Chapter Text
PRIMAL WEAPON STOLEN BY OCCULT FORCES, the patched-together newspaper declared. Aziraphale became increasingly concerned as she read though it. Finally, she called for her wife, unable to keep her voice from its tremor.
“What’s got you, angel?” Crowley scans the paper, but slows down at its description of the missing weapon. “What’s this?”
“Well what do you think? I only know of one force of nature, that appears all about time and space, leaving disaster in its wake.”
Crowley sits, examining the rest of the paper. “Doesn’t say it’s a person, but doesn’t say what it actually is, either… Nothing showing up anywhere else. Very odd, angel, but…” Her golden eyes flit from her wife back to the article. “How do we even confirm wether or not this is The Doctor? He could be in several places across the universe, at any point in time.”
“We must try, love. Remember when he blew through the old bookshop, before Adam?” In the back of a small kitchen drawer, she found a small envelope, tucked closed, labeled ‘for emergencies’.
“Yeah, ‘course. Gave you your sword back.”
Aziraphale carefully opened the envelope. Inside it was a note, and a small, strange key.
“Well he left this with it. ‘Guard these with your life.’ It’s got a modern phone number, with um… an extension, of some kind? What are these symbols?”
Crowley picked up the key. Not made anywhere on Earth, that was for sure. And the energy of it….
“Give me the paper, angel.” She quickly snapped the sequence into an old rotary phone hanging nearby, and waited through the dial tone.
Loud, harrowing cloisters reverberated from disconnected speakers. Crowley hung up.
“Who wrote that article?”
Aziraphale puts on her reading glasses, tilts her head up a fraction. “Mx Gusion, for Vain Media, published in The Oracular. Isn’t that a paper for archimages?”
“Non-human, specifically… But they— they have a vested interest in um… supernatural weapons. I think. I forget… I forget what they call the division….”
“Crowley? Dear, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I just, can’t for life of me remember… anything about it… I swear I….” She got a bit dizzy, and turned to try to clear her head.
“Crowley, is your mind, well— is it sliding around the subject like it shouldn’t be fathomed?”
“You could say that, yeah. Honestly, it puts me off trying to focus on it.” She wobbled her way to a chair and flunked down in it.
Aziraphale stood, and got the scotch down from an open shelf. “Remember the goguettes, the music clubs we frequented in Paris? 1830’s, I think it was? Before Wagner.”
Shaking her head of its plight, Crowley gratefully accepted and emptied her drink. Her wife was then lightly busy with the newspaper and a notepad, yet still attentive to the conversation. Crowley continued.
“Yesss, the singing and the coffee. We were only there for, what, two weeks, then we traveled south? And when you found a legitimate copy of a Pythic Oracle, you somehow convinced your superiors that hiding in a book shop would benefit everybody. But book collecting was always your thing, angel. I’m really happy that worked out for you. I mean, after I saved you from near decapitation. I can’t believe you went back to France! For crepes!”
Aziraphale smiled, and explained patiently, “Well, I missed you. And after the bookshop plans were finalized, I thought… well, They had every reason to keep a closer eye on me, didn’t They?”
Gold eyes blinked open. You just popped across the Channel, during a revolution, because you wanted something to nibble? The Angel had looked almost guilty, and then tried to hide it in a pout. Dressed like that? Crowley held her head.
“Satan alive, angel… I always keep an eye out for you, but…”
“But what? It was thrilling, and you know it.”
“Damsel in distress, this one. Really goes big, or goes home.”
“Must have been all those books.” Aziraphale tidied up her papers and moved a lock of curls out of the way.
Crowley had to give her credit for the undeniably sexy way Aziraphale held herself when she refused to apologize for reckless behavior. In all honesty, she liked the way her eternal companion came out of her shell, as it were. The War wasn’t kind to anybody, and they both had to step up in ways they couldn’t predict.
“Incorrigible.”
“I found them. The author, that is. Mx Gusion is a moniker, but he’s made quite a few notes on a computer that reference, I believe, the division unremembered.”
“What? How’d you do that?” Crowley took the paper once again. The main article now boasted conspiracy-like stories and bullet lists about a perpetually unknown placed called [REDACTED]. The other snippets were blank, their feeds carefully disrupted.
“The same way you put together the newspaper, dear, except much sneakier.” Aziraphale remained enthused. “This place is rumored to collect weapons of great power. Especially after the War.” Her voice faltered at the end.
It had been decades since the War ended. Crowley didn’t remember seeing The Doctor in all that time. What if he did come back, and something terrible happened?
“Right, wh— angel?”
“I’m ahead of you, love. In here, I’ve got a map.”
When exactly did she zonk out? This whole thing was driving her mad already.
In the drawing room, Aziraphale held a glowing globe of the Earth in the air before her. Its surface diagrams shifted to reflect the current state She was in. Many green lands were now sand or snow, but by the same token, many almost barren places now held new abundance. Most coastal boundaries, and cities, now had different placements.
There were also several oddly-shaded areas, of varying sizes. Their edges bled into their surroundings, almost into the globe itself. They didn’t have a label, nor designation in the map key.
Crowley gazed at them, memorized their placements. However, she soon forgot them, and cursed.
“Hold on, dear. This is the hard part…!”
Blue lines flashed across the rounded plane, while temporary blue dots appeared in others.
Eyes wide, Crowley realized she was trying to lock onto the TARDIS. Using a miracle, and her experience inside the Box, she could, theoretically. But, from the chaos on the surface, it looked like she was failing. The TARDIS was in too many places for an ancient being to focus on it properly.
From the tears on her cheeks, it looked like the Angel was loosing more than her connection.
“Crowley…?”
Aziraphale couldn’t see past the strange light in her eyes. So Crowley gently stepped in between her and the globe, and reached out.
“Right here, angel. Focus on just you and me—:”
“But The Doctor—.”
“No, that’s not where you begin. The TARDIS reads you like a signpost, right?”
“Right. So where do I—.”
“Here, love,” Crowley got as close as she could manage in all the brightness. “Here, with me, in this room, at this very moment. She can read us both, right? It will have to be enough for us to find Her and The Doctor.”
“Okay….” Aziraphale closed her eyes, reached back out to Crowley with three dozen unseen hands, and just let them be a beacon.
All it took was a few moments.
The globe abruptly lifted itself out of her hands, and back into its stand. It was still glowing, still turning, but there was a path now. A blue light encircled the planet, touching down in a few places.
It was a good thing Crowley was already holding the Angel; she might’ve needed some help up.
Aziraphale kissed her wife and let herself be held. “Did it work?”
Crowley glanced at the globe, drifting on like it knew nothing else.
“Yeah, angel. It worked.”
“Good, good,” the Angel breathed. “Now, let’s make some tea, and then… let’s find The Doctor.”