4. 4. Queen of Spades (a cruel woman who is extremely manipulative and vicious)
[In which the Situation becomes clearer]

The cards are no longer darting amongst each other. They lie scattered over the table in a miserable heap. For the first time, a pair of pink-varnished nails come into view, scooping the deck back into a neat pile.

"Crowley, dearie, are you sure you want to continue this?" Madame Tracy has a worried look on her face.[1]

[1] Here, it must be remembered that Madame Tracy is the woman who stared the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, a Grand Duke of Hell and the Archangel Fucking Gabriel in the face. At this, she looked politely surprised and mused "well, weren't they odd," in the same tone used when commenting on an unexpected flyer from the city council.

Her Worried Look, therefore, could be considered the Crowley-esque equivalent of steaming at the ears and shrieking at the sky. Privately, she has been on tenterhooks ever since Mr Crowley hammered on the door of her[2] Surrey bungalow, The Laurels, muttering feverishly about Fate and Choices and exploring alternative pathways of Situations via psychic divination.

[2] And Shadwell's, technically, but after an extremely tetchy Lockdown One, they had agreed that a timeshare situation was best suited to both of them.

"Cartomancy isn't an exact science, after all," Madame Tracy continues. "I'm just doing the best I can. Maybe none of the situations you've seen through the cards come to pass. It's possible that you're getting all worked up over nothing. Why don't we have a nice cuppa and try to calm down? Give the cards a rest, hmm?"

Crowley takes some very deep breaths. "I am not. Getting worked up. Over. Nothing." He takes several more deep breaths. He tries very hard to ignore how none of them seem to fill his lungs.

"I know cartomancy isn't an exact science – when humans do it," he continues. "But it's like when Aziraphale possessed you back at – Armageddon. When an occult being does it – it changes things. Everything becomes much more accurate." His face crumples. "Maybe some minor details are wrong, but the overall outline of the events won't be. We need to try another card. Please."

Madame Tracy sighs. "Are you sure, love? As I told you, things are getting increasingly risky. We've already had clubs, diamonds and hearts.[3] Only a heart card higher than a two, or a spade card will trump the pre-existing cards. Otherwise, we'll have to fold, and the reading will end. And what if the next card is even worse than the others?"

[3] At this point, it is necessary to divert the narrative for a brief reminder of the ranking of suits in playing cards. Spades, Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs. This is the order of power. Always has been, always will. It's the reason why you need to raise Three Clubs against Two Spades in a game of Bridge. It's also the reason why Crowley and Madame Tracy are currently feeling so nervous.

Crowley snorts. "So far, I have an absolutely accursed Trinity of options to look forward to. One – Aziraphale hates me; two – Aziraphale is dead, and I've forgotten him; three – Earth as we know it is mostly destroyed and the two of us can barely stand the sight of each other. Would you honestly take any of those universes, if it were you, Madame Tracy?"

Madame Tracy sighs again. "I wouldn't."

"Shuffle the cards." Crowley's face is miserable. "Please."

"Back to the deck, then? Knowing this might be your last chance?"

"Back to the deck," Crowley repeats dully.

Madame Tracy's voice is determinedly soothing. "As you wish, love. Eyes back on the cards, then. Round and round they go."

This time the cards shuffle differently. Their dance has long since moved from a ballet scored by Tchaikovsky to one composed by Stravinsky.[4] Their edges are a little more battered. They move with a little more desperation. They are so, so tired but they keep going. What choice do they have?

[4] Specifically, "The Rite of Spring", in which the unfortunate Chosen One dances to her death.

Look carefully. There's more than one layer to this shuffling. Madame Tracy is moving the cards, yes, but on another plane, Ineffable Forces are manipulating their own deck, first this way, then that.

"Stop."

Madame Tracy obeys, flipping the card up. It is a woman, clad in blue. Her face bears an unidentifiable expression. Something is balanced on the palm of her right hand. If you squint, it looks like a navy arrowhead.

For the first time, the psychic looks a little hurt. "Oh, I'm trying my best here!" This, Crowley realises with a start, is addressed at the card. "Queen of Spades," she says, pursing her lips.

"And that means?"

"It means that, apparently, I'm a cruel woman who extremely manipulative and vicious," Madame Tracy answers, giving the card a look of mild reproach.

Crowley thinks about it. He supposes it makes sense. She doesn't mean any harm by what she's doing, and he is the one asking her to turn over the cards – but the way she is casting different shadows of could-have-beens is starting to feel like a particularly devastating form of torture.

There is a moment of silence while they look at the card. The figure stares up at them with the same inscrutable expression. Crowley stares at the woman's face, trying to describe it. It's surprisingly difficult to find the words. It's – oh.

"It's not you," Crowley grinds out through gritted teeth. "It's Her. It's…ineffable."

"What's that, love?"

"The cruel woman. It's not you. It's Her.[5]" Crowley slumps in his seat. "These aren't the only ways that the bookshop scene ends. But these are the only four that I can see in this reading. These are the only ones that I know happen somewhere out there. We both know the King of Spades isn't going to be the next card – the odds are way too low – so these are the four cards I have to choose from."

[5] Technically debatable, given Her status as a sexless celestial being, but the imagery still stood.

Madame Tracy looks confused. "But you haven't had a vision of events yet. How can you know all four options?"

Crowley snorts. "It's ineffable. The final option is nothing. Everything plays out exactly the way it is written, because this is the way She intends it. No steps to the side, no sudden absence of the Metatron – nothing."

Madame Tracey grimaces. "I see."

The bungalow's living room is silent as both of them digest this.

Madame Tracy is the one to break it. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask – which card do you take?"

Crowley feels horribly weary. Aziraphale Fallen, hating him. Aziraphale completely absent from his life. Aziraphale and himself on Alpha Centauri, trapped in a horrible parody of a Happy-Ever-After with no hope for the future. And then the final option. Everything unfolds again, just as it did before. Aziraphale weighs him and finds him wanting. He looks him in the eye and steps into that lift. But he's alive. So is the Earth. He is safe from Heaven's persecution – at least for now. What's that saying about the safest place always being the eye of the cyclone?

Crowley takes a miserable breath. His hands close around the card. He thinks that in another, kinder universe, the situation might be almost comical. All those options, all those Choices, and in the end, he returns to the very situation he's been striving so hard to avoid. The twist of irony is a fine one. And yet, when it comes down to it, it's the only option he has.

It's not an option which offers him any immediate hope. Not now, maybe not ever. But it's the only option which offers him this maybe and Crowley is going to cling to maybe with everything he has.

"Queen of Spades. I take Queen of Spades."

AN: Thoughts/feels?

This is my first completed fanfic & first Good Omens fanfic so any reviews/concrit are greatly appreciated! Does Crowley's decision make sense? Any strong opinions on which of the four scenarios would have been the best for him to take?

Otherwise have a great day - and may your healing from Season 2 be speedy!