Chapter Text
Space is mostly nothing.
Honestly.
There’s a reason it’s called space. Because most of it is empty.
Well that’s boring! What’s the point of that?
But here’s the thing. The empty space is pretty boring. And that is what makes the parts that aren’t nothing so much more incredible.
Here’s a spectacle for you. Come and see.
Look!
It’s near the heart of the solar system. A blue and green marble suspended in the silence of space. A planet that teems with life; in the water, on the land, in the air.
The people call it Earth.
A lot of great stories begin on Earth.
Look closer. Continents roll into view. Pick a point, any point. An island? Good choice.
Look closer. A city – a sprawling metropolis splaying out around a river. Towers punch up from the ground; metal fingers daring to reach up and tear holes in the clouds. A modern-day Babel in the making. But divisions of language are hardly a problem these days.
Closer still? Alright, take your pick. A neighborhood. A street. A bookshop.
Ah.
Here’s a scene that may be familiar.
An angel is sitting at a desk, reading a book. There’s a cup of cocoa, steam rising and curling in the warm morning light that streams through the window. The shop is, thankfully, empty of customers.
Aziraphale would hate to have to chase them out – he’s been having such a nice day.
He turns the page with a soft smile. He’s read this one before so he knows what’s coming. But humans and their words. They really are so clever.
The wind picks up outside.
That isn’t unusual in itself; the wind is a regular visitor to the back alleys of London.
But there’s something else with it.
A groaning sound, like a thousand gears grinding together in ethereal harmony. Aziraphale looks up, brow furrowed. He knows that sound. But where?
And the penny drops.
His eyes snap wide open and he dashes to the window to watch a large blue box materialise in the alleyway. A grin spreads across the angel’s face. He can’t help it.
They came to visit after all.
He grabs his coat and dashes round the back, arriving at the doors just as two figures step out of the box; one tall and skinny, the other shorter and ginger.
“Doctor! Donna!” he greets, with a wide smile and open arms.
“Hello, Aziraphale!” the Doctor answers, throwing his arms around the angel. “How are you? How long has it been?”
“I’m very well, thank you, Doctor. And it’s been far too long.” Aziraphale turns to Donna, “You look lovely, Donna. How are things?”
“All the better for seeing you,” she smiles, giving the angel a hug of her own.
“No, but seriously, how long has it been, Aziraphale?” the Doctor asks, seizing the angel’s shoulders. “I’m trying to recalibrate the TARDIS engines and I really could do with knowing when we last saw you.”
He stops to consider this for a moment. “It must be at least three months. I can work it out more accurately if we go inside.”
“No, no – three months is fine,” he replies, releasing his tight grip and dusting off Aziraphale’s coat.
“I told you that it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“You spilt tea all over the console of a vessel that uses very complex calculations to navigate through space and time. Forgive me if I was a little cautious.”
“It wasn’t very much tea. And the TARDIS has been through much worse and made it through the other side to tell the tale.”
The pair of them are about to descend into a full-on bickering match. Aziraphale coughs.
“Is this a flying visit then? Will you be popping off now that you know the engines are working?”
“Nah! Thought we’d hang around a bit – catch up with our favourite angel and demon.”
“That is, if you’re not too busy?” Donna asks.
Aziraphale smiles, leading them inside, “Of course, not! What an excellent excuse to close the shop. Come in, come in. I can make you some drinks – more tea?”
Donna agrees to tea emphatically, but the Doctor mutters something about tea being more trouble than it’s worth. Water, then. The Doctor settles himself down on the sofa, stretching himself out in a way reminiscent of Crowley. Donna stands in the doorway and watches the angel bustle around the kitchen.
“I see you got the hellhound scratches out of the floor.”
“Ah yes. That took a bit of a miracle to sort out. Although not as much of a miracle as Crowley’s flat – what a mess.”
Donna laughs, clearly remembering the state that it was in when she last saw it. A mess was putting it mildly for sure.
“And how is Crowley?”
“He’s very well, thank you.” The kettle boils and he pours out a cup for the human. His cocoa should still be warm enough to drink.
“He’s not at the bookshop today?” she asks, as they walk back into the main room. The Doctor sits up as they approach and gratefully takes the water offered. The angel takes a sip of his own drink before answering.
“He doesn’t live here you know,” Aziraphale laughs. “No, he’s been out of town for a few days – some business or other, I find it best not to ask. He should be back now. I’ve been meaning to meet with him. Perhaps I should give him a ring?”
“Perhaps you should,” the Doctor says, flinging his legs back up onto the tartan sofa. Donna rolls her eyes at his bad manners, but Aziraphale doesn’t mind.
Resolved, he heads over to the telephone and dials in the number to Crowley’s flat. As the line rings he beckons to Donna – what a lovely surprise for Crowley to hear from his friend and partner-in-crime.
The line connects and Crowley’s answering machine blares through the handset.
“This is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style.”
“Hello, Crowley! It’s Aziraphale, although you probably knew that as soon as I started talking didn’t you, hahaha. Anyway, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
He hands the phone over to Donna who takes it with a huge smile.
“Crowley! Remember me – it’s Donna! The Doctor and I are in London and Aziraphale is here, but you aren’t which I think is very rude and – ”
Her humorous rant is halted by the demon picking up the phone. “Donna! How are you? Please don’t tell me the Doctor’s been kidnapped again.”
“Thankfully not. We just wanted to see you two.”
“And recalibrate the TARDIS engines,” the Doctor adds, not wanting to be left out. Donna swats her arm in his direction to tell him to shut up.
“Well as Aziraphale probably told you, I’ve been out of town. But I am free today – we could all have a quaint little rendezvous.”
“Did you have anywhere in mind?”
“How about St. James’ Park?” Aziraphale suggests. “We can feed the ducks and then go on to find somewhere to eat.”
“Sounds perfect, angel. See you there in ten minutes?”
Aziraphale stares down at the steaming cup in his hand.
“Make it twenty. I’ve got a few things to finish up here.”
“Alright. Talk later.”
“See you, Crowley!” Donna yells with a grin as he hangs up the phone.
Aziraphale immediately bursts into a hive of activity. Cocoa is drunk, books are shelved and ornaments rearranged. As he flurries around the shop, he talks to himself – ticking off the various jobs to do on his mental list.
“Oh, but we’re going to feed the ducks and I don’t have anything to give them.”
The Doctor frowns, turning to address Donna with a lazy wave of his arm. “Did I mention that it travels in time? I’m sure I said it travels in time. I distinctly - “
“What the Doctor is trying to say is that you can take as long as you need, and then we’ll hop into the TARDIS, travel back a few minutes, and still get there in plenty of time.”
“Oh well isn’t that marvelous. You mean I’d have time to re-organize the Whitman too?”
The Doctor pouts. “Technically you have all the time in the world.”
“I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
Donna links her arm through Aziraphale’s. “Only that he can’t sit still for more than five minutes. Come on – what are we getting for these ducks?”
Doctor elects not to go with them to get duck food, and promises that he’ll busy himself with fine-tuning the calibration of the TARDIS instruments. Donna rolls her eyes, and tuts about the state it will be in when they get back.
The pair of them amble down to the local shop where they furnish themselves with corn for the ducks (bread, they had recently discovered, was not the healthiest choice for their beloved waterfowl). They pass by a Starbucks on the way back, and Donna can’t help but run in and grab a unicorn frappuccino. Aziraphale raises a quizzical eyebrow at luminescent drink.
“Crowley will understand,” she replies with a conspiratorial wink.
The Doctor is not pleased by the appearance of the drink after such a traumatic experience.
“No, no, no! That thing is not coming anywhere near my console.”
“Oh, calm down. This one’s got a lid.”
This fact is not enough to satisfy the Doctor, so he guides Donna by the shoulders (gently, mind) to stand at a safe distance from his precious equipment.
“Where do we sit?” Aziraphale asks, glancing round the TARDIS.
The Doctor and Donna just laugh.
“What?”
“Oh, it’s just… well, we’re never really in here long enough to sit down,” the Doctor explains. “We run in, take off, land, and run out again. Not much need for seats.”
“Yeah, but you also think there’s very little need for food. It doesn’t mean you’re right,” Donna quips from her appointed spot.
The Doctor begins flipping levers and switches with over dramatic flourishes. The engines groan, and the disc in the central column starts to plunge up and down.
“I’d grab a hold of something if I were you,” the Doctor warns before pulling one final lever.
The angel does as he’s told, and not a moment too soon as the whole room lurches to one side. A cry of surprise escapes Aziraphale’s lips, but it dissolves into a laugh of delight in no time. He had thought that there was no vehicle that could be more exhilarating than Crowley’s Bentley.
He was wrong.
Still wasn’t a patch on flying though.
And then they slam to a halt, the sound of the engines fading with one final toll. It reverberates through the ship like a bell.
“And we’re here!” the Doctor announces, swinging on his coat and racing to the TARDIS doors.
“So fast?” Aziraphale asks, following in his footsteps. “Can we really have travelled in time?”
The Doctor stops at the door, leaning in as if to tell Aziraphale a particularly important secret. Aziraphale can’t help but lean a little closer. He wants to drink up every word of this impossible man.
“I don’t know. Let’s find out,” he says with a little grin and he pulls the doors open.
Sunlight bursts through the doorway and Aziraphale steps outside. There’s grass beneath his feet and the wind reaches down to tug his hair. He spins around, taking in the sights of St James’ Park. The lake, the ducks, the panorama of the central London skyline. The sound of bells fills the air; Big Ben, chiming on the hour.
On the hour.
But he was still in the shop…
Aziraphale’s hand flies to his mouth to cover his shocked expression.
“We’ve travelled in time.”
“I did say.”
“I’ve never done that before. I’ve always had to go the long way. All 6,000 years of it.”
Donna steps out of the TARDIS and shuts the door with a firm tug.
“Is he freaking out?” she asks.
“No. He’s taking it remarkably well.”
Aziraphale is – his slack-jawed shock has turned into a wide smile. He turns to the Doctor.
“One question.”
“Just the one?”
“Does this mean there’s now two of me wandering around London?”
“Yes, it does,” the Doctor replies with a rub of his neck. “But it’s a closed system. The past you will end up here so that’s fine. Just don’t go looking for yourself.”
“Why not?”
“It’s possible that the universe might explode from the paradox.”
Aziraphale’s face falls.
“Well, it might not. But I think we’ll all agree it’s best not to risk it.”
The angel nods.
“Look!” Donna shouts, pointing across the lake. “It’s Crowley!”
She’s right. Crowley has heard her shouting and is waving back. He’s too far away to see clearly, but Aziraphale can picture his wide grin clear as day.
Donna holds up her cup. “I got you something!”
They watch as Crowley doubles up with laughter. Aziraphale resolves to ask him about this particular in-joke later.
The demon signals that he’s going to head round to meet them, and they follow suit – hoping to meet in the middle. There’s smiles and jokes and laughter, and Aziraphale knows this is going to be a very entertaining day.
It’s when they reach the bridge that it happens.
Crowley is walking towards them when he’s approached by a figure in silver and green. They stop to share a few words, but Crowley is shaking his head and seems determined to evade them.
“Anyone you recognise?” Donna asks.
“Not a clue,” Aziraphale replies.
Should he know? He’s sure he would recognise an angel, even if it were just by their angelic presence. And there’s no demonic energy other than Crowley’s own.
No. This is something else entirely.
There is a rapid exchange of gestures. Crowley points in their direction. The figure doesn’t even turn look. They lurch forward and seize Crowley’s arm. The demon’s cry of surprise is enough to force the angel into action.
“Let go of him!”
The figure whips round in shock. Their eyes are wild, desperate and an unearthly electric blue.
“Aziraphale!”
There’s a blinding white light.
And once it has passed, there is only empty space where the pair of them had been standing.
Crowley is gone.