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video/ mid-afternoon

[This was bullocks. This was absolute bullocks. He felt like he'd stepped into a rerun of the bloody Xfactor or whatever it was. Reincarnation, memories from another life, nonsense. Absolute rubbish. Yet he couldn't stop dreaming about it. Every night it had happened. The girl in the water, pulling her out, some agony tight in his chest-- and-- incredible loneliness. Incredible grief. More than once he'd woken up in tears and so was running on as little sleep as possible.

So when he appears on the feed, he's looking haggard and cross. He's never been much for technology. He's also wanted to avoid touching this... supernatural disaster-- but he's exhausted all other possibilities short of going to therapy and if it is connected to this-- organization, maybe someone can give him a clue]

My name is Crowley. I'm looking for a missing girl, about eleven to fourteen. Shoulder length dirty-blonde or brunette hair, wearing a locket. Heart shaped. If anyone's seen her, or knows anything about her, let me know.

Or if anyone can tell me about the Bureau. The truth about the Bureau. Not the interdimensional whatever it is. How prevalent are they? How prevalent are 'we'? Is anyone doing any sort of investigating at all?

[and while he knew it wasn't a good idea to question so openly on their own network, he needed information. And it would be interesting to see what they did with this threat, if anything.]

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How the hell did you-- [oh wait. Wait. Bloody hell. He knew Anthony was here, of course, though he hadn't gotten around to contacting him. It had only been half a year. And he should have guessed that idiot would be mixed up in this but-- God. Right off the bat! He runs a hand over his eyes, tells himself to breathe and then]

Anthony is my cousin. [why couldn't he have looked like anyone else.

He leans back in the chair which creaks and the posh man may see some of the classroom behind him, complete with some scrawls on the whiteboard that could, under some circumstances, be considered writing]

I'm not going to trust their answers. All they'll do is tell me what they want me to hear. [he taps a pen against the desk] What have you seen? What was your memory?

Oh. [He had funny sort of thought of there's two of them and quickly dismissed it. Don't think like that. That's...weird.] Your cousin. I see.

You're of course welcome to any conclusions you'd like to draw regarding their answers. And I'm sure many of us would be inclined to agree. But I'm not interested in discussing my memory openly on the network, Crowley. Those things are private.

Where should I meet you then.

[Is he being a bit of a terrier about this? Yes. Overstepping boundaries? Possibly. But he needs to see if there are any similarities. Either that or this man is working alongside them because he seems all too eager to continually point him in the way of people he doesn't trust]

...Meet you? I didn't agree to meet you! That's awfully presumptuous of you to think that I'd like to meet you and tell you anything about my memory just because I know your cousin.

[he thought he'd give it a shot. The ponce hadn't said anything about not telling him in private. Not that he blamed him, but it didn't mean he wasn't hiding something. More tapping of the pen against the desk as he looks away, tugs at his mud colored tie]

Can you at least tell me if it had any themes? Fire? Flood? Drowning? Falling?

[He decides to be a little nice. Only because he's Anthony's cousin. Not because they look so very much alike. Frankly, he finds Crowley rude and blunt and disagreeable and that is not at all an attractive trait. So by all accounts he should not be encouraging more conversation, and yet... He doesn't want to shut out a new Different, not when everyone responds to this differently. Crowley might not always be such a pain in the ass.]

For my first memory, I was in a park. It was just a park with stone dinosaur statues. No great thematic elements. These last few memories had a fiery theme to them, I guess. Unless reptiles count as a theme, then we have the dinosaurs and a snake.

Do you think all of our visions might be thematically linked? What was yours about, other than a child, obviously.

You've had more than one? How many? [it seems a bit odd to him, but he files it in his memory, making a mental note to write it out later. And then another thought occurs...]

Does... everyone around you seem to feel them too?

[because so many had watched him with hollow eyes that first time. As if they'd seen it. As if they knew it had something to do with him. As if they'd felt that same despair]

That's what I'm trying to find out, if anything is linked. But I wonder if it's a repressed memory or-- something implanted... A false memory. [he hesitates before answering the question. Fair was fair and maybe it would trigger something]

I was pulling her out of the water, where I'd found her. [and every time he hoped she would be alive somehow. As if he'd misjudged or missed something. That he'd set her on the bank and she would spit up water and begin to breathe again. Every time he knew it was hopeless.]

Ah. A handful. Three or four maybe, after the first? These others have been a good deal longer. But sometimes they come to me in fractions, so it's difficult to say how many exactly. And no, no I don't think anyone else sees them anymore. The Bureau doesn't show up for these new ones either, at least not that I'm aware of. We experience them alone, and they can come any time.

[He hesitates, because he's not sure how much of this should be theorized openly, but plenty of people have questioned it, either on the network or the support group, so he indulges Crowley's theorizing a moment.] Could be. There are theories, but as far as I've heard, no definitive answers. Or evidence, really.

[Although Aziraphale doesn't know what to do or say, he's sympathetic. And guilty. He and Anthony had been discussing killing a child in his memory. What would have happened to that boy? How would he have died? Would someone had found him, as Crowley found his drowned girl? Was her death an accident? What context had Crowley found her in?

The silence drags on a moment before Aziraphale finally finds words.]

Oh, Crowley. I'm sorry. I assume she was- I know this isn't any consolation, but a lot of these visions seem to be traumatic.

Have you...have you spoken to anyone? Your cousin?

[so more than one memory. Theories. He didn't know if this man would be forthcoming with them and maybe didn't want to hear them over the network anyway. He needed to...meet him outside somehow. Find out where he lived or worked. That might be problematic. Something in him said it was in his jurisdiction but he wasn't a bloody cop.

He makes a face at the at the apology]

I'm not the one you should feel sorry for. [he was fine. Just fine. At least in terms of the nightmare that kept him awake at nights and made it difficult to eat as he would suddenly remember the smell of someone who had been in the river for three days]

Maybe it's really some sort of illness. [if there was a collective trauma. But that didn't explain Bureau or what they were telling people.]

I haven't yet. How do you know him? I take it he hasn't been too much of a pain in the neck for you.

Crowley... [The softness of the name rolls out of him without thought, oddly familiar despite how little he's had reason to use it with Anthony. He's in no position to pry or offer condolences where they're obviously unwanted, but this sort of thing was traumatic. Crowley needs to talk to someone.]

I hope it's not. But it all feels a bit science-fictiony, so nothing can be ruled out, can it.

[Aziraphale shrugs and adds with a lighter tone.]

Anthony's been a bit of a disaster, but nothing I can't handle. I feel like 'how I know him,' however, is something for him to tell you, not me.

[another face. Don't say his name like that. No one has ever said his name like that. Not even-- Well, never. It is not a name meant for saying in that tone and feels like it should be applied to someone else. He tried to forget it]

But that's why it's a lie, okay? If it's science fiction it's not true. They're hiding something. They've... buried something. It doesn't make any sense.

[he shakes his head. And then... peers at the man. Nothing he couldn't.. handle? How he knows him?]

Been dating long then?

Things don't tend to make sense until you have more information anyway.

[Aziraphale blushes, which probably says enough, though he's trying very hard to look cross and tell Crowley off.]

...I did not say anything like that. You're making an awful lot of assumptions.

Anyway, that's not how I know your cousin.

[the blush says a lot. Too much. Especially coupled with the slight hesitation after. He hoped it was Anthony's personality this man was after and not the looks. Though that would explain the soft tone of the name earlier.]

People are usually not that secretive about relationships unless they have something to hide.

It's either dating or accomplice. [it's a joke. Mostly. But it might be difficult to tell as his tone didn't shift much]

Anyway, I don't care. Unless you're part of a crime syndicate then I might care a little.

[and then because he realizes he hadn't asked]

What's your name?

[Aziraphale looks just a tiny bit alarmed at that joke and almost tells Crowley that Anthony appeared in his memory. Almost. The guilt is a bit overwhelming. He laughs uneasily.]

You can call me Mr. Fell.

[yeah, there was something up. That was entirely too close to a pseudonym for comfort. What was it? Some kind of smuggling? Shop lifting ring? Drug trafficking? Who knew what Anthony could be lured into.]

Fell.

[he should get to know the man actually. Figure out what he was hiding.]

We should-- if-- [how the hell to phrase this] I'd still like to have lunch. [a beat] At some point.

[and sound like the biggest fucking idiot while doing it apparently]

[He frowned at him, puzzled by the stumbling request. Oh, Crowley, you awkward human being.]

Is this about the memories or are you going to try to give me the shovel talk?

Shovel talk? [that's a new one. he wondered if he even wanted to know]

I think that's what it's called, yes! [He was unduly pleased to explain a pop-culture reference to someone else for once.] That talk were you say something like: if you ever hurt him, I will break you.

I'm not entirely sure where the shovel comes in, to be honest.

Hadn't occurred to me no. [though he would without a doubt break Fell if he actually hurt Anthony.]

It's-- He's not likely to be forthcoming about anything. And I'd like to-- [get to know you sounded like he was wanting to take him for dinner and a snog] --talk.

Not forthcoming, yes. Well, I think being rather difficult seems to run in the family.

To...talk. Alright, I guess. Fine. When would be good for you?

Why do people always say that? [they'd clearly never met any of his parents or even his Stepfather come to think of it.]

Sometime on the weekend unless you want to work around school hours.

Well, my friend's partner has a 'poetry' reading Saturday at 6 that I promised to attend ages ago. [There's definitely regret in there.]

...I don't suppose you're free around 6 on Saturday?

[Oh God. Poetry. He hated poetry. So much. Especially the poetry of other people who thought they were clever when really they couldn't rhyme their way out of a paper bag on fire. Or put in little artistic flourishes that made him think of Shatner except that he'd lapsed into a coma every ten minutes]

I'll be there. [kill him now] Do I have to wear anything, or--?

Well, you have to wear something. It's not that kind of gathering. But no, actually, I was hoping you could give me an excuse to get out of it.

Unless you'd like to go listen to pretentious drivel, but I've heard his poetry. He isn't very good. I don't know why they're dating.

Of course I meant to wear something. [he flushed. Fell had known what he'd meant]

I try never to ask myself that question. [as he never really wants to know the answer]

Sure, let's do something else then. Dinner? Somewhere?

video/ mid-afternoon

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