I do not own Good Omens.

I love it. So much.

The Man Who Fell

The Voice of God

"Listen."

But before that they can do that . . .

"Do you hear that?"

. . . something else is going on.

The Demon Crowley and the newly unamnesiac former Archangel follow the noise, creeping through the bookshop like creeping marauders.

And find . . .

"Wot?"

. . . something they did not expect.

"Muriel?"

The little timid Constable-Inspector-Bookshop-Keeper is shaking, crying big, silent tears down her pale, moony face.

She's trembling herself almost to pieces there between the bookshelves.

And the Angel and the Demon . . .

"Muriel, what-"

"They did it to me too."

Wot-

. . . have no earthly clue . . .

"I . . . I was told . . . I was told . . ."

. . . what's going on.

". . . HE WAS JUST A BOY!"

What the Heaven-

"And I . . . I said 'no', I said please, can't there be another way and I asked - and they -"

The Angel and The Demon stand aghast, completely bewildered and befuddled and-

"I . . . I guess it's not such a terrible thing, being me, but . . ."

- Muriel continues to cry out her pain, her humiliation.

"-they took away my memories! They sent me to a desk alone by myself for thousands of years! They talked down to me, treated me like an idiot, made me an idiot, the Metatron THE VOICE OF GOD called me dim! They-"

Her tears are streaming, she is heartbroken, but there is rage there too, she's literally-

-smoking, is this what I looked like-

-steaming with emotion.

"There, there, Muriel-"

And light bursts from her and it's everywhere and it's blinding and they try to cover themselves, bookcases fall over, papers fly like leaves-

"I am the Metratron, Herald of the Almighty and the Voice of the One True God and you will kneel and tremble before me!"

They sink to their knees, the angel and the demon, holding hands as if they are children before the might of all Heaven-

"Oh god, no, I'm so sorry, so sorry-"

And the light vanishes, it's the dim bookstore again and she's there with them, on the floor-

"-please, I didn't, I mean, I did but-"

-pulling on their sleeves, simple face pinched with concern.

-oh, bugger, you've been so nice to me, well, sort of, you did lie-"

And Crowley the Demon and Aziraphale the Former Archangel stumble to their feet, Crowley's glasses knocked askew, Aziraphale's bowtie crooked.

"-I just, well, it was quite a jolt, remembering you used to be The Voice of God before, well,-"

And then they just stare at her.

"I, just, well, I don't . . ."

In awe and wonder.

"Do you . . . do you think . . . do I think I could have a cup of tea?"

"I . . . uh . . . yes. Of course."

And more than a little . . .

"Right this way."

. . . fear.

"Here we are. Earl Grey."

Crowley glares at him and Aziraphale shrugs-

"It's all I could find on such short notice, we have bigger problems to deal with just now."

-setting the cup down before the radiant-angel-returned-Constable-Inspector-Bookshop-Dweller-But-Not-Really-Anymore-Is-She.

"Thank you."

Who has returned to her former timid reduced self.

But not quite so much at all.

They sit and they stare at her and she stares too but not at them, rather into the cup she isn't drinking.

And she murmurs low and uncertain.

"I'm not really quite so dim now, you know. And I know I could drink it."

As if she's working out just who she wants to be now that she remembers who she was.

"But right now, I'd rather just . . . be. If that's alright."

The stunned Men Who Fell sit with stunned The Woman Who Fell-

"Of course, my de- Muriel. We understand completely. Don't we, Crowley?"

-and let Time-

"Yeah. Accourse."

-go by its own way.

"Do you . . . do you . . . have any biscuits?"

"Oh, uh, I think we have some eccles cakes."

And that's the end.

Thanks for reading!

Bye!