#reversed omens

Aziraphale was here, finally, but it didn’t seem to stop the misery that clung to his bones, the emptiness inside of him that felt like a vast moorland where the sky was ever gray and overcast, and the wind blew cold, rattling winter-bare branches.

Crowley touched the dark glasses that obscured his face, hiding the tears that brimmed in his eyes.

This was what he wanted, wasn’t it?  And yet having it didn’t do much more than fill him with anticipation and dread in equal parts.   Since then he had learned what a Prince of Hell was like, really like, and he glanced at Aziraphale, wondering if all that resided within him too.  As if walking through a sunny meadow and suddenly stepping into a gaping void, a pit that he had never imagined existed, and it was all right there and had always been there, if only he had bothered to pay attention.

“Are you all right, my dear?  You seem rather quiet.”

“Oh.  No.  Fine.  Fine, that’s me.”  Crowley felt himself stumbling for words.  “Just fine, nothing’s wrong.  So.  Been a while.”

“Yes.  I’m sorry I wasn’t able to properly send you a message.  Couldn’t even look in if I wanted.  There are rules.”

“Yeah, I know about rules.”  And Crowley winced, feeling that what he had said was too harsh and perhaps he should have been more understanding and less bitter.

“I wish…it hadn’t been so long.  But it was almost impossible to get away.  I suppose I’m lucky to be here.”

“Yeah.”  Crowley didn’t realize it until Aziraphale put a questioning hand on his shoulder, but he was sitting hunched over, curled up on himself as if waiting for the next blow.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  You know I’ll forgive you.”

“Yes, that is in your nature.  But…you don’t have to.  Not if you don’t feel it.”  Aziraphale smiled a little sad smile.  “After all, it’s in my nature to not be forgiven or forgivable.”