Chapter Text
Unsent Letter
April 18th, 1851
Mister Fell Aziraphale Angel-
Aziraphale,
Time is a bit funny. It’s endless, isn’t it? For us at least. Passes for the humans around us and shows on their faces, their hands. I’ve got a knack for it—controlling it, that is. But not Down There. Time doesn’t so much as pass in Hell as stay forever suspended. I can’t touch it, bend it, stop it or start it…no matter how desperate I get. And Satan, I was desperate.
I checked the date today, has it really been 20 years up here? It was terrible painful brutal A bit longer than expected, Angel, I didn’t know I’d be leaving you on your own for a few decades. Hell doesn’t exactly ask nicely if you’ve got any prior engagements to attend to before they keep you around for an extended stay.
The irony of being hung up down there isn’t quite funny to me yet.
We’re safe, though. I need you to know that. They don’t know…anything. And they never will, if I have any say in the matter. Weren’t happy about my doing a good deed, as it were, but they didn’t know I wasn’t alone in Edinburgh. I made sure you were safe, that what we have is safe.
Did you know that humans have 206 bones in their bodies? I only just learned that, counting them as they repaired themselves down below. I’ve got more when I’m a serpent—311, in fact. Vertebrae is what they’re called. They sound like a whip cracking when they break. It’s not hard to imagine that Hell doesn’t send a strongly worded note when things go wrong right up Here. I know you don’t need details. Don’t really want to think about them myself, matter of fact. Nothing they did was new…why update tried and true torture tactics, right? That’s the infinite wisdom of Hell and Demons for you.
But, well, this time was…different. Dunno why, Angel.
It was like with every snap of bone, every flame, every question asked…usually I’m not in my own head about it. Does that make sense? It never really compared to falling, that’s a different pain, so I was always able to go away from it in my mind. Think of other things. Up Here. Wine. Human inventions. The bookshop…
You. Us. Our world. You. You. You. You.
But. Not this time.
Maybe…maybe it was the laudanum? Messed with something inside…made every part of it feel more real. Raw. Reminding me that if I didn’t outlast, didn’t endure, that there was Someone something to lose.
Never taking that blessed stuff again. Never felt so close to unraveling, screaming myself hoarse, hating how terrified I was letting myself become. Things that never bothered me before were just…just…it’s bloody annoying not being in control, that’s all. I was so scared this time. Why was I so scared?
I was so scared this time. Why was I so scared?
Satan, I’m rambling about fuck all, aren’t I. Unless you’ve been there you wouldn’t know. And you never will be, so that bit doesn’t matter. Over my dead body–well, over my smited corporeal form, I suppose.
I’m fine. All good again.
Just can’t stop the nightmares that wrench me back to reality in a cold sweat, nightmares about being back Down There in the dark, pain hooked like talons into my essence. It hurt so much this time, Angel, why did it hurt so much?
Anyways, I’ve got some things to tell you ask you discuss. There’s this exhibition sort of thing happening in Hyde Park in a few weeks. I’ve included the flyer for it.
I’ll be in our usual place on opening day, fancy a walk around? That is, if you aren’t too busy doing good, Angel. Seeing you would be…it would mean that for the first time in 20 years, when I shut my eyes, the first thing I saw wouldn’t be the evidence of Hell’s brutality on my flesh, but your smile, your goodness, you .
The point is it doesn’t matter where I was or what happened there, just that I’m back and in the mood for a distraction. I need you. Why is that so bloody hard to say? Can’t wait to see the neat things these humans have thought up lately.
Please come.
Please.
Crowley
Sent Letter
April 18th, 1851
Aziraphale-
I’m back. Got a bit hung up at the home office. Time is a bit funny, I suppose. Didn’t realize it had been 20 years up here.
Arrangement is safe. Don’t suspect anything out of the regularly scheduled Trouble. They weren’t happy about my doing a good deed, as it were, but nothing I couldn’t handle.
Had some Time to think about all the lovely human things I wanted to do while I was away. Missed wine, obviously, my plants, a temptation here and there. Definitely not laudanum. Wouldn’t recommend that for those of the occult persuasion, or otherwise. Nasty business. Remind me never to do that again.
But I’m fine. Back where I usually am, doing bad deeds like I usually do. I sorted it. Hell’s none the wiser. Nothing to worry about.
Right. Well. There’s an exhibition sort of thing happening in Hyde Park in a few weeks. I’ll be in our usual place on opening day. If you aren’t too busy doing good, that is. The humans have thought up some remarkable things lately. Hear there might even be a piano for you and a telescope for me. What do you say?
Crowley