Work Text:
This is not A. Z. Fell and Co. They don’t have a phone number, such a terrible establishment. I’m sure you’ll have more luck with your other local bookshops!
Beep.
It’s-
[There’s glass clinking, then a chair scraping back.]
This is stupid.
Click.
This is not A. Z. Fell and Co. They don’t have a phone number, such a terrible establishment. I’m sure you’ll have more luck with your other local bookshops!
Beep.
You know, I don’t like doing this alone. It’s no fun drinking on my own. I wanted to invite myself to the shop. Dialled your number before I remembered. You’re top of my contacts.
It doesn’t matter though, does it?
You’re not here.
Click.
This is not A. Z. Fell and Co. They don’t have a phone number, such a terrible establishment. I’m sure you’ll have more luck with your other local bookshops!
Beep.
I keep pressing your number. Don’t think Muriel’s figured out how to use the phone in the shop yet so nobody’s picking up. For the best, I suppose. Saves them from being subjected to my drunken rambles.
[A sigh.]
Right, well, hopefully, I don’t make this a thing.
Click.
Beep.
Fuck.
Click.
Beep.
I’m not counting the days. Or weeks. Has it been weeks? Could’ve been weeks. The point is, I’m not counting them.
But it’s been a bit. Enough for me to crack open the Masetto. You would’ve liked this one. Hints of vanilla. Makes it hard to…
Oh, I can be self-aware. Brood. Hard to brood. That’s all I do anyway.
The Masetto. Right. 'S a good one.
Not my favourite.
[A pause that stretches.]
What am I doing?
Click.
Beep.
It’s me again.
Maggie suggested going to therapy. Could you imagine? Me? In therapy?
That’s a whole snake of cans- no. Can of snakes. Or was it worms? Whatever, it’s a whole other can of slithering animals that should remain closed. Can’t go around traumatising therapists.
What would I say? Oh, I’m a retired demon that’s been around since before The Beginning and I have shit to talk about? My best friend left me for a job promotion because he Believes more than I ever could and it’s been eating up at me for the past few months – still not counting –? I spend most of my nights drinking myself into such a state that I call his bookshop just to hear his voice through the receiver? That I wonder sometimes whether if I’d gone with him it would’ve been better than this?
[Ragged breathing. He clears his throat.]
What can I say? Self-aware.
Click.
Beep.
It’s Chateau Latour tonight. Don’t think I have to remind you of the taste. We had this in France, a decade or so after the revolution. Kept some bottles since then – wanted to surprise you. Bit late for that. Honestly, I’d almost forgotten about ‘em.
I went to France. That’s why I remembered. Took a vacation, isn’t that what you do in retirement? Explore. Use your hard-earned money to go on holiday. Well…suppose it depends on when you retire. Six thousand years is a bit much but Shax hasn’t bothered me since.
France was…bloody awful. Even out of Paris. Tourist trap after tourist trap. Kept turning street corners and expecting you to be there and make the whole thing better.
We never went on a proper vacation after Armageddon.
I looked at cottages, you know? In the South Downs. Wanted to make a week of it, get us both away from London. You would’ve loved it. It would’ve been quaint. Right up your alley.
It had space for your books. A garden in the front and the back, a decent bakery in the nearest village.
Well. Said too much already, haven’t I?
Click.
This is not A. Z. Fell and Co. They don’t have a phone number, such a terrible establishment. I’m sure you’ll have more luck with your other local bookshops!
Beep.
Only you would have a voicemail like that and still let calls go to voicemail. ‘M surprised the old thing in the shop can even store messages.
Not drinking anything special tonight. Went to the pub actually, the nearest one to my flat. Fucking fancy place of business. Doesn’t even serve proper drinks. I’m flooding their reviews.
You wouldn’t’ve liked it either.
Click.
Beep.
I’ve accepted this as a Thing if it wasn’t already obvious. Just a miracle I’m not shit-faced when I call. Somewhere close but not quite. Still got some sensibilities around. Whatever that means.
‘M drinking some type of Merlot. Tore the label off, don’t know what it is.
[A pause as he takes a sip of his drink.]
Anathema reached out.
Not sure how she got my number. Some manner of witchy things, probably.
She wanted to invite us to dinner. Reunion or something. I’m not going obviously. Would be awkward and terrible.
Without you, that is. Could’ve bared it otherwise.
Did some self-reflection. Realised how much of what I did, I did with you . Can’t have that anymore, can I? So I’m going to…broaden my horizons. Do things that I haven’t done. Not a lot out there but I’ll find something. France was a terrible idea, too many memories. So something else. Something safer.
Definitely not dinner.
Click.
Beep.
I didn’t go to the dinner but I talked to Anathema earlier.
Did you know there was another prophecy book? She burned it up. I can practically hear you fuming. Wonder if it said anything about…us. This. ‘Watch out for the woeful retired demon who can’t get over it. ’ Would’ve saved me a lot of-
Well.
It’s been raining endlessly.
Bloody British weather.
Click.
Beep.
It’s Halloween.
Went to pub trivia night with Maggie and Nina. Ludicrous event but those two know how to strongarm you into something.
I remember last Halloween. I remember you dressing up. I remember being surprised.
In hindsight I shouldn’t have been, you were practically buzzing with a kept secret the weeks leading up to it but didn’t expect it to be a costume.
Oscar Wilde. Swear, I thought you were trying to get a rise out of me. I'm just glad I came up with the reservation that night. Got you out of that blasted costume. I almost folded but wasn’t happening. Was not happening.
Right, pub trivia. Is it cheating to bring a being older than humanity into pub trivia? If it is, good. Blew the rest of ‘em out of the water. Until halfway through where I fumbled the bag so hard that they both insisted on me going home. S‘not like the liquor actually fucks with my system, I was fine.
I’m fine.
They’re doing alright if you were wondering. Not together but it’s something.
[There’s the sound of something rustling, like bedsheets.]
I miss you.
There, I said it. I miss you and I hate it. You made your choice and I made mine and that should be the end of it. It isn’t though, is it? It’s never that easy. We’re never that easy.
Wish it was though.
Wish I-
Beep.
Maximum length reached.
Click.
Beep.
[There’s a low sound, barely audible. Whimpering, soft sobs.]
Fuck off.
Click.
Beep.
Last one was a mistake, ignore it.
Not like you’re going to listen to these anyway.
Bloody pathetic, that’s what this is.
Click.
Beep.
The funny part about it all? I knew it was over from the moment you told me.
How could it not have been? I know you. I know what you’re willing to do. I saw it during Armageddon. You would’ve rather appealed to Heaven than go with me. You would’ve killed a child if it meant humanity would be safe. You care so much about them, so fucking much, and it’ll always be more than your care for me.
It’s not hard to see. You think it’s the system’s fault, not Her’s. So of course you’d go and want to fix it – break apart the system, Heaven.
Of course.
But just because I knew, didn’t mean I hadn’t hoped.
It’s fine. Isn’t it? It’s fine.
Or it would be.
I remember one thing clearly from that day. You’re the bad guys. I remember the “you” in that sentence. I remember it clearly because how could I not? It’s a label, clear as day. Retired demon or not, I’m the bad guy.
Six thousand years, Aziraphale.
Six thousand years, one averted apocalypse, and I’m still part of the bad guys.
What a fucking joke.
Click.
Beep.
I’ve had enough of this- this whining.
So what if you’re gone? I don’t need you- I don’t fucking need anyone. Went centuries without you, what’s a bit of fore-
[Silence.]
Forever.
Well [strained laughter], that leaves a bit of a bitter taste behind, doesn’t it? Isn’t even the wine.
You either come back or you don’t.
That’s the end of it, isn’t it? You come back or you don’t and either way, I’ll still be left running behind, trying to not speed past you.
This was a bad idea from the beginning. Putting a stop to this before it all comes to bite me in the arse.
Goodbye ang- Aziraphale.
Click.