Work Text:
[CLICK]
[a determined slamming sound]
ARCHIVIST
Hello? Hello?
[bang bang bang]
Excuse me! Hello? Martin? Look, I know you're in there. I can see your light's on! I will – [hitting the door particularly viciously, hissing in pain] Bloody... [shouting more irately] Whoever you are, you will open this bloody door, or I'll...
[bang bang bang – the door opens with a creak]
CROWLEY
It's gone midnight.
ARCHIVIST
[wrong-footed] I-I... erm... sorry, what?
CROWLEY
We have neighbours here. We get on pretty well with them. You, coming round here, making a god-awful racket at this hour, it doesn't do anyone any favours. So why don't you just... Hey! Hey! [scuffling] You can't... bloody hell, you can't just go trying to push! For god's sake, who raised you?
ARCHIVIST
[forcefully] Where's Martin? He was here, I know he was, so what have you done with him?
CROWLEY
We've got him, he's fine. We've been having a little bit of a chat, is all.
ARCHIVIST
A ch-... What have you done to him?
[a crackling of static, getting louder]
CROWLEY
[a sharp sound, like a hiss] Don't you... [harsh breathing, before speaking lowly] Don't you threaten me, Archivist. That was, ok, hands up, that was partly my fault, sounding all ominous there. But you aren't in your Archives now. You are a guest here. You try any of that compulsion lark... let's say if I think you're going to be a danger to me and mine, we're going to have some problems on the hospitality front.
AZIRAPHALE
[talking as he gets closer to the door] ...out like a light, poor thing, think he's had such a time of it, probably best to let him... Oh. Hello there. [pauses tentatively] Is everything... is something the matter, Crowley?
CROWLEY
Clarifying a few things for our guest, is all. I think they're all cleared up, hmm?
ARCHIVIST
I – Right. Yes. Got it.
CROWLEY
Good enough. Introductions then. Angel, this one's the Archivist.
AZIRAPHALE
Oh, we've been hearing ever so much about you! Martin, he's ever so fond of you, goodness he can talk for England if you get him started. I must say, some nasty business you've been involved in. [ushering sounds] Come in, come in, no use you standing on the doorstep, dear boy, people will think we're the most dreadful hosts.
ARCHIVIST
[sounding flustered] I-I can take off my own coat... There's no need...
CROWLEY
Angel, don't fuss so, you'll frighten him.
AZIRAPHALE
Gracious me, he is a nervous thing, isn't he? We aren't going to eat you, young man.
ARCHIVIST
I'm... well, it's unusual for people to be so welcoming. Usually they try to kill me.
CROWLEY
[deadpan] The night is young.
AZIRAPHALE
Crowley! Apologies for this one, he seems to think he's funny tonight.
CROWLEY
I'm hilarious.
AZIRAPHALE
Hmm. Anyway, come on in, make yourself at home, we've a few seats in the back room. Knew you'd be popping by, what with your young man upstairs. Tea?
ARCHIVIST
Y-yes. Please. That would be lovely... Can I see him? Martin?
AZIRAPHALE
I wouldn't really advise it, he's only just...
CROWLEY
The boy thinks we've ensnared him.
AZIRAPHALE
Oh! Surely you don't think...
ARCHIVIST
I- certainly, you're both being very kind, and I appreciate it, really I do, I just ... [pause] I want to know. For myself. It's been... difficult, recently. I was – I was worried.
AZIRAPHALE
Oh my boy, then of course.
CROWLEY
Get started on the tea, would you, angel? I'll take him up.
[two distinct sets of footsteps, one steady, one lighter, then the sound of two people ascending the stairs]
CROWLEY
Watch out for the second-to-last step, creaks like it's dying.
[A few more steps. There is the soft squeak of a door being opened slowly. Gentle breathing can be heard.]
CROWLEY
[noticeably quieter] Satisfied?
ARCHIVIST
Yes. Yes. [breathing out shakily] Thank you.
CROWLEY
[sound of door closing] Best let him sleep. Those corridors will knock it out of you, not counting for the weird time disconnect, and well, meeting Michael is no one's idea of a good time.
ARCHIVIST
I've had the pleasure.
CROWLEY
More's the pity. Anyway, back downstairs. Aziraphale's got Opinions about having guests so, whatever he offers you, just go along with it. I find nodding the best course of action.
ARCHIVIST
Right. I must say, you aren't... aren't what I expected.
CROWLEY
Normal.
ARCHIVIST
All of the other... manifestations or avatars I've met, they're all a bit...
CROWLEY
Fucked up?
ARCHIVIST
Quite. So... if you don't mind my asking, is this what... do you actually look like this?
CROWLEY
[coyly] Why, Archivist, are you asking me to take off my human suit for you? And with my partner right downstairs?
ARCHIVIST
N-no, no!
CROWLEY
Ha, sorry. Couldn't resist teasing. We don't get a lot of company we can talk to like this, it's quite refreshing.
ARCHIVIST
You're not human then.
CROWLEY
That's a bit needlessly philosophical at this time of night. I could ask you the same thing.
ARCHIVIST
...Point taken.
CROWLEY
You've got questions?
ARCHIVIST
A few.
CROWLEY
Your lot always do.
[the thump of people descending the stairs]
I met your predecessor once. Robinson, I think. I've got to say – watch the step – in comparison, you're pretty mild. She had her whole Nurse Ratchet vibe going on.
ARCHIVIST
I never had the pleasure of meeting her, but I hear she had that effect. Why did she come to you?
CROWLEY
Same reasons as your assistant did – had a few questions. We try and keep a low profile, but it's difficult when our names keep turning up in your records. People who have 'encountered' us, so to speak. I think she saw our names and hedged her bets we wouldn't immolate her on sight. You weren't so lucky, huh – that hand of yours a Desolation courtesy?
ARCHIVIST
Hmm? Oh. Yes. A nice reminder.
[entering the back room]
CROWLEY
Come on in, sit yourself down. I bet that was Jude. She's a right piece of work.
ARCHIVIST
Indeed. So, Gertrude came to ask you what you were?
CROWLEY
Yeah. Not like we'd be stepping foot in Elias' domain any time soon, so she thought she'd come to us. Aziraphale was all for being hospitable, got out the nice china, gave her some of our biscuits. Wish she'd choked on them. Rude woman. Didn't even ask before she tried to drag a statement out of me. Aziraphale was not impressed. Biscuit rights, immediately revoked. He gets quite terrifying when enraged. [stage whisper] It's a very attractive look on him.
ARCHIVIST
Er...
AZIRAPHALE
[from the other room] Crowley, dear, can you get the selection box out for our guest?
CROWLEY
[under his breath] Told you. Likes playing host. [louder] Sure!
AZIRAPHALE
[coming into the room] Here you are. Camomile, I don't think caffeine is such a good idea this time of night.
ARCHIVIST
Right. Thanks.
AZIRAPHALE
Have yourself a biscuit.
ARCHIVIST
I'm alright –
AZIRAPHALE
Oh, go on, dear.
CROWLEY
Angel, leave him alone.
AZIRAPHALE
But he looks like he's going to waste away!
CROWLEY
He's not going to waste away on our sofa over lack of a custard bloody cream, angel.
[AZIRAPHALE makes a dismissive noise]
ARCHIVIST
[awkwardly changing the subject] So… you two are in our Archives. More than once. Statements of Denzil Cassar. Baudouin Legrand, Martina Whitehead, David Harrison, Toby Malloy. And now, Caoimhe Ní Bhraonáin.
AZIRAPHALE
She did get home alright, didn't she? It's such a horrid thing to come into contact with a Leitner, poor dear.
ARCHIVIST
I think she's fine, as much as can be expected…The thing is, Gertrude filed your statements under the ‘operatives'. And Elias, he seems to think you're some neutral parties of some sort.
CROWLEY
Elias doesn't like what he can't See. Creepy little man, never taken to him. And as for 'operatives', well. Gertrude seemed to think we were avatars of a sort, or at the very least servants bound to a Power. Representatives for our respective sides, keeping each other in check, making sure alliances were kept in balance, that sort of thing. We didn't see the need to dissuade her.
ARCHIVIST
You aren't avatars then.
AZIRAPHALE
Not like you, Archivist, no.
ARCHIVIST
It's er - Jonathan. Jon. Please.
AZIRAPHALE
Jon.
ARCHIVIST
You've never been human then? I mean, originally.
AZIRAPHALE
It's a rather delicate... we're not manifestations exactly, but… oh dear me, how to put it.
ARCHIVIST
I could... Would you like to make a statement? You're under no pressure to, of course...
CROWLEY
You've got the tape recorder already running.
ARCHIVIST
What? I – [muffled fumbling as it is jostled in his pocket] Oh. I don't know where... I didn't intend...
CROWLEY
Those little bastards just pop up as they please. Don't worry about it.
AZIRAPHALE
I've never made a statement before. Sounds quite exciting actually. Oh, shall we, Crowley?
CROWLEY
Knock yourself out. Probably should be you though. Won't affect you as much. And it's not like the bloody Eye doesn't know we're here already.
AZIRAPHALE
Ah. Yes, of course, quite.
CROWLEY
[standing] I'm going to go grab the wine. You want some?
ARCHIVIST
Er- Sure. Thanks.
[footsteps moving away]
AZIRAPHALE
Should I... dive right into it, as it were?
ARCHIVIST
Yes. Why not.
[clears throat] Statement of Mr Ezra Fell –
AZIRAPHALE
Oh, Aziraphale, please. That's my... well, it's the name I chose.
ARCHIVIST
Right. Aziraphale. Statement of the entity known as Aziraphale, regarding... regarding what they are. Statement taken direc –
AZIRAPHALE
[softly reproachful] Statement given, Archivist.
ARCHIVIST
I - Yes. Of course. Statement given by subject, 12th July 2017. Statement begins.
AZIRAPHALE
We are – were manifestations of a sort. It is, gracious it's difficult to place into words, isn't it? There's so much you'll come to understand that it is not my place to tell. I don't have to tell you, I shouldn't think, about the Powers that move amongst you. The entities of singular intent, that exist just beyond your world, how ancient and formless and hungry they are, devouring the fear you give them so freely. Manifestations... you've come across them already of course, I can see the marks on you, how ill use you've been in the service of your God. Beholding is... it is not a kind power to worship, my boy. Its sacrifices are perhaps less obvious than those of the Flesh or the Corruption, but they are numerous in their turn... Anyway, you don't want to hear an old fusspot like me telling you what you already know.
Manifestations are... they are the ways in which a Power interferes with your reality. The symptoms of its illness, I imagine it could be seen, metaphorically speaking. It's a creep of decay which marks Corruption, that giddy sense of endless vertigo which denotes the Vast. They are monstrous things – evidence of a disease – but while they are undoubtedly connected to the Power from which they were birthed, many have their own instincts. They choose their own victims, they develop their own patterns. It is a sentience of a kind, and as long as they serve their creator, these divergences are permitted. I am explaining all this to you first Jon, because you must understand that I – the thing I was before, it was not a person. It was a will, an impulse, a fractal slice of vision in amongst a host of eyes. It revelled in knowing, and it was monstrous. It knew its purpose and it did it well; it watched, unblinking and tireless, and it promised people knowledge and watched them go mad from the revelations, and in their terror, it glutted on what it had wrought.
It was here, on Earth, amongst humans, for a long time. Longer than the other manifestations, that were content to watch only, to be the creeping sense of being followed on a dark night, something just behind you half-sighted in mirrors. It took human form sometimes. It stole the bodies from those who read from the wrong books, or bargained them in exchange for knowledge the seekers soon regretted wanting. It lived – in as much as one would call it living – by and for knowing and seeing and following its instincts. But after a long time, it started to see things it had no names for, things that it could catalogue but that it did not comprehend as experiences. Impulses it found difficult to consume. Once it met two humans on a dusty road, cold and shivering, and each begged for the knowledge to save the other – how to start a fire to keep the woman from freezing in the bitter desert chill, how to bind the man's wounds so he could survive the journey to the nearest town. Each offered it everything it had for the other – and although self-sacrifice and selflessness were not new concepts, it saw the depth of them, the strength and unwavering sincerity. It was so unsettled that it gave them the knowledge they wanted, and took only as sacrifice the memory of the man's first kiss, the knowledge of how to deftly thread a needle taught by the woman’s patient grandmother, before it returned to the night.
After that, it took human form more often, and its bargains were softer – it was carried by its hosts, squatting parasite in their bodies, awash with newer sensations, and in return, afterwards, it let them live with the revelations it gave them, although this was not always a mercy. It was fascinated by things like happiness, and irritation, and pride and selflessness and other things it did not have the names for. So eventually, it fashioned itself its own body, a reflection to hide its form, and it wondered what else it did not have the capacity to know yet.
It was then it met a spider. It was not unusual to meet other avatars or manifestations of the Powers, and Beholding has always been more interested in knowing of them than interfering with the internecine struggles and conflicts between the more active Powers. This was and is also true of the Web, which is content to spin and wait and bate its traps according to its own sedate rhythm, so it was surprised when one of its manifestations, after months of watching, grew bold and approached it. The spider wove its web over its endless eyes, crawled into its ears and strung hammocks of silk there, and wondered aloud what the Eye was doing, sending one of its agents to mingle amongst the humans. The knowing thing that lurked in an ill-sitting body asked the spider the same questions, if the Web had some plans, and the spider tutted and skittered across its cheeks, and replied that it didn't know. The spider told the knowing thing that it had watched it, that it seemed to have doubts and fears, seemed to realise that things weren't as they appeared. The knowing thing dismissed this conjecture, replied that its existence was ineffable, a layering of truths that only the Eye could see, and the spider laughed with its human mouth and said that surely it wasn't ineffable then, if it was able to be known.
It did not trust the spider, for it is foolish to trust any foot soldier of the Web, whose words over years can be the drip drip of accumulative poison, whose every motion slowly draws its strings tighter. But it skittered through the streets and alleyways in a manner almost like a person, and the knowing thing followed where the spider went. It walked on coltish, poorly built legs, shielding many of its eyes from the onslaught of knowledge, and allowed itself to be shown humanity as the spider saw it. Lived amongst them, knew the people around it without asking or taking, but by experiencing. Sometimes it was with the spider and sometimes without, but they always came back together again, and it came to understand that this was intentional on the spider's part. That it liked the company. That it liked the company of the knowing thing.
Eventually, the spider made an offer. To tell the knowing thing, the servant of the Eye, all that it wanted to know, the answers to all the questions it trapped under its tongue. A gesture of trust, it said. The knowing thing was anxious to compel the spider, thinking it a breach of their tentative alliance, but it insisted, giving a nervous too-full smile.
And...so, I asked him if this was a trick, and he looked at me with all of his eyes, and told me that he had never wanted to entrap me. That he'd never tried to lure my will to his own designs, that the idea of manipulating me as a marionette to his selfish desires was unthinkable to him. I asked him what he had wanted to tell me so badly, and he admitted that he controlled people in such minor ways, tempted them to such small sins, into such breakable webs, that they barely counted as sacrifices to the Web at all. He wanted me to know that this existence, this hungering we served, the fear we encouraged, brought him no satisfaction, not like living did, not like living as one of them did.
I didn't ask any more questions. I didn't know what to do with the answers I had. And then he moved forward and wrapped his many spindling arms around me, as though I'd been caught, but with enough space that I could pull away if I so chose and said he would like to ask me a question, if I'd allow it. I nodded and for the first time, struggled not to look for his words in his head, wrest them from him before he spoke.
He asked me if my existence, if my service, my subservience to my Power – the ceaseless exposure of secrets, the peeling back to a screaming vulnerability, the watching from dark corners and making them fear my numerous unblinking eyes – if it was what I wanted. I protested, and said I didn't have wants, I couldn't have wants, that is not what we were, but he shook his head and said he didn't believe me. So, he asked me again, a quiet chitter of sound, wispy as silk, what did I want?
And I knew. I knew then exactly what I wanted. And I told him, shakily, and my human body felt like it could not hold me properly. He stroked my cheek with a creeping limb and smiled with a full mouth and told me if I wanted to know if he felt the same, I only needed to ask.
I didn't ask him. I didn't need to.
And that was when we decided to follow our own agendas. We live our own lives as much as we can. Crowley – he called himself Crawly at the beginning, he's not exactly the most imaginative, bless –
CROWLEY
That feels necessarily rude.
AZIRAPHALE
[ignoring him] – he goes through the motions. Weaving the faintest of strings to half-catch and tempt the weak-willed. The avatar of the Web is in London at the moment, so he's keeping a lower profile than usual. I watch sometimes, to sustain myself. I have humans that I favour, and I watch them to make sure they're safe. Mostly I feed by reading. Such stories humans have. Their lives imprinted in ink, there's enough of a knowledge there to keep me satiated. We don't know what would happen, if we came to be viewed as a threat. It's unlikely that either of our sides are ignorant of our rather independent positions, and should either of them take against that… we may be subsumed, or erased, or destroyed. I don't much like to think on it. Regardless, for the most part, we are left alone.
ARCHIVIST
And if Beholding were to attempt a ritual?
AZIRAPHALE
As far as I'm aware, the Web and Beholding are some of the few Powers that haven't attempted to claim any dominion over this world. Crowley's lot... they'll never attempt a ritual, it's not in their nature. They like the earth as it is, so I presume his interferences with the other Powers, they chalk those up to keeping the scales balanced. My...well, our lot really, Archivist... It's difficult to say. Beholding is rather inscrutable, as you know yourself. Should there be a ritual attempted, and I do think there shall be one, I will choose my side. I have already chosen it.
[breathes out a long sigh] Goodness me. That... that feels better than expected. I shouldn't expect to see you in my dreams tonight, I'm sure. I feel I'm rendered somewhat immune to that.
You have anything to add, dear?
CROWLEY
Nothing that springs to mind. You couldn't have made it any more soppy, could you?
AZIRAPHALE
[bristling, slightly put-out] I was trying to give an accurate account...
CROWLEY
You gave him our relationship story, that's not exactly the same thing.
AZIRAPHALE
Well, I disagree. Do you have any further questions, Jonathan?
ARCHIVIST
I – Ahem. Yes. A number of the statements you appear in have you dealing with Leitners of some description. Any reason for that?
CROWLEY
Aziraphale's rather set on... taking them out of commission, so to speak. I think he takes them as a personal affront, books being misused like that. That right, angel?
AZIRAPHALE
Oh hush you.
ARCHIVIST
You... I hate to bring it up, but... you call him angel? Is that...?
CROWLEY
It's a pet-name, Archivist. Surely you aren't that dense.
ARCHIVIST
You two are... together.
CROWLEY
[sounding chuffed with himself] Long time now. Practically married.
AZIRAPHALE
Not that he's ever thought of asking.
CROWLEY
I just don't think two eldritch manifestations of formless horrors necessarily need a seal of approval from organised religion, is all.
AZIRAPHALE
[mock sigh] No romance, this one.
ARCHIVIST
You can love then. There's room for that.
AZIRAPHALE
[softly] You can still love, Jon.
ARCHIVIST
I was beginning to doubt it. What with whatever I'm turning into...
CROWLEY
You aren't a monster.
ARCHIVIST
But I am not... I don't think I'm human anymore.
AZIRAPHALE
You aren't. That does not mean you have to lose your humanity. [a pause] I cannot read the future for you, and tell you what will come to pass, that's not how this works. And however strong your powers become, you will never be able to know if the choices you're making are the right ones. But you will have to make them all the same. You will need to decide who you are, where you'll stand, what you will sacrifice. What you'll fight for. And I'm rather afraid you'll have to choose sooner rather than later.
CROWLEY
Your Martin.
ARCHIVIST
What about him?
CROWLEY
He thinks you're human.
ARCHIVIST
Martin has always been... rather charitable towards me. Even when I haven't deserved it.
CROWLEY
So what are you going to do?
ARCHIVIST
I... pardon?
CROWLEY
To deserve it.
ARCHIVIST
I -
AZIRAPHALE
Not to pressure you my dear, of course. Just some food for thought.
ARCHIVIST
I – Right. Right. It's not that I'm not... I don't want him to get hurt.
CROWLEY
He works for the Archives. It's not an option, it's an inevitability.
AZIRAPHALE
He told us. About the Unknowing. How you're going to stop the ritual.
ARCHIVIST
That's the idea, yes.
AZIRAPHALE
It would be a shame. If things were left unsaid between you.
ARCHIVIST
[softly] ...Quite.
AZIRAPHALE
Something to think about. Take it as... advice, if you would. But now is not the hour to think on it further, I don't think.
ARCHIVIST
I-I should really go home.
AZIRAPHALE
You are welcome to stay.
ARCHIVIST
...No. Thank you but no.
AZIRAPHALE
Very well. We'll see you out.
ARCHIVIST
Martin...
AZIRAPHALE
… will be in work next morning well-rested and well-fed, and not a moment before.
ARCHIVIST
[huffs a laugh] Right.
AZIRAPHALE
And I should hope the same applies to you.
ARCHIVIST
One can but hope.
[walking towards the door]
CROWLEY
Come round some time once you've finished saving the world. There's always more biscuits.
ARCHIVIST
That would – that would be nice.
AZIRAPHALE
And remember to turn off those wretched things. You'll run out of tape.
ARCHIVIST
Ah – yes...
[CLICK]