32. Persuasion

White curls like dandelion fluff lit by morning sun. Red waves of long hair, moving in the wind like snakes. An angel and a demon standing behind the battlements on the top of the wall of Eden, watching a jeep approaching over the dunes. It is not the same car as last time. It is bigger and doesn't get stuck in the sand as much.

"I can't bear being captured again," Aziraphale says.

"We won't."

Aziraphale nods. "Here," he whispers and gives Crowley a corked bottle. "I'm sorry that you'll have to do all the work. I can't control hellfire on my own."

Crowley takes it. "It's all right. You were right, dying is easy. Being left behind is what is hard. But I will join you right away, so it's all right."

They wait.

"I'm glad we got the chance to be together, just for a while longer."

"I'm glad too, angel."

They wait, hand in hand. Sparks of hellfire are playing on the fingertips of Crowley's free hand. A bottle with holy water waits on the ground just a step away. The cork is loose.

The jeep crosses Lethe without stopping and halts under the wall.

Both doors open at once.

From the driver's side, an angel steps out on the sand. He's wearing jeans and a green pilot jacket with broad shoulders, accessorized by sunglasses with golden frames and a pink silk scarf around his neck.

The sand on the other side crunches under the high boots of a demon - impressive things of steel and black leather. Above them is a skirt of black lace and a black leather jacket with yellow pockets, currently hiding the demon's hands.

"What the…" Crowley mutters.

"Hello?" Zadkiel calls. "We have good news! It's safe for you to return, if you want!"

Aziraphale and Crowley look at each other.

"Could be a trap," Aziraphale whispers.

Crowley nods. The fire sparkles on his fingers. It's getting harder to maintain the focus needed for channeling it.

"And we've got wine!" Musdur adds.

Crowley scoffs. "Well, it's them, at least."

"And they remember," Aziraphale whispers.

"Not falling for it, though. Our last vintage was pretty good already, I dare to say."

"Of course, dear."

Crowley scowls.

"It's safe, really!" Zadkiel tries further. "Satan doesn't remember you! He doesn't even remember His own name!"

Stunned, Aziraphale looks at Crowley. His face is reflecting a shy hope for the first time since they spotted the jeep. "The water from Lethe?" he whispers. "If they didn't drink it but gave it to Him…"

Crowley's fingers tremble a little, the sparkles sizzling. Satan doesn't remember you. He would like to believe it, but the enormousness of that statement doesn't fit into his conscious mind.

"And… they are clearly fraternizing. And not being punished," Aziraphale adds, as if trying to convince himself too, starting with something smaller he can see with his own eyes.

"Stay here, angel." Crowley says and climbs on the battlements.

Aziraphale follows him.

"Is that true?" Crowley calls from the wall, the volume hiding the tremble of the words a bit.

"Absolutely!" Musdur confirms. "He's only speaking Enochian and doesn't remember anything."

The hellfire on Crolwey's fingers sputters and dies.

Aziraphale and Crowley look at each other.

Musdur and Zadkiel see a flash of black and white, a flutter of wings and the top of the wall is empty and something tells them they are not being observed anymore.

"You've scared them away!" Zadkiel hisses.

"No, you've scared them away, egghead!"

Zadkiel sighs. "Well, they got scared away in any case. Nothing to do but wait. Did you bring Scrabble?"

Aziraphale and Crowley land on the moss-covered rocks by the lower pool. This is where they used to sit together in silence. This is where they used to talk, finding the way to each other again, overcoming the memories together. Now they are silent again.

Aziraphale lays his hand on Crowley's chest. The heartbeat is fast under his trembling fingers.

Crowley lays his hand over the top of Aziraphale's. "Do we dare to hope?" he breathes out, not hiding the vulnerability in his voice from the angel.

Aziraphale sighs shakily. "I don't know."

They fall silent again and stay so for a long time, drumming heart under trembling fingers.

"Enochian," Aziraphale whispers. "They wouldn't know… would they?"

Crowley shakes his head helplessly. "I don't know, angel. I can't believe we could be free and safe from Him. It's too much to believe."

Aziraphale leans towards him, connecting their foreheads. "I find it hard to wrap my mind around, too. I'm sorry I cannot be strong for you this time."

"It's all right. I wouldn't ask that from you. We deserve some rest already, don't we? Maybe we deserve someone else being strong for us, just once."

"Someone else? Oh God, yes… But can we trust anyone?" Aziraphale sighs and lays his head into Crowley's lap tiredly.

Crowley leans over him, resting his head on the angel's chest.

That's how they stay for hours while the sun travels the sky above. Leaning on each other, too tired to move, too tired to trust, too tired to hope.

Finally Aziraphale moves. "Crowley?" he whispers.

"Yes, angel?"

"Could we read the newspapers again?"

Crowley nods and snaps his fingers, summoning the tablet with all archive issues of the Escalator into his hand.

"Which one do you want to read?" he asks.

They have read it many times and know the contents by heart: the cultural blog with very random entries, ranging from fairy-tales to absurd drama, the column on human food and drinks, the double page on fresh and hip fashion styles for both angels and demons, some even universal, an empathetic glossary meant mostly for demons but often useful to angels as well (the digital version only has the description, but apparently the printed one had a miracled spot on the page that you could rub your wrist on to experience the feeling), torture tools reviews, the political commentaries painting Gabriel and the Archangels in a rather unfavourable light, interviews with the members of Aziraphale's platoon and with the demon who witnessed the hellfire trial, with Adam Young and Warlock Dowling and other humans who knew Aziraphale and Crowley. And of course, the detailed analysis of the footage that can be found at [link], pointing out all the differences in the censored version and offering commentaries and explanations that are often uncomfortably true.

"Issue 38. The interview," Aziraphale says quietly.

Crowley nods and finds it in the archive app. He skips the introduction, knowing exactly what part Aziraphale wants to hear.

He reads:

The Escalator: "Can you tell us about your gardener and nanny?"

WD: "Why? Did they do something? I can bail them out, just tell me which jail…"

The Escalator: "They are accused of a crime but currently out of reach of the jurisdiction. And many actually consider their punishment served already. We would like to bring the readers a more accurate picture of them."

WD: "Can what I say be used against them?"

The Escalator: "Not at all. It might even help to clear their name."

WD: "If you are lying to me, I will find you and crush you under my heel."

The Escalator: "The final talk will be sent to you for authorization."

WD: "Fine. So what do you want to know?"

The Escalator: "How would you describe their relationship? Were they a couple?"

WD: "That's rather hard to answer, actually. I don't think they were married or even… you know. [Note: see issue 15 for the definition of marriage, romantic and sexual relationship.] Not while being employed by my parents, at least. But in everything else, they acted like they'd been married for ages. My actual parents never had a marriage like that. Well, they divorced, after all. Without Nanny Ashthoreth and Brother Francis, I wouldn't know what a truly stable relationship should look like."

The Escalator: "What influence did they have on your childhood?"

WD: "Heh. They practically raised me, so I should say big one, but… not really a direct one, when I think about it. They were always there for me when I needed them, but always let me make my own choices. Just opposite to my real parents. They could get into fights with my parents over supporting my choices. Even the stupid ones. I don't know by what miracle they didn't get fired. But without them, I don't think I would have the courage to go against my father and pursue a career in comics. Or for coming out, obviously." [Note: see issue 23 on human gender identity and sexual orientation and cultural blog of issues 6 and 14 for examples of comics.]

The Escalator: "How would you describe them as people?" [note: the term people is used in place of entities as is recommended in conversation with humans]

WD: "A goth Mary Poppins who took shit from nobody and a hippie living history reenactor who loved God's every creature. On the outside, at least. I think they were hiding behind those roles a bit. Nanny could be rather terrifying, and I was fascinated by that. But she could also be kind and gentle. You always felt safe with her, in that way when you know bad things are going to happen to people who dare to hurt you. And Brother Francis, he always radiated something that felt like being home. With him, you felt like nothing bad could happen, because it simply wouldn't dare to in his presence. But when they were together… that felt safest. Uh, sorry I got a bit emotional. I miss them, I guess. Haven't seen them for over ten years."

Crowley's voice trails off.

"There are people who are willing to be strong for us. If we allow them," Aziraphale whispers.

"Maybe. But how do you do that? How do you trust someone else? Someone who's not us? I fear I have forgotten, if I ever knew."

Aziraphale sighs. "I know."

"And Warlock's not here, anyway. There are those two. I don't know what to think of them."

"I would have trusted Zadkiel during the War, but that was long ago, for both of us. And all that time he's been up there with the Archangels telling him what to think. But from what they wrote about us, I might dare to hope, actually. Not trust, just hope. If it's a trap, it's a very elaborate one."

Crowley sighs. "If it's a trap, I want to get it over with already."

"I do have an idea how we could be more certain, dear. Will you return with me to talk to them?" he offers his hand.

Crowley takes it and lets Aziraphale pull him to his feet.

Masks go up.

Musdur and Zadkiel are just quarreling whether "ngk" is a word (Musdur claims it is one in demonic language), when Aziraphale's voice sounds from the battlements.

"A moment of your time, gentlemen? Can I ask one question?"

Zadkiel stands up, almost overthrowing the board. "Yes, of course, Commander!"

"What about the elections?" Aziraphale asks. "Who won?"

There is a moment of silence and exchanged looks at the foot of the wall.

"Well… you see…" Zadkiel starts. "It was pretty close. We did have the moral superiority. And the fact that we have a nice representation in the parliament speaks for itself, really. But the political mood... "

Musdur cuts the speech short. "Gabriel leads the government."

Aziraphale smiles, his shoulders sagging with relief. "It's the truth. They may be speaking the truth, Crowley."

"Wait, what?" Crowley blinks.

"If they said they won, I wouldn't believe them. They wouldn't say that Gabriel won if they wanted to lure us into a trap. And he's too good a manipulator to not win against inexperienced politicians. We saw that many times in history, didn't we?"

Crowley watches Aziraphale for a moment longer and then nods slowly. "Do you want to invite them in, angel? Assume they are telling the truth and discuss their offer?"

Aziraphale doesn't answer right away. There the bottle with holy water is still sitting on the wall. He bends down to take it and pushes the cork firmly into its neck. "It's strange, isn't it? Being ready to die in one moment and learning that you can return home in the next. Although… I'm not sure about the home part. I'm not sure where that is anymore."

Crowley sighs. "Yeah… I know. Maybe we should talk to them. See what the options are and then take some time to decide. If you are sure it's not a trap."

Aziraphale looks down critically. "One more thing. Do you think someone would want to lure us into a trap while dressed like that?"

"Eh. Fair point," Crowley nods, a little smile finding its way to his lips. "Let's play hosts, then."

He conjures a rope ladder and lets it down from the wall. "Come up then," he calls. "I'm getting tired of the shouting!"

Down there, Zadkiel and Musdur hesitate for a moment. "No conditions?" Zadkiel asks.

Crowley shrugs. "Can't think of any." He pauses. "Well, maybe one. If you came to capture us, do us all a favour and be quick about it."

"We didn't!" Zadkiel calls hastily. "I'm giving you my word!"

"Yeah, I'm giving you his word, too," Musdur adds.

Crowley raises his eyebrows. "That's… a surprisingly efficient way for a demon to vouch for something. Aziraphale, why am I not going around giving your word?"

Aziraphale smirks. "I'm not sure anyone would want it." He summons a few leaves from a tea shrub that grows in Eden's Soho. He carefully uncorks the bottle of holy water, throws in the leaves and heats it with a quick miracle.

Crowley relaxes a little. There is no such thing as holy tea. Once it can't be called water, it stops being holy.

Still Aziraphale doesn't like to risk it and prepares another tea for the demons, pouring it into cups just as Zadkiel reaches the top of the wall.

"Uhm… do you mind making a platform or something? Or should we stay on the ladder?" Zadkiel asks.

"Oh no, come in," Aziraphale gestures. "We're a bit tired of hiding, I guess. Sugar?"

"No, thank you," Zadkiel says and climbs to the top of the wall. He sighs with relief as he feels the no-miracle field releasing him.

Crowley subconsciously positions himself between the newcomers and Aziraphale.

"Three," Musdur follows after Zadkiel and puts a bottle of wine next to the cups. "If it's regular water."

"Of course," Aziraphale assures him, a bit surprised they felt the holy water from such a distance - until he realizes the demon is referring to the Lethe.

Zadkiel curiously steps closer to the inner side of the wall. "So this is Eden. Wow."

Musdur glances in the direction the angel is looking and shrugs a little. "Nature…" they say in the tone of someone who's used to meeting that kind of thing only as a decoration on their plate.

Aziraphale stretches his hand in greeting. "I'm glad to see you again, Zadkiel."

The angel takes it, looking a little flustered. "Thank you, Commander."

"Hi," Crowley says.

Musdur nods.

"So, Zadkiel, dear boy, would you tell us what happened in Heaven and Hell since your last visit, please?" Aziraphale asks, pouring the angel tea from the bottle. "I fear I'm getting a bit lost in it."

"No, tell us something else first." Musdur says with a challenging expression before Zadkiel can reply. "You only talked to us before because you knew we were out of water and would refill it from Lethe, didn't you?"

"Yes," Crowley nods.

Aziraphale sighs. "Yes," he says as well, feeling the need to confess. "I'm sorry. We didn't see how we could be safe here with anyone knowing."

"I get that, really," Zadkiel says. "Wouldn't hold it against you. We can be a little nosey, right, Musdur?"

Musdur shrugs. "We're journalists."

"We didn't drink from it, so no harm done," Zadkiel adds. "Wouldn't be that much harm in my case, actually. Everything I remember and is worth mentioning is printed in the Escalator. I'd catch up in no time."

"'Cause you're a fledgeling with no real experience," Musdur smirks.

Aziraphale tilts his head. "But how did you know? Only I was around when Lethe was made, and I haven't told anyone, not even in reports. She told me not to."

"I suspected you wouldn't let us go with the interview if there wasn't some catch," Zadkiel says. "You'd talked too openly. Almost as if you didn't expect us to get a chance to publish it."

"Oooh, clever," Crowley tips a nonexistent hat.

"Thank you," Zadkiel blushes a little. "When we got as far as the river and nothing happened, I started to suspect the water. So we took it, but didn't drink it. Summoned ourselves a cold beer when we got out of the no-miracle zone, instead."

"But how did you find out what the water does?" Aziraphale asks.

"Your request," Zadkiel answers readily. "No photos, no recording, that made sense. It would have given us proof. But you also asked for no writing. We had to remember what you said if we wanted the interview. So I thought, what if there's something you know about that would make us forget?"

Musdur grins. "Also, we tried it on Hastur."

That elicits a short surprised laugh from Crowley.

"And how did you get Satan Himself to drink it?" Aziraphale asks, pretending he's able to believe it just for a while, just to see how it feels.

Musdur and Zadkiel exchange a look.

"Coffee break," they say at the same time.

Crowley winces, then mouths the words quietly. Then chuckles to himself, pretending he's able to believe it, too. "Serves Him right."

Musdur nods. "He made a habit of it. Work benefits, he claimed. So we slipped the water into His coffee maker."

"And that's it?" Crowley looks at them in disbelief.

"Well, it wasn't that easy, but basically, yes," Zadkiel says.

Aziraphale watches the two journalists expectantly, but it seems they are not going to elaborate. He suddenly remembers and summons four chairs. "I'm sorry, please, sit down. Forget my head next time. So… are you absolutely certain?" he asks when they do sit. "He doesn't remember anything?"

"Beelzebub's keeping it secret, of course," Musdur says. "For once our journal respects that, so I'd like to ask you to not talk about it to anyone. We don't write about the private matters of Satan and God, it's our policy. But yes, Satan is out of it. Zadkiel's word."

Aziraphale looks at Crowley and for the first time, dares to believe. But he remains cautious. "So what about the others?" he asks. "Beelzebub, Gabriel, all the rest of Heaven and Hell? Don't they want to capture us again?"

"Alright, so, Beelzebub," Zadkiel starts counting on his fingers.

"Beelzebub is glad Satan is not commanding them anymore," Musdur supplies. "They're too busy running Hell to pay attention to you. And since there are demons who sympathize with you, they would only cause strife instead of boosting morale if they tried to go against you."

"Gabriel," Zadkiel extends a second finger. "Gabriel is too busy trying to keep his political power. He got to see that he can lose it very easily. And he will, we will make sure of that in the next election."

"Uhm, sure, fledgeling," Musdur says in a tone that sounds awfully similar to Crowley's of course, angel.

Third finger. "Heaven's also full of angels who sympathize with you. Not everyone, naturally, but again, going against you would ruffle some feathers. They will leave you alone. Demons as well," fourth finger. "Mudur already spoke about the demons. Hastur could have been trouble, but he's out of the way."

Fifth finger. "I guess that only leaves humans. But why humans would want to harm you is beyond me, so I dare say you should be perfectly safe."

Crowley watches them for a long time. Then he glances at Aziraphale who's looking somewhere beyond the horizon with an expression of shy hope.

"I think I believe you," Crowley says and Aziraphale nods.