Fic: Down to the Earth with Violence
Written for the Day After Tomorrow challenge.
Down to the Earth with Violence
They met up again in July, standing on the immense ice sheet that covered what had been Paris. If they hadn't known where they were, it would have seemed peaceful after the events of the previous months: the sky was blue and cloudless, although the sunlight on the snow and ice was harsh and unforgiving. The wind whipped up dustings of snow and spattered them with white. It was not an ideal place to stand unless one was wearing extremely protective clothing. The men standing facing each other were wearing suits and street shoes. They didn't even have scarves.
'It's the end of the world,' Aziraphale said glumly.
'And how do you feel?' Crowley asked, unable to stop himself.
Aziraphale looked at him blankly, then snapped, 'Bloody terrible, how did you think I'd feel?'
'Sorry, sorry,' Crowley said. 'Very insensitive of me; it's a song, you see --,' he paused in embarrassment. 'Sorry,' he said.
Aziraphale kicked disconsolately at the snow and looked as if he was holding back sniffles. Crowley peered at him closely. He'd never known the angel to catch cold before, so he suspected they must be tears. He cast around desperately for something to say, something that would stop Aziraphale embarrassing them both.
'They always did say the world was overpopulated,' he said, trying for a business-like tone. Luckily, both of them were very much out of practice on the physical combat with the Adversary front, so he managed to duck Aziraphale's right hook, even if his feet did slip from under him as he did so. He sprang up again and bounced back to avoid the next blow. An angry unhappy angel was far better than a sobbing unhappy angel in his opinion. 'Stop! Stop!' he yelled, jumping aside as Aziraphale tried another punch, 'you'll do yourself an injury!'
All the fight went out of Aziraphale at once, and he sagged all over. Crowley felt unaccountably hollow as he looked at the hopelessness in the angel's eyes. He inched closer and hesitantly reached out to pat Aziraphale's arm. What they should do, Crowley thought, was put all of this out of their minds and head off to the equator. There couldn't possibly be ice at the equator, could there? They could lie on a beach for a couple of centuries with pina coladas and little snacks, and leave the mess for the few remaining humans to sort out. All he had to do was to get Aziraphale to agree to the plan and they could be out of this misery as quickly as they could fly themselves to a nice desert island.
'Aziraphale --,' he started.
'Crowley --,' Aziraphale said at the same time.
They both politely waited for the other to speak. The silence stretched out.
'I have an idea --,' Crowley said finally.
'Why did this happen?' Aziraphale said.
'I don't know,' Crowley said, looking round nervously. If this were to be a metaphysical discussion he'd prefer not to be the only patch of black on an immense field of white. He felt far too conspicuous as it was. 'But let's not discuss it here; I have an idea --'
'Nobody told me this was scheduled. Did you get notification?'
'No. Of course not! Do you think I wouldn't have told you? Do you really think that?' Crowley said.
Aziraphale heaved a sigh. 'No,' he said at last. 'Of course you'd have told me. It's just -- how could this happen, Crowley?'
'I think they said the Gulf Stream slowed down, or something. I couldn't really follow it, to be honest,' Crowley said, ignoring Aziraphale's sarcastically lifted eyebrow.
'You think the human alchemists are right?' Aziraphale asked, his tone matching his eyebrow.
'I believe they like to be called "scientists" these days,' Crowley said. He paused. 'Liked to be called "scientists" anyway. Not that they were right of course; this has "Heaven" stamped all over it.' He blessed under his breath as Aziraphale's expression grew significantly frostier than the glacier. There was no avoiding the metaphysical discussion now.
'This is far more likely to be the work of your lot,' Aziraphale said. 'We don't go in for wholesale death and destruction.'
'Excuse me?' Crowley said. 'What about the Flood? What about Sodom and Gomorrah? What about, if you'll pardon me mentioning ancient history, the War?'
'We didn't start that,' Aziraphale said, the localised temperature dropping still further.
'Depends on how you look at things,' Crowley muttered, rather glad that Aziraphale not only didn't have a flaming sword anymore, but that he was so out of practice that he probably wouldn't even throw another punch. 'You have to admit, your side has a record of this sort of thing,' he said. A fool-proof argument popped, fully-formed, into his mind. 'It can't be my people,' he said triumphantly, 'it was all too efficient.' He felt quite safe in this line of argument, because if there was anything the bureaucracy of Hell loathed, it was efficiency and people doing their jobs right.
'Huh. Well it can't be my people either. It wasn't at all targetted, with the freezings and so on. And there were too many civilisation-destroying floods. We promised that method would be permanently taken off the table,' Aziraphale said.
'What then?' Crowley said. 'The Gaia Hypothesis wins the day?' Aziraphale looked at him blankly once again, but he didn't feel like explaining. 'I don't know why it happened,' he said. 'I wish it hadn't happened. I think it took everyone by surprise and they're probably working out official responses even now. You wait, we'll be blamed for this yet. Have you tried to get in contact with your people? Mine are ignoring me. Hey!' he yelled down at the ice. 'It's Crowley! I want to make my sodding report!' The wind carried his words away and there was no response. He felt very lonely, and angry, and sorry - not just for himself either - as he peered down into the ice as if he could see the top of the Eiffel Tower far below. Not that he'd ever thought much about the Eiffel Tower before; he'd never bothered going up it to admire the view or to eat in the restaurant. That had seemed such a pathetic touristy thing to do, and now he'd never have the chance to change his mind. 'Bastards!' he yelled, first down at the ice, then up at the sky. 'Bastards! All of you! Or Both of You! Bloody, buggering bastards! I'm glad I renounced Y--'
'Crowley!' Aziraphale said. 'Stop that! It's blasphemy!'
'Apostasy, actually,' Crowley hissed. 'Or as well. Who cares? Anyway, that's what I am, isn't it? Blasphemy? Abomination?'
'I -- no, that is, I've never seen you that way,' Aziraphale said, shifting from foot to foot.
'Really?' Crowley said, and some of the cold loneliness drained away, although the anger and sorrow were still there. Heaven didn't deserve Aziraphale, he thought, the angel was just plain too decent for them. He was mildly surprised to find himself clutching Aziraphale's lapel and hissing fervently into his face. 'How can you stand it, Aziraphale? Knowing what a bunch of shits you work for and not doing anything about it? Have some sense, come with me, renounce Him and come with me.'
'Crowley! Crowley, stop that at once!' Aziraphale said, flinging off Crowley's hands.
'Oh, G-- no, I didn't mean -- that came out wrong,' Crowley said in desperation. 'I wasn't trying to get you to fall, it's just -- they're almost all dead, Aziraphale, and I feel terrible, and all I want is my bloody Bentley, and that makes me feel worse, and I want to get both of us out of here and not have to think any more. I know you don't understand, and I wish you did.'
'Shush,' Aziraphale said, quiet and sad. 'Of course I understand, my dear. I just want to be able to go back to my shop, and I feel very guilty about that. I keep wondering if I could have done more, saved more people, if I hadn't been distracted by my own selfishness. If I could give you your car back I would. But we can't despair, or rather we can't let despair stop us -- there are people further south. We should go to them, and see what we can do. All right, Crowley?'
'You want us to go and do our jobs?' Crowley asked. 'Are you insane? Neither Heaven nor Hell gives a rat's arse about our jobs.'
'No, I think we should just go and try to keep as many of them alive and as healthy as we can,' Aziraphale said.
'Help them? That's not in my job description,' Crowley said uncertainly.
'Ah, but no one gives a rat's arse about your job or its description, do they?' Aziraphale said, summoning up a smile that after a few seconds even reached his eyes. 'Look at it this way,' he went on, 'it's in both Heaven and Hell's interests to keep at least some people alive. Who'll sing songs of praise and mercy if they're all dead? Who'll give in to temptation and sink to the depths? Who'll bring us our wine - you know the first thing they'll do is find some way of producing alcohol, think of Noah, for goodness sake, that old soak - duty and self-interest both compel us, Crowley.'
'You're tempting me,' Crowley said in dawning pleasure.
Aziraphale gave him a rather unangelic smile and patted him gently on the cheek. 'So fall,' he said.
Crowley closed his eyes and let himself feel the warmth of Aziraphale's hand and how it made the cold less oppressive. 'You're a natural,' he said. 'Who am I to resist?'
'Come on, then,' Aziraphale said, and shook out his wings. 'Let's get off this glacier.'
Crowley followed suit, the sunlight reflecting in a rather perplexed way from the intense whiteness of his feathers. He spread his wings, ready to spring up and paused, thinking over something Aziraphale had said.
'Aziraphale,' he said, shooting a hard gaze over at the angel who reflexively assumed an air of bewildered innocence at his tone, 'what exactly did you mean when you wondered if you could have saved more people if you hadn't been distracted by your own selfishness? Where are your books, Aziraphale?'
'Er,' Aziraphale said, and gave him the vague, amiable smile the angel reserved for conversations he didn't much like.
'Hmm. It's a matter of constant wonder to me that I seem to have the better moral character,' Crowley said, not putting too much force into the statement. 'Well, let's get a move on.'
'Race you to the tropics,' Aziraphale said, and leaped upwards, becoming a far off dot of whiteness in seconds.
'Hey! Hold on!' Crowley yelled, and followed.
Beneath the ice, Europe was ground away in dark silence. High above it the silence of the times was broken by laughter and shouts as the only people left on Earth who could really do something headed towards the only places left to do it.
* * * * * * * * * *
Isaiah 28:2
Behold the Lord has one who is mighty and strong;
Like a storm of hail, a destroying tempest,
Like a storm of mighty, overflowing waters,
He will cast down to the earth with violence.
Thanks to louiselux for beta-ing!
Down to the Earth with Violence
They met up again in July, standing on the immense ice sheet that covered what had been Paris. If they hadn't known where they were, it would have seemed peaceful after the events of the previous months: the sky was blue and cloudless, although the sunlight on the snow and ice was harsh and unforgiving. The wind whipped up dustings of snow and spattered them with white. It was not an ideal place to stand unless one was wearing extremely protective clothing. The men standing facing each other were wearing suits and street shoes. They didn't even have scarves.
'It's the end of the world,' Aziraphale said glumly.
'And how do you feel?' Crowley asked, unable to stop himself.
Aziraphale looked at him blankly, then snapped, 'Bloody terrible, how did you think I'd feel?'
'Sorry, sorry,' Crowley said. 'Very insensitive of me; it's a song, you see --,' he paused in embarrassment. 'Sorry,' he said.
Aziraphale kicked disconsolately at the snow and looked as if he was holding back sniffles. Crowley peered at him closely. He'd never known the angel to catch cold before, so he suspected they must be tears. He cast around desperately for something to say, something that would stop Aziraphale embarrassing them both.
'They always did say the world was overpopulated,' he said, trying for a business-like tone. Luckily, both of them were very much out of practice on the physical combat with the Adversary front, so he managed to duck Aziraphale's right hook, even if his feet did slip from under him as he did so. He sprang up again and bounced back to avoid the next blow. An angry unhappy angel was far better than a sobbing unhappy angel in his opinion. 'Stop! Stop!' he yelled, jumping aside as Aziraphale tried another punch, 'you'll do yourself an injury!'
All the fight went out of Aziraphale at once, and he sagged all over. Crowley felt unaccountably hollow as he looked at the hopelessness in the angel's eyes. He inched closer and hesitantly reached out to pat Aziraphale's arm. What they should do, Crowley thought, was put all of this out of their minds and head off to the equator. There couldn't possibly be ice at the equator, could there? They could lie on a beach for a couple of centuries with pina coladas and little snacks, and leave the mess for the few remaining humans to sort out. All he had to do was to get Aziraphale to agree to the plan and they could be out of this misery as quickly as they could fly themselves to a nice desert island.
'Aziraphale --,' he started.
'Crowley --,' Aziraphale said at the same time.
They both politely waited for the other to speak. The silence stretched out.
'I have an idea --,' Crowley said finally.
'Why did this happen?' Aziraphale said.
'I don't know,' Crowley said, looking round nervously. If this were to be a metaphysical discussion he'd prefer not to be the only patch of black on an immense field of white. He felt far too conspicuous as it was. 'But let's not discuss it here; I have an idea --'
'Nobody told me this was scheduled. Did you get notification?'
'No. Of course not! Do you think I wouldn't have told you? Do you really think that?' Crowley said.
Aziraphale heaved a sigh. 'No,' he said at last. 'Of course you'd have told me. It's just -- how could this happen, Crowley?'
'I think they said the Gulf Stream slowed down, or something. I couldn't really follow it, to be honest,' Crowley said, ignoring Aziraphale's sarcastically lifted eyebrow.
'You think the human alchemists are right?' Aziraphale asked, his tone matching his eyebrow.
'I believe they like to be called "scientists" these days,' Crowley said. He paused. 'Liked to be called "scientists" anyway. Not that they were right of course; this has "Heaven" stamped all over it.' He blessed under his breath as Aziraphale's expression grew significantly frostier than the glacier. There was no avoiding the metaphysical discussion now.
'This is far more likely to be the work of your lot,' Aziraphale said. 'We don't go in for wholesale death and destruction.'
'Excuse me?' Crowley said. 'What about the Flood? What about Sodom and Gomorrah? What about, if you'll pardon me mentioning ancient history, the War?'
'We didn't start that,' Aziraphale said, the localised temperature dropping still further.
'Depends on how you look at things,' Crowley muttered, rather glad that Aziraphale not only didn't have a flaming sword anymore, but that he was so out of practice that he probably wouldn't even throw another punch. 'You have to admit, your side has a record of this sort of thing,' he said. A fool-proof argument popped, fully-formed, into his mind. 'It can't be my people,' he said triumphantly, 'it was all too efficient.' He felt quite safe in this line of argument, because if there was anything the bureaucracy of Hell loathed, it was efficiency and people doing their jobs right.
'Huh. Well it can't be my people either. It wasn't at all targetted, with the freezings and so on. And there were too many civilisation-destroying floods. We promised that method would be permanently taken off the table,' Aziraphale said.
'What then?' Crowley said. 'The Gaia Hypothesis wins the day?' Aziraphale looked at him blankly once again, but he didn't feel like explaining. 'I don't know why it happened,' he said. 'I wish it hadn't happened. I think it took everyone by surprise and they're probably working out official responses even now. You wait, we'll be blamed for this yet. Have you tried to get in contact with your people? Mine are ignoring me. Hey!' he yelled down at the ice. 'It's Crowley! I want to make my sodding report!' The wind carried his words away and there was no response. He felt very lonely, and angry, and sorry - not just for himself either - as he peered down into the ice as if he could see the top of the Eiffel Tower far below. Not that he'd ever thought much about the Eiffel Tower before; he'd never bothered going up it to admire the view or to eat in the restaurant. That had seemed such a pathetic touristy thing to do, and now he'd never have the chance to change his mind. 'Bastards!' he yelled, first down at the ice, then up at the sky. 'Bastards! All of you! Or Both of You! Bloody, buggering bastards! I'm glad I renounced Y--'
'Crowley!' Aziraphale said. 'Stop that! It's blasphemy!'
'Apostasy, actually,' Crowley hissed. 'Or as well. Who cares? Anyway, that's what I am, isn't it? Blasphemy? Abomination?'
'I -- no, that is, I've never seen you that way,' Aziraphale said, shifting from foot to foot.
'Really?' Crowley said, and some of the cold loneliness drained away, although the anger and sorrow were still there. Heaven didn't deserve Aziraphale, he thought, the angel was just plain too decent for them. He was mildly surprised to find himself clutching Aziraphale's lapel and hissing fervently into his face. 'How can you stand it, Aziraphale? Knowing what a bunch of shits you work for and not doing anything about it? Have some sense, come with me, renounce Him and come with me.'
'Crowley! Crowley, stop that at once!' Aziraphale said, flinging off Crowley's hands.
'Oh, G-- no, I didn't mean -- that came out wrong,' Crowley said in desperation. 'I wasn't trying to get you to fall, it's just -- they're almost all dead, Aziraphale, and I feel terrible, and all I want is my bloody Bentley, and that makes me feel worse, and I want to get both of us out of here and not have to think any more. I know you don't understand, and I wish you did.'
'Shush,' Aziraphale said, quiet and sad. 'Of course I understand, my dear. I just want to be able to go back to my shop, and I feel very guilty about that. I keep wondering if I could have done more, saved more people, if I hadn't been distracted by my own selfishness. If I could give you your car back I would. But we can't despair, or rather we can't let despair stop us -- there are people further south. We should go to them, and see what we can do. All right, Crowley?'
'You want us to go and do our jobs?' Crowley asked. 'Are you insane? Neither Heaven nor Hell gives a rat's arse about our jobs.'
'No, I think we should just go and try to keep as many of them alive and as healthy as we can,' Aziraphale said.
'Help them? That's not in my job description,' Crowley said uncertainly.
'Ah, but no one gives a rat's arse about your job or its description, do they?' Aziraphale said, summoning up a smile that after a few seconds even reached his eyes. 'Look at it this way,' he went on, 'it's in both Heaven and Hell's interests to keep at least some people alive. Who'll sing songs of praise and mercy if they're all dead? Who'll give in to temptation and sink to the depths? Who'll bring us our wine - you know the first thing they'll do is find some way of producing alcohol, think of Noah, for goodness sake, that old soak - duty and self-interest both compel us, Crowley.'
'You're tempting me,' Crowley said in dawning pleasure.
Aziraphale gave him a rather unangelic smile and patted him gently on the cheek. 'So fall,' he said.
Crowley closed his eyes and let himself feel the warmth of Aziraphale's hand and how it made the cold less oppressive. 'You're a natural,' he said. 'Who am I to resist?'
'Come on, then,' Aziraphale said, and shook out his wings. 'Let's get off this glacier.'
Crowley followed suit, the sunlight reflecting in a rather perplexed way from the intense whiteness of his feathers. He spread his wings, ready to spring up and paused, thinking over something Aziraphale had said.
'Aziraphale,' he said, shooting a hard gaze over at the angel who reflexively assumed an air of bewildered innocence at his tone, 'what exactly did you mean when you wondered if you could have saved more people if you hadn't been distracted by your own selfishness? Where are your books, Aziraphale?'
'Er,' Aziraphale said, and gave him the vague, amiable smile the angel reserved for conversations he didn't much like.
'Hmm. It's a matter of constant wonder to me that I seem to have the better moral character,' Crowley said, not putting too much force into the statement. 'Well, let's get a move on.'
'Race you to the tropics,' Aziraphale said, and leaped upwards, becoming a far off dot of whiteness in seconds.
'Hey! Hold on!' Crowley yelled, and followed.
Beneath the ice, Europe was ground away in dark silence. High above it the silence of the times was broken by laughter and shouts as the only people left on Earth who could really do something headed towards the only places left to do it.
* * * * * * * * * *
Isaiah 28:2
Behold the Lord has one who is mighty and strong;
Like a storm of hail, a destroying tempest,
Like a storm of mighty, overflowing waters,
He will cast down to the earth with violence.
Thanks to louiselux for beta-ing!