Chapter 3 – New Year's Eve, 1999
They had finally agreed on a time and place for a picnic. New Year's Eve at Cairngorms National Dark Sky Park virtually guaranteed they would be left alone, so Crowley left his sunglasses in the Bentley. Aziraphale wore a wheat-colored jumper with a white shirt and a cravat patterned with gold halo-like circles. "We are dining 'al fresco' after all", he explained.The pale tartan picnic blanket was strewn with wine bottles, food containers, and Crowley.
They had finished their dinner and Aziraphale now sat on a low padded stool facing Crowley, watching his friend's face. It displayed no stress or impatience as he lay back on the blanket and pointed out the constellations and galaxies he had helped to create. "Gallifrey has become too touristy, but it was a lovely spot in its day. The planets of Tau Ceti lack variety; it would be like Groundhog Day there. Alpha Centauri-"
"Just admit you like Earth" Aziraphale interrupted. "Why is it always Alpha Centauri? We're comfortable enough here, under this blanket of stars".
Crowley rolled to his side and raised up, leaning on one elbow, facing Aziraphale "Un Inter Rupted Peace" he said slowly and clearly enunciated. "We could do anything we wanted, with No. One. Watching." His free arm swung upwards; a gesture familiar to the angel – "We could fly with our own wings. Together. It would not have to be forever, just a holiday." Crowley watched Aziraphale's expression soften and went in with the trump card – "We could da-ance…." He said, almost singing the word.
Aziraphale sighed and smiled sadly at the demon, "It's a lovely thought, but I have a feeling that something big is about to occur. Head office keeps asking for newspaper articles about nuclear armament…besides, angels don't dance. And you've got to follow up on your Y2K project."
Yes, Crowley had set off the Y2K mania. All it took was a little demonic miracle of erasing a few lines of code in some computer programs. Crowley sneered slightly and shook his head, "No, that's sorted. It was easier than the M-25. A lot less legwork. You really should think about getting a computer upgrade or at least a cellular phone."
"No, Technology is all your side's doing. I like to watch the clockworks move".
"Heaven's clock winder on Earth", Crowley teased, raising his glass.
"Mr. Four Hundred and Four", Aziraphale raised his. He didn't know what a 404 error was, but he knew Crowley created it.
Crowley leaned back on his elbows and looked up. "Is it time? he asked, as a new star blinked in the night sky.
"To go? But we haven't had coffee – I packed some scrumptious almond biscuits" Aziraphale reached into the picnic basket.
"No, is it time for…" Crowley paused, looking directly at the angel and giving the word careful consideration before speaking it, "ehm….uh….Armageddon? It has been nearly 6000 years. Hell's Army Recruitment Office has taken on more clerks and is accepting transfers…But I don't want to think about it tonight. I want to watch my nebulae." Crowley flopped back on the blanket and watched a few more meteors race across the sky. "Let's put a hold on coffee for a few, and just admire this beauty in peace". He patted the blanket space that was between him and Aziraphale.
To Crowley's surprise, Aziraphale miracled away the bottles and moved from the stool to the blanket, lying far enough away to give the demon a comfortable distance, but close enough to reach out if he wanted. The angel looked up at the night sky and began to recite a poem:
"To a Star 1
Thou brightly-glittering star of even,
Thou gem upon the brow of Heaven
Oh! were this fluttering spirit free,
How quick 't would spread its wings to thee.
How calmly, brightly dost thou shine,
Like the pure lamp in Virtue's shrine!
Sure the fair world which thou may'st boast
Was never ransomed, never lost.
There, beings pure as Heaven's own air,
Their hopes, their joys together share;
While hovering angels touch the string,
And seraphs spread the sheltering wing.
There cloudless days and brilliant nights,
Illumed by Heaven's refulgent lights;
There seasons, years, unnoticed roll,
And unregretted by the soul.
Thou little sparkling star of even,
Thou gem upon an azure Heaven,
How swiftly will I soar to thee,
When this imprisoned soul is free!"
They sat in the quiet for a while in the twinkling night. Then Crowley said, in a very quiet voice, "you know Miss Davidson's poem".
Aziraphale "Oh yes! I wondered if she had ever met an angel to be inspired to these words."
Crowley "She never met an angel. You are the only Angel that would inspire those words,".
Aziraphale "You know her poetry?"
Cowley "err…I knew her. Lucretia Maria Davidson"
Aziraphale "You went to the Americas? How did I miss that?"
Crowley "My assignment was to make sure some sickly rats made it to New England. One night, I was invited to a party at her parents' home, where she read some of her work. She was brilliant; wonderfully expressive for a human of her age and limited experience. They thought she was mental, and were planning to take her pen and paper, then lock her away, because she would stop in the middle of whatever she was doing and start writing. I connected them with a benefactor who financed her education, but she died at 16."
Aziraphale "You were the benefactor, I'm sure. How sad. What did she die of?"
Crowley took a deep breath and answered, "tuberculosis".
Aziraphale "you mean…you…..the rats?"
Crowley nodded. "Hell gave me a commendation and an upgrade to my flat. I've dodged being Hell's courier ever since. Hopefully, I'll never be handed a basket to deliver again."
They stayed silent for a while, deep in thought and in their cups. Crowley broke the silence, "'How swiftly will I soar to thee.' I hope she's in a lovely part of Heaven, with plenty of pen and paper." He changed the subject by reaching for the bottle; "more wine?"
Aziraphale "Crowley, she did meet an angel. She met you."
Crowley- "Shut up".
More silence, watching the stars and listening to the forest.
"Look at this." Crowley said, waving upward, "Just think if they'd put Earth in the middle instead of out here".
Aziraphale's nose crinkled as he grinned at his friend in the dark. "Always redesigning", he thought. He reached over and his hand found Crowley's wrist. He didn't notice the sharp intake of breath at the touch. "I like that blinking star over there" he said, pointing. "Of course you do, that includes Earth II, a backup planet", Crowley said. "Just like here and further away from Alpha Centauri. I'm never going to get you away from Earth, am I?" No response. Crowley looked over to see Aziraphale asleep.
While neither of them required sleep, Crowley enjoyed the escape of it. Aziraphale usually stayed up reading or listening to music. He rarely stopped his brain long enough to sleep. Crowley looked at the sleeping Angel. His face relaxed, lips slightly parted, all of Aziraphale's fidgety affectations were still and at rest. His hand was still on Crowley's wrist. Savoring the connection, Crowley held still, looked at the cosmos, and felt content. All he had ever wanted was peace and balance, and he'd been cast down for striving for it. Watching Aziraphale sleep, the demon saw the peace he wanted desperately. When Aziraphales's hand fell away, Crowley rolled over to face the angel. "This is what we could do on Alpha Centauri," he whispered and spent the rest of the night watching his Angel sleep instead of his creations in the sky, until he fell asleep himself. The radio in the Bentley softly played a woodwind quintet version of "You Take My Breath Away".
When Aziraphale woke, the radio was playing an a capella version of "Who Wants to Live forever" and Crowley was asleep next to him, curled in a fetal position. The fingers of one hand lightly held the sleeve of A's jumper. All those sharp angles of face and neck and jaw that the demon kept locked in place were softened. You could almost see the freckle-faced angel that had beheld the beginning of time. Aziraphale suspected the pattern of freckles matched the constellations of the stars Crowley had loved into creation. As a member of the Fauna Creation Team, Aziraphale knew that the fetal position was chosen by the most innocent and most injured of creatures; Crowley was both. For all his swagger and venom, C was just a child who had lost his way home. Aziraphale would love to turn back time to when Crowley was the pure-hearted Angel who freely expressed his glee. But time was determined by the movement of the planets, and if Crowley didn't know how to do reverse it, no being but the highest did. He prayed a small prayer, with a line of Miss Davidson's poem: "beings pure as Heaven's own air, Their hopes, their joys together share".
When Crowley woke, Aziraphale was pouring coffee with the tin of biscuits and a platter of bacon (Crowley's preferred 'sweet') on a camp table between two stools. "Oh good, you're just in time for the sunrise". The angel did not mention that he'd spent the last hour watching him sleep. Crowley rolled sinuously into a stance, yawned, and stretched before moving to the stool. He accepted the cup and observed Aziraphale on the stool. "He perches like he's going to fly away. He doesn't really sit unless he's totally engrossed in something, like a book – all that energy of constant thought and motion to burn through", Crowley thought. The angel took a sip of his coffee- visually reacting as the warmth moved through him- a contented shimmy. Crowley took a drink of his coffee and with a mischievous smile, imitated the angel's shimmy.
Aziraphale motioned toward the tin "Biscuit?" Crowley looked at the tree line, "Not yet, let's watch the sunrise". The sky grew sherbet shades of orange, pink, lavender, then blue. Rays of light popped above the tree line; "My idea" Crowley said. The birds were chattering softly in the distance beginning their morning routines and songs. "You're My Best Friend" played on the radio.
Aziraphale lifted his cup to Crowley – "a Happy New Year!"
Crowley raised his to Aziraphale – "a New Millenium" and they clinked their cups.
1 Lucretia Maria Davidson was an American poet of the early 19th century. Her parents were concerned for her mental health, due to her obsessive writing. A visiting benefactor financed her education. She did die at 16 of tuberculosis. I was just looking for a poem about stars and angels, and this one fit perfectly!