One Odd Duck to Another (RP, Aziraphale and the Doctor)

[soho_angel]

mood: melancholyIt was a bit of a cliche, but Aziraphale had found since his stress-induced near meltdown that he had his good days and his bad days. The better ones he passed more or less normally, sometimes even cheerfully; on the others he simply filled his time with whatever distractions came to mind, trying not to wear himself out with

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[a_lonely_god]

“I agree,” said a pair of red trainers that moved into his line of vision beside the duck. “I’ve lived my whole life that way, but the problem is, what do you do with the evil that extends through many days, or, conversely, what do you with the evil of tomorrow if you don’t know if it’s really the evil of yesterday or even today.”

The Doctor sat down beside him and stretched out his legs, leaning on his hands.

“Hello. I’m the Doctor.”

[soho_angel]

Aziraphale started to rise automatically, but stayed where he was when the newcomer seated himself. "Hello. Ezra Fell," he replied, regarding the man curiously. He looked human, but his aura was distinctly odd, though not so much so as some of the other park residents'.

"I think that the whole point is not to worry one's self overmuch about such things." He gave the duck a crust and watched her carry it happily down to the water. "Evil exists, in any place and time. If the specifics become too confusing, it's likely because we aren't equipped to understand Ineffability. But it ultimately does make perfect sense; it's all part of the Plan."

It was his standard answer to such queries, and even to him it sounded unconvincing. "None of which makes it easy for those of us who aren't privy to the Plan's details," he admitted. "Which is to say, nearly everyone."

[a_lonely_god]

It did sound unconvincing and the Doctor gave him a curious look.

“Everyone minus The One, yeah? The constructor of the plan?”

[soho_angel]

"Well, Him, and then there are a few others who've seemingly got the Cliffs Notes." Aziraphale sighed.

[a_lonely_god]

The Doctor giggled a little at the expression on Ezra’s face, and then a little more at the at the description of the various catastrophic injuries that could result in needing to requisition a new body from the heavenly bureaucracy, and then even harder at the description of Crowley and Ezra as young supernaturals constantly trying to kill each other, because really.

“Sorry,” he gasped out between bouts of laughter. “Sorry, I’m- it’s not really funny, I just,” he covered his mouth as he sniggered. “Maybe our lives aren’t so different after all.”

[soho_angel]

"No, no, it really is. A veritable Comedy of Errors, sometimes," Aziraphale said, his own mouth twitching, though he fought to keep a straight face. "We lost the Antichrist, for Someone's sake, it doesn't get much funnier than that. But tell me about yours, then. Is he quite impossible? Hopelessly immature, ungrateful, incorrigible and altogether a right pain in the arse?" Would you be utterly lost without him?

[a_lonely_god]

“You lost the Antichrist?” The Doctor’s giggles went up a half pitch “You and Crowley? That the aborted Apocalypse he mentioned?” Crowley had just gone up a few points in the Doctor’s estimation. Anybody who could lose an Antichrist couldn’t be all bad.

He cocked his head to the side at the question and gave the angel a slightly queasy grin. “Ooh, no, I think that might be me. Least it was when we were kids; things have gotten a bit more complicated since then. But he’s actually only managed to kill me once. My track record’s a bit better.” A slightly sobered expression. “He is here, though.”

[soho_angel]

"I'm afraid so. Actually, if you want the whole sordid tale, Crowley handed him off to a slightly dim Satanic nun who had one too many golden-haired infants to look after, and we wound up trying to influence the wrong child for eleven years." Aziraphale's ears had gone bright pink. "Neither of us realized until it was almost too late. It all came out in the wash, though. Fortunately for everyone, the boy had a good head on his shoulders." A fact which he ought to keep in mind when his resentment toward the adult Adam started to get the better of him.

"This would be the one you call the Master?" he asked, regardling the Doctor sympathetically. "And the place has the same effect on him as it does you? That can't be easy for either of you."

[a_lonely_god]

“Well, him being here for one,” the Doctor admitted. “It’s… well, it’s complicated” -actually it’s really quite simple, but he can’t bring himself to tell anyone is quite so many words that- “but it’s doubtful I’ll ever see him again once we get back to our own Universe. Timeline differences, you see.” He sighed. “And then the Rani ending up here also rather smacks of someone thinking I ought to have to face my past, as much as that has been completely bolloxed so far. And… well, I’ve made a- a couple, really- of friends here who- have taught me things. About… I dunno, stuff I haven’t yet managed to learn in 900 years. People stuff, mostly.” He shifted uncomfortably.

“So, Nostradamus’s private notes, the unpublished Jane Leade books, The Continental Prophecies, a rather long collection of books written in Cardiff? Things like that?” he asked, sipping his drink. “No, never heard of them. Maybe they don’t exist in my Universe.”

[soho_angel]

"Oh," Aziraphale said, somewhat faintly. "I'm very glad for you then, that you have the opportunity."

It had been a long time since anything a mortal had said had hit him like a punch in the solar plexus. Even Crowley didn't manage it that often anymore. But something in the Doctor's words brought a long-neglected realization back to him with stunning force.

With all the time that had passed since he had arrived here (or seemed subjectively to pass, whatever)--not a terribly long time by immortal standards, true, but time enough for a very distractable angel to get throughly mired in the problems of the moment--it had actually slipped his mind that at the point at which he and Crowley had arrived here, the Apocalypse had just failed to happen. Neither of them had any idea what would be waiting for them when they made it back home, assuming that they did. Suddenly the park, for all its infuriating intrusions, flimflammery and brain-hurting illogic, was looking positively appealing compared to, oh, an angry visitation from the

[a_lonely_god]

“Thanks,” the Doctor said weakly, and finished the lemonade. “The Buggre All This Bible? Now that sounds like an interesting read.”

((dear lj. please stop eating my posts. thanks you!))

[soho_angel]

"Bilton and Scaggs, 1651. It's actually quite amusing. The poor typesetter had obviously had his fill of his employers, and turned Ezekiel 48 into a denunciation of their personal character." Aziraphale had the whole thing memorized word for word, but didn't want to spoil it in case the Doctor ever had a chance to read it for himself.

His ears went very slightly pink. "And then there's the three extra verses in Genesis 3, dealing with the Angel of the Eastern Gate and how he, er, misplaced his flaming sword." He sometimes wished he wasn't quite so enthusiastic about his books...or again, so honest.