The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 106:The World as Best I Remember It

Chapter 106: The World as Best I Remember It

Some of the most visible, powerful people in the world are the most vulnerable.

                Take Ann Bouldin. She took to the crowds, trying to win their affection. And then one day, just by being herself, she pisses off the wrong person, and pays.

                And so, every day she sat up in that Tower, a Rapunzel whose prince couldn't come, and she wondered, and schemed, trying to figure out what the hell she had done, and in the end, even the executioner felt so bad he was hiding the blade and had a friend handy to say," Hey, Ms. Queen. What's that over there?"

                And then, whomp.

                The point is, people in power play for power, if they're smart. Unless they have a soul. Then they just go find the right place to reach out. But they know how vulnerable they are.

                We all have our fan bases. Some of us don't even know we have them, because they're just as...selective in their company as we are.

                Even the most visible of us underestimate how much of a difference they make, how talented they are, how much insight they have, how much astounding growth they've gone thru.

                Any who, there are those of us used to going it alone. A couple of us go alone for six thousand years: loved, cherished, and yet unwilling to accept the love. Maybe they prefer it that way.

                Maybe, Crowley doesn't want the help, until he has to accept he needs it. And maybe, even then, if his relationship with his angel is any clue, he still may decide that the hostile kill count would go lower if he goes it alone...

***       

Newt was left to gather up notes and data while Aziraphale tended to Crowley. "I'm always doing the leg work," he muttered. But it was half-hearted, after seeing the state of the demon's eyes the moment he walked thru the door...

                Newt had actually yelled. Those fiendish yellow irises already gave him the willies: most of the time he just imagined they were contacts. But you can't fool yourself into believing that when they glare unblinking at you five times their original size and rimmed in scarlet stain!

                "Holy—" he had cried out, and Crowley stared down at him, a pink tear slipping down his haggard face. The demon came by and hovered there, his face more alarming at this odd angle, his nose more hawkish than ever, and those eyes, those fiery owlish eyes. Newt cringed.

                 Then the demon frowned, looking bored or disappointed, and just past him by. Aziraphale followed him, but knelt down to the young man. The angel's face shimmied around with worry.

                "I must extend my apologies, young man. I'm diverted from aiding you in this task until I can...relieve...Crowley of his ailment."

                "What the bloody hell happened to his eyes!" Newt blurted, trying to reign in his horror.

                "It's a very old thing with him," Aziraphale tried to explain. "Often it's just a symptom of his overexcitement. But when you start to see, well....blood..."

                "His eyes are literally wounded!" The angel patted his shoulder, his gaze drifting away.

                "Quite so, quite so. It's funny, sometimes the solution lies in releasing those tears, they get pent up, you see. And other times, you have to staunch the flow."

                "Dear God!" Newt couldn't keep up with what he was learning about these two. Much of it went against natural law, or even practicality.

                But it was before him, and he had started to recognize, from the moment he clipped his first musty news article, that there was a world outside his window unlike anything he took for granted.

                With a shiver, he asked," How exactly to you do that?"

                "It's a bit of a private matter," the angel whispered, fiddling with his pocket watch. "But we'll be going back to the bookshop. And then I'll need to discuss what he's found. I'm apprehensive though, if that's what set him off in the first place."

                Newt tried to ignore the private matter bit and plowed on. "Will we have time to tract down these leads?"

                "We'll make the time. If I have to coerce the shop to take us there, then so be it."

                "Do you think it will?" Newt couldn't believe he was talking about a building.

                In answer the angel touched his medallion right under his collar. A soft red glow emanated from it. And then his hand went to his vest, and he winced in pain.

                "Things are getting real now, aren't they?" Newt uttered in low tones. A quick nod. "It's crunch time, then."

                "Don't be so dour, my friend," the angel said with absurd cheerfulness, though the creases around his eyes intensified. "Yes, maybe the clock is ticking but we'll prevail! And so, the shop should be agreeable and give us a proper lift."

                "Aziraphale, what is the clock ticking down to?"

                Those angelic eyes widened, danced, softened. "Can't say for sure. But do what you can here to ready for our departure. You've organized the bulk of it: just loose ends from here. By the time you're ready so will I." And with a resounding nod, the angel rose to leave, but Newt caught his sleeve for just a moment.

                "Just one more thing."

                "Um, yes?"

                Newt was going back to asking unavoidable and uncomfortable questions. Some things just couldn't wait. "Right before Crowley came home, your ward blazed like a star, and you acted like you were having a heart attack."

                Aziraphale knelt once more, and gave him a measured look. At last, he said," It's a good thing you were there to catch me. I don't often let others touch me. Crowley is quickly becoming the exception."

                "Don't often reveal your wings either, do you?" Newt remarked, referring to the pub. The angel nodded, "I thought you were going to die, if that's possible, when you fell earlier. Does it hurt?"

                "It can immobilize," the angel conceded, "but I've overcome the pain when action is required."

                "Is this the most...you've both let humans see of you?"

                "I....I guess so."

                "Are you that reliant on us now?"

                The angel shook his head. "No but, it's so nice, so...reassuring...that we can have such wonderful new friends." Now his face worked into a genuine smile, and those eyes glowed with a warmth that touched Newt deeply.

                "Don't get many of those in your line of work, do you?" he found himself saying.

                "Not aloud. And whatever it is that draws I and Crowley together, well, it's not taboo for the simple fact it's unheard of."

                "You work for horrible people. Just thought I'd come out and say it."

                The angel actually laughed, a belly laugh that shook him, though his eyes seemed sad. "Not any more my, my dear fellow! Now, if you will excuse me, I have a very pressing matter to deal with. See you soon," he finished, rising up and exiting the room.

                "See you soon," Newt called back, turning back to the paper work, and then to the window, where the sunlight of a new day rose hours after it had actually begun.