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The walls of the death row cells have been Harry Watling's constant in life for quite a while now. He would toss to his right and see a wall, he'd wash his face and see a wall, he'd be deciding not to look at the mocking bars and see a wall. Entrapped. Until today.
After the whole... debacle with Janice Fife, the tutor's sister waltzed in with fury and demanded a death row on Harry. No sooner, after a long painful and fruitless defense in court, his death row sentence was approved. Ever since then, Harry had been rotting in this cell for years. Harry had resigned to his fate a year ago because no one will listen no matter what he does. The judge, the jury, the guards, and the prisoners don't care. Ben stopped talking to him after the sentence and no matter how much he wanted to write, Harry knows that it would do no good. Ben already had enough things going on and distancing himself from Harry is... undeniably the best decision despite how much it hurts. Ben had no one except his uncle. Mary, his loving and beautiful wife is dead. All because of him. To the public he was just a murderer. Not a vicar. Not someone who tried everything. Their opinions, hopefully, will not follow him to the grave.
Today, he was suppose to meet a priest. Which, he had no qualms of doing. Any minute now, that person will come. Harry did his usual routine by praying, washing his face, and eating breakfast.
"Watling, priest is here," the guard said and Harry gave a quick thank you before sitting down on his cot. The rough fabric more interesting than whoever was inside his cell. He could see the white robes and peeking of black shoes on the stone ground when he catch a glance.
"Lovely to meet you, Mister...?"
"Watling. Harry Watling." The vicar felt intrigued with the priest's calm and sweet voice. He looked up, and he almost felt an overwhelming presence of peace wash over him. The man was beautiful in an ethereal way; fluffy platinum-blonde hair, round physique that invites gentleness, and white as snow clothes and skin. The light from the sun behind makes him look like an angel with a halo.
"Yes, Mr. Watling, I am your priest today... Father Fell," the man introdiced in a way that his name was like an after thought. There was an irony in the man's name with his current position but Harry didn't dare ask.
"Well, I suppose we get to it, then," Harry scooched to let the priest have a spot to sit on.
"Yes, very well, erm..." the man drawled as he sat down beside him. He fixes his clothes rather messily for someine who should have experience. Harry couldn't care less. Then Father Fell smiled at him sweetly before saying, "Tell me about yourself."
The vicar blinked at the question. "That's... I don't believe that's part of the procedure..."
"Erm, well, I just want something for a change... You seem to be a good man," Fell said with a smile. Not scared but just awkward.
"Kind men don't end up in prison, Father."
"Then surely there must be a reason."
Harry wanted to ask if the man was serious. That this unknown man was giving the poor fucking vicar a chance. He couldn't look at those sky blue eyes full of compassion so he drilled holes at his nails with a stair.
"...I didn't mean to," Harry said almost inaudibly. "I just... I just wanted to protect everyone I care about I just-" he held back the sobs threatening to escape his throat. He gulped hard and tried to talk again slowly. "I wanted Janice to listen but she wouldn't and then she said she won't believe because she hates me," why was his vision blurring- oh fuck, he's crying...damnit.
"But I can't condemn the person who owned the flashdrive. I thought I can fix him without having to resort to violence and I tried to take all the blame but things got out of hand and... Now, I have a dead wife, vengeful people, and a son who won't talk to me..." he couldn't stop himself from confessing so all he could do was wipeaway his tears and try to calm down. "Sorry, sorry... I must have looked stupid crying over something I chose..."
There was only the sound of his stifling for a moment and he was thankful for the silence. After a minute, he looked back at Fell and there was no judgment. Only understanding.
"It's not silly at all, dear boy," Fell said with a soft smile. "I went against something I believe in all my life for someone I have known. Mine may not have gone... pear-shaped as yours but I understand the feeling of gambling everything for someone you love."
That response somehow made Harry feel lighter. An honest admission because all he had from everywhere was a scoff of indignance. As if they haven't thought of something similar before. Such holier-than-thou attitudes.
"Thank you..." Harry could only utter in a shaky voice.
"For what's it worth," Father Fell said and put a hand on his shoulder. The touch felt so comforting and warm. "I forgive you."
That sent Harry into another sobbing fit asking, "You do?" And crying longer when Fell confirmed his question.
The suffocating melancholy really rubs Harry the wrong way so he tried to make a joke just to lighten the mood.
"With how comforting you are for my last moments, it made me think you're an angel," he said with a small laugh.
He was waiting for a follow-up laughter but got silence. Harry looked at Fell's little smile as if amused in the joke but not the same way the vicar found it funny.
"You're not actually one... are you?"
"Ah, explaining is much harder, I'm afraid. Crowley said it's not one of my best abilities," Fell said with an apologetic, averted gaze.
"What...?" Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. An actual angel?!
"Let me introduce myself properly; Aziraphale, dear boy," the priest/angel even hold out a hand to shake. Harry hold the hand and it felt so smooth and loveky with those manicured nails. "If you don't mind, I would like to introduce to that person I care about."
Then he heard footsteps aloutside and feared that the visit waa ending too soon. Then he saw a man with fiery red hair, black shades, and deep black version of the police uniform. He stood out like sore thumb yet no one seemed to care.
"This is Crowley," Aziraphale introduced with delight. The man slowly took off the glasses revealing serpentine eyes and a very familiar face staring back.
"He's... He..." Harry was at lost with his current predicament. He doesn't know which was more shocking: the fact that he was looking at his own face or that this man could just possibly be a demon.
"Charmed." The man said with a grin.
"Are you... Is he... a demon?" Harry said with a bewildered look at Crowley but turning his body to Aziraphale's direction.
"Good to know you catch on pretty quick," Crowley said before draping his arms on the bars casually.
Harry now understood what Aziraphale meant. To go against Heaven for the sake of a demon is quite a gamble.
"But why does he look like me?"
"Let's just say that you are born from us," Crowley said before pointing to himself and the angel. "Too many miracles and temptations lead... to you and there others like you either living normally or getting into different situations but despite all that, you're human. You lived your life the way you wanted so don't start thinking that you are evil for being connected to us."
"That... is all something to take in..."
"I'm sorry for burdening you of that." Aziraphale apologized.
"No, no, it was relieving to know. That day I was taken to a hospital with no memories..."
There was silence for quite sometime. The sound of thr prison's bar groaning and creaking just existed for a moment before Harry asked a question- no, a confirmation.
"You can't get me out of here, do you?"
The two looked at each other and Aziraphale sighed. "No, I'm sorry."
Harry can only nod but deep down there was fear in him. Of what comes to the other side. Although he knew it was nothing good, the vicar knew it was the way of society and life. Ethereal and occult beings interfering for a simple human will put them at risk.
"Angel, we have to go," Crowley said.
Aziraphale looked at him again and gave another look of sorrow. Harry tried to smile.
"We have to go. You'll find something good for you today, goodbye, Harry."
Then in a snap of a finger the two beings were gone. Harry was alone but not resigned anymore.
Then a gaurd came to his cell telling him of a supervised visit.
When they lead him to the room, he was expecting Janice to rub his fate on him but who he saw made him tear up.
"Ben..."
"Dad!"
The guards didn't allow for them to hug but his son, his only son, held his hands and it was enough.
A miracle.
From an angel and a demon.