I’d also,” Aziraphale continued. “If it’s not too much, like to spend a day with you too.”
“Yes, that sounds wonderful. I’m available whenever, so, when would be good for you?”
“I was thinking….perhaps next Friday.”
“Next Friday? The winter solstice?” God questioned.
Aziraphale nodded.
“Okay, that sounds wonderful. However, this is a pretty busy time of year for the field agents, so I’ll have to find someone to cover your shift.”
“Maybe….Gabriel could do it? He is my superior, so he would be able to handle the job easily enough,” Aziraphale suggested, trying his best to keep his tone innocent.
“But the solstice is the date of the end of the year meeting, and if Gabriel covered for you, he wouldn’t be able to—“ God stopped and gave a conspiratoral smirk. “I’ll go inform him of his temporary job change right away. See you in a week.”
God turned and left the bookshop, the bell jingling cheerfully.
“It’s about time, oh my God! I’m bloody fuckin’ freezing out here.”
Lucifer stood up from the bench he had been sitting on, brushing the snow off his jeans. It had not dared to fall on his leather coat. “And how the hell did you manage to rope me into this feel-good quagmire of roses and candy bracelets? I don’t want to spend a frickin’ whole day with you.”
“Because you owed me a debt from our card game in 1329.”
Lucifer scowled.
“I was hoping you had forgotten that.”
“Never, my dear. I never forget anything, especially when it comes to you having to do what I say and being, in essence, my ‘bitch’.”
“Blech. But before you drag me around with leash and choke chain, I want to ask you something. Did you really set the whole thing up just for that angel?” Lucifer asked, tucking his hands into his pocket. God stared innocently up at the Morningstar.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on. The Book of Revelations deals with the end of the world, with which subject your darling angel messed up on. The answer to his problem with the end of the world is found in the Book of Revelations, which you had me quote so he could have a ‘revelation.’ That’s a setup with your girly signature written all over it. I doubt it was coincidence, because you don’t do that. So I can only figure that you had this entire thing planned since you dictated the Book to that crackhead John what’s-his-face.”
Lucifer was practically convulsing by the end of his spiel, but something else caught God’s attention farther down the street.
“Oh look! A kitty!” God quickly chased after it, and he was followed by an indignant Devil.
“Oh no you don’t! Get back here and answer me!”
*~*~*~*
In his bookshop, Aziraphale sat at the counter staring at his phone.
‘Come on. You did everything else.’
He took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialled. It rang only five times before it was answered.
“Hello, Crowley? I was wondering if you would like to go get dinner with me tonight. You don’t even have to eat.”
*~*~*~*
THE END.
Enjoy!
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(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 03:57 am (UTC)Secret Writer, you just broke my heart in a good way. This is... this IS. I'm absolutely stunned!
Beautiful. *sniff*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 05:26 am (UTC)This. Gack. Was amazing. Just totally . . . unlike anything I've ever read before. Surreal yet completely realistic. The little humourous touches interspersed with stark, real description . . . made my week, this did. And the section titles are just perfect, just . . . agh. I am so, so incoherent right now.
“Oh look! A kitty!”
While perhaps not the most profound line of the story, this is certainly my favorite. I can just picture God scampering down the street after a cat. And your descriptions of Lucifer, God, Beelzebub, et cetera are completely brilliant. *extolls you*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 06:42 am (UTC)At any rate, you'll hear about the wonderful plot, rich descriptions, and evocative detail from others, I'm sure, but I wanted to tell you how gripping your characterizations were. I like your interpretations of God and Lucifer, Gabriel, Beelzebub, Azrael, Pestilence, and all the other characters that are generally secondary in GO fic but who make this what it is. I love Aziraphale and Crowley here, too. We rarely get to see Aziraphale so... thoughtful without being whiningly emo and angsty. It's refreshing to see his intelligent compassionate side. Crowley being the lighter of the pair was nice, too, until he proved that he understood what was going on better than Aziraphale. I'm sure I missed an important cameo in that scene, but maybe someone will point it out for me. XD
Anyway, I'll hush now. Fantastic work. I was afraid the exchange was going to be all Christmas fluff this year and I've never been so pleased to be proven wrong.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 07:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 07:57 am (UTC)Just lovely.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 07:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 11:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 01:44 pm (UTC)I can't say anything more than that it was the single most brilliant, heart-breaking thing I have ever read, and I honestly don't think I'll ever be the same for having read it. Thank you. Thank you so much.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 02:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 02:45 pm (UTC)Yeah, I liked the kitty line too...I can only imagine what other distractions God had to use the rest of the day to keep Lucifer from asking Him His intentions. ~_^ I'm glad you liked the story!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 02:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 03:05 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked the characterizations. To be honest, that was what I struggled with the most. A lot of times I was ready to delete the whole story in frustration because I kept thinking that they (Aziraphale, mostly) were all wrong, and it was one of my biggest worries when I sent the fic in. I kind of compensated for this by bringing in those secondary characters, who are not seen as often and thus give me a little bit more free reign and confidence. I love working with them...especially Lucifer, who is the easiest. Just wind him up, set him down, and off he goes. He says whatever he wants, with little to no guidance from me. But I can't tell you how happy I am that you liked Aziraphale. ^_^
As for the cameo, don't worry about it. I just thought myself being clever there. Within the section concerning Aziraphale and Crowley, I referenced two songs and one movie (which connects with a whole series of movies, if that helps). There's my hint!
*hugs* I'm absolutely thrilled that you liked the story!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 03:07 pm (UTC)I'm very happy that you liked it! *squees with you*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 03:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 03:13 pm (UTC)Dogma is an excellent movie, and I loved it when God did the headstand. I love it when He is shown having a childlike side and being quite playful.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 03:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 03:38 pm (UTC)Like euph_girl, the wonderful musical references made me squee like a mad geeky thing. They were just perfectly matched to their sections or the idea they were trying to convey. You simply did a stunning job of tying them in, seamlessly and richly. So beautiful. I could go on about this alone for another week, but I'll refrain.
Your descriptions blew my mind. Like, away, and never to return. Voice of a C-minor scale, smile like October, a Greensleeves gaze...these literally made me have to catch my breath as I thought of them.
Characterization. Oh my god. Lucifer in particular, for some reason; he was just so perfect, such a bastard, deep in ways both insidious and not, and he kept calling God by his Hebrew names. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.
And plot. For some reason (well, lots of reasons, actually, having to do with my own spiritual walk or lack thereof), GO fics actually featuring God as a major character always do something funny to my heart. When Lucifer said, The point is, Aziraphale, that God doesn’t really care if you go against Him. He doesn’t care if you disagree or do something differently, I started crying, because there will always be the eternal theological conflict of whether God is Justice or God is Love, and I don't think we'll ever come to any satisfactory answers. But reading lines like this gives me hope that maybe someday I'll get close to an answer, at least for myself.
There was simply too much about this fic that I loved to pull out many more individual bits (because I loved the whole thing), but as a blanket statement your descriptions were some of the richest and most vivid I've ever read, your characterization of everyone was spot-on, "What is it about death" made me grin stupidly, and Pestilence made me cackle insanely. Also, because your narrative is so immediate and your descriptions so beautiful, I got the most distinct mental images from this, especially of the characters, and I am wondering whether it would be okay with you I ventured to draw some pieces based on this. Of course, please tell me no if that bothers you; I was just wondering in a small voice. ^_^
Anyway, I won't ramble away any more of your time. Please just allow me to thank you again for writing this and letting us share it. I appreciate it more than I can say.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 04:17 pm (UTC)I bow down in recognition of your greatness.
Oh man! All the secondary characters were so rich! Especially that plant! And the demons! XD
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 04:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 05:09 pm (UTC)Everything about this was beautiful, from "The same thing we do every night, Beelzebub" to "Oh, look! A kitty!"
On top of that, the descriptions were gorgeous and the conception of Death intriguing, but I just had to quote the punch lines =D
Adored it.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 06:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 06:34 pm (UTC)I love that plant. I'm a science nerd, so I couldn't help getting a little geeky there. And demons are just so much more fun to write than angels...can't imagine why....~_^
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 06:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 06:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 06:59 pm (UTC)I'm happy that you enjoyed the characterization. As I've said to a few other people, that was one aspect that I really struggled with...especially Aziraphale. Lucifer was an absolute blast to write, basically because it seems I just give him an idea as to what the scene is about, and he just starts talking. Like Crowley, he just writes his own stuff and then dictates it to me.
I know what you mean by wondering whether God is Justice or Love. I've wondered many times myself, and I think it's Love. ^_^ I love to add Him into my writings. I guess it's a way to help connect with Him. I just seem to be happier when I write His character, no matter how it appears.
Pestilence was also fun to write, and I'm glad he made you laugh. I needed some comic relief, and he fell into the role easily for me.
I was floored when you mentioned drawing some art for it, and even more stunned that you would be so shy about it. I would ADORE it, as I've never had art done for any of my stories, and it's all I can do to keep from falling to pieces. Please do so!
I'm ecstatic that you liked this story so much! Cookies for everyone! Now if only I can compile a soundtrack to it...
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 09:41 pm (UTC)“I never pictured Death in a sweatervest,”
Um, no :-) Nice to know there's still Aziraphale holding out on some points XD
The image of him making a snow angel in his last moments as Death is beautiful.
It's a wonderful concept, and you've paced it all brilliantly, with great use of so many characters, but it's the details that really make this fic. The tiny descriptions like the stickiness of time, and Aziraphale and the dying star, so many little touches that the story would have worked without but been vastly less for lacking. Fantastic job.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-11 11:09 pm (UTC)This line was beautiful: He smiled the way October would smile—secretive and sad... as was the Chioma scene.
And I just loved Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Lucifer's taste for cocktails!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-12 12:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-13 09:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-14 02:11 am (UTC)And was that a Patrick Wolf reference I caught there? "wind in the wires", eh?
(This also reminded me, obviously, of Mort, by Terry Pratchett.)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-14 06:17 am (UTC)This story is truly special, Secret Writer. I'm completely blown away.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-19 12:26 am (UTC)And your characterisation of God and Lucifer and Pestilence and everyone.
I find it quite impossible to articulate my love for this, so others' brilliant comments will have to do. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-06 02:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-08 07:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-08 07:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-08 07:50 pm (UTC)I've never read Mort, but I want to do that soon. I have a lot of Pratchett books to catch up on. Glad you liked it!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-08 07:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-08 07:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-08 07:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-08 08:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-09 04:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-11 11:33 am (UTC)Yay, lovely fic. I loved the varied cast of characters not always seen in fic, and a wonderful Aziraphale experience. All that coupled with just enough snark to make it a great read.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-22 09:50 pm (UTC)All of it was amazing and believable and I'm sure everyone else has covered the rest of it's fine points. I adore this though, and I hope you participate in this year's exchange!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-31 07:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-01 04:15 am (UTC)Wow
Date: 2011-09-16 01:49 am (UTC)I was captivated by the 'revalation' Az was given - it makes so much sense, given context! And the way he changed to fit the role of Death was wonderfully orchestrated (no pun intended) as well!
My only curiosity was that your portrayal of God seemed a bit... I don't know? Human? There was a good deal of power and the idea of omniscience, so you got your point across, but I wouldn't expect the Lord of Lords to chase after a kitty in order to evade questions from the Fallen One. That was just a bit jarring for me (or perhaps I simply have a too-romanticized view of God to handle His presence as it appears here?)
Beyond that, though - and even WITH that, because nobody said my views were perfect - I absolutely adored this piece! It was well written and thought provoking. I applaud you; you're a wonderful author!
0_o
Date: 2014-01-10 12:26 pm (UTC)Bravo.