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Aziraphale tensed as he was seized from behind by someone who was digging something into his neck. The smell of Evil filled his nostrils, identifying them as a one of Satan’s Rebel Angels, hereafter to be known as Demons. But, unlike the other Rebel Angels he had fought, there was another purer scent hidden untainted in the aroma. Like stardust.
‘If you shout out,’ hissed the voice, like an angry snake, ‘or do anything to attract attention, then you are a dead angel. Do you understand?’
Aziraphale knew that voice. It was rougher and harsher than the light and hopeful tone he’d had when they had met Before the Beginning, but it was definitely him. Aziraphale had not seen the red-haired angel since they’d met at the birth of the Eagle Nebula. When next he’d heard of him, he had joined Lucifer’s Rebellion against Heaven. And Aziraphale knew then that he had gone to God to ask questions about her Ineffable Plans. Either he didn’t get the answers he wanted, or he hadn’t even been allowed an audience at all to just be able to ask the question.
Whatever had happened, the result was the same: the Star Maker had been cast out of the house.
Aziraphale nodded his compliance, bracing himself to face his doom.
‘Give me the sword.’
Aziraphale felt his weapon wrested from his hand, before the Rebel Angel released him. He turned to find his sword being pointed at him. The hooded Rebel Angel tossed aside his own useless weapon, which turned out to be a blunt rock. Aziraphale should feel stupid for falling for such an obvious trick, but he didn’t. In fact, he was rather impressed by the simple brilliance of it.
‘So, you didn’t actually have a weapon then, when you were threatening me,’ said Aziraphale lightly.
‘No,’ said the Rebel Angel bitterly. ‘Lost it in the last battle.’
Aziraphale tried to offer a friendly smile. ‘Hello. I’m –’
‘General Aziraphale. I know who you are,’ the Rebel Angel interrupted impatiently. ‘I saw you on the battlefield.’
‘I don’t believe I got your name before.’
‘That’s because I didn’t give it… Pity.’
‘Yes, it was rather. Still, better late than never…’ Aziraphale waited expectantly.
‘No, pity that it is too late, and we’ll never know. I should’ve told you before. Then I could’ve asked you.’
Aziraphale stared at him. ‘You don’t remember your God given name?’
The Rebel Angel shook his head. ‘God giveth, God taketh away. Probably something pretentious: Raphael? Kokabiel? Jerahmeel? What’s in a name? I’m no longer one of Her angels. I no longer belong to… that name. What’s the point in keeping it? Just toss it into the fire. Just another unanswered question.’
‘But why take your name? Strip you of your title, if She must, but why erase your name?’
‘Questions, questions, questions. Careful. Curiosity killed the cherub. We’ll keep on wondering.’ The Rebel Angel’s body started to shake, the hand holding the sword was trembling and his voice cracked when he next spoke. ‘I only ever asked questions. That’s all it took to get kicked out of the house. If Mother knows best, why not tell Her own children? I just wanted to understand. Is that so wrong? Is it?!’
Aziraphale shook his head, noting how pale he looked. ‘No. No, it’s not. Is that what brought you here?’
‘I have a lot of questions. But nobody ever has any of the answers –’
The Rebel Angel suddenly cried in pain, crumpling to the floor beside the Eternal Flame.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Aziraphale, looking concerned.
The Rebel Angel braced himself against the stone, Aziraphale wrapping his arms around his waist to help into a sitting position. The Rebel Angel tilted his head back, causing his hood to slip. His auburn hair was now the colour of blood. And his gorgeous brown eyes had turned yellow with vertical slit pupils. Aziraphale ought to be appalled by such displays of Evil. But he didn’t. It was still the Star Maker staring back at him. There was hurt, pain and anger there, but there was also light, the spark of optimism shining through the pessimism. And there was something rather mesmerising about the shade of yellow. Aziraphale felt he could gaze into them forever.
The Rebel Angel was clutching his leg, the source of his discomfort. There was a deep wound from a sword just above his knee.
Without hesitation Aziraphale ripped off the tartan cloth tied around his wrist and proceeded to wrap it around the Rebel Angel’s upper thigh.
‘Now it may hurt,’ warned Aziraphale. ‘But it may help to staunch the wound a little.’
The Rebel Angel grunted in pain as Aziraphale pulled it taut, typing a knot.
‘You know, it’s funny. I’ve spent the war smiting rebel angels. I’ve never done this before.’
The Rebel Angel regarded him warily. ‘And yet they were never smitten by you.’
‘What?’
‘Smited? Smote? Not dead! You’re a general and you never actually killed anyone!’
‘Do I… Do I look like an angel who could… kill anything?’ asked Aziraphale, both worried that he looked like a killer and worried that not killing was something to be ashamed of.
The Rebel Angel shook his head.
‘Because I couldn’t. Maiming’s my absolute limit. I just hope no one lost a limb in recovery.’
‘Look at you worrying about a demon’s wellbeing.’
‘Look, I never asked to be general. I’m more of a healer than harmer.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, before the tide turned, they were losing a general of my platoon every battle –’
‘Why are you doing this? I am a demon; you are an angel. We’re hereditary enemies. You should be all, “get thee behind me, foul fiend!” – “In the name of the Almighty!” – and all that. If they so much as see us together, it’s punishable by extinction. We’re on opposite sides. Why are you helping me?’
Angelic blue eyes met demonic yearning-for-answers yellow.
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ said Aziraphale simply.
‘Really? Answer a question with a question?’
‘I could say the same, you know.’
The Rebel Angel chuckled darkly. Even Aziraphale managed a weak smile.
‘I’m not ready to give up on you,’ said Aziraphale sincerely.
‘Bit late for that. God has. You should too. I’m unforgiveable.’
‘No one is unforgiveable.’
‘Well, I don’t want to be forgiven. I’ve done nothing to be forgiven for.’
‘I don’t want to lose you,’ confessed Aziraphale. ‘I… I like you.’
‘You don’t.’
‘What’s not to like?’
‘Other than I’m a demon?’
‘It’s what you’re called. It’s not who you are.’
The Rebel Angel looked at him surprised. ‘You really believe that? Even after all this?’
Aziraphale nodded. ‘I do.’
‘Did I really create that much of an impact?’
‘Well, we did meet at the birth of creation. Big Bang. Stars everywhere. Discussing philosophy. As first dates go that was pretty unforgettable. Not that it was date,’ he added quickly. ‘Or that I’m calling you p– Not that that you’re not p– Oh, dear.’
The Rebel Angel raised his eyebrows. ‘Blimey. I really did ruin your life.’
‘Not at all. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. No one ever asked me to do anything. Even if you only remembered me after on the battlefield.’
‘I remember you,’ said the Rebel Angel softly.
Aziraphale looked at him.
‘My history’s a mystery… but your face I remember very clearly. I wouldn’t allow myself to forget it… though I did lose your name,’ he said apologetically. ‘It hurt to remember. Nearly discorporated myself trying break through the mental block to find it again, but it was worth it. Aziraphale. You were the one thing I never wanted to forget.’
‘Did I really create that much of an impact?’ echoed Aziraphale.
‘You were the only angel I ever had a meaningful discussion with. You are the only light in my dark life.’
‘Glad I could help,’ said Aziraphale. ‘And it was a privilege to watch the Star Maker at work.’
‘The Star Maker?’
‘Well, you never told me your name. and you did build all those stars.’ Aziraphale pointed upwards and the many star systems. ‘Just look at what you’ve created.’
The Rebel Angel’s smile was more a grimace. No wound had ever cut him so deep in this war. ‘You have no idea how much that hurts me.’
Aziraphale’s face fell. ‘Oh. Did I say something wrong?’
‘No, no, I shouldn’t have said anything… I can’t see them.’
‘Well, no, the view’s a bit obscure from here, but they’re right up there.’
‘They could be right beneath us; it makes no difference – I can’t see them! Not anymore…’
‘What?’
The Rebel Angel pointed at his snake eyes. ‘I can’t see the stars. It was Her cruellest punishment. I questioned where to put Her stars and planets, She made it so I could never see them to question.’ He turned his face away, angry to be showing weakness, wiping his eyes. He felt Aziraphale place a tentative, consoling hand on his shoulder. ‘Are they shining tonight?’ he asked plaintively.
A teary-eyed Aziraphale looked up at the celestial bodies. ‘Yes,’ he assured him. ‘Yes, they are shining. Up above the world so high, like little diamonds in the sky.’
‘You should write that down.’
‘Anyway. They’re very, very happy.’
‘I’ll take your word for it, Angel.’
Aziraphale blushed.
Taking his silence for confusion, the Rebel Angel added, ‘Because angels don’t lie. Well, you don’t.’
‘Oh. Right. Yes.’
Aziraphale noticed the wound was infected, black poison running through his veins. A painful death to any demon. One of Gabriel inventions. Thank God it was a small cut, or the Rebel Angel would be dead already. But his countenance was a sickly pallor. Aziraphale placed his glowing hands on the wound.
‘What’re you doing?’ asked the Rebel Angel.
‘Untreated wounds can get infected. If this is Gabriel’s handiwork, you’ll have worse than a scar to deal with. Now, this won’t hurt.’
There was a blinding flash with an accompanied miraculous Shing!
The Rebel Angel yelled in pain. He growled, looking woundedly at Aziraphale. ‘You said it wouldn’t hurt,’ he said reproachfully.
‘Anticipation’s the worst part, so I thought I’d spare you. And it won’t hurt from now on.’
He was right. The pain was gone and the wound had healed to an albeit crude scar.
‘Should I say thank you?’ said the Rebel Angel.
‘Better not,’ muttered Aziraphale.
Aziraphale tried to get up, but gasped and sat back down again.
‘What is it?’ said the Rebel Angel at once. ‘What’ve you done?’
‘No, it’s nothing,’ assured Aziraphale, clutching his leg. ‘Just a side effect of the miracle.’
But the Rebel Angel noticed Aziraphale gripping his right leg. A mirror image of the leg he had just healed.
‘Or the price of healing a known enemy.’
‘I just need to walk it off. It’ll be fine.’
Aziraphale froze as the Rebel Angel raised the sword, fearing he would be run through after all while he was incapacitated… and handed it back to Aziraphale. They stared at each other for a moment. Together and yet on opposite sides.
Aziraphale got to his feet, leaning on the sword to push himself up.
‘Thank you for the bandage,’ said the Rebel Angel.
Aziraphale looked all around him to make sure they were unobserved. ‘Probably best if you don’t tell anyone how you got that.’ He looked worried. ‘You won’t, will you? If anyone asks?’
‘If anyone asks? I’ll tell them.’
Aziraphale went pale.
‘I threatened an angel. And I gave him no choice.’
Aziraphale relaxed a little. ‘That’s a lie.’
‘Omitting certain truths. The result’s still the same. Depends on how they interpret it.’
‘Why did you come to the Eternal Flame? You know what it can do to you.’
The Rebel Angel was silent for a moment, gazing at the lethal flame. ‘Doesn’t matter now. If nothing else, I wanted to know why something so dangerous has so few guards.’
Aziraphale glanced at the open flame, wondering the same thing. ‘I’m sure God knows what She’s doing.’
The Rebel Angel scoffed at his blind faith. Then just as Aziraphale turned to leave. ‘Angel?’
Aziraphale looked back. The Rebel Angel held out his hand and offered a single black feather from his burnt wings. Astonished by the intimate gift, Aziraphale took it. Their fingers brushing briefly.
‘You have a good heart, Aziraphale. Heaven’s lucky to have you. You’re a good angel. And don’t you dare let anyone ever tell you differently. Including me.’
Desperate to forestall the moment of departure, not knowing when or if they would ever meet again, Aziraphale gave the Rebel Angel one of his white feathers in return.
‘Just in case…’ said Aziraphale.
Just in case they don’t believe you.
Just in case I don’t ever see you again.
Just in case if you need something to remember me by.
‘May we meet on a better occasion,’ said the Rebel Angel.
Aziraphale swallowed around the lump in his throat. ‘Good luck.’
He limped to the edge and took flight back to Heaven.
The Rebel Angel twirled the white feather between his fingers, touched the tartan bandage wrapped around his leg and looked back into the Eternal Flame, the firelight dancing in his eyes.
Heaven and Hell help them if either of those bastards tried to harm his angel.