Forget Me Not

Tough decisions

The sun has barely began to rise when Aziraphale walks into his bookshop. He spent the night in a church, praying to a God that he's losing faith in. Not even a full minute later Maggie and Nina come through the door. They had been waiting for him all night, worried sick.

Aziraphale turns to see who's entered his store at this hour. "Good Lord," he sighs, seeing it's only them, "what are you doing up so late."

"It's half past 5," Nina say's defensively, "it's not late. It's the morning."

Maggie asks, concerned, "Mr. Fell where have you been? We started to worry when you didn't come back."

"Maggie worried," Nina clarifies. A devious grin grows on her face, "so you went to see that demon of yours and ended up staying out alllllll night." She smirks, "I'm guessing it went well."

Aziraphale looks to the floor, "I didn't speak with Crowley."

Nina and Maggie exchange confused looks. "Where did you go then?" Maggie asks.

Aziraphale fidgets with his pinky ring, nervously. "I've been at a church," he answers, "I've been faced with a tough decision."

When Aziraphale doesn't explain further Nina turns her hand over, prompting him to go on, "and?"

Tears start to fill in Aziraphale's eyes. He looks away and chews his lip. He has to take a deep breath before saying, "We're going to have to figure out what to do without Crowley."

Nina just asks why but Maggie can see the emotions about to spill over. She asks him what happened.

"I found this," Aziraphale pulls the letter from his pocket. He doesn't offer it over, only shows it's existence. He doesn't want them to read it. "Crowley removed his own memories. I can't pull him back into this," he explains. Aziraphale turns and shuffles books on a shelf so that he doesn't have to face the women. "We'll discuss more later," he speaks into a set of Oscar Wilde books, "go get some sleep."

Maggie looks at Nina with a sad expression. Nina looks back, returning the sentiment. Maggie turns to leave, letting her fingers linger on Nina's elbow. Nina takes a few seconds, standing with her arms crossed before following.

Once the women have left, Aziraphale sinks down on his sofa. He cries into his hands, not wanting to disturb Muriel upstairs. He reads the letter again and can't help but feel angry.

He's angry at himself and angry at heaven. Aziraphale stands and wipes the tears from his cheek. They stole me away! I could be happy! Crowley could be happy. He snatches a book from a nearby table and hurls it across the room. "Fuck!" He slams his hands down on the back of an armchair and flings it over.

"We could of been an us," he pleads as he sinks against the end of a bookshelf.

"Mr. Aziraphale?" A voice calls from the top of the stairs.

"Shit," Aziraphale whispers. "Yes, it's me, Muriel. Everything's okay. I just," he presses his knuckles to his forehead, "I just knocked over the chair." He hears their footsteps returning to their room.

Aziraphale pinches his eyes shut and exhales deeply. He's spent all night wrestling between his own desires and that of the one he loves. He's argued the morality of one's joy over the greater good. He needs Crowley. He needs his clever mind to help save the world. He needs Crowley's company to remind him what they're fighting for. But when he thinks about his demon he knows it's not right to steal away his chance at happiness, not even for the sake of human-kind.

The angel stands and picks up the chair he'd thrown. Well I guess I need to figure something out. He makes himself a cup of tea before sitting at his desk with a stack of literature and texts regarding the 2nd coming.

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