Chapter Text
The last thing Raphael remembers is talking with Lucifer and some of the guys.
He can't quite recollect what about, though. And then the next thing he knows he's waking up in an unfamiliar part of Heaven, dressed in strange raiment, and looking into the face of an angel who is definitely not Lucifer and the guys.
The angel in question is also wearing strange raiment. He looks... hmm, actually Raphael is not sure he knows how to describe the emotion on this angel's face. It's not happy, or curious, or determined... well, maybe a little determined? Rushed? It seems he was rushing from somewhere to somewhere else. When he looks at Raphael, he looks relieved for a moment. But then he freezes, as if he just realized something, but not a good something.
The other angel doesn't completely consume Raphael's attention, however. There's something else that takes precedence for a moment. Something is wrong, but he can't put his finger on it entirely. The state of the universe has changed. If he didn't know better he would say it had changed a lot, but how could the universe change so much and so quickly?
And not just the universe... something else is different. Time?
"...Crowley?" the angel asks.
Raphael blinks at him.
"Sorry?" he replies. "What's a Crowley?"
The angel's expression falls and twists, still stuck in unnameable sentiments. God warned them that they would begin to experience more feelings over time, and they have done. Though somehow it seems to Raphael that this particular angel is speed running his way through a lot of them all at once. For some reason? This is fascinating to witness, but it also seems unpleasant to experience, so Raphael moves a hand over and pats the angel on the shoulder.
"Are you alright?" he checks.
The angel stops and starts a few times. Is he damaged? Raphael is aware that they can hypothetically be damaged, and he had heard about some angels being damaged after the first wave of Creation by way of something called an 'accident', which had been fascinating news and drawn a lot of attention. He'd been swiftly rebuked for expressing an interest, however, and the topic was still widely taboo.
Just as Raphael is debating the merits of examining this angel's grace and perhaps attempting some sort of repair work, or even going to find God, the trouble seems to resolve itself. Or at least settle down to more manageable levels.
"I'm... do you know me?" the angel asks.
Raphael smiles.
"Of course I do," he says. This makes the angel slump in a recognizable emotion called 'relief', so Raphael wracks his memory. He's never been great with names, but this one comes to him. Thank goodness. "You are Aziraphale."
"Oh thank goodness," Aziraphale says. "For a moment I thought-"
"Yes, you're the chap who held my scroll for me while I started up the celestial forge," Raphael continues, pleased with his own recollection, and with the positive effect it seems to be having. Unfortunately, it seems the effect was only temporary. Aziraphale stills and goes over all strange again.
"Y-yes, I... that's... but, you remember other things as well? Surely you remember...?"
"Of course I remember other things! What a question. I remember the creation of the universe, the mustering of the heavenly host, I remember maybe a few too many meetings on the nature of astro-physics and the timeline of existence... was there a particular memory of interest to you?"
Aziraphale seems to be having some difficulties emoting at all, now. His expression looks ashen, like something is leeching the colour from him.
Raphael hesitates, then sits up. The room he is in looks a little different from his expectations, but, it's still plainly Heaven. He briefly examines his strange raiment. It's not at all familiar, and frankly he didn't even know raiment could look that different. But it's not unpleasant, just sort of fitted, and dark. It would be more difficult to spot him in the cosmic depths with this sort of attire. Maybe that's the point of it? To not distract other angels from their work by looking too flashy?
Of greater concern, he doesn't remember how he came to be in it. Or how he came to be in this room.
For the first time, it occurs to Raphael that perhaps he was damaged in some way. Along with it comes another idea. He moves to test it, but Aziraphale jolts to action and gets in his way.
"Where do you think you're going?!" he demands.
Raphael blinks, and puts a little more distance between them. He's not accustomed to other angels coming quite so close.
"Does the universe feel strange to you?" he asks. Then he wiggles a finger at Aziraphale's torso. "Do you know where your weird raiment came from? I can't remember putting mine on, or even receiving it. Or how I got here. I think time has moved around weirdly, or the universe got shifted considerably to the left somehow. but I won't know unless I check. Do you mind? It's sort of my job to make sure universe production goes smoothly, so, if something went awry I should probably have a look. System's still just warming up, after all. Bound to be a few bugs!"
Aziraphale looks away from him.
"You noticed already? Yes, of course you did. You'd be nothing if not sharp."
Raphael doesn't mind the compliment. If it is a compliment. He's not certain, though he also doesn't know what else it would be, so after a moment he shrugs it off. He doesn't remember this specific angel being quite so odd, but there must be a reason. There's a reason for everything.
But Aziraphale doesn't move out of his way.
"It's... it's not, um, there's no bugs in the system. Nothing... nothing you caused, anyway. It's not your fault. It's... never been."
"How do you know that? I didn't think you worked in celestial mechanics," Raphael says.
"I, I don't. I just know what's caused the, um, the feeling you're having. Of wrongness. Very, very... wrongness."
"Oh good. Phew! That's a relief. So, what is it?"
Aziraphale looks at him. Raphael has decided that whatever emotions he's experiencing here, he doesn't particularly like them. Perhaps poor Aziraphale has been chosen to test a few out? If so, Raphael will back him up if he decides to report that they're all utter bollocks and someone needs to go back to the drawing board.
Definitely a flaw somewhere in this system, he thinks. Especially when poor Aziraphale's eyes start to leak.
"Forgive me," Aziraphale says, horribly.
"Sure!" Raphael agrees at once, and gives in to the strange compulsion to touch him again. He settles a hand on his shoulder once more. "I can do that, that's no problem. Just one more question though, sorry, I know they say I ask too many, it's just... what's a 'forgive'?"
The leaking problem becomes significantly worse.