Chapter Text
CARD ONE
Asa and Anthony had known, or rather had been getting to know each other for about six months now. What had started in a bookshop and a diner, had turned into acquaintances, then friends, and then some more. Currently, they were still very carefully tethering on the edge of some more. While they hadn't really talked about it, both of them had come to an acknowledgement and silent understanding that there was potential for more. And very slowly, they were moving towards it. They had time after all, it's not like the world would suddenly get wiped out of existence. So, from time to time, they grew closer, conversations became more intimate, more experiences were shared together and routines were established. They fell into their own peaceful existence, circling like A and B of Alpha Centauri. Just that the two of them were waiting to finally and inevitably crash.
It happened on a Sunday evening. It had been a nice day. The sun had shined down on them the whole day and rain was only expected to fall again by tomorrow. Both of them were currently in Anthony's garden, Anthony grinning with excitement. He had just gotten a new telescope. As much as Asa tried to mentally follow Anthony with all the telescopes updates in comparison to his last one, he always had been a tad cross with technology. He opted to quote Anthony on "It's the best one can get for their backyard". A quite expensive one too, if Asa might add, but then, he shouldn't be one to talk, with some of the books he had acquired. If he was honest with himself, he was much worse when it came to spending money on things to indulge in. Also, Anthony had the luck to have some sponsors from his work. Anyways.
Anthony had spend the beginning of the week setting the telescope up, calibrating it, programming it and whatever more one just had to do. Asa had spend a lot of that time with him, in the backyard, either letting Anthony try to explain the process of setting it up to him, or reading. Well, for the reading part - it was mostly Asa watching Anthony work over the corner of the book in his hands. There were not actually a lot of lines being read, apart from the lines of concentration on Anthony's forehead. And the occasional tongue in the corner of his mouth, or tapping his index finger on his lips. It times of great despair, Anthony might even rub his forehead with one hand, or running it through his hair, messing it up even further. Mostly all so while having his other hand on his hip, said cocked, leaning on one leg. Oh, Asa was smitten. Desperately so.
After the telescope had been properly set up and Asa would have been able to draw the constellation of Anthony's freckles in his sleep, the rest of the week had been spend with Anthony quietly sulking, because the weather had turned on him and he did not get the chance to fully test the telescope yet, and Asa trying to distract him by having him explain the celestial bodies once more. Of course Asa had spend quite a lot of time studying them by himself since they met, but it was not the same as to Anthony admiring them, eyes lit up preciously, like the very night sky he was talking about. Sometimes, Asa thought, that Anthony must have been the one to put it there, the way he talked about the whole cosmos. Oh, and don't even get him started on the pillars of creation…
Coming back - which is exactly what there were concerned with now.
Tonight the sky was clear, and it was time to put the beauty to test. Anthony had made quite a fuss earlier, though more adorable than anything. The new telescope, decently more spacious than the previous one, had not fit in its spot and had to be moved around quite a bit. In the end, it had fit right next to the apple tree that was in full fruit. Asa tried to force down a chuckle as he remembered Anthony bumping into the poor tree again and again, until an apple had fallen and hit him right on his head, knocking his glasses down, too. He failed. Luckily, he was still far enough away from Anthony for him to hear his snort. Asa doubted he would have noticed anyway, as he was currently in deep concentration, squinting into the eyepiece, seeming to make some last minor adjustments.
Asa, equipped with two steaming cups, was making his way towards the table Anthony was standing next to.
"Dear, have some cocoa. I put three pieces of white chocolate in yours, the one you've been, eh, well, subtly mentioning since Friday. I brought it today, just before I came here." Asa leaned over to put Anthony's cup on his side of the table.
Although still squinting into the eyepiece, Anthony's voice was full of adoration towards Asa: "Oh, you're an angel."
If Asa wouldn't have put the cups down already, it wouldn't just have been his whole, entire existence that would have shattered, but the table too. That would have made a great mess, which obviously would have needed to be cleaned up, and Asa was absolutely not able to do anything at all right now.
Angel.
More than 6000 years of memories came crashing down on him, like the cosmic debris he was once shielded from. Only now, there was no wing shielding him, and he was getting crushed.
6000 years of memories. 6000 years of history lost, of conversations forgotten, of experiences erased, of sentiment evaporated.
Short flickers lit up his mind. Yellow, so much yellow. A kiss, his first kiss. Guilt. Dust and sunshine shining though an old window. A stolen dance. Purple eyes, looking helplessly at him. A bathtub surrounded by evil. A shaking hand in his own. Yellow eyes again, looking up at him in terror. Fire, so much fire. A child, running on green grass, someone next to him, watching, too. A handshake, a deal. A Capital-A-Arrangement. Glasses clinking against each over, over and over again. A case stretched out to him, his heart burning with it. A gun pointed at his head, a photograph. A small piece of paper that made his stomach drop. Compassion, and a glass pressed close to his chest. Dungeons, cuffs and great relief. Crepes, next to someone. Another arrangement, not capitalized this time, but so much more important altogether. A proposal of one. Oysters, again with someone by his side. Proof of kindness. Goats, crows and salamanders. A temptation, his. His first. His first lie, too. Dread, and salvation in disguise. A flood, children at his feet, crying, and someone next to him with children in his arms, shielding them. Him, shielding that same someone, on a wall and on a battlefield, all dark and hurt, that same someone shielding him.
6000 years of Heaven and Hell, of pain, loss and sacrifice, of love and kindness, still. Of let's-run-away-together's, of on-our-own-side's, of shades-of-grey, of my-side's and my-lot's, of your-side's and your-lot's, of better-not's. Everything settled itself into his mind, like a film played backwards, from the teary, yellow, serpent eyes he looked into as he took his last metaphorical breath, down to the golden-hazel eyes he first took sight of when he didn't know the other one's name yet, and further. The very golden-hazel eyes that were staring at him in wild concern, now. This time, he knew the other one's name.
"Crowley" Aziraphale just as gasped out and lifted his hand to steady himself on Crowley's shoulder, said brows now drawn together in worry even tighter.
"Asa, what happened?"
Well, he thought he knew. But just Crowley hadn't been something significant, then, right? Maybe something else would do.
"Crowley, you wily old serpent. You foul fiend, you Demon-" Aziraphale got interrupted by hands settling on his sides, steading him, as he had been waving his hands around quite agitatedly, almost losing his balance. Then Crowley asked, voice as thick, unsure and apologetic as in their last minutes;
"Did I say the wrong thing? I'm sorry, I though you would be fine with endear-" Aziraphale stopped listening. Couldn't listen. It wasn't even Crowley's voice, he noticed. While the emotions behind it were similar, it sounded so far off. Damped, not as raspy, no snippy edge. And Scottish, too. Whoever held his arms, was not Crowley. Now that he really looked at him, it felt like looking at an alien, too. It was Crowley's face, to a certain degree. But at the same time, it wasn't. The man in front of him was so much softer around the edges, emotions bleeding freely from him, instead of being hidden behind shaded glasses and locked up by a body always trying to move away from them. His hair was looser, too, falling on his forehead and looking softer than angel feathers. There was no sleek and shiny edge to him at all, no sharp eyes staring into your eyes, daring to lay yourself bare.
Instead, there were only those kind and worried eyes Aziraphale once would have described as sacred, still staring at him, wide open, almost as if to mock him.
Did I say the wrong thing? Oh, how much more cruel could this get, really? Aziraphale pressed his lips together, hard, as he felt his body starting to burn white hot with dread.
Not-Crowley's words got stuck in his throat when he noticed the tears welling up in Aziraphale's eyes. Aziraphale fully lost it when he looked up, initially to compose himself and to blink the tears away, and took notice of the position they were in. Right next to an apple tree, just like-
He more or less crumpled forwards into not-Crowley's chest.
He wasn't even able to catch a breath to reassure not-Crowley that no, he hadn't done anything wrong. He had only ever been kind- and oh how much Aziraphale would give, to pretend to suffer under Crowley's demonic wrath of being called "kind" or "nice" just once more-
Azirapale let himself be taken fully into not-Crowley's arms. It was nothing like being shielded by Crowley's wing. In fact, he didn't even smell like Crowley either. There was no smell of summer-night-bonfire, not of cosmic ozone he didn't lose despite his fall, there was no mischievous note that made Aziraphale's skin prickle sometimes, for different reasons. He smelled more like old wood, heavy comfort, almost like an old bookshop- oh, his bookshop-
A noticeable amount of time had passed since Aziraphale had calmed back down enough to form coherent thoughts again. At one point, he had thought he would be able to pull himself together, had taken a step back, looked into not-Crowley's eyes and realized he would likely not see Crowley's eyes again, and then promptly burst out into ugly sobbing again.
Since the first tear had fallen, Aziraphale had learned as follows; His body, now really a body, a human one, instead of a corporeal form, was different to the latter. For once, he could not just stop, or weaken his outbursts. To make that worse, he felt everything three times as intense, especially everything unpleasant. While his corporeal form gave him more input generally, as in better sight, better hearing, better smell, better - and more of - everything, really, the translation to his essence had been much more controlled. With this body, it was less on a wide scale, but everything specific got screamed at him. It was extremely irritating, to say the least.
Furthermore: He was not Aziraphale. Well, not only. After his mind had stopped screaming at the loss, only then he had been able to take in what he actually had. He remembered his life as Aziraphale as much as his life as Asa Fell. And Lord-Someone, it was confusing. For starters, Aza would have been a much better choice, instead of Asa.
More importantly however, not-Crowley, which he then had the mind to remember as Anthony J. Crowley - really now - did not remember his life as Anthony J. Crowley and, well, Anthony J. Crowley. Really - what a stupid thing, for him to have exactly the same name. Aza was better than Asa, because it still wasn't Aziraphale, but Anthony J. Crowley? Aziraphale was positive the J. stood for the same, even though he had never the privilege of knowing what it stood for either times. It made Aziraphale viciously angry - furious even. How could anyone dare be named after Crowley, Crawly - the Serpent of Eden, Crowley - the Demon, Anthony J. Crowley, his- his- Aziraphale had to take a very, very deep breath to not lose it for a third time. Which reminded him; he had to consciously, more or less at least, breathe now. What an annoying thing, on top of it all. Try to constantly remember not to die from suffocation!
Back to it; Anthony- no, he couldn't do it. Heaven and Hell forgive him- in his head he would stay not-Crowley for now. At least in Aziraphale's mind. Now - not-Crowley evidently did not remember a thing about a possible previous life. This made Aziraphale very aware of how much he could not tell not-Crowley what was going on. As much as he worried, and his sweet, kind eyes almost seemed to explode with concern, Aziraphale was in no position to tell him anything. He would definitely not only sound, forgive him, mentally troubled, but would most certainly destroy not-Crowley's life as it was, and whatever Asa and him had grown into over the last months.
Something delicate, something tender, something sacred. Something Aziraphale could only ever dream of. Did only ever dream of, actually. A quiet, peaceful existence, without worry, without doubt, without all-consuming fear and dread. Something Crowley and he were only able to pretend they had very, very few times. Aziraphale was able to count these specific occasions on one singular hand. In all of existence, they only had so little.
What Asa and not-Crowley had was a luxury, a blessing, something he once would have described as holy. Before holy meant the destruction of everything and everyone he loved. Aziraphale would not dare to put even one finger on it. These were innocent people, and Aziraphale, though hand in hand with Crowley - figuratively and literally, had destroyed enough already as it is. Was. Had never existed? In the end it didn't matter, it was terrible, disastrous, and Aziraphale was done with divine intervention. Or demonic. Asa's life was not his to touch. That was the least he could do, to honor Crowley, too. To not interfere.
It always had been about exactly that, free will. A choice one can make. To be your own. Of course a choice comes with consequences, doesn't matter what choice you made and what the intention behind it was. It always came with consequence. Aziraphale had made enough choices, all of them had been utterly pointless. It didn't matter that he really had thought to do the right thing, to have his metaphorical heart in the right place. It didn't matter how many nights he had spend thinking, debating, questioning. It didn't matter how much he had given up. It didn't matter how many of the people he loved he had hurt. It didn't matter he was willing to sacrifice what he most cherished in hopes of saving humanity. It didn't matter that he had lost himself with it.
It all had been for nothing, because they were stuck in the very concept that could never been fixed. Crowley was right, it didn't matter if Heaven or Hell ended it. It ended anyway. It was one hope dared to be spoken out, one first and last prayer heard and answered, to give another universe a chance. Another humanity to be free.
This was the price to pay.
He was Asa Fell as much as he was Aziraphale. It was not as if there were two consciousnesses in his mind fighting for the reins, but rather two paths that he could choose from now. Right now, Aziraphale's hurting, screaming mind was louder, but if he really concentrated, Asa's memories spoke to him just as clear.
In the end, it wasn't a decision at all. Aziraphale's time was done and over. This was his burden to hold, and only his. This was his time in his personal Hell. He just hoped, as he would not dare praying anymore, that if there was Crowley out there somewhere, he would be finally happy, and free. Aziraphale took another deep breath, and said goodbye, this time to himself.
Asa pulled away from not-Crow-Anthony, wiped his horribly puffed eyes and furiously excused himself for his outburst. He did not explain, as he would not be the first to lie - again, his mind whispered. After that, he truly closed the door with the name 'Aziraphale' engraved on it, and turned his back to it.
Anthony, understandably, was terribly confused and worried, but debated that pestering Asa even further would do more harm than good. Maybe, at some point, Asa would open up about his past and trust him, but that was not his to decide. He apologized for overstepping boundaries and assured Asa he would not call him endearments again. Asa made clear that it was just this specific one that made him wallow in memories he would rather forget, but Anthony swore himself to be careful and not use any at all for a long time, and to check in with Asa if he wanted to again.
At the end of the day, the telescope worked perfectly, and the images of the pillars of creation came out even more beautifully than both of them had expected. Anthony especially was surprised, eyes glowing as he looked into the sky, as if he was able to see the image that was printed out and in his hands up there by his own bare eyes.
Even later, after driving to his own flat, Asa sat on his bed with the same print in his hand. Anthony had gifted it to him.
There was no one there to judge him, apart from himself, for him to turn back around to face that door and stare at it.
From what he was able to see, the pillars looked exactly the same as someone once had put them there.
He desperately cried himself to sleep that night, mourning a life that he never really had.