TITLE: break my cage and spread my wings
SUMMARY: Everyone called the Titanic the 'Ship of Dreams', but for Aziraphale, it was the ship of nightmares, carrying her away from her home in England, and her dreams of freedom, and towards the bleak future of her arranged marriage in America. The only spark of light in the darkness is her new and tentative friendship with the boldly intimate Crowley.
AO3 TAGS: Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion, Ineffable Wives (Good Omens), POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Rose Dewitt Bukater Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Male-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Jack Dawson Crowley (Good Omens), Caledon Hockley Gabriel (Good Omens), Ruth Dewitt Bukater Michael (Good Omens), Arranged Marriage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flirting, Teasing, Smooth Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Hand Holding, Dancing, Touching, Neck Kissing, Light Angst, Temporary Break Up, First Kiss, Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Naked Female Clothed Female, Naked Aziraphale (Good Omens), Insecure Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Time, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Tribadism, more tags to come (probably), tags only look scary because of all the '(Good Omens)' additives (set by AO3 not me)
Chapter Nine: Breaking to Keep from Bending
Chapter Summary: "I can't- I can't do this anymore."
AN: Sorry for the posting delay folks - even though we're all in quarantine, I'm working from home and I've been sleeping on the couch for unrelated reasons, and the whole situation has launched my spoons into the æther. For every one of you who has been able to create during this time, my envy. Either way, I'm going to be spacing out posting to bi(heh)-monthly so sry & thx 3 ur patience uwu
1912 April 14, Sunday - Day 5 (Part Three)
Everything about her morning left Aziraphale feeling sick and empty, and hopeless about her future, but she was a proper English lady, and she had spent her entire public life pretending nothing was wrong. It was all-too-easy to let Mr Pulsifer take her arm and guide her about the ship, to play the attentive guest. Well, she didn't quite have to quite fake her interest - she greatly enjoyed every opportunity she received to learn something new and this was her first journey on a ship. And the carpenter himself wasn't exactly unpleasant company either. On the contrary, he was a very kind, very polite, if a bit nervous, man, and he either found her interesting, or he was very good at feigning his own interest.
It almost made her forget for a moment the darkness in her chest, the knowledge that she would never again be able to see Crowley.
"Pardon, Mr Pulsifer," Aziraphale said, and Mr Pulsifer stopped and politely gave her his attention, "but with the number of lifeboats that seem to be on deck multiplied by their capacity, there doesn't seem to be enough for every soul on board."
Mr Pulsifer blinked, looking distinctly but unexpectedly impressed. "Very astute, Miss Aziraphale," he said kindly. Unused to compliments, Aziraphale's face heated, but at least she could blame the wind for the pink in her cheeks. "You're quite right, there's only enough for about half. Unfortunately," he said, his brow furrowing with a displeased frown, "my safety concerns were deemed to be worth less than the view, and my request for the necessary amount of lifeboats to accommodate all of her passengers was overruled."
He turned towards the lifeboats, and Aziraphale heard him mutter mockingly under his breath, as if he hadn't meant for her to hear him, "The bloody view," before whacking the nearest lifeboat several times with his walking stick and a distinct air of annoyance.
It surprised a laugh out of her, and Mr Pulsifer jerked back around to face her, his shoulders raised and his cheeks pink. No, he definitely hadn't meant for her to hear him. Aziraphale politely looked elsewhere as Mr Pulsifer awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Well, more to see!" he said a little too loudly, pointing his walking stick towards the bow. "Forward and aft!" And off he went, his longer legs putting a distance between them immediately.
"They're already a waste of space," Michael said loftily from behind Aziraphale, and Aziraphale turned to let her mother and fiancé walk by, lowering her eyes so she wouldn't have to meet theirs and risk them saying something unpleasant..
"Lifeboats on an unsinkable ship. Ridiculous," Gabriel agreed, his voice as close to a sneer as it got in public.
The pair of them passed by Aziraphale without acknowledging her, and the pain in her chest turned sharp. She could already see her life stretching out ahead of her, every moment sending her deeper into the dark chasm of a loveless marriage, the bright red seaweed of safety and freedom getting further and further away from her reaching hands.
Something shifted out of the corner of her eye, and Aziraphale blinked, surprised to find that brilliant red standing in front of her. Crowley's eyes almost glowed golden in the morning light, and somehow seeing her friend after she'd been banned from doing so hurt more than just picturing a life without her had. Crowley had even found a man's tophat and topcoat somewhere, both just as black as all her clothes were - it was making Aziraphale suspect that Crowley's wardrobe had never heard of colours.
"Crow-" Aziraphale's gasp was cut short by a finger pressed to her lips, Crowley shushing her as she looked towards where Aziraphale's family had gone. Gabriel and Michael were still in sight but they weren't looking for her, apparently oblivious to Aziraphale having fallen behind. Fingers curled in hers and Aziraphale grasped back reflexively, and she found herself being pulled quickly across the deck and through the door just across from them.
The room she found herself in was warm from the sun, dotted with exercise equipment, but empty of practitioners. Perfect for a rendezvous, and just as perfect for the conversation she didn't want to have. She really must have upset God - three conversations in one day that she would have rather done anything else but have.
Aziraphale collapsed against the wall, and Crowley stepped into her space, close, teasingly close, but not touching, and it hurt. Everything hurt.
"Good morning, angel," Crowley whispered, her voice even warmer than the room. But it no longer filled Aziraphale with warmth, only that sick feeling of loss. She swallowed and looked down, her eyes burning even when she closed them. There was a pause, and then Crowley took her other hand, and Aziraphale didn't have the strength to pull away. "Angel?"
"I can't-" Her throat was so tight that it hurt to swallow, but Aziraphale forced the words out anyway. "I can't do this anymore."
She could practically feel Crowley processing her words before taking a step back, the fingers cupping Aziraphale's loosening.
It hurt. Everything about this hurt. Aziraphale had tasted freedom, and then it slipped from her fingers. Or rather, it was pulled from them.
"Did I go too far last night?" Crowley asked slowly. "Was I too intense?"
Aziraphale started to nod, because Crowley had been intense - more so than ever before, but it hadn't been frightening - and then she changed mid-nod to shaking her head, because Crowley's intensity had nothing to do with why Aziraphale was forcing them apart. If anything, the feelings Crowley had elicited in Aziraphale the night before was a reason to stay.
"No," Aziraphale forced herself to say through her tight throat, with another shake of her head. "It wasn't anything you did. It was-" 'my fault,' she couldn't say. She couldn't even bring herself to look at Crowley's shoes and she closed her eyes, sending something hot and wet sliding down her cheek. "I'm engaged, Crowley. I can't do this anymore. I need this marriage."
Crowley didn't say anything for a long moment, and Aziraphale realized Crowley's thumbs were stroking the back of Aziraphale's hands, so gently that it made her want to sob. They swept wide, just under the hem of her sleeve, with just enough pressure to set off a dull throb of pain that made her flinch. Crowley paused, and Aziraphale couldn't help the way her shoulders raised to her ears as Crowley raised Aziraphale's hands, all-too-aware of the bruising that Crowley was about to find. It was the first bruise Gabriel had ever put on her skin, but she knew it wouldn't be the last. This morning was the opening of the floodgates, and it was only going to get worse across the years.
"Do you want this marriage, angel?" Crowley asked softly, her voice tense, but Aziraphale knew it wasn't at her. "Or do you need it?"
That lump was back in Aziraphale's throat and she swallowed several times to clear it, to speak. "I need this marriage," she repeated, her voice cracking. She didn't want it. She didn't want it at all. She'd just wanted a comfortable life with her books, and she wanted this friendship with Crowley, and it was precisely because she'd dared to want that she couldn't have.
"Oh, angel," Crowley whispered.
She sounded so sad that it broke Aziraphale's heart, cracked something deep in her chest, and a single sob shook her. "I'm sorry," Aziraphale gasped, her face wet with tears. "I'm so sorry."
"Shhhh," Crowley hushed, letting go of Aziraphale's hands and wrapping her arms around her shoulders, trapping Aziraphale's hands between them. "Hush now, angel, it's alright." Her voice was soft against Aziraphale's hair, and her gentle assurances only made the pain in Aziraphale's chest sharpen. "You don't have to apologize. Not to me. I've been where you are, remember?"
"I'm sorry I'm not stronger," Aziraphale croaked, burying her face in Crowley's shoulder, trying to stop the tears. A hand stroked over her head, petting her hair, careful not to disturb the coif. it was more gentle and more caring than she deserved.
Sometimes, instead of wings, Aziraphale wondered it would be like to stop living. She wondered if it would be easier.
"Nah, you're stronger than me," Crowley said, faux cheer in her voice. "I was a coward, running away."
"I don't think it's cowardly." No, Aziraphale was the coward, clinging to her life and her mother and her fiancé, waiting like a starving dog for scraps of affection, proof that she was loved.
"Oh, I definitely am," Crowley said, so unexpectedly self-assured in her statement that it curbed the downward spiral of Aziraphale's grief of a friendship lost. "I should have just let the marriage go through and then poisoned his dinner so I could inherit his wealth."
"Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped in shock, jerking out of Crowley's embrace. A split second later, she further surprised herself by hiccuping a laugh. Crowley's eyes were sad, but her lips were curled in that familiar, mischievous way of hers. "You're ridiculous," Aziraphale admonished softly with a small shake of her head.
"Might be," Crowley acquiesced with a shrug of her shoulders. "But I'm right. And I got you to stop crying."
Aziraphale blinked, and realized she had indeed stopped crying, though her eyes ached and her face was wet. "So you did." She reached up to wipe her tears away, but Crowley beat her to it, cupping her face thumbs sweeping under her eyes to wipe away the moisture. Aziraphale looked up and time seemed like it stopped when she saw how close Crowley was. How golden her gaze was, how it sparkled like the sun. And just like the sun, it was blinding.
A shadow covered the sun, just for a moment - a blink, and Crowley's gaze shifted, refocusing on Aziraphale's eyes. Just like the sun, it hurt to look at, the knowledge that she would never again be allowed to see Crowley, that she was pushing Crowley away to spare the both of them, and Aziraphale had to close her eyes to escape whatever she might face in Crowley's. Despite her cowardice, she was rewarded, a soft kiss pressed first to one eye, then the other.
Even after Crowley pulled away, Aziraphale still couldn't look at her. Or rather, she especially couldn't look at her now, not after what she had done, what she was doing, and the kindness Crowley was still bestowing on her.
"Thank you, angel," Crowley said, her voice still that warm, affectionate tone that made Aziraphale feel just as warm inside. Only now it hurt, knowing that she didn't deserve it. "No matter what, I'm glad to have met you."
Aziraphale felt like crying again but she forced herself to smile and nod because she felt the same, even if she couldn't force her throat to work to say as much. She still couldn't even open her eyes to look at her.
"Goodbye, angel," Crowley whispered. She pressed one last kiss, slow and lingering, to Aziraphale's forehead. And then she was gone, the door clicking quietly after her.
The silence of the exercise room after Crowley's departure was oppressive, pushing down on Aziraphale like a great weight. She used it to bury Crowley in her heart, a treasure chest sunk to the bottom of the ocean, and then carefully adjusted her clothes, pulling everything into place like armour. But when she tried to take a step towards the door, her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor. She sat there for a moment, in stunned, numb silence, and then the grief welled up in her like a tidal wave and she was lost.
TBC
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