Chapter 2 – Under New Management
Aziraphale and the Metatron stepped out of the elevator, into the "Penthouse". Gabriel's ostentatious gold trim was overbearing in the pristine office space of Heaven, a space that was constant, open, clear, and light. A faint drone of incoming prayers was harmonized by a faint bell that rang whenever a miracle occurred. Each class of angel had its own pitch and sometimes the bells arranged themselves into a melody. For a moment, the notes lined up to "Raindrops keep falling on my head".
"Welcome to your office, Acting Supreme Archangel Aziraphale. You may redecorate as you wish," The Metatron said, "But keep it simple, so you can focus on the job at hand".
"Yes, I prefer something less, um, 'Baroque', we'll call it." Aziraphale pointed to a mirror with gold ivy and cherubs carved into it. He waved his hand, and it turned into a small pre-war tea trolley. "By the way, that was quite a little bombshell you dropped just as we were headed up. The Second Coming, you say?" Aziraphale tried to sound calm about it, but alarms were ringing in his head. The melody in the drone was moving dangerously towards Be-Bop.
"Well Armageddon did not proceed as planned, so the Almighty has decided to scrap the whole project. Jesus will return to Earth, Judgement Day will commence, and the whole thing could be wrapped up in a week's time. I'm so looking forward to an eternity without pesky annoyances." The Metatron smiled, which he seldom did, and it was making the alarms louder in Aziraphale's head. "There was a slight hitch in the plan, but I think your talents will get us back on track tout suite."
Aziraphale tried to smile back. "Thank the Almighty for her trust in me".
"Well, I'll leave you to get up to speed," the Metatron said, having turned back into a floating head. "Uriel will help you with the project and Michael with the other daily operations. And here is your assistant. Farewell, Acting Supreme Archangel." The Metatron dissolved before Aziraphale could say another word. The Acting Supreme Archangel stood there for a moment, fingering his watch fob. Something was distracting him, and he felt a tickling in the back of his memory….
A low-ranked angel, holding a clipboard and wearing pale blue scrubs and a white apron took a step towards him and bowed. "Sir, I am Seraphial, a scrivener, assigned to help you with whatever you need." Seraphial was a little shorter than Aziraphale, with his dark hair in top knot. He looked more like a chef than an office assistant. Aziraphale knew he was going to think of sushi until he got used to the scribe. Whatever he was trying to remember was gone.
"Hello, Seraphial. We'll get down to business soon, but first, we need to set up shop." Aziraphale eyed a platform with a golden throne that was Gabriel's favorite place to hold meetings. A semicircle of white campstools was on the floor in front of it, reminding all of who was in charge. "Ugh. Overkill". He waved his hand, and the setting disappeared; replaced with a large desk and comfortable armchair, it resembled his space at the bookshop. The tea trolley, a settee, armchair and coffee table were nearby. "that'll do for now. Let's have some tea and you can help me get started." Aziraphale poured 2 cups of tea, with 2 sugars each, and moved to the armchair.
Seraphial sat on the settee, obviously unused to sitting in the presence of a superior. "I've never had tea, or anything, but I'm willing to try. If you do it, it must be ok." He followed Aziraphale's lead, taking a sip of tea. The scribe smiled, "that's interesting, and somehow uplifting, isn't it, sir?"
"I like to think so. You may call me Aziraphale or Mr. Fell. Please tell me how you wish to be addressed and your duties; I just got this position and am still a bit dazed." Aziraphale turned his attention to the scribe.
Seraphial took another sip of tea and set the cup down. "The rest of the scriveners call me 'Raph' for short. Unless you feel that's too informal." He referred to his clipboard, "I am here to help you with anything, mostly taking notes, finding files, and helping you get adjusted to Heaven. They say you have been on Earth since The Beginning. I wish I could visit Earth before it's destroyed; I'm so bored here- Oh, I ask your forgiveness; that seems blasphemous." Raph blushed and bowed his head.
"Nonsense, Raph. Earth is one of God's creations, how could that be blasphemous?" The scribe looked relieved. "I need someone that will help me find my way around, but equally important, I need a colleague who will not share any information about what I do or where I go with anyone. If they want to know, they should ask me, not you. Can I trust you with my activities? We might even have to go to Earth." Raph nodded eagerly. Aziraphale finished his tea and miracled everything neatly away, "Very good. Now, I need you get any files we have on The Second Coming, Armageddon, and Our Lord, Jesus Christ."
"I'm on it, Mr. Fell." Raph scribbled the items on his clipboard, then hopped up and left the office, looking like an eager puppy.
Aziraphale was pleased by Raph's friendly curiosity, knowing it would help him feel a little less lonely. He sat at his desk and looked out the window to see St. James' Park and sighed. He looked at his new office, surrounded by light and clean angles and sighed again. He knew while he did his work in heaven, though tremendously important and surrounded by angels, he would feel the loneliest he had ever felt. How could he fix Judgement Day? Adam Young had solved Armageddon with a few words and a sherbet lemon.
He longed for his nest in the eastern nook of the darkened bookshop. His pot of tea, Crowley's armchair with a glass of single malt next to it…he tried to shake off the thought of Crowley. Six thousand years and they had never lacked for something to talk about, a problem to solve, a wonder to marvel at, or just a laugh as they watched humanity. They both enjoyed a good lark when it came to pulling the wool over humans' eyes (or angels or demons for that matter) to hide their exploits. Aziraphale enjoyed the demon's questions and Crowley could still surprise.
That kiss had been a surprise, and all it revealed through their contact. He absently touched two fingers to his lips. They were not sexual beings, but intimacy was something Aziraphale had envied of humans. Whenever he thought about it, only Crowley came to mind. He had always had an affinity for Crowley, especially after Job, but the books and the bullet catch were when he knew he could fully trust the demon and opened his heart. His fear of the consequences, if anyone found out, kept him from expressing his feelings, even to Crowley.
Now, knowing how long Crowley had loved him, he wondered about the ineffability of their paths crossing over the millennia. "Are we part of the plan? Was everything just planned out?" Aziraphale smiled, now he was the one asking questions. How boring would it be if all of eternity were just one big paint-by-number set. Crowley could find a way to go outside the lines. Still deep in thought, Aziraphale didn't notice Raph entering with files, which he set on the angel's desk, and then stepped to the side, awaiting instruction.
But Crowley had called him an idiot for accepting the promotion and Aziraphale was determined to prove Crowley wrong. "I am not an idiot! I CAN make a difference; I don't need his help." But most of that was posturing; there was only one motivation, "I CAN SAVE HIM." Each was strong where the other was weak. Together, they were unstoppable. 25 Lazarii - When they were trying to be insignificant, unnoticed.
"What would an Intentional Miracle register? What am I doing here if it is just to be a puppet? Anyone could do that. Why did the Metatron choose me? The taste of apples…. Every time the Metatron is near…"
"Aha!" Aziraphale exclaimed, making the scribe jump and look startled. The Acting Supreme Archangel covered by reaching for the file on the Second Coming – 'there it is".
The word PENDING was flashing across it. Aziraphale wished it read CANCELLED or at least POSTPONED. "What are we waiting for?" he asked. Raph shrugged, "I am not allowed to look in the files".
Uriel entered the office space with the file on the Christ. Aziraphale turned to her and held up the file, "Uriel, why is this 'Pending'?"
"It's the Christ, sir. He says he won't go."