Chapter 19 – Sports
It was a rainy Tuesday morning when they met at the sports bar. With no FC games, it was empty, and only one person on staff, who spent most of their time scrolling on their phone. Crowley sat at a booth across from a wall of 8 TV monitors.
Aziraphale took a seat "Why here? You don't follow sports."
"I don't have a bookshop to hide in; I come here until the Cinema opens. Besides, we need the TV monitors." Crowley snapped his fingers, and three screens were CCTV of the oil spill, one weather channel, one BBC news. The three screens nearest the barkeep stayed on sports.
Aziraphale started on the plan for the miracle, "What are our goals? First- stop the oil spill."
Crowley followed. "Second -Repair the breach or at least lead them to it."
"Keep it unseen."
"Come up with an explanation"
Aziraphale pointed to the weather map, "Maybe the cold front will create a fog bank, hiding the area."
Crowley theorized, "The drop in temperature could cause enough oil to congeal that it blocks the pipe. We can miracle most of the oil back into the pipe. They'll assume the dispersed oil looked like a greater amount than it was. We'll make sure their sensors find it quickly enough to repair it."
Aziraphale nodded, "Good; and the sea life?"
"I'm sure you can heal or revive most of them. The drop in temperature may help with that", the former demon reassured him.
"and the ships will be safe?
"All will miraculously escape harm and the fog bank will lift quickly one we're done."
Aziraphale was satisfied. "I suppose a rainbow would be too obvious."
Crowley scoffed at the suggestion. "A rainbow? 'Might as well have a plane sky write "We did it". The fog bank alone is enough of an anomaly."
"Right, so how do we proceed?" the angel was subdued.
"Like before, we both work our miracle. I, uh, we, mm, should probably, uh, join hands to make sure our miracles are combined." Crowley sounded less sure of himself.
Aziraphale asked, "Did we do that last time?"
Crowley thought for a moment. "We were both holding Gabriel's hand, we can't hold the oil leak from here."
"Yes, I see. Shall we proceed?" Aziraphale set his arm on the table as if they were going to arm wrestle.
Crowley appeared to be stalling. "Did you redirect the alarm upstairs? I did the part downstairs."
"Yes. All alarms related to miracles above 10 Lazarii will be directed to me. Aziraphale held out a cell phone – see?"
Crowley gawked. "Wot? You? With a Mobile Phone?"
Aziraphale pretended it was no big deal. "Just the alarms, practically a pager. Raph showed me how to use it. He set down the phone and held out his hand. Shall we proceed?"
Crowley took a deep breath and placed his hand in the angel's. It was their first physical contact since the kiss and both were inwardly anxious about this. "Focus on our goals", Crowley said out loud, as much to himself as to Aziraphale. He thought his pounding heart would give him away.
Aziraphale flushed at the contact. "I'm as fluttery as a Bennett sister", he thought, "I hope he doesn't notice".
The neon in the bar buzzed a little brighter, and on the CCCTV screens, fog was rolling in. The weather map moved a little later, showing the cold front moving deeper into the sea. Crowley moved the oil back into the pipe & congealed a plug of sorts on the leak. Aziraphale revived what sea life he could. Crowley directed the censors; Aziraphale, the pilots. The whole thing, except for the low front moving back on its own, took less than 20 minutes.
The news chirons changed to: "Pipeline Repairs Underway", "Less Damage Than Anticipated.", "Freak Fogbank Reveals Oil Leak".
They released hands and spent the next hour looking from the tv screens to Aziraphale's phone. The barkeep brought a sherry and a whisky as if they had been ordered.
"No Alarms." The angel said cautiously.
"No Alarms!" Crowley believed saying it strongly made it so.
Aziraphale looked at a screen on his phone – "it only registered a 9.6, slightly above the sum of our parts. We didn't exceed a magnitude. Is it possible to feel disappointed and relieved at the same time?"
Crowley answered almost reflexively "Sodom and Gomorrah. So, we aren't the factor? What multiplied our miracle before?"
Aziraphale straightened up at the realization, "but that means the Metatron is mistaken."
Crowley thumped the table, "and took you away for no reason"
"I went willingly, I wasn't taken. But he has misrepresented-"
"He lied, Aziraphale." Crowley was not in the mood to forgive.
The angel moved on. "Regardless, since I'm up there, I think we will have to rely on the Christ to right this. I don't think the Metatron or God will listen to us. They question our motives".
Crowley stiffened his jaw. "How do you see this ending?"
"We get Jesus and Mary to Earth and things continue as is. No wrathful destruction."
"And you remain Upstairs"
Aziraphale suggested one last time, "You could join me".
Crowley shook his head. "You know I have no business up there. I don't think you do either."
"Well, maybe someone will step up. I do miss the bookshop and…" Aziraphale looked at the baseball game on one monitor as if it had the answer, "well, everything. But if we fail and the planned Second Coming occurs…"
"It all ends, and we spend eternity.." now Crowley was trying to find the answer in the baseball game, "in opposite camps."
The angel seemed to deflate, "if we survive the war".
Crowley downed his scotch, slamming the glass on the table. With newfound determination, he growled through gritted teeth, "Then We. Don't. Fail."
"We don't fail". Aziraphale starts to nod uncertainly, then shakes his head slowly.
"And of course, the third option" through the window, the former demon noticed a silver lining on a distant cloud.
"And that is…?" Aziraphale sat a little straighter, curious.
Crowley tilted his head to the universal 'Duh' posture. "We stumble into a solution we didn't see coming".
Aziraphale raised his glass and an eyebrow, "It's what we do" and finished his sherry.
Crowley refilled both glasses. "What's the next step?"
"We continue preparing them for the move. I'll see what else I can discover upstairs".
"I'll get the logistics worked out down here. Mary may be better prepared for the 21st century than Jesus."
"Jesus is bringing himself up to speed very quickly. Heaven and the Metatron encourage this, thinking it serves their purpose." The ASA made sure everyone saw the Lord's curiosity as a positive move to Judgement Day.
Crowley asked, "Has the Almighty made her presence known yet?"
"Not a sign. Metatron meddles in the absence of God".
"Where is She? Have you seen Her at all, you've been up there for months."
Aziraphale rationalized. "There are other inhabited planets in the universe."
"You mean we're not the only ant farm being shaken?" Crowley cracked open an old argument between them.
Aziraphale's eyes fired up. "You know I prefer "garden'. She's probably tending another one".
Crowley raised his glass. "Here's hoping a 'do not touch' apple tree wasn't slammed down in the middle of the other gardens."
"Please Crowley…" the Angel pled.
"I know- "focus on our goals", the former demon snarled. He wished he could go to the other planets and rip their apple trees out by the roots. Maybe God was less experimental on those planets. Crowley was visibly fuming; arms crossed and legs stuck stiffly out before him like a petulant child. He was willing to concede one point, "I do have more faith in Her Son, if I can get away with saying that".
"I don't want our last conversation before our move to be like this. You always said we were friends." Aziraphale returned a hand to the table.
"And You always said we weren't. I must accept that it's 'part of the plan'". Crowley appeared to be talking to the pinball machine; he didn't want to look at Aziraphale.
"Perhaps I was wrong…" The angel let those words hang in the silence.
Crowley's head snapped up at that. He still stared at his shoes as if they had turned into lobsters.
Aziraphale focused on Crowley's neck, below the snake. He was sure that freckle pattern was the constellation Cassiopeia. "I see now that upstairs is not all goodness and light; you were right about that. And maybe about other things as well. They don't know what's needed on earth, so self-righteous and sure of themselves. I have more in common with you, Crowley. Only you." Aziraphale glanced up at the former demon's eyes. Which looked less angrily at his shoes than earlier.
Not wanting to pop that bubble and all it entailed, Crowley stayed silent for another moment. Then he uncrossed his arms and looked at the weather screen. "We probably won't see each other again until the day. The subway at St. Paul's is an earthly portal to Purgatory. Muriel and I will meet you there."
"Agreed. I'll send you a signal when we're ready."
"A signal? Not directly to me or the bookshop. The Metatron looks for that."
"Remember, 'Everyday', Gabriel and Beelzebub's record? I'll make it #1 on the charts. You get your signal and Maggie gets to sell her overstock."
"I knew you'd come up with something clever An- Aziraphale." Crowley was NOT going to call him Angel.
The angel pretended not to notice, "It serves two purposes." He sighed and stood, pretending to shake off the tension. "Well, I'd best be going up. You'll hear from me soon. Farewell, Crowley"
"Ciao", Crowley raised a hand.
Aziraphale walked to the exit. Crowley looked at the news showing the oil leak repair, not able to watch his Angel leave.