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Some days, everything just felt wrong. Just a little wrong, a little off. Like the world had been painted in different colors, colors of a slightly different shade, shades that made everything distant and lifeless.
Crowley closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths as dizziness swept through him. Okay. This was getting ridiculous. It had started first thing in the morning, a vague feeling of disconnection. He couldn’t keep track of Aziraphale’s happy chatter, couldn’t think of what he needed to do next, couldn’t even focus on Golden Girls.
Pathetic. He just had to pull it together. To clear his mind. To take action and fix the problem. He should…
Should what? Do something. Do the dishes. Fold laundry. Mist his plants, repot the orchid that needed tending to, go weed the garden. He always did something active when he didn’t feel well, and it always helped.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Instead, he just drifted. He curled up in the plant room window seat and stared out into the garden, head swimming. A chill swept through him, and he wrapped his arms around himself. What the fuck was wrong with him?
He just couldn’t snap himself out of it, could hardly think straight. Couldn’t talk himself into moving, other than to curl tighter. Curling tighter made his neck and back hurt. A fog descended all around him, cutting him off even more from the rest of the world.
His mind disengaged, wandering aimlessly down paths of thought that had no logical connection to each other. Snippets of a song that had been popular in Rome long ago, memories of a trip to Hell that turned bad, the vague idea that he should learn to make crepes for Aziraphale. The instructions for repotting orchids ran in an endless loop.
And then more memories, more bad memories. Supposed “heretics” burning at the stake, times he’d run afoul of humans and been beaten half to death, the sheer terror of going back to Hell after a failed mission…
“Crowley?”
Oh. Aziraphale. He should answer Aziraphale.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t move, couldn’t get his eyes to focus, couldn’t talk. A distant whisper of worry fluttered to life, then drifted down to rest with all the other scattered pieces of his mind.
Echoes of long-ago screams, a flare of pain in his hip and back from a horse-related accident, the anguish of kneeling by a lake of fire and crying I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?
“Crowley? Dearest, are you all right?” Soft footfalls, and then a light touch on the side of his head. “Crowley?”
Crowley tried to cram some words together, some sort of reassurance. He didn’t want Aziraphale to worry. But the words wouldn’t come, his mind insistently sliding back into the fog.
“Oh, my dear.” The hum of a miracle, and a warm blanket settled around his shoulders. Aziraphale sat in front of him and gently touched his wrists. “May I hold your hands, Crowley?”
What? Crowley managed to glance down, just enough to see that he still had both arms hugged tight around himself. With difficulty, he relaxed his grip, let Aziraphale gather and hold both hands.
“There,” Aziraphale murmured, leaning in front of him. He gave a careful squeeze, his hands soft and warm against Crowley’s freezing ones. But even this felt distant. “I’m right here, dear boy. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I’ll just sit with you for a bit, how’s that?”
Crowley gave a slow, hesitant nod. His mind tried again to drift away, and he heard himself let out a faint whimper. He couldn’t focus. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus.
Falling, Falling, an endless tumble. Unable to catch himself, unable to slow, unable to understand…
“Crowley, it’s okay.” Increasing concern tinged Aziraphale’s voice. He slid closer and caressed Crowley’s cheek. “It’s okay. Whatever’s happening, I’m right here. You don’t have to be frightened of anything.”
Frightened? Was he frightened? Maybe. Would explain the whimpering, which was still going on. And he was breathing too hard, too fast. But it was all so foggy, so fucking distant…
“It’s all right, dearest. You can explain it to me when you feel able, hmm? Please don’t feel pressured.”
Crowley didn’t feel pressured—at least, not by Aziraphale. But he wanted to explain, wanted to understand why he felt so awful. He didn’t like not understanding things.
“Don’t feel right, angel,” he choked. “Was okay yesterday, but… Everything is different now. Everything is wrong. S’ all…foggy. Distant. Can’t focus. Trying so hard, but…can’t come back. And the memories… I dunno what’s wrong, I can’t figure it out.”
“I’m here, Crowley. I’m right here with you. We’re together in our lovely cottage, perfectly safe.” Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. “I believe you’re dissociating quite badly, my dear. But it’s all right. I’ll keep you safe, I promise. Just come back when you can.”
The pressure on Crowley’s chest eased, and he turned to nuzzle against Aziraphale’s cheek. The world was still far away, but at least Aziraphale felt closer. Almost real. “Angel.”
“I have you, dear boy. You’re doing just fine.” Aziraphale squeezed his hand, then kissed his cheek. The gentle affection was nice, soothing. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize something was wrong sooner. I thought you were working with your plants. And then I realized I hadn’t heard any yelling or stern lecturing the whole time.”
A faint flicker of amusement warmed Crowley’s chest, and he almost smiled. It was good of Aziraphale to put up with all that shit. He never minded Crowley’s rants, the way he lashed out when frustrated, the sharp bursts of irritability. Aziraphale always just…accepted him.
“S’ not your fault.” At least now, with Aziraphale anchoring him to the world and keeping the memories away, it was easier to talk. “Was gonna whip the plants into shape. But then I…dunno. I-I just…”
“Spaced out?” Aziraphale suggested gently.
“Yeah. And I dunno why. Can’t even think of anything that stressed me out or upset me.” Usually there was a nightmare, a reminder of trauma, some sort of frustration. Something specific that set off an attack, rather than it just hitting out of nowhere. He was sore, deep aches in his entire body, but that shouldn’t be enough to cause this strong a reaction. “S’ still so hard to focus.”
“Would a hug help, perhaps?”
Oh gosh. Crowley hesitated, struggling to sort through the decision. He could hardly even focus on the question, too dazed. Finally, he just gave Aziraphale a helpless look. “Ngh.”
“Hmm. Here, let’s try this.” Aziraphale moved behind him on the window seat and coaxed him into a close, secure cuddle. This felt familiar, snuggling in the window seat, and Crowley relaxed against him. “All right, dearest?”
“Yeh. S’ nice.” Crowley turned so his cheek rested against Aziraphale’s chest. Another blanket settled across him, and he smiled. Everything was still foggy, still muddled. But between the two blankets and Aziraphale’s reassuring embrace, he didn’t feel quite as adrift. “Er, sorry for making you…”
“You didn’t make me do anything. I’m so glad I came to check on you.” Aziraphale pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, then hugged him closer. Light, soothing strokes ran across his hair, and Crowley tried to focus on the contact. “Is this helping you feel a bit more grounded, Crowley?”
“Mmm.” Crowley closed his eyes, letting himself drift. This time, not lost—just tired, comfortable. Still not totally focused, not fully present, but safe. He always felt safe with Aziraphale, even when the world was distant and fucked up and scary. “Still feel kinda…dazed. But this is better, yeah. Loads better. Feel safer.”
“Good. You are safe, dearest.” Motions slow and careful, Aziraphale fussed with his blankets, tugging them tighter around him. “Don’t fret too much if this doesn’t go away immediately, my dear. I know these attacks can linger for quite some time on occasion.”
They could, sometimes for days. This felt like the kind that wouldn’t yield easily, the kind that would keep him unfocused and off balance until suddenly, he was fine again. “I’ll be okay as long as you’re with me, angel. You don’t, er…?”
“I don’t have any other plans, no. I’ll stay right with you for as long as you’d like, my dear.” Aziraphale rocked slowly from side to side, and Crowley sank into the soothing rhythm. Still felt awful, but when he was with Aziraphale, he could survive anything. “I have you, Crowley. Always.”