Bad Grace 6:01 The March of Time, 1, a good omens fanfic

see Prologue for warnings, rating, and summary

In which four years pass, characters progress, repress, and digress, while Horsepersons and Sins are very busy in the world.

6:01 – THE MARCH OF TIME, 1

1992. A famous singer faces a lawsuit for child molestation. Members of the US Congress embezzle millions. British monarchy is divorcing each other left and right, most notably the best-loved princess of all time. The same princess admits to being bulimic. The CDC reports 43 percent of high school girls are taking diet pills, skipping meals or purging to stay thin. The first internet virus makes itself known.

RACHEL HAD BEGUN TO WALK and was now taking two or three steps all by herself. Newt and Anathema were in constant delight of course, and Aziraphale felt just as proud. It was as though the little girl could do nothing more impressive in the world.

Until she said her first clear words. She looked up at Newt and said "Dah", and his heart nearly exploded. Then she looked at Anathema moments later and said "Muh", at which time her mum nearly burst into tears.

When Aziraphale came to visit, they were so ecstatic that he wondered if Anathema's herb garden had grown something new they might be overusing.

"Oh, listen to her! It's wonderful!" they said, pulling him into the nursery where Rachel played on the floor. "She said 'dad' and 'mum'! Come on, Rachel, dear, say 'dad' and 'mum' again…"

The toddler looked up at Aziraphale, then pointed and said, "Ahn-sul."

Jaws dropped all round.

"Did she sort of just say… 'angel'?" Newt asked in a daze.

"I do believe she did," Anathema responded, equally surprised.

Aziraphale knelt before Rachel and cocked his head. Her eyes, bright and clear, looked into his, then flicked noticeably from left to right, just where his wings would be if they were visible to human eyes. He blinked in surprise. "She knows exactly what I am."

"She must have that from your side of the family, then," Newt said to Anathema.

"Indeed. I wonder what she would say looking at another of my kind, or a demon, or even… well, the Antichrist does live down the road…" Aziraphale looked pensive. "Perhaps we should find out…"

On his own, Adam arrived a moment later. "Hey, uh, mind if I hang out with you guys a while?"

"Sure, is something the matter?" Anathema asked as Adam took a spot on the floor with the baby.

"Nah, not really… Um. Pepper and I have been sorta hanging out without Brian and Wensley for a while, but still hangin' out with them too, of course. But we… finally told 'em about it."

"Oh dear. And they were angry?" Anathema said.

"Not awfully, no. They both said they'd noticed somethin' happening. And they've been noticin' other girls too," he grinned. "Since they never though of Pep as a girl so much, it really didn't matter, I guess. Anyway, this weekend everyone's got lots of other stuff to do, and so we're all doin' our own thing, ya know."

Looking at each other over his head, Newt and Anathema gave sad smiles. They knew it was only a precursor.

Adam was helping Rachel with her blocks when she looked directly up at him and said clearly, "Ah…da. Muh."

Everyone in the room stopped everything they were doing and stared at her.

She giggled, went back to the blocks, saying, "Ada… ada… muh."

No one, not even Adam, could speak for a while, so they let the baby do all the talking.

CROWLEY HAD BEEN GRADUALLY MAKING his way through America. He wasn't happy, but he really didn't expect to be. He tried not to think about it. Most of what he did was sheer avoidance of thought. Crashing parties. Getting stinking drunk. Picking up evening companions when he felt like it (which was not as often as he let on).

He also carefully avoided as much of the beautiful countryside and majestic mountains and mighty rivers as possible, as they made him think too much about Creation which led to thinking about Eden and the damned angel. Big bustling urban areas, that was his style, his thing, his niche. Such as it was.

He'd done New York. He'd done Chicago. He'd done New Orleans. He was in the middle of doing Los Angeles until a huge freaking riot broke out. Pillaging and burning and normal people becoming animals, the likes of which he hadn't seen in civilised society since the fall of Rome.

Screw it, he wasn't willing to risk the Bentley getting damaged, so he hightailed it out.

1993. A religious cult compound in Texas is raided and nearly a hundred men, women and children die as government agents try to draw them out. Internet 'spiders' become a problem, even while internet usage picks up exponentially. A new computer notebook is introduced, attempting to make pen and paper obsolete. There are rumours about cell phones causing brain cancer, while usage soars. A battered wife takes a knife to her husband's most precious asset and disposes of it miles away, and though he later has it reattached surgically, the message is clear.

"DID YOU HEAR THE NEWS?" AZIRAPHALE said brightly as he helped Anathema pack the baby's clothes in a suitcase. "Mother Theresa was granted an honourary American citizenship. So very kind of them."

"Er, yes, all very nice. Come on, Rachel, hold still please, we have to get you dressed." Anathema struggled with the toddler. "We're driving down to Dorking to Newt's parents this weekend, and she has been in such a mood for two days, I just don't know why."

"Poor lambie," Aziraphale said, putting his face closer to the little girl. "Can you tell Uncle Zirfal what's wrong?" Since Rachel had first said his name reasonably clearly, it was what he called himself in her presence.

Rachel looked at him and seemed to sigh. It was hard to communicate when even the angel didn't understand her.

But the angel was distracting her enough that Anathema got her dressed. "Here, can you take her while I finish packing up?"

"Absolutely," Aziraphale smiled brightly. Walking about the room with her, he hummed aimlessly. "There's a good girl, a smart girl. Where shall we go? Oh, here's the mirror you like so much. See? Pretty Rachel."

Rachel reached out to the mirror's surface and looked deeply. She saw, all right. But she saw far more than even the angel did. What she saw wasn't scary, but it was odd. Different than when she looked outside the mirror. And she couldn't get anyone to understand. Yet.

CROWLEY HAD LEFT THE U.S. for Mexico, and was enjoying the sun and the beaches, and the ever-flowing spring of margueritas andsenoritas. He fit in surprisingly well here, and was really considering staying for a few decades. This culture had even started out with a serpent god, and he had to respect that.

Unfortunately, they were also now very Catholic. Every damned place he went was spilling over with icons of the Virgin Mary and crucifixes hung on every available wall. The only hotels he could comfortably stay at were the very new and expensive, and catered to the international traveler who didn't care for religious symbols on their walls outside a church.

Normally he'd have preferred the fancy places. But the damned government was in the process of devaluing their entire currency system so he had to scramble to get enough money just to pay for a cheaper hotel, where he had cautiously removed the crosses with a thick towel and shoved them in the bottom drawer of the dresser along with the requisite Bible. Crowley had loads of money tied up in stocks and bonds, but money in general was such an intangible thing, it was hard for even him to snap his fingers and simply make it appear. He had little choice but to wait for money to be wired or be sent to his credit account.

Meanwhile, he sighed and sat back in the shade of a palm on a white sand beach. He'd gotten over the Eden issues for now. Besides, Eden never looked like this. Though the mostly naked female at his side would have fit in pretty well. He grinned like a snake and licked a bit of salt off his lips. Then a little more off the girl's.

1994. Banner ads and spamming appear on the internet, annoying everyone. An Olympic hopeful skater is attacked by a rival, and though she makes it to the competition she only receives second place. A famous sports figure is on trial for killing his wife and her lover, and the case drags on for a year. Country music becomes the most popular on the radio

RACHEL WAS PLAYING WITH HER newest favourite toy, modeling clay. She sat in the backyard, pinching and shaping and humming a soft tune. The sound of her humming attracted the doves that nested in the apple grove, and they came very near her, cooing. She smiled but didn't reach out to them. Instead, she was using them as a model for her creation.

When she had finished shaping, she sat back to admire her work. It was surprisingly accurate for her age. Whenever she hummed those tunes, it seemed to put her mind in a different place. It was something she couldn't explain to anyone, partly because her young body couldn't come up with the words, and partly because she knew it wasn't right for anyone to know just yet. It had to be her secret.

The doves came closer to her clay creation. They were nearly the same colour as the clay. If she thought about it hard enough, the clay dove might turn real and fly away…

"Rachel, where are you?" Anathema's voice came from the kitchen. "Lunch is ready, sweetie. Oh there you are." She smiled at her little girl, sitting on the large canvas they'd spread on the grass. She crouched down and smoothed Rachel's long hair back from her face, so like her own. "Still sculpting are you? Oh, look! The doves are so close. And how odd, there are three of them now. Aren't they pretty, dear?"

"P'etty bird," Rachel agreed softly.

Up beyond the trees where the birds alighted, she saw the face again. The woman who looked so much like mommy was smiling down, and Rachel smiled back.

CROWLEY WAS ON THE RUN. He gunned the rented jeep to well over 100, far faster than it was actually capable of driving, and still it didn't seem fast enough. Because he couldn't outrun the things he'd just seen.

Bored of Mexico after nearly a year, he'd gone to Africa. He hadn't been there since the days of the pharaohs. While it was warm and sunny, which he liked, it was also dry and boring. The beer had been good back then, but the downside was all the damned crocodiles. They were the roaches of that time, honestly.

These days it was a tourist thing to come to Africa. That, or you were involved in some Christian charity organisation that brought food, medicine, and conversion to the poor and huddled masses. Parts of that gig were good, the rest was just the same old crap.

He couldn't do the latter bit, but Crowley had done the tourist thing, just for kicks, taken the drive into the wilderness to gawk at beasts and indigenous peoples, though at least he didn't take a picture to make it last longer, because his memory was thousands of years old and he unfortunately didn't forget much unless he got distracted or simply chose to ignore something lurking about in his head. Like he'd been trying to do for three years now.

And then came the insanity. He had hired a jeep of his own (he certainly wouldn't take the Bentley into this terrain), and was just driving all over the place, through dusty town after town. Bored.

Until he happened upon the mass killings and the jeep didn't want to move through the mud made of dust and blood. He was in real danger of being discorporated then and there, so he turned and fled. When the engine burned out, he abandoned it and flew, wings a darker red than the blood he'd just escaped spearing the air. Thankfully the men with their armloads of automatic rifles had fallen far enough behind that he wasn't seen.

As soon as he made it back to his hotel in South Africa, he booked passage on the first ship out and headed for the Orient.

1995. A government building in Oklahoma is bombed. London's oldest merchant bank fails after making a deal with a Singapore trader, losing billions. A condition know as "internet addiction" is identified. Live events are broadcast on the internet, reducing people's desire to get out and attend actual concerts. Olestra is invented.

AZIRAPHALE WAS NEVER GOOD WITH computers but he'd bought a newer, faster one for his shop as it seemed he needed to keep better track of his inventory. People were actually beginning to request orders for things he didn't carry. With great dismay, he realised he was running an actual business now.

But his real annoyance came when he finally got onto that internet thing. Adam had laughingly told him it was the only way to really work in the new world, and it wasn't so difficult to get around as it had been just a few years ago. So Aziraphale had consented, Adam helped him set things up and get an online account for email and so on, and he'd gone 'surfing' through the 'web', and other terms that made no sense to him at all.

Firstly, he was greatly appalled by some of the things he saw, but he could simply avoid them by the 'filter' that Adam showed him how to use. Secondly, he was troubled that apparently entire books and newspapers were now available online. That meant people might stop buying real books and papers, things they could hold in their hands and take with them to bed and carry to the park. It was disheartening.

And worst of all, the Vatican had put up their own website.

ADAM AND THE THEM ARGUED, heatedly, for the first and last time.

Wensley had actually raised his voice. "You've been bossing us around since we were kids, and we just let you. But we're older now, old enough to make decisions for ourselves, if you hadn't noticed. This isn't playtime by the Pit anymore."

"I'm not bossing!" Adam argued. "I'm justsaying we should try to hang out more, because we're starting to lose touch and –"

"We have lives, that's why. I've been taking extra classes and I'm graduating earlier than all of you, and then I'm off to college, not just sixth form either. I'm going to London. I'm a grown up, and I don't have time to hang out and play now." Wensley stiffly turned and walked away.

Adam shuddered in pain, but that wasn't the end of it.

"Y'know, I agree." Brian said in a low voice. "You guys didn't let me bring my new girl 'round when we were still hangin' out most of the time. Now I think if she can't be there, I don't wanna be either." And he walked away too.

Pepper just sighed and twisted her fingers. She'd really grown up in the last year, and though she was still dating Adam it wasn't what it used to be.

And now Adam tensed for the final blow.

"Um, I really love you, you know?" she said worriedly, "but I think it's time to sort of, move on. Wensley's right, we're all going away pretty soon. You're going to London for art college. Wensley's going there too, for history and science. And I'm just staying here for now, going to Norton Polytech where mum lectures. I dunno what Brian's doing, because he's not been around much lately-"

"So, you're breaking up with me," Adam said flatly. He hadn't wanted to face the idea, but it had been lingering in the back of his head for months now.

"Yeah, um. But I still like you, Adam, you've been my friend for ages, so… we're still friends, right?"

"Yeah, sure, friends to the end of the world," Adam said dryly, then walked away. He was now alone.

ADAM HAD BEEN GIVEN PERMISSION to walk with Rachel outdoors now, and today they were strolling a bit of the way into the woods, down near the local pond. Dog was bounding around, chasing bugs and frogs and whatever else happened to be foolish enough to get in his way. Adam largely ignored him, as he was far more concerned with holding Rachel's hand so that nothing happened.

They reached the pond and he showed her how he could skip a rock across the surface.

She laughed with delight and leaned down for a rock of her own. She found one she liked, held it for a moment as though wishing upon it, then tossed it out. It sank. She frowned.

"Here, it needs t'be a really flat stone, okay?" Adam laughed gently, "Lemme find you one…" He bent over to hunt for one, and momentarily wasn't looking at Rachel.

Dog barked madly in alarm, and Adam looked up swiftly. Rachel wasn't there. He began to panic, but saw the direction Dog was barking and found Rachel. On the lake. Not in it. On it.

She looked back at him, smiling and waving her hand, then walked carefully back. Her shoes and pants were wet and a bit muddy from the pond's shore, but everything else was dry. In her hand was the stone she'd dropped into the water, somehow retrieved from the bottom. "Got it," she declared happily. "'S a special one."

Adam regained control of his motor functions and his throat. "Yeah, um, I think you'd better not do that… too often. And I think we better get you cleaned up, or your folks'll be upset." He held her hand and took her to his house, where they washed her shoes with the hosepipe.

He sat down on the back porch and looked at the stone. It was reasonably smooth and flat, and had a finger-sized hole in the centre. He'd never seen anything like it except out in the countryside where the giant stones were, the sort people hundreds of years ago had dragged into alignment to show seasons or sacrifice other people on, or whatever. This little stone had something in it he could feel, but not identify.

He handed it back and nodded. "Yep, that's a special one all right. You keep it safe."

She smiled and crawled into his lap. "Love you, Adam. 'M gonna marry you."

He was too stunned to speak for a long while.

CROWLEY ENJOYED ABSOLUTELY FRESH, completely authentic sushi in a real Japanese restaurant. Nothing like the real thing, in the real place, with the real atmosphere all around at far as the eye could see. Tokyo was the London of the East, and even more expensive. Plus it was open all night, unlike London. He thought maybe this would be the best place to settle for a while. It would keep him insanely busy.

He was strongly considering that tonight he might visit one of the sleazier areas, find someone, anyone, and check into a love hotel. Why the hell not. Right now, it was still daylight and he was waiting for a subway so he could return to his regular hotel for a little shut-eye as he'd been up and about all night. But when a huge crowd of hysterically screaming commuters began running toward the exit and he was very nearly crushed in the stampede, his plans changed.

Moments later, he realised there had been an explosion of some sort and he briefly inhaled something toxic. He ran just as fast as everyone else, and even helped carry a couple of people who appeared to be fainting from the gas. He was never more glad that he didn't need to breathe.

Japan quickly lost its appeal. You could get decent sushi just about anywhere.