Chapter Text
“I forgive you.”
“Don’t bother.”
Aziraphale had watched Crowley walk away, watched the door close behind him. The only trace of him that remained was the peculiar tingle lingering on Aziraphale’s lips.
How could it have gone so wrong?
But then, something happened. Through the window, Aziraphale saw that the Metatron had stopped Crowley in the street. They were speaking; Crowley was gesturing. And just like that, he came back inside.
“Alright. If this is really what you want, then alright.” Crowley’s expression was pained, but his words were firm.
Aziraphale could hardly believe it. What had the Metatron said—in a matter of seconds!—that was so much more persuasive than Aziraphale’s pleas?
He still did not know. He never got the chance to ask. The three of them were on the elevator moments later. Aziraphale remembered it clearly as the last time he was truly happy.
~~
“Supreme Archangel, are you listening to us?”
Aziraphale’s attention snapped back to Michael and Uriel beside him—they both looked irritated. But to be fair, that was how they’d looked at him ever since he returned to Heaven.
“Of course,” he lied, turning away from the window and its view of the eerily infinite Earthen skyline.
“And?” Michael asked, impatiently.
“And … the plans and schedule for the Second Coming are still under review.”
“That’s what you say every time.” Uriel’s arms were tightly crossed.
“And yet you continue to check in! Very dutiful of you both.”
“Azir—” Michael started and stopped. “Supreme Archangel. Might I remind you that you have been in your current role for six months now, and we’ve made no progress on this issue?”
“Six months, is it?” Aziraphale said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Ah yes, quite right. Well, that’s hardly any time at all in Heaven, isn’t it? We certainly wouldn’t want to be seen as rushing something as important as this.” He smiled at each of them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do have an important meeting on my schedule.”
Uriel scoffed. “What meeting?”
“What schedule?” Michael asked, eyes narrowing.
Aziraphale had started away and turned back to face them. “Oh, you haven’t heard? My request to personally mentor the angel Raviel has been formally approved. I’ve been counseling him for a few weeks now.”
Michael heaved a sigh. “Oh, right. Your little pet project.”
“It’s of utmost importance to me to ensure that Heaven’s newest angel adjusts properly—and avoids repeating any pitfalls of his past. But then, that’s important to all of us, certainly.”
“No one else cares if—” Uriel started and stopped when Michael ahemmed. “Yes, of course, Supreme Archangel. Utmost importance.”
Aziraphale started on his way again, happy to leave the two of them behind.
“But what about the plans?” Michael called out. “You can’t avoid this forever!”
“Your feedback is noted and appreciated,” Aziraphale said over his shoulder. “If you have any other comments or ideas, feel free to drop them in my suggestion box!”
“What’s a suggestion box?” Uriel whispered.
Aziraphale continued on, taking the elevator to the sorting level, where he nodded at a few angels who stepped aside as he passed, wide-eyed to see someone of his rank here. His calm, cordial facade was pure fiction: he was eager to see Raviel again. If he still had a heart, it would have been pounding.
The angel at the front desk of sorting, Mavrael, wore a gold visor and was perpetually grumpy. They didn’t notice—or perhaps pretended not to notice—when Aziraphale walked up.
“Ahem,” he said after a moment.
“Ah, hello Supreme Archangel—a true honor—how may I help you today?”
“I’m here for Raviel; we have a pre-arranged appointment.”
Mavrael scowled. “Fine.” They leaned forward and pressed a button on an intercom mic. “Raviel to front, now. Raviel to front.”
Aziraphale winced. Their tone was so cold, so harsh. When Raviel appeared moments later, he looked afraid, his brows knit with concern and posture slumped. Aziraphale waved, and when Raviel saw him, his face lit up, his back straightening.
“Supreme Archangel!” he said, coming forward. “Is it time for another session?”
“It sure is! Are you ready?’
“Yes!” Raviel beamed, radiating happiness. Raviel smiled so easily—in marked contrast to when he was Crowley, when he still had his memories. Six thousand years of them.
Aziraphale swallowed his sadness and smiled back. “Why don’t we start with Earth today?”
“Okay!” Raviel said, because Raviel never disagreed with anything.
As they walked together, Aziraphale glanced at him, watching the way his red curls bounced above his shoulders, hair secured away from his face with a gold headband. Raviel wore the simple uniform of the sorters: a white button-up top with flowy sleeves and a folded scallop collar, beige culotte trousers, plus a gold sash belt and matching gold sandals. Guilt twisted in Aziraphale’s chest every time he saw him and noticed how nice he looked—and how unlike himself. This is what you wanted, right? he imagined Crowley saying. Raviel caught his gaze and smiled again. Aziraphale smiled back at the face of his dearest friend, just as he remembered him, save for loss of his reptilian eyes and the lack of any snake emblem on his jaw.
After taking the elevator, the two of them emerged in the top offices and made their way over to the floating blue orb of Earth.
“Alright,” Aziraphale said. “How many can you name? And remember: It’s alright to make mistakes here. This is just for fun.”
Raviel nodded, stepping closer to the rendering of the planet. “Africa!” He pointed.
“Very good! Any others?”
Raviel went on identifying things—cloud, water, Australia—and Aziraphale praised him for each one. Though Aziraphale enjoyed spending time with Raviel and missed him while they were apart, he was also keenly aware that he did not deserve these sessions, nor did he deserve Raviel’s many warm smiles. It was Aziraphale’s fault that Crowley had ended up here, that he’d ended up like this. How horrible of Aziraphale to find any enjoyment in it at all. How selfish. How cruel.
But what else could Aziraphale do? Raviel was not Crowley, but he was all that was left of him.
“Some bits are … greener than others,” Raviel observed.
“Yes, you’re right. That color comes from grass and trees—plants growing on the land.”
Raviel looked curious but cautious. “What are plants?”
Aziraphale looked down for a moment. He’d walked right into that one, he had to admit.
“You know what?” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s go somewhere new today. I’d like to show you something.”
“Okay!”
***
Aziraphale kept his chin up and his expression in confident neutral as he passed through the main corridor with Raviel at his side. It was highly unusual for him to be taking a sorter angel this direction at all, nevermind where he intended to go. But he was the Supreme Archangel, and Raviel was under his tutelage, and if Aziraphale decided that something was appropriate, then it was. Raviel needed to learn all the features of Heaven to truly grasp the wondrous gift he’d been given, one could plausibly argue.
The two of them made it to the exit without passing anyone else. Azirpahale breathed a sigh of relief, though he was a bit disappointed that his rehearsed reasoning went unused.
“Where does this door go?” Raviel wondered.
Aziraphale glanced at the sign above that simply read EXIT—F, which was indeed ambiguous.
“This will take us to the fields.”
“Fields,” Raviel repeated. Belatedly, he gasped. “We’re going … we’re going into the fields?”
“Yes, we are.”
Raviel looked worried. “Are we … That is, am I meant to see—”
“You’re with me today, Raviel. And I can go wherever I like. Would you like to come with me?”
Raviel hesitated a moment and then nodded, prior concern easing out of his brow.
“Good.” Aziraphale opened the door and stepped into a bright room that was not a room at all, but an endless expanse of meadow, with rolling hills, trees too tall to see the tops, and flowers and shrubs scattered about.
“The floor is … soft,” Raviel observed as they started out.
“It is, isn’t it? Very different from the offices.”
“This is where they … the humans, I mean. Where their souls go after they pass on?”
“Many of them enjoy coming here, yes.”
“Will we see any?”
“Not likely. Not many venture this far. I expect we’ll be quite alone.”
The plants here were not of Earth and therefore did not look like Earthen plants, though some of them came strikingly close. The “grass” underfoot was shimmery flaxen; the bushes grew leaves that chimed like faint bells in the breeze. The sky above bore no hint of blue, instead resembling a single continuous cloud emanating a soft, comforting glow.
Aziraphale continued on toward a thicker cluster of trees, where a brook of sparkling gray mist flowed alongside a small bank. That would be a nice place to wander, he thought.
“Oh my, I didn’t know we’d gone so far,” Raviel said—he’d turned around and noticed that the door back to the offices had been reduced to a speck.
“Distance isn’t quite the same here. But don’t worry, we won’t get lost. I think you’ll like what you see. It’s pr— well. Have a look for yourself.”
Raviel did as he was instructed, turning and taking in the sites. He smiled at a bush covered in pale blossoms and then leaned back as he followed a tall tree with his eyes. As he looked up at the infinite rows of branches, his expression changed to one of wonder.
“What are those?”
Aizraphale followed his gaze; Raviel was looking at the little white puffs swimming around in the air above them, each about the size of a golf ball.
“Ah, those are guide lights. They ensure none of the human souls here ever lose their way.”
Raviel smiled up at them. “Will they come down to us?”
“Ask one nicely and find out.”
Raviel took that task seriously, scouring the space above him for the right puff. When he spotted it, he held out his hand, beckoning it down. “You there. Come down, will you? Please?”
The guide light paused in its path and Raviel gasped. Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile.
“Yes, you! That’s right!” Raviel said, gesturing more dramatically. “Come here for a moment.”
The guide light seemed to hesitate. Aziraphale gave it a little whistle, and that put some urgency in its descent. A moment later, it floated down right in front of Raviel, who beamed.
“It’s so … oh! I don’t know the word, but I like it so much.”
Aziraphale could not deny their charm. “They’re cute, aren’t they?”
Raviel tried to touch the guide light, but it easily evaded his hand. He tried again, only for the puff to dodge a second time. It quickly became a game, one that Raviel had no hope of ever winning, but one that made him laugh and laugh like Aziraphale had never heard.
“Alright,” Aziraphale said, shaking his head. “Let’s let that one get back to work.” He snapped his fingers and nodded at the guide light, which swiftly ascended.
“Bye!” Raviel called after it, waving. “What does that word mean?”
“What word?”
“Cute,” Raviel said, meeting Aziraphale’s gaze.
“Oh. Cute is a word for … something small, or precious, or sweet. Something that makes you think aw, how cute.”
Raviel considered that for a moment. “Is that cute?” He was pointing at the mist stream.
“In a way, perhaps.”
“What about that?” Raviel pointed at a glossy rock.
“No, I wouldn’t say so.”
“What about … me? Am I cute?” He smiled in a way that fit the word almost painfully well.
Aziraphale cleared his throat. “That’s not a word we would use for other angels.”
“Oh,” Raviel said, expression falling. “I’m sorry, Supreme Archangel. I won’t ask again.”
“No, Raviel, that’s alright,” Aziraphale said, stepping closer to him. “You can ask me questions whenever you like, remember? It’s perfectly fine.”
“But not anyone else.”
“That’s right. Not anyone else. No matter how small the question may seem, save it for me.”
“Okay. I will, Supreme Archangel.”
Aziraphale hesitated a moment and then said something he’d wanted to say ever since their sessions began. “While we’re here—visiting the fields, I mean—you can call me Aziraphale, if you like.”
Raviel’s eyes went wide. “I can?”
“Well, yes, Raviel. We’re friends, and it’s my name.”
“Aziraphale,” Raviel said, trying it out. “I’m glad we’re friends.”
For the second time, Aziraphale had to look away. “Me, too, Raviel. I’m very glad, too.”