Chapter Text
Aziraphale was out of options. After the last time he descended to Earth – after his last conversation with Crowley – he felt so hopeless it took every fibre in his (ethereal) being not to combust.
Drop the martyr act, Angel. It's pathetic.
He had called him ‘Angel’ again. It had felt so casual, so comforting, and yet it left Aziraphale mourning for his past with such intensity it made him dizzy.
He was out of options, so he did the one thing he could do. The first thing he ever learned.
Aziraphale knelt on the white floor of his office. It didn’t require a circle of sigils, being in Heaven already. He clasped his hands together in front of his face.
“...God?” He started. “Can you hear me?”
No response. He looked up expectantly, out of custom, and closed his eyes again.
“Dear Lord... It's me again. Aziraphale. I know we haven't talked in a while, but I've been meaning to speak to you. You see, there are some rather pressing matters…”
He breathes, thinking about how to word what’s on his mind.
“It’s about the world, Lord…” He tried. “I’ve been Heaven’s correspondent on Earth for almost six millenia. I’ve been trying to keep it good. Keep it balanced. Just like I was told to do.” He sighed. “Please, can you tell me, Lord. Was it all in vain? Was it all with the goal of destruction in mind? I knew about Armageddon, but I thought, when it didn’t happen, that must not have been your plan from the start.”
Silence.
“I know it isn’t my place.” He justified himself, frowning hard. “I know it isn’t for me to know.” He clarified, quickly. “But you created it. You created them. Is it necessary to destroy it for the process of testing it? Please, Lord. You needn’t tell me, no words are necessary. But a sign. Please.”
He begged, on his knees. No answer.
“If not the world, Lord, then him. He was yours, once. Please. Have pity. Not for him, but for me. I would not mind if everything else was gone, if I had him well.” His throat caught in something, and Aziraphale tried breathing. “Let him escape. Give him a warning, Lord.”
It’s the least you could do, Aziraphale thought, and then chastised himself for doing so.
“I understand it is selfish of me to ask for favours, after Heaven accepted me back.” He added, automatically. “And I am extremely grateful for this opportunity to prove myself. But I would not ask for anything else, for the rest of existence, if I had this one thing.”
There were tears in his eyes. He didn’t have to hide them, being alone, but still felt the overwhelming shame washing over him.
“To disappoint you is the furthest from my intentions, Lord. I want to do the right thing. To be good, just like we were intended to do. After all, I was created by you, for you. And I’ll gladly continue to do so. To serve you, my God, is an honour, and I never wished to do otherwise.”
His knees ached. His hands were sweating. Yet, he continued.
“But so was him, at first. We all know you love all of your creations, my Lord. Surely that would include him. Surely you don’t want this.”
He spoke as if he couldn’t believe that thought himself. Yet the doubt settled in his temples, weighing down on his halo.
“Please, my Lord. Anything.”
Silence. His hands fell to his side. Aziraphale was alone.
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