Work Text:
THE SET UP:
In an alternative, better universe...
Good Omen season three begins with Aziraphale, three years into his tenure of Supreme Archangel.
He wouldn't exactly say things are going well. Of course, it wasn't terrible. And he definitely wouldn't say he made a mistake coming to Heaven! It's only that, well...The Metatron, who had been excited and eager to bring him aboard, had all but disappeared as soon as Aziraphale started. Any directives from the Metatron these days came via Saraquel, The directives are seemingly endless––and, also, tedious. And all the work means Aziraphale doesn't get a lot of time to put his own big ideas to paper. Though he knows that if he could just get on top of things, he'd be sure to make a difference around here...
Not to mention, the rest of the Archangels all hate him, he isn't allowed to go to Earth, and the word around Heaven is that the Apocalypse is starting "any day" now--maybe as soon as the next twenty years. But he's here to stop the Apocalypse, isn't he? And yet, he hasn't made any progress. He hasn't had the time. Worst of all, his only friend is Muriel. But it's fine. Really, it's just as Aziraphale planned.
Except something starts happening that isn't according to plan. But he's pretty sure it's not according to the "ineffable plan" either. Material objects start appearing in Heaven, objects that Aziraphale can't ignore have something to do with him and the life he left behind on Earth. Objects that only one other person in the world would know would send a message to Aziraphale...
Was it possible? Maybe Crowley was still out there, trying to help him. Or maybe Crowley had done what Aziraphale couldn't (and really, wasn't that always, miserably, the way it went) and had figured out how to stop the Second Coming, but needed Aziraphale's help to do it? Maybe there would be no Second Coming. Maybe Christ wouldn't have to return, he wouldn't have to unseal the bottomless pit, or negotiate the terms of the end of the world with Hell...maybe it wasn't fated to pass after all.
The objects, the messages...it all led back to one place. The third alternative rendezvous, or: the bandstand.
And when Aziraphale arrives, Crowley is there. It's the first time they've seen each other since the unspeakable incident in the bookshop three years ago. But the Crowley he sees is not the Crowley he left behind.
This Crowley is the Grand Duke of Hell...and not only was Crowley not the one sending him messages, Crowley had been getting messages of his own. Messages he thought were coming from Aziraphale.
Neither of them are very happy to hear this (and did I mention Muriel was there, in the middle of it all? Aziraphale had figured out they'd be going to Earth secretly years ago by the time they'd used "gaslighting" correctly in a sentence, but, by heavens. They'd been fraternizing with a demon behind his back?) and the two have it out. Aziraphale, disappointed to see Crowley had turned his back on his entire ethical and moral code to become the Grand Duke; Crowley, angrily pointing out that Aziraphale had turned his back on humanity first. Upset that he had been stupid enough to believe Aziraphale's stupid plan had worked after all (and wasn't that, miserably, how it always worked?) and that becoming Supreme Archangel really did reveal a way for Aziraphale to avert the Second Coming. Upset that he thought Aziraphale still wanted his help after everything that had happened between them.
("Which was nothing," Aziraphale can't help but add, his eyes instinctually looking down at Crowley's lips. Did I mention, at some point in the fight, they manage to get really close? Like really close. Like, Darcy-and-Elizabeth-under-the-bandstand-in-the-pouring-rain-close? Crowley notices him looking. "Which was nothing," he repeats.)
Anyway. One thing leads to another, they both throw their hands up into the air claiming they might as well start the Apocalypse right now, what's the point in waiting? Clearly they're both overjoyed at the idea of the end of the world. And they go their separate ways. Crowley, back to Hell. Aziraphale, back to Heaven. Muriel...well, no one is sure where Muriel went, but I'm sure someone will look for them at some point. Probably.
END OF EPISODE ONE.
START EPISODE TWO....
COLD OPEN
INT. HEAVEN - AZIRAPHALE'S OFFICE
Heaven is a white, boundary-less space. Empty but with the exception of one very large desk which seats only one chair.
On every surface inch of this desk are large stacks of paperwork, binders, and folders. High enough that they're leaning up against one other and threatening to topple over. A tiny sliver of space has been carved out on the desk to leave enough room for an office phone and a legal pad.
We see AZIRAPHALE sitting at this desk, in full Supreme Archangel attire. In the middle of a debriefing with SARAQUEL--
SARAQUEL
The Heralds have had a slight mix up. They were given the clearance to hark when they should've been heeding. Now they won't stop singing in our ear about the inconvenience of last minute lyric alterations.
Aziraphale attempts to take down notes as quick as he can. He nearly takes out a column of manila envelopes at the elbow.
Saraquel continues, reading off a long scroll--
SARAQUEL (CONT'D)
Two Virtues were caught having relations in an elevator terminal. We now have virtue-less virtues and nobody knows where to reassign them... The Arc of the Covenant is still yet to be recovered... No progress has been made yet in saving the bees...
AZIRAPHALE
(interrupting)
Saraquel. I've only been away for one afternoon. Surely even in our most optimistic of expectations, the bees are not that busy.
SARAQUEL
The Metatron was very insistent that I compile a complete overview of outstanding tasks and assignments that have occurred or remain unresolved during your unauthorized visit to Earth.
AZIRAPHALE
...Of course. Continue.
SARAQUEL
The Unsanctioned Profanities department has filed their appeal against your ruling in the incident wherein the Holy Sites and Sanctuaries team mistakenly issued a permit for an American pop singer, Miss Sabrina--
Aziraphale holds up a hand for her to stop. That one is simple at least.
AZIRAPHALE
Please circle back with them that I am not reconsidering that decision. Jesus was a Carpenter, after all. A mixup is entirely understandable.
SARAQUEL
Noted.
AZIRAPHALE
And please tell me that is all?
SARAQUEL
Yes. For now. The Metatron appreciates your expedient and diligent address of these agenda items.
AZIRAPHALE
Ah. That was his exact phrasing?
She gives him a look: what do you think? Aziraphale surveys his mountain of paperwork wearily.
Saraquel rolls her scroll up, starts moving to leave.
SARAQUEL
There is one other thing. Hell is expecting your call.
Aziraphale makes an attempt at processing this information normally. Fails. Ends up looking like he just sucked on a lemon.
AZIRAPHALE
Hm?
SARAQUEL
Hell. They left a message. They're looking to begin getting arrangements into order for the Second Coming.
AZIRAPHALE
Ah...
(at a loss for words)
...now?
SARAQUEL
They made it seem as though you would be expecting to hear from them. You had initiated the discussion. Yes?
AZIRAPHALE
No, no, I-- I am aware. There is a chance--I may have intimated something to that effect. "Initiated" seems a bit...Anyhow, when--when it came up, I was imagining...surely the Second Coming is not meant to happen for another twenty, thirty years?
Saraquel shrugs, turns her chair to wheel away.
SARAQUEL
Welcome to the end times.
Aziraphale calls out after her, his voice echoing--
AZIRAPHALE
And these arrangements, I imagine-- I suspect I already know! But, but...being that it is my first Second Coming, after all-- I suspect these negotiations will be had between myself and...?
SARAQUEL
(over her shoulder)
The Grand Duke.
AZIRAPHALE
Naturally. Of course.
(then)
I suppose--well, if I get to that first, it will make getting to the rest of the agenda items here...
Saraquel rolls out of sight.
AZIRAPHALE (CONT'D)
...Redundant.
He is all alone. There is no one in sight in any of the endless, directionless halls of Heaven. Aziraphale checks to make sure.
His line of sight drifts to the phone on his desk...
Aziraphale shuffles a few papers in his hands, straightens them out, before carelessly tossing them on top of a tower of folders.
He stares up at the ceiling. Seemingly weighing whether or not--
His hand comes down on the receiver. He is dialing '6-6-6' before he has a chance to think about it any further.
It takes hearing the first RING on the other side of the line for him to realize what he's done. Goes to slam the receiver back down, but relents. Holds it against his ear with a reluctant resolve.
RING.
RING.
RING. Several more rings go by.
Aziraphale nearly gives up, visibly deflates in relief, when the line stops, mid-RING.
He holds his breath. All Aziraphale can hear is shuffling on the other end of the phone. The person on the other end clears his throat once, twice, and then a third time.
And then–– nothing.
AZIRAPHALE
...hello?
CROWLEY (V.O.)
Yeah. Who is it?
Aziraphale rolls his eyes.
AZIRAPHALE
(please)
Crowley.
CROWLEY (V.O.)
Oh. It's you.
More ruffling. It's loud, like an avalanche, or if someone were crumpling up pieces of paper next to the speaker.
Aziraphale holds the phone a bit away from his ear.
AZIRAPHALE
It is me. Returning your call.
CROWLEY (V.O.)
Well done. I didn't know my people had reached out to your people.
AZIRAPHALE
(not buying it)
Of course. Though it sounds as though I've caught you at a bad time.
CROWLEY (V.O.)
Down in Hell, there really is no "good" time...
AZIRAPHALE
Is it very busy, then? As Grand Duke. I never got a chance to ask. Your promotion. You...enjoy it?
CROWLEY (V.O.)
It's, well. It's--it's, it's busy, s'what it is.
INT. HELL - CROWLEY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
The walls of Crowley's office are glass partition, but every blind is drawn, casting the room into darkness.
An imposing, sleek black desk sits at the head of the room. Doesn't give off an impression of having ever been used by anyone, save for a single legal pad sitting on the surface.
And behind it, a desk chair-- seemingly swiveling back and forth on its own?
CROWLEY (O.S.) (CONT'D)
There's lots to...do. Demons to see... Demons to torture with, uh. Hot coal prongs...
Behind the desk: CROWLEY, in a three piece suit, is lounging on the floor. Legs crossed at the ankle on the chair, the desk phone on the floor next to him.
EXT. HELL - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
Outside, the procession of Hell carries on as normal. On a piece of paper taped to Crowley's door is scribbled the words: KEEP OUT!
INT. HELL - CROWLEY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Crowley twirls the phone cord between his fingers.
CROWLEY
Kidding. Torture with paperwork, mostly. Though they seem to like it a little too much, but...you know. They say I'm the best boss they've ever had. So.
INTERCUT - AZIRAPHALE'S OFFICE / CROWLEY'S OFFICE
Aziraphale has begun doodling crosses in pen on his legal pad, trying to do something with all his nervous energy.
AZIRAPHALE
I imagine after Beelzebub, not actively torturing one's staff must read as inspired leadership.
CROWLEY
You say that, but you don't know about the company retreat I've got planned for Camden Market. On a weekend.
Aziraphale makes a face at that. Eugh. But moves on:
AZIRAPHALE
Well, then. You are busy.
(then)
I'm... sorry to have bothered you.
CROWLEY
No! I mean...as you said. My people, they talked to your people...the people, they love doing that...
AZIRAPHALE
Unless there was...something you did wish to discuss, as long as you have me on the line.
There's a pregnant pause.
CROWLEY (V.O.)
Well. I don't want to keep you for too long.
Followed by more silence.
AZIRAPHALE
Well?
CROWLEY (V.O.)
...You still going through with the Second Coming?
A thousand replies to that - smart, biting 'gotcha's - occur to Aziraphale all at once. He manages to say instead:
AZIRAPHALE
Are you?
CROWLEY
I'm just following your lead, aren't I?
AZIRAPHALE
You, Crowley, were the one who seemed so interested in "getting this show on the road, what's the point of waiting?", as you so eloquently put it--
CROWLEY
(interrupting)
--I'm sorry, which part of you saying "We might as well start the Second Coming tomorrow" was I meant to not listen to? Because according to you, I've never listened to you once in six thousand years--
AZIRAPHALE
(interrupting, louder)
Apparently all of it, because as you said to me, "I've never said an honest thing in my entire life"!
The ink is bleeding through the paper with how hard Aziraphale is pressing with his pen.
They don't say anything for a moment.
Crowley clears his throat uncomfortably.
CROWLEY
So. We're in agreement, then.
AZIRAPHALE
If that's what you want. Then we are in agreement.
CROWLEY
Of course. Only if that's what you want.
AZIRAPHALE
If that's what you've decided. Only...
There must be a way out of this. Aziraphale's gaze locks in on the towers of paperwork around him.
AZIRAPHALE (CONT'D)
Only...I'm terribly sorry to disappoint you, Crowley, but I don't see how the Second Coming could possibly be initiated in say...any less than twenty, thirty years. Given the amount of...paperwork that needs to be taken care of. You'll have to wait a few decades at least for the fire and brimstone to pass regulation.
CROWLEY
Oh, yeah? How's that? The Supreme Archangel isn't powerful enough to cut through some red tape?
AZIRAPHALE
There are...documents that need to be drawn up! There are...work orders, ordinances to be signed. On my side, and yours. I know Uriel has been working on drafting the press releases for each of the seven seals for decades now, you know how tricky nailing copy can be... We can't simply start the Second Coming on our own without... negotiating the terms!
CROWLEY
You could always text it to me if you'd rather get it in writing.
AZIRAPHALE
Crowley. I'm not going to declare holy war over the telephone.
Crowley stops twirling the phone cord. Decides, after a moment:
CROWLEY
...If we met up in person, then. Maybe you'd be able to, is what you're saying?
AZIRAPHALE
(what?)
...declare holy war?
CROWLEY
Yeah. Or whatever you like.
He says hopefully. Nervously.
On Aziraphale's end: his face flushes.
He looks around the empty expanse of Heaven again, steels himself. Gives himself a moment to spin around in his chair a little...and presses the phone closer to his cheek.
AZIRAPHALE
Alright. I'll meet you.
CROWLEY
Really?
(then, playing it cool)
I mean. I have to check my schedule first.
Crowley rips a piece of paper off the legal pad. Crumples it up in a ball into the receiver, throws the wad behind him.
Aziraphale grimaces, holds the phone away from his ear.
CROWLEY (CONT'D)
Turns out I can squeeze you in.
AZIRAPHALE
Wonderful. And where will we be meeting, for this...negotiation?
CROWLEY
How about dinner? At Marguerites. 7 o'clock on Friday.
Aziraphale hasn't had dinner even one time in the last three years.
AZIRAPHALE
Of course. If that's what you want.
CROWLEY
Right. Then it's, ah--a negotiation.
With that, the line stills.
Aziraphale waits expectantly. Scribbles on his paper.
AZIRAPHALE
Well? Is there anything else?
CROWLEY
No. Did you want to say anything?
AZIRAPHALE
(accusatory)
You're still on the line.
CROWLEY
And you called me.
(a bit self aware)
You wanna do a little bit of "you hang up first", "no, you hang up first"--?
Aziraphale glances down. Several hearts doodled are in the margins of the page. He pushes the legal pad as far away from him as possible.
AZIRAPHALE
You hang up first.
(don't push it)
Crowley drops the receiver in his hand. Scrambles to get a hold of it before it falls onto his forehead.
CROWLEY
I'm--I am hanging up first. Yep. I'm--yes. Okay. Bye.
Aziraphale hears a CLICK and the line goes dead.
END INTERCUT
Behind Crowley's desk-- two feet kick giddily into the air.
CUT TO:
GOOD OMENS MAIN TITLES