Lieutenant Colonel 'Black Fox' was a soldier, born in 1935, Liverpool, England. His family was killed in 1941, and the government used him, a child no one was left to care for, for experiments. He was prematurely aged and forced to develop into an adult soldier. Driven by a lust for vengeance, he fought in World War 2 and survived it's many horrors. After the war, the government tossed him aside, forgotten, or so he thought... He was recruited by FOX, a CIA black ops group. Eventually going on to form the very first PMC with his brother-in-arms, witnessing it's fall and the birth of a nation, they succumbed to a darker side that almost engulfed the world. Once Fox realised the error of his ways, he turned himself around and began plotting to unify the world in peace. After killing those who would threaten the peace he envisioned, he finally died in 2014, at the age of 79... Now, he's back again. Unwantedly revived through unknown means, and significantly younger than he was at his death, he's been thrown into a new galaxy far beyond his imagining. Can he adapt to a new life among the stars? As a soldier, will he find a new purpose? Maybe even love in of all this?
"Why are you doing this?"
Aziraphale's voice is faint, his breathing uneven. Crowley doesn't lift his eyes to see the sickly look on his face, the twist of pain where only joyous smiles should ever be.
"Bandages need changing", he mumbles, eyes fixed firmly on his working hands.
"No. I meant-" He can hear as Aziraphale swallows. "Why do you care for me?"
It isn't just 'why do you take care of me'. It's 'why do you still care at all'.
Crowley has to close his eyes for a second, makes sure Aziraphale doesn't see.
"Cause you're here", he says, voice carefully detached, "and you're hurt, and you need someone. And that someone's gotta be me."
"Why?"
He won't answer that. He can't answer that.
"Don't ask stupid questions."
~oOo~
Or, the one where Heaven punishes Aziraphale the only way they know how, Crowley is there to help pick up the pieces, and maybe they can build something new and much more beautiful from both their broken shards.
Warning for blood and injury, aftermath of physical violence, drinking as a coping mechanism, symptoms of depression - heed the tags!