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In the time before time, in the world before the world, bathed in the amorphous starlight and mists that had not yet solidified into creation, two angels shared each other’s company.
Picture them, if you will, in terms comprehensible to mortals: Garbed in matching iridescent robes, wings white and luminous behind them. One with long, flowing red locks, woven with myrtle; the other’s hair golden and curling. Perched together, perhaps, in the embrace of a tree not yet associated with either life or knowledge.
Most importantly, picture them smiling.
“We really ought to be going,” murmured the angel we envision with fair hair, whose name was Aziraphale. He stirred, but made no concrete move to suit action to word. “The others will be looking for us. Michael will have an assignment for me, I expect, and didn’t you sign up to join the star team?”
We will call his companion, the other angel, Crowley, although at the time he would have answered to a different name. He raised an eyebrow. “Do you hear anyone calling us yet?”
“Not yet,” Aziraphale admitted, and relaxed again, arms wrapped ‘round robe-swathed knees. “I suppose we may as well wait until they do.”
“Makes sense to me.” Amber eyes sparkling in pleasure at having successfully prolonged their private interlude, the one who would be Crowley settled back as well.
Primordial mists swirled, and the luminaries preceding light danced about them. And they sat there, the pair of them, in the easy communion of friendship without complication.
“It’s a pity,” Crowley remarked, “that we’re on different teams. Me on the stars, you on… whatever Michael gives you.”
A metaphorical dimple appeared in Aziraphale’s metaphorical cheek. “Well,” he pointed out, “really everyone is on the same team. We’re all angels.”
“True.” Crowley inclined his head, acknowledging the point. “It isn’t as if there’s some opposing group. We’re all on the same side. But still…”
“But still,” Aziraphale echoed. His voice was soft; fond; dreamy. “It would be nice if we could stay side by side, wouldn’t it?”
“Mhm. We could talk while we worked.”
“And lend each other a hand.”
“Make arrangements for things, together…”
“And I’d always know where to find you. None of this roaming the dimensions just hoping to be lucky and run into each other before our next assignments.”
Crowley nodded, looking thoughtful.
“I’ll miss you, you know.” Aziraphale’s smile took on a hint of shyness. Shyness, but neither guilt nor fear, for such things had not yet been invented, and there was not yet need of either. “When you’re off in the stars.”
“I’ll be back. And I’ll be thinking about you, while I’m out there.”
“And I, you.”
Crowley gave a meditative hum, gazing into the void where perhaps he would one day weave a nebula. Then his eyes lifted back to the other angel. “Hey,” he said. “I have an idea.”
“You have a lot of those, I’ve noticed.”
“It’s called creativity, thank you very much . We’ll all be busy creating soon. It’ll be a useful trait, once we get started.”
“I’m sure it will be, my dear. We’ll see what your team leader has to say about it when the time comes.”
“Oi! Lucifer has more ideas than anyone. They’ll love me.”
“No doubt they will.” Despite the teasing, Aziraphale’s expression somehow softened further. “They wouldn’t be alone in that, you know.”
“Ngk,” said Crowley, ducking his head. “Mmph. You too.”
“I, too, wouldn’t be alone in loving you? Yes, well, that stands to reason—”
“Nooo, I meant—”
But Aziraphale was laughing, his aura glowing warm, affectionate delight, and Crowley had to give up talking so he could laugh as well.
That was all right. There would surely be no shortage of other chances to speak the truths of their friendship, those that were already understood and those that might yet be uncovered; they were angels, after all, which meant that they were guaranteed to have all the time in the world.
Once there was time, of course. And once there was a world.
“What was that idea you had mentioned?” Aziraphale asked, when their shared chuckling had at last died down.
“Oh. Right. It’s a new one. And nothing to do with constellations, this time.” Crowley hesitated. “Can I show you?”
“Of course.”
A deep breath, or what would have been a deep breath had there existed anything that could be breathed. Then Crowley lifted his hands together, twisted in firmament, and… Created.
Aziraphale stared at the thread, as ethereal as everything else yet somehow warmer, now dangling from a knot affixed to the other’s thumb.
The loose end floated up, hovering near Aziraphale. He took it, studied it, then, curious, followed Crowley’s example by winding it around a finger; felt it settle there. It felt nice. “What is this?”
“It’s a… a bond.”
“I can see that much.”
“Whoever is on the two ends, they’ll be connected. They can go wherever they like, do whatever they want. It won’t get in the way, won’t stop them from doing anything. But as long as they hold onto their end of the string…” Crowley’s lips quirked. “No matter what, no matter where they go or what may happen, they’ll always be able to find each other.”
“Ah.” Aziraphale considered that.
Then he nodded, pleased, and tied a knot in the filament around his own finger.
ATTENTION, came a voice then, a command, resonating through the aether in summons to every celestial being. ATTENTION, ANGELS. BE READY AT YOUR POSTS. PROJECT CREATION WILL BEGIN SHORTLY. ATTENTION—
“Tug if you need me,” Crowley whispered, and they exchanged one last smile. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
And then that space before space that we have visualized as a tree was empty, as two angels headed forth on their separate paths.
They would soon diverge well beyond mere work assignments, those angels’ paths, though they did not yet know it. Their paths would separate, take them further apart than ever they dreamed of; further than they even knew to fear; so very far apart that some might have thought it impossible that they could ever reconverge.
Yet between them, a bond invisible and unbreakable so long as they both wished to hold it, trailed a single thread.
[Art by pomaivae, originally posted here, used with permission!]
