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neutral_omens2006-01-13 12:48 pm
winged-healer.livejournal.com) wrote in neutral_omens2006-01-13 12:48 pm
(no subject)
Date: Dec. 30, 1999
Setting: Crowley's Room
Status: Private - Raphael and Crowley (Complete)
Summary: Raphael wants to know what happened.
Raphael awoke nearly a full day later, no longer tired but still making an effort. He blushed, crawled out of the sheets and resumed his standard sexless form with a sigh. It feel dull and almost too tight, but it was better than repeating his shameful performance of the last few days. The angel couldn't completely recall what had happened - at least not at the moment - but he did remember who'd gotten him into the pajamas and most of what had come afterward. He sighed again and went to take a long hot shower, hoping it would wash off the feeling of uncleanliness he had.
As the water pounded on him, his thoughts drifting to Falling and what it would take to go that far. He couldn't see, however, how anything that he was doing was wrong. After toweling himself dry, he stepped into his room, brushed his hair and put on a clean robe, tossing the pajamas aside. It had been ages since he'd gone to the hospital wing, or so it seemed to him, and it would probably be best to go there and make sure things were in order. Not that many people got sick - but it seemed to be his duty.
When he reached the wing, however, he found a rather unpleasant surprise waiting for him.
Somebody had performed a major operation without his permission!
Incesnsed, he stormed off to the room of the one known trouble-maker in the mansion whose lingering aura he'd sensed. Frankie followed close at his heels until they came to the appropriate door. Raphael banged on with all the fury of a righteous archangel about to do some serious smiting.
"CRAWLY!" He screamed at the wood. "OPEN UP! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE AND I DEMAND TO KNOW WHAT YOU DID IN MY INFIRMARY!"
His fist slammed against in a few more times, waiting for the demon to open it up.
Setting: Crowley's Room
Status: Private - Raphael and Crowley (Complete)
Summary: Raphael wants to know what happened.
Raphael awoke nearly a full day later, no longer tired but still making an effort. He blushed, crawled out of the sheets and resumed his standard sexless form with a sigh. It feel dull and almost too tight, but it was better than repeating his shameful performance of the last few days. The angel couldn't completely recall what had happened - at least not at the moment - but he did remember who'd gotten him into the pajamas and most of what had come afterward. He sighed again and went to take a long hot shower, hoping it would wash off the feeling of uncleanliness he had.
As the water pounded on him, his thoughts drifting to Falling and what it would take to go that far. He couldn't see, however, how anything that he was doing was wrong. After toweling himself dry, he stepped into his room, brushed his hair and put on a clean robe, tossing the pajamas aside. It had been ages since he'd gone to the hospital wing, or so it seemed to him, and it would probably be best to go there and make sure things were in order. Not that many people got sick - but it seemed to be his duty.
When he reached the wing, however, he found a rather unpleasant surprise waiting for him.
Somebody had performed a major operation without his permission!
Incesnsed, he stormed off to the room of the one known trouble-maker in the mansion whose lingering aura he'd sensed. Frankie followed close at his heels until they came to the appropriate door. Raphael banged on with all the fury of a righteous archangel about to do some serious smiting.
"CRAWLY!" He screamed at the wood. "OPEN UP! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE AND I DEMAND TO KNOW WHAT YOU DID IN MY INFIRMARY!"
His fist slammed against in a few more times, waiting for the demon to open it up.
no subject
"You don't think I tried? They don't want any part of it!" He shot back vehemently. "You want to know the truth? Fine. I failed. FAILED. They were more interested in... in money and cosmetic cures. Finding solutions for male pattern baldness and making Viagra. They put kids on pills for normal activity and keep medicine away from the poor who need it! But I can't subvert their free will. I can't make them do anything. I do the best I can but I can't do anything if they are not interested!"
He breathed though he didn't need to. Then he stopped struggling and went slack.
"Everbody says that," he whispered. "But I don't want to. I just... I don't see why I can't ask questions. I thought things were different. I didn't know that some... activities were permitted. It doesn't seem fair that others are not."
Raphael looked Crowley in the eyes then looked away.
"At least I'll always have at least one being," he said, thinking of Michael and his promises. Then he looked at Crowley, nervous and skittish.
"You don't really think I'm going to Fall, do you?"
no subject
He had the idea that if Raphael allowed Pestilence to spread disease a bit more freely, it would frighten people into funding research against it again and possibly draw their attention back to their health, but he'd be more damned if he was going to suggest it at the moment. Raphael wouldn't listen and could react so violently that not only his point would be lost, but he would probably get hurt in the process.
Crowley's arms were starting to ache, but he willed the pain away and kept a tight grip on the angel.
"Regardless, you have got to start thinking outside the box, like Famine and his Adam forsaken Meals. I can't say I like the idea, but that was bloody brilliant thinking on his part. When no one was starving anymore did he whinge and cry and give up? No. He turned the fucking world on its head by making people fat and malnourished and now they don't even realize that they're starving. No matter what you think of the result, the concept is breathtaking."
Crowley needed to reply to Raphael's other concern next and he really didn't want to. Turning away a moment from the angel's blue-green gaze, he spoke quietly.
"Sometimes if everyone is telling you something, then you should at least try to listen. And of course you don't want to Fall. No one does."
His yellow eyes glowed momentarily.
"Look, Raphael, I can't tell you why some things are allowed and other things aren't, because I don't know. If I did, I might still be an angel. But those are the rules we have to play with or face the consequences. You want to know why, take it up with the boss, but leave the rest of us out of it."
no subject
The problem is barriers that people themselves put up between the medical care and others. What am I supposed to do in the face of that? I'm a healer, not an economist. Helping other people isn't necessarily the top priority of pharmecutical companies or surgeons."
He could feel his arms bruising under the demon's grip, but he figured he could heal it later. There was no way to wiggle free but Crowley didn't seem to be letting go.
"And I have so been creative! DDR, for instance. Jazzercise. Pilates! But for most of them it never lasts long. I'm deluged - for some of them, their entire lifestyle is stacked against health. And there was never 'nobody starving.' The problems are different everywhere and most of the time its other people causing those problems.
You want thinking outside the box? Great. I thought of killing Pestlience. Eliminate the inspiration. Turns out Uriel doesn't like that idea very much."
He looked to the wall, thinking about his previous run-ins with the other angels.
"Who am I supposed to listen to? Someone telling me not to do the most that I can? Or my own desire to help the people who need it? And if the orders I hear are different from what my own heart or conscience or whatever tells me to do, what then?
Then what do I do? I doubt you can tell me."
He looked at Crowley and tugged, trying to get his arms free, but stopped.
"And maybe I've been sharp. I'm sorry for that. That is my fault. But coming here has been like like having a rug pulled out beneath you, when things you thought were wrong aren't and you don't even know what's right... but why should there be consequences for trying to help? It's not like I'm hurting people!"
He paused, thinking.
"Crowley? Does it hurt to Fall? Is it as bad as they say?"
no subject
And your little pipe-dream about killing Pestilence isn't going to work. If you don't listen to a single other thing that I say, listen to this. There are no simple solutions to complex problems. Sometimes there is no good answer and you have to choose between the lesser of two evils. But you keep making choices and eventually it works out."
Crowley was getting tired. This argument, which he wasn't even sure he should be participating in, coming so soon after the traumatic surgery made him feel flustered and Raphael's question more so. He rolled off the angel and sat on the edge of his bed not looking at Raphael behind him.
"Does it hurt to Fall?" he repeated incredulously. Crowley had never discussed this with Aziraphale, or anyone else for that matter. He barely acknowledged it to himself. And Raphael just asked, as if it were a simple question.
Wondering for a moment what would happen if he didn't answer, Crowley got a very clear image of Raphael looking at him accusingly with fiery eyes and saying, 'You never said!' Shutting his eyes against the picture, he finally answered.
"Yes. More than you can possibly imagine... It's as though everything that you ever liked about yourself was burned out of your soul leaving nothing but a void that you'd do anything to fill up again." There was a pained pause.
"I don't recommend it," he said, resorting to sarcasm to hide the raw emotional honesty. "Hell has a lousy pension plan."
no subject
Some humans don't ever care about not being healthy! They know the consequences for smoking, know the consequences of eating poorly, know the consequences of drugs - and still they engage in dangerous activity. I'm at my limit; I can do no more than inform them.
In poorer countries, some of them can't even get help. Again - corruption and greed takes things away from them. Even if I understood to the number how it worked, I can't force government officials to send aid where it's supposed to go.
Children too young to know what's happening suffer and all anybody can tell me is that I need to 'let the humans work these things out.' I don't want to hear that, not when I can make things right!"
His frustration came flooding out and he thought about Pestilance angrily. Balance didn't make sense; if you had an enemy you should defeat him, as simple as that; particularly one as dangerous as Pestilence.
"And maybe it wouldn't solve anything. But you don't know that for sure; sometimes the simplest answers are the right ones. One never knows until one tries. Even the attempt, for their sakes, might be worth it. Besides, he's had it coming from me since the Plague."
The minute Crowley let him go, he scrambled away from the demon and gatherd Frankie into his arms. He was still on the bed but he held the dog as a barrier between him and Crowley and sat with his back against the wall.
As Crowley spoke he thought about pain beyond imagining and an emptiness that couldn't be filled. Even with his knowledge of pain and suffering, it was hard to envision. He bowed his head against Frankie and a couple tears slid quietly down his face.
"I hate this place," he muttered. "I get left out of everything, I'm no help at all, all these prescences are agitating... I never had to think about Falling before I came here. Never thought this way... never felt..."
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and cast a sideways glance at Crowley.
"And I'm not stupid," he said defiantly. "You never said what happened in the infirmary. I didn't forget. So tell me." He paused. "Please."
no subject
He turned to face the angel again.
"You really want to know what happened? Fine. I ripped into someone's living flesh and in pain and screaming and blood delivered him from what you seem so determined to claim yourself.
"It's true, Raphael, that Falling will solve all your problems. You won't be able to heal as well as you can now, but then you won't want to anymore either, so that's all right. Pestilence, greed, and corruption will win and I'm sure we'll all be better for it."
Crowley slumped against the footboard wondering why all these things seemed to happen to him.
"Now that you have your precious information, would you bugger off?"
no subject
"I listen. Listen enough to hear that every time I say 'can' and 'do' I get told that it's not the way things ought to be, that I'm not allowed. And whenever I disagree, there are insinuations about Falling. Asking questions never ends well," he mimicked. "Uriel still has his sword. How am I supposed to react to that, if Falling is as horrid as you say?"
The blood drained from his face.
"That's hardly an explanation. But even so - you should have gotten me. Whatever it was, precisely, I could have done it better. And I'm not 'determined' to claim anything."
He stood next to Crowley, looking down on him for once.
"And why would I not want to? I wouldn't be a different being so to speak. Would I?" He asked doubtfully. "I just wouldn't be on the same side. Not that I would ever defy my Lord. But if I chose not to listen to mine, I certainly wouldn't heed yours. And then what would he do?" He said with a hint of defiance. "Kill me?"
no subject
Crowley rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on and not caring.
"You couldn't have done any better than I," he said simply. "My surgical skills are fine. You wouldn't have been able to do what needed to be done in the end." He winced, the memory of that noise reverberating in his head.
"You keep telling me that you're not stupid - not naive - but you still think you can keep your personality intact and defy Lucifer's rule after a Fall. If you could, you'd the the first. And if you have the ego to believe that you could be the first, then you probably should Fall."
Crowley glared. "Don't refer to Him Below as my Lord, either, would you? There's only one person that has my allegiance and it's not Lucifer. I may have to do what he says, but I don't have to like it or Him."
no subject
He sighed then looked at Crowley curiously.
"If I have not Fallen, how could I know? And if you don't ally yourself with him, then whom? Yourself? And if that's so - that you aren't truly loyal - isn't that defiance? Of a sort."
no subject
Crowley was sick of this conversation and just wanted Raphael to leave. The angel was beginning to sound like a broken record, but Crowley liked to have the last word in an argument.
"I never did say there is only angel and demon. I know now for certain that there is at least one other category, but the path there is a terrible one. What I said is that if you don't behave like an angel is supposed to, then you become a demon. You don't get to choose a point to stop along the way. It's not like He's going to offer you neutrality and free will just because you were bright enough to question things."
His headache was worsening and Crowley leaned his head against the bed.
"And I didn't judge your surgical ability. Only a demon could have done what I did, regardless of skill."
Deciding to ignore Raphael's last questions, Crowley tried again to end the conversation. It wasn't safe to discuss such things with anyone but particularly an archangel.
"I think I've answered enough of your questions. I'd like you to leave now."
no subject
He was still annoyed about the intrusion on his hospital and too bothered to question about the 'other category' Crowley had mentioned. More than ever Falling pressed on his mind.
The operation that had gone on without him, coupled with the further conversation, made things even worse. He was not useful, he was not wanted and staying was making him contemplate terrible courses of action. There was no reason to stay...
Except orders, he reminded himself. And you know what happens when you violate those.
As for what was considered 'staying,' however...
"Come on, Frankie," he sighed, going to his room and making sure things were closed up and in order. "Lets see if we can't get away for a bit and help the people who need it. And then maybe we'll go home for a bit and see your family, OK?"
He considered putting a lock on the door to the hospital wing but then decided not to. What was the use? Adam could probably break it anyway.
Yet again, as he seemed to do with increasing frequency, Raphael fled the manor.
no subject
He'll be ours within the year, thought Crowley ironically and with no sense of satisfaction, and I'll be able to take credit for the Fall of an archangel. That's never been done before. It'll be a dukedom for me, at least. I'll get respect, status, and power, too...
It was a nice fantasy for a moment, but somehow he couldn't convince himself that he really wanted that. He'd have felt better if he just thought his arguments had held any sway over Raphael at all.
You're getting soft, Crowley.
And perhaps he was, because what he did next was stand up, walk through the bathroom connecting his room to Aziraphale's, and sweep the angel up in his arms. He didn't say anything, nor did he allow Aziraphale to say anything. He just simply held him tightly until the pain went away.