Okay so I told myself I wouldn't update unless I had a new concept for each chapter, which is probably a stupid idea considering this thing is going to need a clear story line at some point and I'm not imaginative enough to keep this up. But this idea struck me when I made that decision, and I randomly fell in love with it, even if it had always vaguely been in the back of my mind. So prepare to witness a random selection of angels from an assortment of fandom's being the Hospital executives in charge of Saint Raphael's, at least for the first half of the chapter; because I'm pretty sure splitting these into two separate scenes is just how each chapter is going to end up.

Disclaimer: Oh no, I totally own all these dozens of fandom's, indefinitely...Idjits...

In a world of locked straight jacket's; the man with allies is king.

"Why do you summon me now, Naomi?" The voice thundered across the grey expanse before him, thick brown shadowing eyes to paint the dark and lean form towering in the archway. Light punctures of staples and rapid typing at desktops, the soft trill of the office phones and gentle rustles of paper harmonised to form the backing to the both young and old looking executive's voice. The office door slammed behind him, dwindling the racket of the busy assistants slightly.

The man in the grey suit held the dark brief case at his side in a fist of fury that symbolized his attitude upon having to interact with any of the people who bumbled through the halls of the ranks of this organisation. His body seemed to take up more space than anybody else could, but despite being as muscular as anyone else could be there really didn't appear to be much that was exceeding about him.

"Important business, Raziel. Take a seat, the board have a number of matters to discuss. Just the usual." The Plum haired, determined looking woman dismissed from where she took her seat on an expensive desk chair at the head of the table. The woman's pantsuit creased as she brought herself down onto the cushion, but the immaculate tied hair stayed relentlessly in its place. Raziel – a name by which Naomi was the only one to call him by – rolled his eyes in discomfort of these board meetings that he had managed to avoid for a blissful amount of time, checking for the whereabouts of the sandwich trolley even if he was certain its selection would be ghastly as he did so.

"Nothing as depressing as last time is it, these dilemma's do worry me." Aziraphale huffed lightly from where his plump hands supported his head, contemplating a spot on the polished mahogany table that stretched out grandly for the executives to gather around through his circular red glasses that were the shade of sweet strawberries. Raziel's jaw tensed.

"We run a hospital for the mentally ill, Aziraphale; depressing situations are sort of what we get the funds for." The questionably young man in his feather collar coat blushed to the shade of his glasses which, along with the curl of honey hair that had drifted his way into a hazard over his face, created a look on him that was exceedingly unprofessional.

"Aziraphale..." The man who repeated his co-workers name observantly was extensively more stylish than he who he wasn't really talking too, but seemingly significantly older, even if the amount of buttons he had undone from his shirt and the lack of tie were excessively unprofessional. "Raziel...What were the chances we'd have such ridiculous names..."

"Oh, because I hear Balthazar, is such a popular name amongst newborns recently." A young man with a slightly more formal appearance, but still in no way smart attire, was none the less dedicated to his loose tie and rolled up suit jacket sleeves, proclaimed dryly from where he sat in his chair so improperly that it may as well have been classed as the definition of slouching. His hazel hair flopped over his head in a style that suggested he really hadn't bothered when he'd woken for work that morning. It seemed even untidier from where he rested his head on a folded arm over the table as the other reached out to click disinterestedly on the refresh button of his laptop – green eyes piercing as he surveyed a page that was especially unlikely to be anything remotely related to work.

"Did I say that? We all sound like our names were just a spewing up of letters...Okay, with the exception of Anna and Naomi, but what are the chances, Gabe?" Balthazar continued to contemplate innocently as he drummed his fingers over the fine desk he sat before and sat even further back into his chair than he had been already, as the redheaded Anna blushed a little from where she shuffled her own more organised papers, brief case open, next to Raziel. The clear youngest of them seemed more interested in her own work for it to be much interest to the rest of them. In fact, Anna seemed pretty much altogether disinterested most of the time; or if not was dedicated to her disagreements.

"We are not having this discussion again."Naomi cleared her throat testily from one head of the table, growing frustrated with being the only one in charge who actually felt a sense of urgency to get this weeks agenda seen to.

"Nomy's right," The bored looking manager cooed as he scrolled down his tumblr feed again. "We decided we all sounded like superhero's last week...Is the big wrath coming in today? God knows he doesn't do anything for actually being the official CEO or whatever of this place."

"Gabriel!" Naomi snapped despite herself, glaring down the table to transfer the fact that she dearly wished they could all be professional enough to actually refer to one another by their full names at these things. Pulling down the jacket of her suit, however, the deep haired forty something corrected herself with a sincere response. "Mr. Plesdonhurmeh fails to be present again at this moment in time, which is considering he is such an influential contribution to this organisation not in spite of it. He has other pressing issues to deal with, specifically regarding to our first item actually..." She tried to steer them back onto topic but drowning in the process, like always.

"Raffe isn't a people person; I don't know why you keep expecting him to turn up." Anna had a habit of speaking about everything she said with a feisty tone, even if it was something as innocent a response as that; unfortunately, it led to her coming across as something of a bitch with her opinions – at least in the opinions of the others.

"No shit," Gabriel exclaimed as he rolled his eyes a little. "Neither is Razor but he still turns up and grumbles for a few hours." Most people within this set of offices called Raziel that, but nobody really knew why. Someone had once suggested that it was his razor sharp ability to make quick deals with charities and awareness supporters and the speed he'd succeeded through medical school, which had spread as the only theory to become the general consensus as to the origin of the nickname, but everyone was secretly sure it was only due to how ridiculous his real name was – which wasn't really something you could use in a casual conversation over the water machine.

"Item. 1." Naomi pressed impatiently. "Unfortunately, our general manager was found dead in her office yesterday morning, and - " The lack of emotion Naomi held over the business of the matter might have been noticeable were it not for Aziraphale's expected gasp that was just loud enough to make the others jump anyway, interrupting the meeting once more.

"Oh the poor dear...so young..."He held a hand on each side of his face for a moment, shaking his head, but despite the usual looks of judging disbelieve towards the fragility of his emotions in relation to his work.

"Indeed." Raziel remarked disinterestedly, letting his gaze dig into Naomi enough to let her know to carry on, now, before the others got distracted again.

"Upon the subject of a replacement for Dr. Forbes we'll need to issue one into action as soon as possible..." Under consideration of all expectations of a worthy board of organised executives seeing to the running's of a mental health hospital, that would have led to a lengthy discussion on the subject to ensure it was properly and appropriately dealt with. In the memories of the people sitting around the table, that was how it was to them, of course – Gabriel caught up on a good tag or two on tumblr and did the mental math to figure out just how behind he was on Downton Abbey, Balthazar managed to become uncomfortable in his chair, Aziraphale heated up to the point of considering taking his coat off as he tried to listen politely and Chuck the sandwich vendor even came in to show the discussion had lasted so long they were surrounded by half eaten soggy sandwiches. None of this happened though, and yet it was a good three quarters of an hour before Naomi sat up again and chimed in her professional tones.

"Item. 2..." Naomi pressed forward within an exhale of relief even as Razor barely resisted the urge to collapse down and slam his head onto the table in frustration of this incessant socializing, no matter how important it was to funding and keeping an open and running psychiatric hospital.

"Oh, well, actually." Aziraphale blathered, raising a hand with a pointed finger to shyly keep the attention for a split second. "Before we move on, I apologize, but I was wondering – and with the grave circumstances that have risen – if it would be best for one of our number to give a visit to the wards. I'd be willing of course, it would be a pleasure. I do love getting to know all those wonderful patients and I-"

"Someone agree with him and sign off his request so we can move on, he looks like he's about to wet himself." Gabriel remarked running a hand through his hair, eyes closed from a less anger fueled exhaustion than Raziel's but enough to be as notably edgy as the rest of them. Aziraphale did look rather ruffled by his inquiry and had turned an alarming shade of red again, squirming underneath his non-existent poker face.

"Yes, of course." Naomi dismissed impassively, before trying to move on. "Now,"

"It'll stop the general staff from complaining that we're just sitting on our asses with soggy sandwiches as they all get murdered anyways, it's not like the police are doing their very best to get it cleared up." Balthazar complained with vague passion on the subject, drumming his fingers on the desk again.

"Yes well a good number of the police department have been admitted over the years." Aziraphale pointed out without thinking, pushing his glasses further up his nose. All of the suited executive managers furrowed their eyebrows or looked at Aziraphale as if his quirky antics had finally crossed the line. Naomi flicked through her papers with a similarly confused look.

"There aren't any ex-police patients in Saint Raphael's" Anna informed, eyes digging into Aziraphale with the rest of them, because really; it was a wonder how anyone could have said that with such certainty when it was such a random incorrect fact.

"Oh no, I know. I...err...um, figure of speech. And all that..." Aziraphale shuffled his papers without meeting any of their eyes, feeling unnervingly uncomfortable with what felt like a new found ability to lie properly, even if he was undoubtedly awfully at it.

"Yes...Right..." Naomi remarked as they all continued with the same accusingly stumped look at Aziraphale who avoided everyone as smoothly as the rough side of a sponge. "Item. 2."


"Mrs. Hudson will cry, and mummy and daddy will cry. And John will cry! Oh John will cry buckets and buckets!" Patient Moriarty exclaimed merrily as he was carted off to one place of his daily routine that was considerably more isolated than most patient's under the understanding that he was a more high security patient than most. He wasn't treated completely alone, too many of the doctors in this building agreed that that would be counter productive. The nurse that wheeled him to his destination had different views on the matter, but had been subject to only basic training he could barely remember undergoing.

"I'm sure they will Jimmy, I'm sure they will." The young nurse with the most unnervingly snow hair and night time eyes assured with dark indifference. The young man's entire pallet of appearance was pale, alarmingly pale even to the soft and light shade of green his scrubs were, which had dimmed even from that colour due to so many times being washed. His white hair was long, but not to the point that it fell like the way hippie's had long hair, and certainly not to the point that it would cover up his name tag that screamed VERLAC at anyone who happened to glance at it.

"You're going to love being dead, Sebastian...Nobody bothers you." Jim reassured the only nurse that he would really let be the one to "look after him" but they both knew that that wasn't quite true and yet he was vaguely aware enough to register any meaning to the sharp hard tugs he felt at the back of his straight jacket.

It was a short time before Patient Moriarty was being maneuvered to sit down across the table from irrelevant other patients, and Sebastian left to stand at a wall at the other end of the small room the reasonably babbling patients were seated in; awaiting some form of patient right that they had been taken here to receive. The nurse lent against the wall casually, coolly indifferent to being in a room of high security patients.

Jim only sat humming a delightful tune to himself for moments, smile of smug joy a permanent fixture to his face in that moment. He noticed that the nurse Sebastian Verlac had a similar looking smile as he stood next to another man in scrubs; who looked completely exhausted and unstable with an identical badge to Verlac's; only his proudly exclaimed that his last name was GRAHAM. Patient Jim Moriarty laughed when he shuffled slightly and he focused on the memory that his nurse had been tampering with the back of his straight jacket. The nurse in question, who was inspecting a clipboard with seemingly detached interest as Graham was apparently invested in work with his back to him, held the smile that twisted his features to mutate his good looks wickedly. Sebastian flicked his dark eyes back up to the back of his colleague and Jim's smile grew as the nurse brought the clipboard up an hit the other man hard over the head with it – and Patient Moriarty pulled sharply at his undone straight jacket.


I smell a completely unintentional Moriarty/Sebastian bromance coming on! If you're reading and you've come across something that seems like it's a reference to another fandom - which it probably is – and it's one that you're not in so you have no idea what the hell is going on with that character etc. Then I hope you've realised with other instances that it wouldn't even make sense if you were in that fandom, it will become clear, but when it comes to writing stories of any kind, immensely complicated is the only way I know how ;D *winking ting.

Please review to tell me what you think because that is honestly what spurs me out of writer's block which my other fic is suffering from. And also, I love to hear predictions and opinions because they have an influence on the rest of what I write sometimes (What's up with Aziraphale ay, Good Omens fans?). Let me know if you want any other fandoms in the asylum too and I'll consider it. Really I will. The full list of fandoms I'm already intending to include is on my bio. LEMON CURD.