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The air was bitingly frigid, and the ocean churned endlessly. The clamor of shouting and metal creaking had faded as the end of the great ship had sank beneath the froth. Small pinpricks of light, the lanterns aboard the lifeboats in the distance were the only signs of life. Well, that, and the two figures sitting atop the large flow of ice that had sank the unsinkable Titanic.
Even in the foggy gloom of the early morning, one could see the moonlight reflecting off the angel's hair. Ethereal and ghostly. He was sat stock-still, watching where the ship had been devoured.
The devil seemed to exude the darkness of the very sea itself. With his limbs curled up to his chest, he looked like nothing more than a dark spot on the face of the iceberg. The only light around him were the reflections of the constellations that glinted off his dark glasses.
They had been sitting here for more than 3 hours and neither of them had said a word. The heavy silence was finally broken when Crowley let his legs stretch out to their spindly length and spoke.
"Well. Guess there's little hope of phoning a cab, ey?"
Aziraphale stirred slightly, his eyes shifting to his companion.
"No, I suppose not," He said, with a small smile that looked more like a grimace.
Crowley nodded aimlessly, staring out after the lifeboats, finally fading over the horizon.
"Do you think," Aziraphale said abruptly, "they'll be alright?"
"Who, them?" Crowley gestured with his chin. "Oh, they'll be fine. Couple of broken limbs, a bit of frostbite. But they'll live."
"Well, thank Heavens for that."
"Eh, I wouldn't be too sure about that angel. Wasn't it your side that blessed this whole voyage? You'd think they'd be prepared for something like this, ey? Swoop in with a bit of divine intervention?"
"Apparently," Aziraphale said with a forced calm. "The ship was never supposed to reach New York. Gabriel said that this would be 'an iconic disaster'." He looked over at his companion with a false cheer. “They’re hoping for a series of books, or maybe even one of those ‘talkies’ about it, so.”
"Oh, well, congratulations are in order. Suppose that would be a real boost for your numbers upstairs. Lots of praying and converting before the whole ordeal was over," He gestured to the swirling ocean where the mighty ship sank, his voice thick with sarcasm.
“Yes, well,” Aziraphale said, his mouth twisting like he’d tasted something sour.
“Does that even work?” Crowley mused. “Spend your whole life not believing in a higher power, then moments before you go, you say the first prayer of your life and, bam, you get to rest in eternal peace with all the other souls. ‘Welcome to Heaven, here’s your harp!’” He mimed playing a harp, then let his hands fall to his side. “Seems a bit arbitrary if you ask me.”
“Forgiveness isn’t arbitrary, my dear boy,” The response was automatic, but lacked the usual prim conviction.
“The same could be said for my side, mind you,” Crowley added. “Punishing humans for acting like - well, humans.”
“Whatever the case may be, I’m sure the Almighty has her reasons.”
“Yeah? Reasons for sinking a ship full of innocent people?”
“Not all of them,” Aziraphale said pleadingly.
“Nah, just the poor bastards who got stuck in their cabins down below. Slowly drowning in their rooms as the boat goes down,” Crowley spat, venomous.
“That’s why we’re here, Crowley,” The angel said softly. “I must bear witness to the will of the Almighty, and you will try to sow the seeds of unrest.”
“Fat lot of good that did them,” Crowley gestured towards the swirling ocean. “I wasn’t even sowing, I was just playing cards the whole time!”
“Yes, I recall. No wonder there were so many card hustlers on board,” Aziraphale’s disapproving side eye was visible through the gloom.
“That wasn’t even me,” Crowley’s voice was thick with indignation, and a bit of pride. “They were doing it all by themselves, I didn’t even have to tempt them!”
“But you didn’t seem to mind encouraging the passengers to keep betting.”
“Oh, they have plenty of money to spare,” Crowley said dismissively. “Besides, I only tempted the ones who sprang for a deluxe room.” He sniffed in the cold air. “But what about you? Thought you weren’t supposed to interfere.”
The angel shifted imperceptibly, suddenly sheepish.
“Why, my dear boy, I don’t, I don’t know what you could possibly be-”
“The book, angel. The one in your waistcoat.” He looked straight ahead as he said it. Smug.
“But it was so-” Aziraphale all but whined. “So pretty, and what a terrible waste, you know Francis Sangorski worked on it for over two years and to see it get ruined with all that sea water, I-”
Deep crow’s feet crinkled slightly behind sunglasses.
Aziraphale reached into his coat and pulled out a shining book. The gold-leaf binding was encrusted with tiny rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. He trailed off as his fingers gently traced the lines of gold that wound their way around the cover. They ghosted over the shapes of preening cranes, snakes wound tightly around their prey, and finally, over the disturbingly accurate picture of a human skull.
“It’s just such-,” the angel said softly. “Such a waste.”
“Well,” Crowley said, matter-of-factly. “That’s the thing of it.” He was still staring out towards the lifeboats, now dimly fading over the horizon. “All that work, all those brilliant little minds, just- poof.”
His head finally tilted back towards Aziraphale, his reptile eyes searching the angel’s face for something.
“Seems an awful waste, doesn’t it.” He repeated pointedly.
Aziraphale held his gaze for a long moment. His eyes were wide with some emotion Crowley couldn’t quite name. Hope, maybe? Then, he seemed to shutter himself again.
“Well, I think it’s time I be going.” Primly, professionally. He slipped the book back into his waistcoat; a flash of gold, and it was gone.
Crowley’s eyebrows drew down, and then quickly righted themselves.
“Yeah. Me too, I suppose.” He rose, his joints creaking in the cold. He gave a quick glance around the ice flow they were perched on. “Wonder if I could bother the Kraken for a ride, ey?” A flash of a grin, slightly forced, in the moonlight.
The angel glanced at him in alarm, previous coldness forgotten.
“You couldn’t actually, could you?”
“Nah, I’m not the one to let him out of his, ah, the- what do you keep squids in?”
Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed in thought, and he offered, “Bowl?”
“Nah, it’s a big glass thing,” His arm waved, as if it would help make his point. “Anyway, I don’t know whose job it is to wake him up, but I don’t envy them. Heard the big thing has a temper.”
Silence.
“Right…well,” The angel trailed off awkwardly.
“Right, no, yeah,” The demon answered eloquently.
“I suppose I’ll be off, then.”
A hesitant step away. Their eyes met again through the darkness. Stars’ dying lights reflected in black frames.
“Goodbye, Crowley.”
With a flash of white, Aziraphale vanished. The aroma of old paper and hot chocolate filled the chilly air.
Crowley stared at the space where his friend had disappeared for a moment, then turned his gaze back towards the horizon. He could spend a bit more time here before having to return to Hell. To those souls freshly plucked from the cold before their time.
“See you at the next one, angel.”