Chapter Text
Strelitzia reginae-- Joy, Faithfulness, Freedom
Hope was an interesting thing.
She saw it on the faces of the humans, even now, as they made their way across the desert in front of them, forced out of the green behind their back. The way Adam rubbed Eve’s belly, soothing the being inside her, when she stopped and looked around them. The way Eve never shifted the flaming sword off to her lover, taking ownership of it, stalking ahead into the unknown, away from the safety of Eden.
Eve was beautiful in a bizarre human way that Adam didn’t inspire in the Demon. Looking at her struck her dumb. The softness of an Angel, the complete innocence as she walked away from her husband, sated from his lovemaking, to gather carnations, the smell of pine clinging to her skin as she passed by the Demon lay lazily in the vibrant grass warmed by the sun.
Best of all, Eve was curious.
The Demon wanted agency once. It was only fair to share the opportunity.
The Earth feels wounded now, though. The Tree is just a tree, the vibrant leaves nothing more than just nature.
The Demon looked towards the falling sun from the comfort of The Tree’s shielding branches, darkness slowly building above the safety of her false enclosure, enjoying how the remainder of the Sun’s heat felt on her black fur. She thinks of the naive angel stationed on the Sun that bowed to her out of formality, unable to see who she was because of the eloquence of her speech. Uriel had never bowed to her in Heaven. It was almost poetic.
She hoped his directions got him into trouble.
But another Angel was below her now. Soft, bright, kind. The Demon watched as she murmured something mournful, running her hand slowly against the trunk of the now normal tree. It was a little ridiculous, if you asked her. She didn’t her the tree. It was instrumental. The tenderness struck her, though. Making her want. Making her curious again. Made her a little vicious.
“I should thank you for napping nine months ago,” The Demon said from her high perch. The Angel turned sharply upwards, squinting into the thick tree branches, the apples still ripe and beautiful. Her shoulders sank when she finally caught the great Bombay cat in the tree. “Made my job easier.”
The Angel turned away blushing, sliding down the trunk of the Tree, a blade of grass in-between her thumbs, ready to attempt the song Adam played for her in their short acquaintance. It was exhilarating because it was the Angel’s fault, too! What a weakness. Taking a nap while she was free to stalk the grass, lick the fruit, indulgently letting Eve pet her to gain that sort of trust to inch towards her end goal. The Angel seemed guilty. Watching her but not flinching.
The Angel obviously didn’t like that, and their close proximity over the last nine months led to a sort of familiarity with the other’s habits. The Angel would twirl her curly red hair around her long thin fingers when nervous, napping out of curiosity when Adam told her about his experience, and, further, talking gently to plants to have them grow, much to Eve’s delight.
“Curiosity killed the cat, yunno?” The Angel blew on the blade of grass and created a weak whistle. A smile. Success. “Figured what’s the worst that could happen.”
The Bombay cat muttered, “Satisfaction bought it back.”
The satisfaction felt a little hollow though, to be honest. She was glad the two were given a choice, allowed to fall so to speak, like she did. But she wasn’t particularly proud of her position in the temptation. How she fell so easily into the business. How Hell would remember this.
The Angel watched as the cat slowly transformed back into her more Human form from her high perch. The way she was pleasantly flushed from the sinking sun, the way her pupils thinned in the sudden light in the middle of the Garden. She landed solidly on her feet and tried to hide how the gravel hurt the burns on her feet, smiling with her sharp fangs present.
As the Demon reached up to pluck another apple from the old Tree, the burns that lead straight up her neck, the blind eye, the sloppy bandaged fingers with leaves that were, in the Angel's experience, doing more harm than good, looked all the more painful in clear view. The Demon was smirking, sure, but the Angel could see the pain that flashed across her face when she leaned her shoulder against the Tree, how the bark must hurt where she tucked her wings into the ether, how she was massaging the sole of one of her feet while pretending not to be ashamed.
The bruises on the Demon’s legs… the welts already forming on her cheek, the lightening scars traveling up her pale arms… Did this happen to all the Angels when they fell? Was pain in their lives forever, or were some inflicted?
When the Demon hissed at the blooming bruise on her arm, rolling up her tattered dress to reveal more pain in various stages of healing, the Angel wondered for the first time if she was avoiding going back to Head Office, too.
“Did you have a flaming sword?” the Angel asked instead. The Demon paused, her eyes flashing wider. She played with the frayed edges on her sleeve, plucking a loose thread, then another. “You did, I swear you did, what happened to it? Use it to hunt for food?”
The Demon muttered something, suddenly nervous. Raphael leaned in, trying not to be offended nor offending, yet understanding the Demon’s hesitancy.
“I gave it away!” The Demon finally said, her confident facade dropping into a nervous high pitch.
“You what!”
“I— don’t look at me like that, it was mine to give away!” The Demon looked down at her bandaged feet, as if trying to see through the Earth, squinting to see if anyone was listening. She ducked behind the Tree and peeked around the corner, almost conspiratorially. “I wanted them to be free, but they also needed help. It’s up to them what they want to do, but I couldn’t let them be shoved out into the desert with nothing.”
“That’s— oh gosh, that’s—“
“Don’t.” At the Demon's tone, the Angel raised her hands in defeat, smiling despite herself. “Like you’ve never done anything bad in your pure Angelic existence.”
The Angel faltered, searching the sky for a sign before walking under the foliage of the Tree herself. She whispered, “I was tasked to remind Adam to not be tempted by— well, you.”
That made the Demon laugh. She swung around the Tree trunk, open and beaming. “And you were so caught up with interacting with the humans that you forgot your mission?”
“Hey! Should I remind you that you were probably suppose to cause trouble, not hastily solve a problem you created?”
The Demon pouted by didn’t retreat behind the tree again. She flapped her hands anxiously. “What’s the worst that could happen, dunno?” She mocked.
“Do you think making them Fall but saving them from whatever is out there leveled out your deeds or pushed them into favorable behavior?”
“Did you want her to ge mauled by a lion before she gave birth?”
‘No! ‘Course not! Just that—“
“It’s bad of me to save them from predators but good of you to each Eve how to have an easier labor?”
“She’s expecting soon!”
“Wasn’t that part of her punishment?”
“So you agree with that part?”
“No! ‘Course not. It’s just—" the Demon deflated, slowly lowering herself to the ground. She pulled a chunk of grass next to her, before attempting to create a whistle herself. “All of this. It just doesn’t make sense to me.”
The Angel hummed before dropping down to her level. Warm fingers reached with open hands to fix an unwinding bandage but backed away when Aziraphale hissed a soft warning.
“Er, sorry,” The Angel said, hesitating. It was her nature, she couldn’t help it. But looking at the Demon now, watching her in pain and trying to hide it, any conversation they had before, and any they may have after, would she find out that Raphael was an Archangel. A long pause. A quick decision. “Crowley.”
“Aziraphale.”
“Really? Kept your name, did you?”
“She gave it to me, after all.”
“Yeah, before your lot—“
“She still gave it to me.”
Crowley lifted her hands in surrender. Aziraphale scooted away from her and Crowley frowned down at her hands as if disappointed in herself. They sat there a long moment, just watching a deer enjoying the last of the sunshine. It was almost nice, damn the word, Aziraphale thought, to have someone to talk to these last nine months, even sparingly. Head Office, so to speak, hadn’t checked in on her, giving more weight to her internal argument that they rather wanted her gone. Even if it was an Angel she was talking. Especially since it was an Angel. It almost felt nice to be in her presence. Crowley almost radiated warmth, and she wondered if this was what being blessed looked like on the outside. What she lost when she fell.
Aziraphale felt ready to leave Eden now. It was a long time coming, to be honest. She knew she would have to show up eventually, report to Dagon, watch Beezlebub buzz and flutter with-- pride? That was one of the new sins, wasn’t it? Would they celebrate with her? Would this be enough to leave her alone so Aziraphale could enjoy her reward: being left alone. To her own devices. To her own time. No one to tell her what to do, how to act, what to think. The sun had felt lovely on her fur, the fruit more pleasant than any of the gaudy gold that lit up Pandemonium.
But being up here on the surface was still painful. While nice, the close proximity to Crowley reminded her of what she lost, and she hadn’t prepared for that contemplation today. Not today, when her wings ached, how her eyes ached in the bright sunlight, when her hands were still weeping and red. How could she look an Angel in the eye today? Not like she is now, not--
Which is why she started when Crowley slapped her own thighs suddenly.
“I shouldn’t say this, don’t tell, but-- I agree with you. I mean, don’t you think it’s strange?”
“Strange!” Aziraphale perked up on her side of the Tree.
“Yeah. Like, gosh, why have something you can’t have showcased right in front of you?”
Aziraphale had thought the same thing before, even if it rather diminished her accomplishment, but to hear it said out loud by the enemy? Was such a confession allowed by the opposition?
Crowley carried on without her, twisting to face her. “I mean… I don’t know,” Crowley’s golden eyes looked so brilliant in the sunlight, almost hypnotic. She searched Aziraphale's face for something, unsure about proceeding before doing so regardless. “Doesn’t this… all feel like a set up?”
Aziraphale smiled, feeling seen . “As if ineffable?”
Crowley laughed, encouraged. She paused before nodding enthusiastically. “Ineffable. Sounds like Her. Playing dice with the universe.” Aziraphale was about to ask what dice were when Crowley shook her head, laughing exasperated. “Like, why put the apple right in the garden? Why not on a tall mountain peak?”
“Or the bottom of the ocean,” Aziraphale added helpfully, nodding.
“Mars!”
“Yeah! Like— wait, Mars? What is Mars?”
Crowley’s shoulders dropped, suddenly looking down at her with pity and Aziraphale flushed, her temper rising again. “Don’t you look at me like that. I don’t deserve your pity, nor do I want it.”
Crowley stared back at this, her golden eyes widening.
Aziraphale huffed, fluffing out her fur that was no longer there, when Adam let out a loud yell before a stunned silence.
The two of them exchanged quick glances before darting up from the tree. Raphael spread her wings flying, watching as Aziraphale transformed again to jump up through the branches of the tree. It only hit her then that Aziraphale might never be able to fly ever again.
Aziraphale gracefully jumped onto the top of the wall, panting, trying to pinpoint the couple when Raphael landed on her two feet.
“There!” Aziraphale said, before the two of them watched Eve slaughter the lion that must have been stalking them as they inched towards a distant forest.
Good Lord, Aziraphale thought, recoiling. Maybe the humans were stronger than any of them ever knew or hoped they could be. She turned to see Crowley watching Adam drag some of the lion meat behind him. Maybe they didn’t really need Aziraphale after all. Maybe they just needed a push. An idea. A hint.
“At least they’re safe?” Crowley whispered.
What a strange situation the two of them landed in. Aziraphale shifted on the wall, carefully swinging her legs back over to stand up when Crowleys stretched out her hands up towards her.
“Wait!” Aziraphale pulled her skirt away from the reaching hands even though Crowley was nowhere near close to gripping them. Crowley pulled a few aloe plants from her pockets, trusting them towards Aziraphale to coat around her fingers. “Please don’t go. I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t supposed to go this way. Aziraphale watched as Crowley slowly clasped her hands over her pale knee. Angels don’t apologize to Demons, do they? She took the leaves, sniffing them, before cutting open the plant with her sharp fingernails, placing the gooey insides cautiously on her welted fingers.
“I can’t talk, I suppose. I’ll have to explain why I wanted Eve to not be in so much pain. Couldn’t stand it, though, you know?” Aziraphale did know. She would have to explain to Dagon where her sword went. It was Principality grade, strong with soldering, hellfire burning the way. What a metaphor, Aziraphale thought, as she silently watched Crowley reach towards her.
Regardless, she didn’t want to think about how her fellow Demons would continue to temp the pair now that they were gone. It didn’t bear worth speculating, so she didn’t bring it up. “Not that it matters,” Crowley said, laughing and shrugging. “She’s all seeing, you know.”
“Yes," Aziraphale said, surprised at the coolness of the aloe on her fingers. "I do.”
“Right.” Crowley tensed up again. “Er, right, sorry. Not so good at this Angel stuff, me.”
“Nor I,” Aziraphale confessed. “Demon business, I mean.” She cleared her throat, turning away from how Crowley’s golden eyes crinkled when she laughed.
“Although,” Aziraphale started slowly. “Perhaps it is not for us to say. Why the apple was placed in the garden, I mean. That is why it is called Faith, right?”
Aziraphale looked at Crowley with such genuine curiosity that Crowley’s heart ached.
This isn’t how it was supposed to go, not really. She was meant to defend the humans, not eat from the tree herself, not enjoy the feeling of grass under her feet this much, not enjoying the process of sleep like she did. Crowley had admired the scenery, for sure. Had enjoyed the way her stars shone from below, how Eve had already started forming shapes out of stars that she had sprayed out free into the universe. There was something about discovering something new, something she didn’t even expect.
Aziraphale looked at her with wide eyes, waiting, as if for confirmation from her, an Angel, an expert on the subject. Not too much of an authority figure, though, for Aziraphale still shot back at her. That was unexpected, but not unwanted.
You’re not who I thought you’d be, Crowley thought, as she watched Aziraphale nervously lick the back of her hand before grooming her shaggy burned hair back as if out of habit, not yet used to her human form. “Maybe. Maybe just so.”
Just as Crowley had turned back to count the number of steps they had taken away from the wall, the sky broke. Neither of them had noticed the sky darken.
CRACK
Water was falling now, a light blur at first that started coming down harder. Aziraphale let out a bellowing cry at the sound, folding in on herself when water started touching them, her damaged wings closing in around her to protect her.
“What’s wrong?”
“My punishment,” Aziraphale whispered, tears starting to run down her cheeks, stinging the fresh burns on her neck, cowering.
Crowley knew not to touch her, Aziraphale wouldn’t allow it, but she couldn’t help but hover, wings out, covering a now shaking Aziraphale. The pattering of rain saturated her wings, making them heavy, but Crowley was too focused now, wanting to touch Aziraphale’s back to comfort like she was designed to. It would be the perfect opportunity, Crowley realized, for Aziraphale to strike, now that Crowley’s wings were saturated with water and she would be unable to fly very far, her advantage over Aziraphale’s damaged wings shortened.
Strong weeping filled the garden and Crowley’s heart stung at the realization that Aziraphale was expecting Holy Water.
“It’s ok,” Crowley said, trying to catch herself from sounding condescending, not wanting to spook the cat, the small figure crouching and shaking. “It’s ok, I promise.”
Bright copper eyes bright with tears peeked up at her. She shifted, wary, watching her with close attention. “Angel’s honor?” she quipped suddenly. She flinched away when rain started coming down at an angle but seemed to appreciate Crowley’s attention to detail, protecting her further by shifting with the wind. “Of course an Angel would take pity on me.”
“What if it’s not a pity?”
“Because I don’t deserve protection.”
“Who says you don’t?”
Aziraphale looked up at her, her legs now daring to dangle over the Wall. She flinched, rubbing burned skin that looked far from healing. Crowley wanted to reach out and help, wanted to heal the hurt, even take some of it on if she could. But the determined and rather embarrassed look on Aziraphale’s face made her falter.
“I’m a Demon ,” Aziraphale said, almost flippantly, her voice sharp, indignant.
“I’m not here because you are, or because I’m an Angel. I could have left a while ago, but I didn’t want to.”
“Why?”
It was a good question. Sensing Crowley’s hesitancy, Aziraphale’s face soured. Clipped wings or no, Aziraphale looked as if dead set on trying to fly regardless. Away from her. Away from the first real conversation Crowley had in… well, forever. There was a pull there. Not quite a familiarity but a sort of understanding. Aziraphale seemed to be thrust up here to “make trouble,” as she told it anyway, and Crowley had been sent up to Eden to watch over the humans, too.
But there was something else there, something that had slowly developed between the two of them over the course of Eve’s pregnancy. The curiosity of it. Crowley had her focus on the skies, literally scattering stars like spray of paint when you flicked the brushes of a brush, smiling, covered in the Milky Way, her favorite, and the look on Aziraphale’s face when she saw the stars from Earth’s view.
She was joking before, about curiosity killing the cat. But she sensed that it was true. Sure, Aziraphale was a Demon, her whole existence was to tempt now and lead in the wrong direction, but they must not be so different if they were both curious about Earth, about both expressing how they would rather stay here than go back to their Head Office.
Do you get lonely, too?
Crowley fiddled with the hem of her dress stained green, considering Aziraphale’s body language. Touch wouldn’t be wanted, and a part of her wondered if she would cause more pain by touching Aziraphale, not even in a metaphorical sense, but a physical one. That whatever happened when the wrong side was sent away caused her angry red scaring, the skin burnt and still not looking like they even began the healing process. Aziraphale looked up at her with one blind eye, her neck covered in red, red, red, and Crowley wanted to weep in pain, too.
She would never know what it was like. The other Angels didn’t particularly seem to care, most boastful and seeming to believe Demons deserved everything that happened to them. But this? This stout creature who Crowley could perfectly picture with black hair shining in the sun, causing literal halos to appear around her, bright copper eyes that light up when she laughed, or felt understood, like that moment Crowley wondered why there even was an apple tree here, why have it here at all, if there wasn’t a plan? Crowley watched as the muscles of Aziraphale’s legs flexed in anticipation, waiting for a moment to leave, even if the venture was no longer graceful, anything was worth more than being pitied.
“Because I get lonely, too.”
Aziraphale faltered, looking down at the grass behind them, the tree no longer ethereal or special, just a tree in a garden, just a place instead of a holy beginning.
Admitting that would be dangerous, even to herself. She looked up at Crowley, hesitating, suddenly nervous. “Didn’t know Angels got lonely.”
“Who wouldn’t, in our circumstances?”
Crowley felt like she was losing the conversation, motioning Aziraphale to stay, wanting her to , despite Heaven’s warnings. Aziraphale’s stout figure held up under pressure, slight wobbling aside. Crowley decided then that she would never tell Aziraphale her title. The scowl on her face was already too deep with weary work, her one good eye deep set on staring through her, like she could see everything Crowley had ever done, everything that Aziraphale was no longer privy to. Lost hope, lost connection, lost Faith.
“We shouldn’t,” Aziraphale said, although she was still smiling. She started laughing, shaking rain uselessly off her hair, before melting through Eden’s wet grass into Hell, watching Crowley like a prey.