Disclaimer: Aziraphale, Crowley, and Good Omens are created and copyrighted by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. This is a fanfic, intended only in the spirit of fun. Tons of love and thanks is owed to the amazing and wonderful Daegaer, who provided tons of feedback for the first half of the fic, and then ended upsomehow volunteering herself as a beta-reader and a proofreader, and who helped me correct many of my Americanisms with proper British English. And thanks to y'all for reading!

Ordinary Miracles

by Nenena

Chapter 04

Melinksy, Michael Arthur Hugh. 1968. Healing Miracles: an Examination from History and Experience of the Place of Miracle in Christian Thought and Medical Practice. A.R. Mowbray, London. BT97.2.M4

Theo awoke grudgingly, blinking in the bright sunlight, slowly becoming aware that his legs were throbbing with pain. He sat up, winced, and slid out of bed, wobbling slightly. There was fresh clothing piled on the dresser in his room. Theo unfolded the clothing and eyed it suspiciously. The angel's work, he could tell; nobody his age had worn

clothing like this for the past fifty years. Still, it was something. And Theo might as well put it on, he reasoned, since he wasn't about to go downstairs and complain in front of the angel while he was still naked as the day he had been born. He wasn't sure what Heaven's official policy on nudity was, but based on his understanding of the Genesis story and the Garden of Eden and the forbidden fruit and all that had happened after, Theo reasoned that most angels tended to be on the prudish side.

He ventured downstairs, found the back room deserted (although the small card table in the center of the room was covered with half-empty bottles of liquor), and wandered into the front of the shop. He found Aziraphale watering his newly-acquisitioned plants, Margie prowling happily around his feet. He turned and smiled when he saw Theo. "Good morning. Lovely day, isn't it? Would you like a bite for breakfast?"

"Actually," said Theo, feeling both grimy and dorky within his new clothes, "I'd like to shower and brush my teeth."

Aziraphale blinked at him.

"A shower," Theo repeated, "and to brush my teeth. I just woke up. I feel disgusting."

"But angels don't need to do those sorts of things."

"What, you don't brush your teeth?"

"Never have."

"Or bathe?"

Aziraphale shrugged. "I'd rather not get wet, thank you very much."

Theo squinted at the angel, and sniffed. He seemed perfectly clean, his teeth looked fine, and today he smelled of strawberry trifle and hot cocoa (and unwashed cat). Which was really quite amazing, considering the filthy conditions that the angel seemed to prefer to surround himself with.

"Well," said Theo huffily, "I'm not an angel yet, and I feel dirty. I want to bathe."

"There's no need to. You already smell like an angel."

Theo sniffed himself suspiciously. It was true; he smelled like orange currant scones and espresso. He wondered if all angels smelled like food. "But I still want to bathe," he maintained stubbornly.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale shook his head sadly. "I don't have a bathroom. There's a sink in the back room, but there's usually not any hot water, and I don't have any, er, what do you call them, toothbrushes."

Theo finally caved in, and sighed. "Fine, I'll just be disgusting."

"You're not disgusting. You're an angel."

"Not yet. And not ever, if things keep going at this pace."

"Theo..." Aziraphale turned away from him, and finished watering the plants. Then he put away his watering can and said, "It's only been one day. Come, let's go out on the town today. You want to try your hand at making miracles, don't you?"

Theo perked up at the thought, then winced as he remembered the pain in his legs. "Er, can we take the bus today?"

"But it's such a lovely day for walking--"

"For you, maybe. My legs haven't gotten used to this yet."

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. You poor thing." Aziraphale rushed over to Theo and suddenly knelt in front of him, reaching out with one hand and resting it on Theo's thigh. "Does that feel better now?"

And all of a sudden, it did feel better. The dull, throbbing ache disappeared from Theo's legs, and his entire body suddenly felt fresh and strong and ready to walk twice as far as he had walked yesterday. Theo gaped at the angel. "How did you do that?"

"That," said Aziraphale, standing up and dusting off his hands, "was a miracle. It's really just a simple trick of quantum physics. Today I thought I'd take you out and show you how tocode some beginner-level miracles."

Theo felt a knot in his stomach suddenly dissolve with relief. Finally, a real step in the direction of earning his wings! Then he winced again when he realized what he was wearing, and the fact that the angel wanted to take him out in public while clothed in such an old-fashioned getup.

Then Theo took another look at what Aziraphale was wearing today, and thought, heck, at least the two of them would match.

Aziraphale bundled Margie up in his arms, just as he had yesterday. Then he, Theo, and the cat set out walking.

After some time, they came to a hospital. Aziraphale marched unconcerned through the main entrance, and Theo was about to point out that they certainly wouldn't allow him to bring a filthy, mangy cat into the hospital, when they passed right by the reception desk and a pair of orderlies, and not so much as a single human in the vicinity glanced their way.

Margie meowed, and nobody around them noticed.

Theo glared at the angel. "Are you cheating somehow? Why can't they see that you're holding a cat?"

"None of them can see any of the three of us," Aziraphale answered. "We're certainly not invisible, but I can arrange things so that nobody cares to notice us. Granted, we angels aren't supposed to use such shortcuts unless we're out on official business. So it certainly would have been cheating if I had tried this yesterday at the restaurant that I tried to take you to; but today it's perfectly legitimate. Understand?"

"I suppose so."

They passed through another corridor, into an open doorway, and entered a patient's room. A young man was lying in bed, his eyes closed, his brow drenched in sweat, his mouth and nose covered by an oxygen mask. Several people were gathered around his bed, including a young woman crying softly, and an old woman, grasping a rosary in one hand and muttering prayers beneath her breath. The room was nearly silent save for the quiet sobs of the young woman, the quiet prayers of the old woman, and the persistent beeping and mechanical respiratory sounds of the life support equipment.

"Please hold Margie for me," Aziraphale said as he transferred the cat to Theo's arms and then stepped forward. Theo hung back, watching silently. Margie turned her face up to glare at him, making it perfectly clear from the expression on her face that she would rather have been held by Aziraphale. Then she, too, turned her gaze forward and focused her attention on the angel.

Aziraphale sidled around behind the small crowd of people gathered around the bed, frowning, obviously looking for a space to poke himself in. But there was no available space; whoever this person was, Theo saw, he certainly seemed to have more than enough friends and family to spare. Finally, the angel stood still, frowning and tapping his foot. Then he sighed with resignation, seemed to shimmer for a moment, and then stepped forward again, passing himself right through the sobbing young woman. He was at the side of the bed now, Theo could tell, but other than that, the crowd around the bed was completely blocking Theo's view.

Theo held his breath.

And, a moment later, Aziraphale was suddenly back at his side. "Well, that should do the trick," he said. He unbuttoned his blazer, pulled a small blue notebook out of an inside pocket, opened the notebook, and with a pen that suddenly appeared in his hand, applied a checkmark to the middle of a page.

Theo blinked at the angel. "What did you do?"

"Er," Aziraphale seemed caught off-guard by the question. "Er, couldn't you follow along?"

"What do you mean, follow along?"

"I mean, the maths. I was trying to demonstrate it for you--"

"I didn't see or hear anything."

"Oh, dear."

But now there was a sudden commotion in the room. The young man's eyes began to open slowly, and he was turning his head to one side. A collective gasp swept the crowd around the bed. The old woman turned her face toward the ceiling and clasped her hands in prayer again.

"Well, wouldn't you know," said Aziraphale, not paying attention at all to what was happening in at the bed in front of him, but instead peering intensely at the scribbled notes within his little notebook. "I've still got five more miracles scheduled in this hospital alone. Huh! Busy day, isn't it?" He turned and stepped out of the room, motioning for Theo to follow. "You wouldn't mind carrying Margie around for me, would you?"

Theo followed the angel out of the room, clutching the cat to his chest. "Th-Th-That was incredible!" he gushed. "How did you DO that? Can't you show me how?!"

"That's, ah, that's the problem," Aziraphale said slowly. "I thought I was showing you how. You were supposed to be able to follow along with the code as I wrote it."

"But I didn't--"

"Yes, I know, you didn't sense anything happening." The angel frowned. "This is tricky, then. I suppose I don't really know how to properly demonstrate a miracle. I mean, I've never had to teach anybody else how to do one, not ever before."

They visited several more rooms after that, and each room meant another checkmark in the angel's little blue notebook. But Theo watched each and every miracle performed with a growing sense of bewilderment. He could never see anything actually being done - just Aziraphale, leaning close to or perhaps touching a sick person, and then, voila! a moment later, the miracle occurred. Aziraphale, too, seemed to be growing more and more befuddled.

"It must be my fault," he finally said, as they walked through a corridor on the top floor of the hospital. "I'm very sorry, Theo, but I just don't know how to make these things, er, transparent, I guess, would be the right word."

"But could you at least tell me what you're doing?"

"Maths," Aziraphale said helplessly, waving his hands in the air, "and just, you know, just a little tweaking the fabric of reality, that's really all it is. But a miracle isn't something that can be spoken aloud or written down on paper. It doesn't work that way."

"Well, then, how DOES it work?"

"I... I don't know how to explain it!"

"Then SHOW me!"

"I've been showing you, but for some reason, you're not seeing or hearing or sensing what you need to be seeing and hearing and sensing!" The angel suddenly interrupted his stride and turned. "Last room," he said. Theo followed him inside. Aziraphale suddenly said, "Here, put the cat down. Let's try it this way..."

Theo placed Margie down on the ground, where she sat, wrapped in the angel's old sweater, glaring up at Theo with an expression on her face that indicated just how affronted she was at the mere thought that he would not want to be holding her. Then Aziraphale took Theo's hand and pulled him toward the bed at the center of the room.

Sitting in the bed was a middle-aged man wearing a hospital gown. He didn't look particularly sick, Theo noted. In fact, he seemed perfectly healthy and content, sitting up in his bed and reading the daily newspaper.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's here for a minor surgery, but he also, alas, suffers from an undiagnosed heart condition that's about to-- Oh, hello, didn't see you there."

IF YOU'RE GOING TO INTERFERE, THEN HURRY UP AND DO IT, a new voice said. I CAN SEE THAT BOTH OF US ARE RUNNING A BIT BEHIND SCHEDULE, BUT I'D RATHER NOT FALL EVEN FURTHER BEHIND IN MY DUTIES BECAUSE OF A SLOW-WITTED ANGEL.

Theo looked up, and his breath died in his throat.

There was somebody else in the room, on the other side of the man's bed. A tall, dark, hooded figure, holding a scythe.

"Grant us the favor of a minute," Aziraphale said frostily. "I brought my apprentice to try the miracle this time, and it's his first shot at this sort of thing."

Death tapped his bony foot impatiently and turned his hooded skull toward Theo. OH, DIDN'T I SEE YOU NOT TOO LONG AGO? Then he seemed to be looking over Theo's shoulder at something. MY WORD, YOU'VE BROUGHT A CAT IN HERE!

Completely oblivious to the commotion surrounding him, the man in the hospital bed flipped over another page in his newspaper and continued reading.

Aziraphale pushed Theo toward the edge of the bed. "Don't mind him," the angel muttered into Theo's ear, casting a quick, cool glare at the shadow with the scythe. "He's only here in case we screw up, and he ends up having to do his bit after all."

Theo gulped.

Aziraphale stood behind Theo, and placed his hands on his. "Maybe this will help," the angel said. "You were a human, so you're used to thinking of things in four-dimensional terms. But we angels operate on a thirteen-dimensional level, and that's what you've got to start getting used to."

Theo blinked. "Thirteen dimensions?"

"Yes, we have thirteen dimensions."

"Why thirteen?"

"It's a lucky number, I suppose."

"No, it's--"

"Listen to me," Aziraphale said as he pressed down onto Theo's hands. "Reach out and touch his arm, like so. Good. Now start the code."

"What code?" Theo asked helplessly.

"The miracle. You have to start coding it now."

ANY TIME NOW, Death added, somewhat impatiently. THIS SOUL IS PAST DUE ALREADY. DIVINE INTERVENTION CANNOT TAKE FOREVER, YOU REALIZE.

"But I don't KNOW what sort of code you're talking about!" Theo wailed at the angel. "You haven't explained anything to me!"

"Because I don't know how to explain it!" Aziraphale replied in a perfectly matching register. "I've never even had to think about any of this before, it's just - it's just - it's just thirteen-dimensional calculus! It should be intuitive!"

"Thirteen-dimensional calculus?! But I never even finished seventh grade!!"

Death stepped forward and swung back his scythe.

I'M SORRY, BUT IT SEEMS AS THOUGH THE WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY HAS PASSED.

The man in the bed suddenly gasped and leaned forward. His newspaper slipped from his hands as his left hand clutched at his chest and his right hand gripped the railing of his bed until his knuckles turned white. Theo twisted his grip, trying to keep his hand touching the man's arm. The man's face contorted into a rictus of pain, and sweat began dripping from his brow.

Theo stared straight into the man's pale, twisted face, and then looked up at the glimmering blade of Death's scythe, poised to swoop down at any second. "No-- No! Just gimme a minute, I have to--!"

I REALLY AM SORRY.

The blade swung down.

"NO!" Theo screamed.

And a perfectly thirteen-dimensional differential equation exploded inside Theo's brain.

The scythe stopped, frozen, halfway through its downward arc.

Death's bony arms trembled as they struggled to push the scythe down through the resisting air. WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?

On the hospital bed, the man still gasped, and rocked back and forth, clutching at his chest, now opening his mouth to make a desperate, wheezing, gurgling sound.

"You just cured him of prostate cancer," Aziraphale said very calmly to Theo. "Unfortunately, he doesn't have prostate cancer." He pulled his hand off Theo's and reached out, touching the man's arm himself. A moment later, the man relaxed, took a deep breath, trembled a bit, and began to settle back into his bed. "There, there," said the angel soothingly, "That's all right now. No more blockage in the arteries, not anymore."

Death pulled back his scythe and stepped away from the bed. I SHOULD NOT LET YOU GET AWAY WITH THIS, ANGEL. YOUR MIRACLE CAME TOO LATE TO SAVE THIS MAN.

"You can file a complaint with Heaven, if you'd like," Aziraphale answered. "But you still can't take him now. Once Divine Intervention has touched a human like this, your scythe can't some near them anymore, not until we say that their time is up."

VERY WELL. I FULLY INTEND TO FILE A COMPLAINT ABOUT THIS, AND I SHALL ENJOY PERSUING THE PROPER PAPERWORK. With that, Death faded away into nothing.

Theo suddenly slumped to his knees beside the bed, gasping for breath. "Oh," he gasped, "Oh! Now I get it. THIRTEEN-dimensional math. NOW it all makes sense."

They left the hospital. Theo walked along beside Aziraphale, feeling as though his legs were made of water. Wow, he thought, Wow. I actually did it. I actually made a miracle! Okay, granted, it was the wrong miracle for the situation, but still--

"I think you should try again," Aziraphale said suddenly, as Margie meowed and purred while being held in his arms. "We need to work on your, ah, your precision."

Theo blushed a bright red, heartily embarrassed. "Oh. Yeah."

"Hmm. Here we go!" Aziraphale suddenly veered off to the left, around the corner of a building. Theo followed quickly, and found himself wandering down a dark, dank, cold alley. Snow drifted against the walls of the ally and garbage gathered in white-bordered brown mounds at the back of the narrow space between buildings. Aziraphale was kneeling next to a sleeping homeless man. He motioned for Theo to join him, and Theo did, kneeling down right next to the angel.

"This man does have prostate cancer," the angel said happily. He actually sounded as if he couldn't believe his good luck, that he had just stumbled upon a drunken vagrant suffering from such a specific, particular terminal disease. "Can you cure him? Do it just like you did last time."

Theo wrinkled his nose at the sleeping man's smell. "Does this guy really, uh, deserve a miracle?"

"Yes. He's lived a long, good life, often sacrificing his own happiness for the sake of others."

"Can you tell all that just by looking at him?"

"Of course."

"Fine, I thought so," Theo sighed. He reached out and gingerly touched the sleeve of the sleeping man's filthy overcoat. He closed his eyes and thought, Thirteen-dimensional calculus, thirteen-dimensional calculus, thirteen-dimensional--

An equation suddenly exploded across his thoughts and solved itself in an instant.

Theo opened his eyes.

Aziraphale was frowning at him. "No good," he said. "Look." The angel pointed, and Theo saw that the sleeping man was now clutching a wrinkled National Lottery ticket in one dirt-crusted, frozen hand.

Theo blinked. "Wait. What did I just do?"

"This man just won the lottery. That was your miracle." The angel shifted Margie's weight in his arms, stood up, and brushed off his snowy knees with his free hand.

Theo stood up, too. "But that's good, right? That's a good miracle, I think. A perfectly good miracle. I mean, I could even earn my wings for that one, right?"

"No, I don't think so," Aziraphale said briskly. "Miracles like lottery winnings and the like usually provide too much of a 'dues ex machina' happy ending to satisfy Heaven's tastes. Besides, it won't do him much good if he dies of cancer within a year."

"I don't see how winning the lottery is any less 'dues ex machina' than you snapping your fingers and healing that man's heart condition," Theo protested angrily.

"I did not snap my fingers," Aziraphale sniffed haughtily. "Finger-snapping is for stage magicians, and for the Crowleys of the world. Trust me, I would know. We angels do not create spectacles. We perform miracles. There's a difference," he insisted in a voice that sounded as though he were trying fervently to make himself believe it. "There is a difference. Trust me."

They walked on through the city in silence. Finally Aziraphale said, "Maybe miracles just aren't your thing today. Shall we try something else?"

"Like what?"

"Hmm..." Aziraphale furrowed his brow in thought. "I was thinking of dropping down into a starving artist tenement that I know of, and sprinkling around some divine inspiration."

"Yeah. Sure. I can do art. But... Can we at least take the bus this time?"

They did take the bus, cat and all. And sometime later that afternoon, Theo appeared in a burst of light in front of a poor starving artist at home in her flat, resplendent in his heavenly robes and a fake pair of wings and a halo (a bit of stage-magic that Aziraphale felt was completely justified under the circumstances), and said, "Behold! You shall paint the Glories of God on thy canvas and spread His holy--"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHH!" the artist screamed. She turned around and ran away from Theo, straight into a wall. She collapsed backward onto the floor, her nose gushing blood, her head filled only with the thought that she was absolutely convinced never to buy drugs from that shady Chinese guy with the goatee ever again.

Theo turned and looked helplessly at Aziraphale, who was lurking (well, as close to lurking as angels ever actually got) with Margie on the proverbial sidelines.

Aziraphale shrugged. "Don't worry. I get that reaction a lot, too."

They left the starving artists tenement then, and made their way back uptown on foot. "I think we should start at the bottom, with the very basics, perhaps," Aziraphale finally conceded. "Let's you and me at least try to inspire a little bit of good in some politicians today, shall we? It's not as difficult as you would think. Many of them are truly good men and women at heart."

Theo was not at all surprised when he and his angel (who was still carrying a cat in his arms) walked straight into the luxurious home of a House of Commons member later that evening, without any of the guards or maids or butlers so much as blinking an eye at them. Common, indeed,Theo thought with some disgust as followed Aziraphale down a corridor lined with priceless marble statues and imported Chinese vases.

"This is going to be very simple," Aziraphale was saying. "This man hasn't even met Crowley yet, not like the rest of them have. He's untainted, so far. He's a rookie member of the House, and tonight he's struggling with his first true moral conundrum. All you have to do is give him a little nudge in the right direction."

Theo silently marveled that the angel must have some sort of private, personal intelligence network that would put the CIA and the NSA to shame. How in the world did he always seem to know all these things?!

And who, or what, was a Crowley?

Theo pushed those stray thoughts out of mind as he followed the angel into the House member's study. The particular man in question was sitting at his desk, holding his head in his hands, groaning under the weight of a massive headache and a guilty conscience. There was a stack of unread papers on the desk in front of him.

Theo licked his lips and coughed to clear his throat. Then he stepped forward, toward the man, and silently noted Aziraphale (and Margie) stepping back into the shadows, to watch.

Theo approached the man and stood beside him. He laid a hand on the man's shoulder, trying to be as calm and comforting as he could be. "Is something troubling your heart?" he asked.

"Even during recess I can't seem to get away from these things," the politician moaned. "You wouldn't believe the pork everyone's trying to slip into this stupid national security bill. Give more money to police and fire departments, that's supposed to be what it's all about. But there's some other stuff in here, good stuff and bad stuff, and the problem is, it's not ALL pork, is it? There's a couple of lines hidden in here about giving more money to federally-funded orphanages. But the budget we've been drawing up so far takes any money that goes into this bill away from pension benefits of retired servicemen. Which is bad in and of itself, and it defeats the original purpose of the bill anyway. How are we supposed to entice more people to pursue careers in police work and firefighting if we can't promise them retirement security?"

Theo said nothing. He thought for a moment, and thought very hard, and still said nothing. Then he turned around and asked the angel lurking (although not really lurking) behind him, "Okay, so, which way is supposed to be the right way to go?"

"Oh, dear." Aziraphale glanced from side to side, as if searching for answers in the shadows of the room. Theo could suddenly tell that perhaps the angel hadn't thought this one out very well, advanced personal intelligence network or not. Finally Aziraphale said, "I suppose there is no easy answer for this one, is there? But that's an important lesson to learn, too. There often aren't easy answers to these sorts of problems."

"Now there's a trite bit of wisdom for you," Theo said with disgust. He turned back to the tortured politician. "There are no easy answers to these sorts of problems," he repeated.

"So I suppose that means that whatever I do, somebody's going to get screwed over in the end?" the man asked.

"Sure," said Theo, because that certainly sounded right to him. "That's true." He turned away from the politician. "I'm tired," he told Aziraphale, "and it's been dark outside for hours. Can we call it a day now?"

The angel looked down at Theo, and his eyes were suddenly very sad. "You just want to go home now, don't you?"

"No, it's not home. It's just the place I'm staying at while I'm with you."

The angel cast his eyes down. "Very well. We can go back now. We can even take the bus, if you'd like."

They left. The next day, the politician that they had visited remembered the words that an angel had told him - that somebody always had to get screwed over in the end - and decided, hell, if everything he did would result in an injustice, why not at least try to engineer things so that he himself would come out on top in the end? In the upcoming legislative session, he would propose that funding to both fire and police pension funds and federally-funded orphanages should be cut, and that all Commons members should write themselves a salary increase into the new budget. His proposed amendments were already destined to pass with unanimous approval. And somewhere Down Below, some bureaucratic demon was already writing Crowley yet another commendation for something that he hadn't actually done.

It was very late when Aziraphale, Theo, and Margie returned to the bookshop. Even Margie was tired, and she yawned and slipped down into sleep several times during the bus ride home. When they re-entered the bookshop, Theo didn't even say anything to Aziraphale, he just walked straight into the back room and up the stairs.

"Theo--!" Aziraphale called up the stairs after him.

"Can it wait until morning? I want to sleep again!" Theo called back over his shoulder. Then, without waiting for a reply, he stalked into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Theo pulled off his blazer and vest and shirt. Then he stood, shirtless, holding the sadly outdated piece of clothing that was his blazer in his hands. "If I can make miracles," he reasoned aloud to himself, "I should be able to miracle this thing into something wearable, right?"

He closed his eyes, and thought of thirteen-dimensional equations.

Theo felt a change in his hands, and when he opened his eyes, he saw that his hands were now grasping the bodice of a gorgeous blue ball gown.

Theo closed his eyes again and thought, Something that I could wear...

He felt another change in his hands, and opened his eyes again. Now he was holding a rubber dinosaur costume. And even worse, the wallpaper in his room had changed. Now it was covered with a pattern that consisted of repeating images of blue and red boy's swimming trunks.

Theo sighed. This whole altering the fabric of reality business was a lot trickier than he'd first thought.

But it's that idiot angel's fault, too, he thought viciously as he pulled off his pants and crawled into bed. It's like he can't even teach me anything. And how am I supposed to know how to make miracles without him explaining it all properly? 'Intuitive', he said. Stupid useless angel. I know that some people make better teachers than others, but why do I have to be stuck with someone who can't seem to teach anything at all?

His head filled with such black thoughts, Theo drifted off into sleep.

Continued.