Work Text:
Mesopotamia, 4003 B.C.
This truly wasn’t that severe of an injury. Hardly anything, compared to the things that had happened to countless soldiers during the War.
But that still didn’t stop Aziraphale from crying over the pain. Splintering, sharp agony all through his arm, a punishment for questioning his orders.
He hadn’t meant to ask questions. He’d just been confused about his orders of noninterference. He only wanted to understand. And so, he asked, “Oh, but isn’t it all right if I help the humans? They do have a little one, after all, and it’s no trouble for me to pop over and see if they need some assistance.”
Apparently, it was trouble. So much trouble that Gabriel had seized him by the arm, twisted it until the bone snapped, and then lectured him for three hours while he cried silently from pain.
And now, Aziraphale couldn’t heal himself. He tried again, tried to focus, and a whimper escaped instead. He was simply too upset, couldn’t hold his focus long enough to mend the injury. Successful miracles required an ability to picture the desired outcome…but right now, Aziraphale couldn’t imagine a world in which his upper arm didn’t blaze with pain.
A few tears slipped down his cheeks again, and he hung his head. Oh, it hurt so terribly. What would he do? It wasn’t as though he could go to Heaven’s medics and ask to be healed. He would need Gabriel’s permission for that.
And it was nearly night, two planets already visible in the cool hues of evening sky. Normally, Aziraphale loved to gaze up into the depths of Creation, to marvel at the beautiful blends of purples and blues that darkened to black. But right now, he could hardly manage a single glance towards the horizon. There was simply too much pain to do anything other than stare at the sand.
He sniffled and tried once again to mend the wound. This time, fresh pain blasted through his arm, as if the broken bones were scraping together. Aziraphale screamed, tears falling faster. Oh, oh, he was going to pass out, he felt so sick…
“Aziraphale?” A familiar figure rushed down the flat, sandy path. “Whoa, what happened? You okay?”
Aziraphale tried to scramble away, but the pain kept him frozen in place. Talking to a demon was always a bit awkward, but he and Crawley had chatted once or twice since that conversation on Eden’s walls. About the area near the river where Adam and Eve had chosen to settle, in the fertile flood plains. About the baby, so little and yet so loud. About whether the humans could make it on their own.
Normally, Aziraphale would be happy enough to see Crawley. But speaking to a demon when this injured and vulnerable was a dreadful idea. “I’m quite all right, go away!”
“Nnh, you don’t look very all right.” Crawley slid the last few steps across the shifting, unpredictable ground and dropped to sit cross legged in front of Aziraphale. The demon tilted his head sideways, and red curls tumbled over his shoulder. Bright, curious eyes studied Aziraphale, their gold catching the fading light. “What’s wrong with your arm?”
“Nothing’s wrong! Everything’s fine! Jolly good!” Aziraphale flicked his good hand dismissively, then gasped at the jolting pain. “Off you go.”
“Right. Fine.” Crawley edged a little closer. “Did you get in a fight? Know there’s been some other demons popping onto Earth occasionally. Not a lot, s’ mostly just me up here.”
“Well, then, shouldn’t you be off spreading evil or something?” Waves of shivering rolled through Aziraphale now, the pain nearly too intense to manage without crying out. And each of the shivers made him hurt worse, and…
“What, to the three humans in existence? They’ve got enough troubles. Mostly, I’ve been exploring the area. There’s another big river on the other side of this one, did you know?” Crawley reached out a hand, and Aziraphale pulled away. “S’ okay, I was just gonna see if I can help.”
“You’re a demon! Why would I want help from a demon?” Aziraphale snapped, his usual politeness overridden by pain. “I’m an angel. I most certainly do not require assistance from a Fallen, corrupt—”
He shifted just a little too much, and the smoldering agony in his arm erupted into a wildfire. A shriek tore from his throat, and he doubled over. Wrenching sobs escaped, but each sob just made it hurt more, and more, and…
“Aziraphale! Oh, gosh.” One hand cradled the side of his head, keeping him from falling over. And slim fingers caught his good hand, held it. “Hey, Aziraphale? Are you okay?”
“Yes!” Aziraphale sobbed, barely upright even with Crawley’s support. “I-I’m fine! Go away!”
“Er…” Crawley squeezed his hand gently. “Guess that was kind of a stupid question, huh? Obviously, you’re not fine. And look, I’ll go if you want me to…but can I try to help?”
Aziraphale’s tummy churned, and he sobbed again. Oh, accepting a demon’s help was so very rebellious and inappropriate…but what choice did he have? After all, he could hardly perform his duties of observing the humans and battling evil if he was broken. So perhaps it wouldn’t be such a great sin.
That still left the question of whether it was wise. “I-I don’t know,” he said, voice shaking. “How can I be sure you won’t take the opportunity to hurt me?”
“Hurt you?” Crawley’s eyes widened with shock. “Why the Heaven would I wanna hurt you?”
“Because you’re a demon.” The answer came easily, the one that had been stated over and over during training. Demons were the enemy, Fallen and evil. They couldn’t be trusted. Ought to be destroyed on sight. “It’s what you do.”
Crawley’s expression wrenched with pain, falling into a deeper sadness than Aziraphale had ever seen from him. Gone was the playful curiosity, the openness that made him so easy to talk to. Something wounded and deeply bitter took its place, and he let go of Aziraphale’s hand. “Fine. Okay.”
The anguish on his face distracted Aziraphale from the broken arm. Oh, no! He hadn’t meant to hurt Crawley. “No, wait! I’m…I’m dreadfully sorry, dear fellow. I appreciate… It’s kind of you to…”
Aziraphale breathed a little too deeply, and fresh bolts of pain crashed through his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut, keening, unable to stop himself. A guardian ought to have better control than this. Certainly should not be crying over an injury. Especially should not cry in front of the enemy.
“Shit. Aziraphale?” A careful touch on his hand again. “Let me help, yeah?”
Why would Crawley still want to help him after such cruel words? But this time, Aziraphale could only nod. He just wanted the pain to stop.
“Okay. Er…let’s see. I haven’t really…healed anyone else before.” Crawley laid both hands on Aziraphale’s broken arm, and occult power flowed through the limb. Harsh, burning, as if the bones were being crushed back into order.
Aziraphale shrieked and jerked away. “You hurt me!” he cried, staring at the wide-eyed demon. Oh, this had been a mistake, all such a mistake. What had he been thinking? He ought to have known better.
“Shit! Sorry, m’ really sorry.” Crawley reached out again. “Like I said, I haven’t—”
Aziraphale’s chest tightened with panic, and he shoved Crawley’s hand away. “No. No, this is my fault.” Tears fell, hard and fast, and despair rose up. What was he going to do now? “I should have known better than to trust you. You’re a demon, of course you hurt me. That’s all you’re capable of.”
“I didn’t hurt you on purpose!” Crawley pursed his lips, brows drawing together as he frowned. “I’ve only healed myself before, and…it hurt, yeah, but I thought it was just, y’know. Me. Because I was too screwed up to really focus. Managed it, but it kinda sucked.”
Aziraphale took a heaving breath, trying to fight back the tears and failing. “Well, that’s…that’s better than I’ve done. I-I can’t even start to heal myself. It hurts, Crawley.”
“Yeh. That’s a spiral fracture, really nasty,” Crawley said, expression crinkling with distaste. “I’ve had a few of those, got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Think I see what I did wrong with the healing though, tried to fix it all at once. Can I try again?”
Aziraphale bit his lip, still suspicious. But what choice did he have? “Y-yes, I suppose.”
“Okay. Lemme see.” Crawley slid closer, brow deeply furrowed with concentration. This time, he settled one hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and hovered the other across the break, then exhaled slowly.
Occult power blistered through Aziraphale’s arm again, a stinging discomfort. But it wasn’t painful, exactly, not this time. Not even when the bones shifted, a slow reversal of the injury.
And then the deep pain of the break eased, and Aziraphale gasped with relief. Aching soreness still echoed through the wound, but the worst of it was gone. “Oh, Crawley. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. And m’ not kind, either. You’ll get me in trouble, saying stuff like that.” But Crawley dried Aziraphale’s cheeks gently, slim fingers gathering the tears. Then he touched the side of Aziraphale’s head, expression full of concern. “Mm?”
“It’s much better, yes. So much better.” Still trembling, Aziraphale stretched the arm out. Aside from the lingering ache, it seemed good as new. But there was still a pain in his tummy and chest, and tears welled again. Oh goodness, why was he still upset?
“Who hurt you, Aziraphale?” Crawley asked softly.
“Oh, it…it doesn’t matter.” Aziraphale sniffled, keeping his head low. He massaged his arm, shivering. “I…questioned my orders. It was a justly deserved punishment.”
Crawley hissed. “You didn’t deserve that, no matter what they said.”
Warmth flared in Aziraphale’s chest, a gratitude for the defense on his behalf. Completely misguided, of course, but very kind. “Well. It’s all fine now, at any rate. I am sorry that I yelled at you earlier.”
“S’ fine. You were in a lot of pain, and I know the stuff you must’ve heard about demons. Evil, malicious, all that.” Crawley wasn’t looking up all the way either, instead drawing swirls in the sand with his fingertip. “Don’t worry about it.”
Aziraphale did rather worry about it. He never wanted to see Crawley so sad again. “I know you don’t want thanks, but I do very much appreciate the assistance. This feels so, so much better.”
Crawley glanced up at that, a slight smile back in place. “Yeah? Still sorry about that first try. I’m not used to—nnh—actually being able to focus on injuries or fix anything slowly. Usually I just chuck a blast of healing energy at myself and hope for the best.”
Aziraphale stared at him, shocked. Oh goodness, and he had mentioned experience with these types of fractures. “Usually?”
“Ngh.” Crawley shrugged. “S’ not a big deal. Hell’s just…y’know, Hell. So! What’re your plans for the night?”
The thought of someone wrenching on Crawley’s bony arms until they snapped churned Aziraphale’s tummy. Crawley was a demon, yes, but he deserved better than that. And he deserved thanks for his help, at least in some form. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t have any particular plans. Do you need to rush off?”
“Nah, no plans either.” Crawley swayed from side to side, eyebrow raised. “We could…dunno. Hang out. If you want. Watch the stars, go for a walk later…”
Oh, he looked so excited. Aziraphale beamed at him and sidled closer. “I think that would be absolutely lovely. I’d be glad of the company.”
Crawley’s expression lit up with a brilliant smile. He leaned over just enough to brush his shoulder against Aziraphale’s. “Not scared off by being alone in the dark with a demon?”
He would have been, at least before this. But not now. Crawley was a demon, yes, but an incredibly kind one. And that was worth further exploration, and perhaps a stroll through the night together.
Aziraphale reached out and shyly took Crawley’s hand. “Not in the slightest.”