But perhaps there,
Between the bustling
Bees and swaying trees
I will find a solace,
Initialized by warmth,
Integral to me becoming us again.
Nebula bounces on her toes in the cozy living room in the back of the bookshop, her red hair bobbing with each excited movement. She clutches her backpack, laden with botany books and a few snacks, impatiently glancing at the clock on the wall.
"Daaaaaad, are you almost ready?" Nebula calls out, the eagerness evident in her voice.
Aziraphale appears from the hallway to the kitchen, a warm smile gracing his face as he adjusts his waistcoat. "Almost there, my dear. Just a few finishing touches." His voice is filled with the affection that always makes Nebula feel safe and heard.
She lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes playfully. "You're taking longer than I do, Dad."
Aziraphale chuckles, leaning down to give her a gentle peck on the forehead. "Well, you always were the quick one, my dear. Now, are you all set for your day at the greenhouse? The Meelans seemed very eager to meet you when I called."
Nebula nods enthusiastically, her blue-grey eyes shining with excitement. "Yes! I've got my overalls, my books, and snacks for the day. I can't wait to see all the plants.".
With one last glance in the mirror to ensure he looks presentable Aziraphale turns to Nebula, "Alright, my dear, I'm ready. Let's catch that bus!"
Nebula's face lights up with a radiant smile, and she eagerly heads for the door. "Absolutely!"
As they step out into the sunshine, Nebula grabs her dad's hand and they stroll to the closest bus stop. Aziraphale has always been cautious about leaving Nebula alone, especially considering her tender age. Yet, after meeting the elderly couple of the SGG, he felt confident that they would take care of Nebula as if she was their own daughter.
Upon arrival, Aziraphale introduces Nebula to the Meelan couple already waiting for them as they get off the bus at the corner.
"Good morning, Mr. Meelan, Mrs. Meelan." Aziraphale grins, trying to keep Nebula calm as her eyes instantly start to dart around the grounds like a hungry squirrel.
"Ah, Mr. Fell! Good morning," Mr. Meelan replies with a friendly-enough nod. "And this must be your delightful daughter, Nebula. Pleased to meet you, young lady."
Nebula, her excitement barely contained, nods vigorously. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. and Mrs. Meelan. This place is a-mazing!"
Mrs. Meelan's eyes twinkle with amusement as she crouches down to Nebula's eye level. "We're delighted to have you here, little miss. You seem like quite the botanist in the making."
Nebula blushes at the compliment but can't help herself from asking, "Can I start exploring now?"
Aziraphale chuckles, knowing that his daughter is bursting with curiosity and that if she doesn't get her hands dirty soon, there might be a mess in the bookshop later.
"Of course. Listen to Mr. and Mrs. Meelan, and learn as much as you can." He looks to Mr. Meelan as his wife starts guiding his daughter to the visitor center. "I'll be a call away, if you need me. I will pick her up around four, yes?"
With an assertive nod, Mr. Meelan waves Mr. Fell goodbye. With a heavy heart but also a sense of excitement for Nebula's budding interest, Aziraphale watches momentarily as she joins the Meelans and begins to immerse herself in the world of botany.
Once he has left Nebula in capable hands, Aziraphale finds himself standing beside the Bentley outside their bookshop, a car that has remained untouched for far too long. The memories of shared adventures flood back, and the weight of the past three and a half years press upon the angel.
Tears well up in Aziraphale's eyes as he bravely opens the car door and steps inside to the passenger side. The familiar scent of the Bentley, a mix of old leather and memories, envelops him. There is a scent of oak, of a musky vanilla, of.. Crowley. It is as if the car itself holds the echoes of Crowley's voice asking him where he wanted to go, where he needed to go. As he gazes at the driver's seat, he can see Crowley leaning forward on the wheel, already pressing on the gas before the angel could buckle in.
Overwhelmed by the emotions that have been suppressed for years, Aziraphale breaks down in sobs. The tears flow freely as he clutches his pants. The car, like a vessel of memories, bears witness to his grief and longing, offering a space for him to release the pent-up emotions that have haunted him since that fateful day in Berkeley Square.
As the tears subside and the weight on his chest lifts ever so slightly, Aziraphale wipes his face. The intensity of simply missing someone has never been so great upon the angel until that moment– he just wanted to touch Crowley one last time, knowing it would be the end. The Bentley, once a symbol of their partnership, now holds a bittersweet place in his heart.
- -
Nebula's day at the Secret Garden Greenhouse quickly unravels into a whirlwind of discovery. Mrs. Meelan guides her through the verdant aisles of evergreen trees, explaining the unique characteristics of each species with her own knack of obtained knowledge. Nebula listens intently, absorbing the knowledge like a sponge, often writing down notes in a small notepad she brought with her from home.
"These evergreens are called 'Pines,'" Mrs. Meelan explains, gently touching the needles of a towering tree. "They keep their leaves, or needles, green throughout the year, even in winter. That's why they're called 'evergreens.'"
Nebula nods, her eyes wide with wonder. "They're so beautiful. Do they have any special care requirements?"
Mrs. Meelan smiles, appreciating Nebula's attentive personality. "Well, they do like well-drained soil and plenty of sunlight. And during the colder months, it's good to give them some extra mulch to protect their roots from frost."
Nebula scribbles down the information in her blocky handwriting before running down the lane to one of the smaller pine saplings, "How old is this one, Mrs. Meelan? It's as tall as me! Is it as old as me?"
"Afraid not, dear. That sapling is only a few years old, I believe. We planted it the first Christmas our groundskeeper joined us."
"Oh, I see," Nebula nods in appreciation, the palm of her hand pressing gently into the small, thin trunk of the tree. As the lesson continues, Nebula's fascination with plants deepens. She marvels at the intricate patterns of the evergreen needles and can't resist running her fingers along their surfaces. After their botanical exploration, Mrs. Meelan suggests a visit to the duck pond, where Nebula eagerly agrees. They walk along the meandering path that leads to the pond, carrying a small bag of birdseed with them. Nebula can't contain her excitement when they reach the pond, and the ducks soon swim over, quacking eagerly in anticipation. She giggles as she scatters handfuls of birdseed into the water, watching the ducks dive and paddle to get their share.
"This is so much fun!" Nebula exclaims, her eyes shining with delight, her cheeks rosy with joy.
Melody Meelan laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She never had her own children, but seeing Nebula made her wonder what it would be like to have been a mother, "I'm glad you're enjoying it, dear. The ducks always appreciate some company and a snack."
As Nebula continues to feed the ducks, Mrs. Meelan decides to delegate a small task to her young companion. "Nebula, would you be a dear and fetch a bucket of fertilizer from the shed by the north greenhouse? It's just a short walk from here, and I'll need it for the next planting."
"Sure thing! What's the next stop?" Nebula agrees enthusiastically.
"I was thinking you could choose. What's your favorite plant? I am sure we have it here," Melody's eyes crinkle as she smiles.
After a moment of thinking, Nebula responds, "I fancy myself Snapdragons." With this, she sets off with a trail map Mrs. Meelan provides. She follows the winding paths, her excitement building as she ventures deeper into the lush surroundings of the greenhouse.
As she approaches the shed, her heart pounds with urgency to hurry up so she can get back to the ducks. She pushes open the door and steps inside, ready to fulfill her task. However, what she finds inside the shed is not at all what she expects. A man with dark, disheveled hair and a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose is busy gathering tools and attaching them to a worn black leather belt around his waist. Nebula gasps, her voice involuntarily escaping her lips. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The man, startled by Nebula's sudden appearance, turns to face her while holding a hammer. His sharp gaze meets her wide, curious eyes, and he raises an eyebrow. "Well, aren't you a surprise? Who are ya, and what are ya doing in my shed?"
Nebula stammers, her initial shock giving way to an unnerved fear as she eyes the hammer in his hand, raised in the air. "I-I'm Nebula, and I'm here with Mrs. Meelan. She asked me to get some f--f-fertilizer for her."
"Oh," the man's gaze softens as he looks at Nebula, and a flicker of recognition crosses his face as he pushes the hammer down into his tool belt securely. "Nebula, huh? Neat name. Well, I'm Anthony. Nice to meet you, kid. Sorry for the scare. I didn't expect anyone else to be here."
Nebula grows intrigued by this unexpected encounter as her childish fear subsides. "Are you a gardener too, Mr. Anthony?"
Crowley chuckles, a wry smile playing on his lips as he walks toward Nebula. "Just Anthony. Or Crowley, if you prefer...You could say that, in a way. I'm the groundskeeper here. Now, let's see if we can find that fertilizer, shall we?"
"Sorry? Did you just say Crowley?" Nebula asks, her clutch on her map tightening. "Your last name is Crowley?"
"Yes little miss, it is. Not a common name, is it?" He chuckles as he eyes the shed for the fertilizer, his hands on his tool belt at his waist. Nebula stares blankly, unsure of what to make of that information. According to her dad, the Crowley from his past was gone, but... could it be, that this man was him?
"Uhm, Anthony? Could I ask you something?"
"As long as you don't blab on and on about it, sure," He sighs as he squats down and picks up a bag of fertilizer, cutting open the top with a sharp blade from his back pocket.
"Do you know my dad? His name is Adam Fell. I'm Nebula Fell. He has told me stories of a man he used to know by the name Crowley," She asks, her voice soft as she thought of her dad's nights when she would hear him crying for Crowley at his desk while snooping. Crowley pauses his pouring, looking back at the girl as he lifts his sunglasses up onto his head.
"Doesn't ring a bell, little miss. 'Spose it's just a coincidence."
Nebula watches Crowley closely, her young mind trying to reconcile the man before her with the stories her father had shared about Crowley. Her dad's tales had often been filled with longing and sadness, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was the same Crowley he had spoken of. Crowley's nonchalant response, however, leaves her feeling uncertain. She isn't sure whether to press the matter further or let it go. After all, her father has always said that Crowley was gone, and it wouldn't make sense for this man to be the same one.
"Okay, then," Nebula says, her tone cautious. "I was just curious. Dad talks about his friend Crowley a lot, but he says he's gone now. So, I guess it must be a different person with the same name."
Crowley nods, a hint of relief in his eyes as he resumes pouring the fertilizer into the bucket. Something irks within him though, something raw. Nebula watches him for a moment longer before deciding to change the subject. She doesn't want to pry further if this man isn't her dad's friend after all. "Well, you've found the fertilizer. Mrs. Meelan will be happy."
Crowley smiles at Nebula's enthusiasm, happy to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Absolutely. Here ye go," He smiles a rather charming smile as he hands the pail of fertilizer to Nebula before walking them both out of the shed, closing it behind them. "Go on then, kid. Mrs. Meelan doesn't like to wait too long, she'll think yer up to something."
"Right. Thank you for your help, Crowley!" She beams brightly. "Will I see you again?"
Crowley tilts his head slightly, a small smile playing at his lips as he brings down his shades again, "Perhaps. I'll be around. See you, Nebula." He waves her away as he begins walking back on a different trail to continue his repairs on a leak in the Eastern Greenhouse. As he walks away, he thinks about the young ginger-haired girl and her words. Was it plausible? Was it even possible that the kid's father knew about him? She is right. It wouldn't make sense, he thinks as he opens the gate to the greenhouse and heads to the pipe.
As Nebula returns to Melody with the fertilizer, the older woman takes the pail and they make their way to the Western Greenhouse of the complex. They spend the rest of the afternoon tending to the vibrant blue and red Snapdragons, ensuring they receive the nourishment they need to thrive.
As the clock approaches four in the afternoon, Aziraphale finds himself engaged in a pleasant conversation with Christopher in the main house, sipping a cup of tea. Aziraphale and Christopher sit in the comfortable chairs across from each other in the middle of the guest room, their cups of tea warming their hands as they engage in amiable conversation.
"So, Adam, may I call you that?" Christopher begins, a twinkle in his eye. Aziraphale nods before the older man continues, "I've heard from Melody that you have a penchant for rare books. Is that true?"
Aziraphale smiles warmly, his eyes lighting up at the mention of books. "Oh, absolutely. Books have been my passion for centuries, well, a long time. There's something truly magical about the written word, don't you think?"
Christopher nods in agreement. "Indeed, I do. Melody and I share a love for literature as well. We've collected quite a few books over the years. Have you come across any particularly fascinating volumes recently?"
Aziraphale leans back in his chair, savoring the tea's soothing warmth. "Well, there was a rare edition of 'Paradise Lost' that caught my attention not too long ago. I was fortunate enough to acquire it. It's quite a treasure, I must say."
Christopher's eyes light up with curiosity. "Ah, 'Paradise Lost.' A masterpiece. Do tell me more about this edition. What makes it so special?"
As they delve into a discussion about books and their favorite literary works, Aziraphale and Christopher find themselves in their element. For a moment, Aziraphale feels like his old self again, talking about his favorite novels with Crowley in the earlier years of their relationship.
Unbeknownst to Aziraphale, Crowley enters through the back door during the conversation, his slightly muddied boots thudding softly on the floor as he makes his way to the kitchen. Aziraphale catches a fleeting glimpse of a figure passing by but doesn't pay it much mind, assuming it's just one of the other greenhouse workers.
Crowley, now in the kitchen, pours himself a glass of water and takes a moment to catch his breath. He's had a busy day tending to repairs in the Eastern Greenhouse, and a drink of water is just what he needs to refresh himself. Crowley takes another gulp of water, relishing the cool, refreshing sensation as it quenches his thirst. He leans against the kitchen counter, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. The distant voices from the guest room catch his attention, and he finds himself inadvertently eavesdropping on the conversation between a guest and Christopher.
Christopher's voice is filled with curiosity as he asks, "Adam, I hope you don't mind me inquiring, but I couldn't help but wonder about your relationship with Nebula. Does she have a mother? If you don't mind me asking, where is she?"
Aziraphale's response is measured, his voice carrying a mixture of warmth and sadness. "Nebula's mother passed away when she was very young, I believe. Her father left her to the state, unable to care for her. I adopted her a bit over a year ago, now. It's just been the two of us for quite some time. I've tried to provide her with the best life I can, given the circumstances."
Crowley's ears perk up at this revelation, and he can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the girl he had met earlier in the day. The mention of Adam, whom he assumed to be the Mr. Fell from the earlier conversation, being a single father for the young girl tugs at his heartstrings. However, he also feels in that moment, that he is intruding in the privacy of the Meelan's home. Quietly, he attempts to make his way back to the back door of the house. His hand rests on the doorknob, ready to slip away, when the front door suddenly swings open, and Nebula bursts into the receiving room, her enthusiasm filling the space.
"Dad!" Nebula exclaims, her voice filled with excitement, as she runs toward Aziraphale. Her overalls are smeared with dirt, and her face lights up with a wide, dirt-streaked smile.
Aziraphale's face breaks into a warm grin as he catches his daughter in his arms, "Nebula, my dear, you look positively adventurous today. Did you have a good time?"
Nebula nods vigorously, her ginger hair bouncing as she talks animatedly about her day with Melody at about a thousand words a minute, the plants she learned about, and the fun she had feeding the ducks at the pond.
Melody follows behind Nebula, a fond smile on her face as she watches the heartwarming reunion. "She's quite the explorer, Mr. Fell. Nebula has a real knack for gardening, I must say."
The calm conversation among the adults continues as Aziraphale expresses his gratitude to the Meelans for their hospitality and the enjoyable day Nebula had. The Meelans, in turn, extend a warm invitation for them to return anytime, assuring Aziraphale that Nebula is welcome to explore the greenhouse whenever she pleases.
As the time to say goodbye approaches, Crowley, standing on the back porch, can hear the exchange from a distance. With a quick jog around to the side of the house, he is able to land his gaze on the father-daughter duo from the back. He watches silently as Aziraphale and Nebula walk hand in hand toward the bus stop, a heartwarming sight that stirs a sense of longing within him for some reason. As the bus arrives and the pair get on board, Crowley grimaces slightly, pressing the palms of his hands into his temples. With a heavy breath, he winces, the vision of the dove wings returning to him, but nothing more. With a moment to recollect himself, he looks up to the sky set aflame with vibrant hues of the oncoming sunset.
"What is happening..." He mutters to himself as he makes his way back to the porch where he sits in the hammock, pondering the events of the day.