Hi! To everyone who's still reading after all this time... sorry for taking so long to update! This chapter was quite troublesome, I actually made 2 versions of it. The first one was, in my opinion, more beliveable, but it felt weak. This one feels stronger, but rushed (I think)

Anyway... let me know what you think?


Chapter 29

Run away now

Two weeks before the wedding, as Aziraphale stands in front of the mirror at the gown's boutique for the last fitting, she's half convinced she's going to faint. She stares at her reflection and feels slightly numb, but when her eyes flicker towards Crowley, she feels sick with herself. He's looking at her with such anguish that one would easily assume she's about to walk to her execution and not down the aisle.

She runs her fingers over the front of her dress, removing imaginary wrinkles from it. Every time she has come in for fitting, there had been needed modifications because she keeps losing weight. She looks unhealthy; her ribs are starting to show, her hipbones have turned sharp and her cheekbones are looking more prominent with each passing day. Without any makeup, she's starting to resemble more a cadaver than a living human being.

Her stomach refuses to hold in her meals, sleep doesn't come unless she takes some pills and her hands won't stop shaking half of the time. She's skittish; her nerves can't take any stimuli. She jumps at the smallest sound, cries whenever she's alone and gets angry at any provocation. Her job is suffering from it and that only makes her want to work even longer hours.

She thinks she's going insane. No, actually, she knows for certain she's going insane. Why is she doing this? She's going to kill herself. Her body won't be able to take this stress for much longer and any day now she's going to collapse.

But she doesn't have a choice.

Or at least that's what she keeps telling herself.


Seeing Aziraphale doing a presentation is a thing of beauty. The way she moves, how perfectly clear she gesticulates, her passionate tone… she's gorgeous like this. She loves her work and it shows.

However, paying close attention to her instead of to what she's saying, it's easy to see there's something wrong with her. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun, hiding the horrendous state it's in. She's also wearing make-up, which helps to hide the dark circles under her eyes and just how prominent her cheekbones are starting to look. The white suit that used to fit her like a glove is now a baggy around her belly and her hips. However, it's ridiculously easy to overlook these details and get lost in her passionate speech.

James leans back in his seat and watches her. He already knows what she's talking about, having read her report the day before, so he can concentrate on just looking at her. The truth is that while he might never have been in love with her, he has always admired her. He knows Aziraphale is smart, talented, resourceful and driven. He knows that if she cared enough about status and power and she didn't enjoy Field work so much, she would be the one sitting at the head of the table right now.

She's brilliant at her job because she has always been able to detach herself from the situations. She sees things nobody else does and she doesn't let her emotions get in the way of what needs to be done. That's why she's here today, when this is supposed to be a reunion just for Commanders.

The situation in Manchester is dire. Whatever Hell is planning is big, but they're hiding it pretty well. While there's a truce between them, Heaven knows it's unwise to stay in the dark about this new development. It's not like they can trust Hell to play fair.

"Did your contact in Hell tell you all of this?" Commander Singer from the East Garrison asks when Aziraphale makes a pause to allow questions. She snorts, running a hand through her hair, messing it even more.

"Of course not. I'm certain he doesn't even know. Which brings me back to my early point: whatever they're planning, it's dangerous. So dangerous they won't even let most of their people know."

Aziraphale's contact. James almost snorts. He's more than that; far much more.

It's worrisome, because Aziraphale has always been able to separate her emotions from her job, but right now he's not sure she's doing that. Oh, he knows she won't betray Heaven consciously, but who knows what she might do without noticing? A woman in love it's a very dangerous loose end.

Their eyes lock for a minute and he can tell she knows what he's thinking. He was hoping this marriage might work in keeping her away from the Enemy, but now he's not so certain. Aziraphale won't cheat on him; not physically at least. Emotionally however…

There's also the toll this is taking on her to consider. In the morning, without any make up and any clothing, she looks awful. She looks like she's dying and she's sick half of the time. She still pukes every morning, she barely eats, barely sleeps; he's not sure how is she managing to survive. Or how long she can keep up with this.

Something needs to be done, but what?

James closes his eyes and sighs as Aziraphale carries on with her presentation. This thing she has with Crowley is going to be the death of her. Either because she's going to kill herself overworking, going on for hours without food or sleep due worry and/or grief or because she'll end up doing something stupid.

There's really nothing that he can do, though. He's trying. He's trying so damn hard. He let her down before; he wasn't there when she needed him, he didn't listen when she was begging for help. Right now, however, he's not certain if by insisting in this marriage he is going to save her or kill her: she's endangering herself with how little care she's taking of herself. Most people might not notice, but he does. She's looks beyond tired: she looks done. Like she can barely carry on.

His eyes find Michel's a few seconds later. He's glaring at him and he forces himself not to roll his eyes. There he is, behaving like an overprotective older brother; like he's not to blame for Aziraphale's current condition. If he actually listened to him and followed his instructions, they wouldn't be in this mess- he suggested they sent someone else, Michel argued that no one was as good as Aziraphale. He claimed it was too dangerous, Michel affirmed that Aziraphale could kick both their asses so there was nothing to worry about. He insisted it was a bad idea and Michel said-

Michel said that everything would be fine. If anyone could handle whatever Hell sent their way, it was Aziraphale.

This is true, of course. Just look at what she has managed to find out in a few weeks of research and the plans she has come up with. The girl is beyond brilliant; she's always a step ahead from the enemy. She could handle anything Hell threw her way.

Problem is this isn't a plan Hell could have come up with. They may have been hoping to distract her with Crowley's good-looks, but they certainly didn't plan for them to fall in love. In fact, that is such a great inconvenience that if Hell ever found out, they would not hesitate to take out their own agent.

Heaven won't do that, though. Not to Aziraphale. To any other agent… Well, it doesn't matter. They won't do it to Aziraphale because she's too smart, too talented, too useful.

And of course, there's also the matter that he doesn't doubt Michel would never follow an order that included hurting or letting someone hurt his "baby sis".

Feelings are so inconvenient; that's why he has never bothered with them before. Love is for weaklings; an overrated emotion that brings nothing but complications. It clouds the judgment and makes you take ridiculous risks.

He never thought he would have to worry about Aziraphale succumbing to such a stupid thing. She's better than that. She knows better than that. The fact this is happening irks him beyond reason. Heck, if she was sleeping with Crowley he wouldn't worry; she has always been perfectly capable of not letting her hormones interfere with her job, but this…

She's in love. It's going to kill her; they both know it. Should he keep trying to fight it? Probably. Regardless of everything else, she's the closest thing he has to an actual friend. On the other hand, he's got the slight suspicion she's beyond salvation.

He takes one look at the carefully disguised dark circles under her eyes, her pale complexion, her too baggy clothes and sighs.

The prospects certainly aren't encouraging.


The Friday before the wedding, she's still at the office, going over some information regarding Manchester. She has formed a plan about what can be done, but she thinks it would be better if she had some intel from the inside. She's writing a mail for Uriel, asking for him to send someone, when the door of her office opens and her fiancé walks in.

"Ready for tomorrow?"

She tries to smile, but doesn't succeed. Sighing, she answers "Can I help you with something James?"

He stares at her for a while, finally coming to stand next to her and pulling her up for a hug. She tenses for a second, before her whole body relaxes and molds against her companion. He's warm and her mind takes comfort on the familiar presence, even if it's not the one she actually craves.

"Everything will be over soon" he whispers against her ear, running his hands over her back "you'll be fine soon enough."

She sure hopes so.


"And do you, Aziraphale Engel, take this man, James Good, to be your lawful wedded husband to love, honor and cherish through sickness and in health, through times of happiness and travail, until death do you part?"

Aziraphale opens her mouth to utter a yes. Instead, she replies, "no"

She won't. Just like that, she realizes she can't do this. She has always known it, in some unconscious level, but right now, everything seems so obvious. She immediately pulls away, stricken by her sudden epiphany. "I can't" she whispers, horrified by what could have been. How could she be so blind?

"What?"

"I can't" she states panicky. Her mind is going overdrive with images of what could happen if she carries on with this. Of what will happen if she does carry on.

"Aziraphale…"

God, how did she let things go this far? How could she let her stupid fear overrule her? How could she not see that marrying won't solve a damn thing and will instead make it worse? How can she even begin to think marriage will make her feelings for Crowley subdue?

She can't act on what she feels, but she can't live a lie. She already does, in a way, however this is even bigger. This isn't about surviving; on the contrary, this will kill her.

So will her love for Crowley, but at least, for a little while, it'll be alright.

God, how could she be so stupid?

"I'm sorry James. I can't."

She turns around and leaves in haste, without even looking back. She can hear the surprised gasps from the guests, the angered yells from her would-be mother in law, her fiancé's calls for her, but at the same time, she hears nothing. She hurries out of the room, away from what would have been the biggest mistake of her life.

"Zira!" she hears Michel coming after her and she figures that the rest of her 'brothers' are following closely too. She walks faster, knowing that if they catch up with her they'll want to talk and she can't talk right now.

Maybe she won't ever want to.

Once outside, she looks around. Cameras are flashing around her and dear God, she has just caused a scene, hasn't she? She can already see the tabloids headings, going on about how she left in haste, how crazy she must be, how-

It doesn't matter. She needs to get out of here right now. If this was a movie, she would run to Crowley's apartment, throw herself into his arms, both would confess their feelings and they'd live happily ever after.

But this isn't a movie, so instead she stops a cab and asks to be taken to the airport.

She needs some time away.

She might not have married but she can still go on her honeymoon, can't she?


The room is bigger than she anticipated and there are rose petals decorating every surface. She scowls at the bed and heads straight to the balcony, carrying with her the bottle of champagne that had been also part of the honeymoon special.

She closes her eyes, feeling the breeze from the sea on her skin. It's late at night, so the beach is mostly empty. There's no other sound than a few birds and the waves crashing.

She takes a sip straight from the bottle, a sad smile on her lips. She hasn't been in Greece before; it's a pity she won't be leaving the hotel's room much. She's not in the mood for sightseeing.

A few hours before, her whole life crashed and burn. She knows there'll be repercussions for her actions and she should be worried, but right now, she isn't feeling much. Later she'll think of what she's going to do, but for now, she'll enjoy her newfound freedom.

It's not perfect, not even close.

But it's better than the other option.


She spends the mornings at the hotel's gym, on the treadmill, trying her best to ignore her conflicted feelings. She shouldn't have carry on with the wedding; she always knew it wasn't what she wanted and now she's not sure why she ever believed it was what she needed. It's too late for regrets though and worrying won't solve a damn thing.

She's been getting updates of the situation in London from Gabriel, who's doing a ridiculous amount of damage control. The fall out of the wedding doesn't concern Heaven directly, but seeing one of its top executives is involved, Gabriel has been ordered to handle the situation to the best of his abilities. He doesn't like it, but he keeps telling her he's just glad she didn't go through with that farce.

Michel calls every day, demanding updates on her emotional state. She always rolls her eyes and tells him she's fine. A little shaken, but getting better. She's finally holding in her meals and although she doesn't sleep as much as she would like, she manages to get at least 4 hours every day. Raphael and Uriel also call, even if they're not as insistent as her boss.

James calls the day after the would-be wedding to make sure she had reached her destination safely. He hangs up immediately after she says she's ok.

All in all, things aren't as bad as they could be.

She spends her afternoons lounging at the room's balcony, enjoying the warmth and the gentle breeze. She asks for room service whenever she gets hungry and asks for a bottle of wine to be delivered with each meal. She eats and drinks with gusto.

The evenings are the worst, though. She lays in bed tossing and turning, worrying about should-be's, would-be's and what-if´s. When she manages to get some sleep, she usually wakes up with her heart pounding hurtfully against her ribcage, either because of terrible nightmares or highly pleasurable dreams.

The second are the worst, because they always leave her body craving for something. She's used to nightmares, but the ache between her legs and in her heart is something she's not quite sure how to cope with.

Crowley calls every day. And texts. And leaves voice mails. And sends e-mails. She never answers.

Dealing with her emotions is hard. If she could chose, she would ignore them for the rest of her life. However, she knows that's not really an option.

She still figures they can wait till she goes back to London.

Being away is good for her. All the plans she had for Manchester are discarded and she starts anew. She starts developing new ideas for Edinburg. She comes up with solutions for problems that a few days ago seemed unsolvable.

Her work benefits from the distance.

But all good things must come to an end and so, her pretense of being back to the Aziraphale Engel who just focused and cared about her job must end. The day she's scheduled to flight back to London she heads to the airport real early, sits close to the departing room and waits.

It's time to face down her demons.

It's time to face Crowley.