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Michael miracled into the cool darkened room. There were advantages to being an archangel—like not having to use the elevator to travel to Earth. Her eyes adjusted as she stared out at the shelves of bottles and barrels lining the large room’s walls. There—standing off in a far corner—was the reason for her visit.
Uriel.
She was dressed in gray slacks and white blouse similar to her Heavenly uniform, but softer—more relaxed and comfortable. Her curls were a bit fuller and she wore a slightly darker shade of lipstick. She was busy writing in a notebook, occasionally glancing up at labels and bottles.
Michael noted how she was faintly muttering to herself as she watched her. She could imagine she was simply working in the Halls of Records or taking notes during a Heavenly meeting—rather than a wine cellar.
“What are you doing here, Michael?”
The cold tone pulled the archangel from her thoughts.
“Hello, Uriel,” Michael schooled her features and adjusted her suit jacket before moving closer. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m doing my job—well, preliminary training for my job. Excuse me—I need to finish my cataloguing,” Uriel sidestepped around Michael towards the next shelf.
“You work for Heaven—”
“No, I don’t. I quit.”
The reply was blunt. Uriel kept her focus on her notes and the bottles.
“You can’t quit, Uriel. Do you want to Fall—”
“No one has Fallen since the War. We don’t even know if it’s possible anymore. Gabriel didn’t Fall. Our new Supreme Archangel hasn’t Fallen.”
“He was chosen to replace—”
“Do you know how many times I’ve caught His Supremeness and His demon in Heaven? During one of their secret rendezvous? They are not as discreet or clever as they think.”
Michael rolled her eyes. She was quite aware. She had nearly caught them a few times herself, overhearing them before opening a supply closest door. Or spying Muriel suddenly rushing out of the elevator with a bright pink face, reporting His Supremeness was staying on Earth for a while longer—before muttering something about the birds, bees, and snakes.
“We really should tighten security—”
“Why? What good would it do? Even SHE hasn’t done a single thing about it. About any of it—any of Aziraphale’s ridiculous new rules or systems—about any of the Gabriel mess.” Uriel threw down the notebook and pen in her hands. Anger eradiated out of her. “If Gabriel didn’t Fall—if He hasn’t Fallen, why can’t I quit?!”
Michael’s eyebrow twitched but she held her tongue. She knew Uriel was unhappy—knew she was frustrated by the new management and Aziraphale’s various escapades. They all were. But Uriel couldn’t resign. She wouldn’t allow it.
Michael recalled Uriel handing her an envelope several weeks ago. Standard issue white and glowing with Aziraphale’s official title written in gold ink. She asked the archangel to deliver it for her on her way to her morning debriefing.
Of course, Michael hadn’t delivered it. She kept in hidden in her pocket until she found a private place and moment to open it.
“I’m a sommelier—a wine specialist now,” Uriel continued as the silence grew around them.
“You’re an angel—”
“I quit!”
“No, you didn’t! Not officially,” Michael sighed and threw her hands up. “According to the paperwork signed by the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, you are on a special undercover mission on Earth to spread goodwill amongst the humans.”
Michael had slid the made-up paperwork into a pile of other documents needing his Supremeness’ signature. Gabriel never looked at the paperwork that closely, but Aziraphale meticulously read over every word. Luckily, he found the document in order and gladly approved Uriel’s “new assignment”.
“You lied to a superior?” Uriel finally turned to face Michael, a pointed eyebrow arched high on her brow.
Michael caught her direct gaze. “I couldn’t lose you.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?” Uriel smirked, eyes darkening in a challenge.