People are crazy and times are strange [ open ]

[inequal]

WHO: Liam (Owen) [inequal] and ANYONE.
WHAT: Somebody else got struck by the memory rehab bug, thinks his name is something else. Now Liam's trying to deal with the idea that he might have his head screwed on wrong without being able to tell.
WHERE: All around the Cave, notably: the Bar; the Supply Depot; near the Living Quarters; a secluded corner.
WHEN: April 10th (Tuesday) through April 12th (Thursday).
NOTES: What the hell is consistent narrative name, do not even get me started on trying to figure out which one to use. IT'S JUST "HE" AND "HIM" OKAY.

His Tuesday started out simply enough, some murky memory (or was it a dream?) floating up to remind him of a white room and then... nothing, really. Probably just made it up. No, his day really started with a buzz in his head and a request for his husband to turn off the bloody overhead light, if you please, George.

That was his first sign that something was wrong. It didn't feel wrong, but the sheer comfort with which he identified as Owen Bates (not... Liam McNally or whatever name it was that George—Ken?—said it should be) gave him a shudder if he stopped to think about it for too long. Exactly why he immediately sought out Arthur Stieber at the Supply Depot and was told to swing by later that night after work.

Fine, whatever. He could wait another few hours. So he went with his spouse to the Bar and spent the next few hours ignoring the twitch in his foot and fingers. Scaring off the customers would not do, even if the only exchange he cared about tended to be the conversational sort and nothing to do with money.

He was out like a bolt by closing time and off to retrieve the pack of cigarettes as Arthur had promised. Horrible habit to get back into when he was still not physically addicted, but the psychological effects were already ingrained deeply enough. It wasn't until Wednesday that he had the chance to secret himself into an underdeveloped crevice on the west side of the Cave and finally light up. Hopefully the smoke would dissipate before anyone else caught wind of it, because despite popular belief, he did not try to bury himself in as much trouble as possible at all times. George Ken George would likely be worried and that kept him from lighting a second despite the urge.

The rest of Wednesday proceeded as normal... what accounted for normal in this place, anyway. Some exploration in the day and work in the afternoon, all the way to After Hours. Thursday found him escaping to the crevice once again, lighter and cigarette clutched in hand, then off to the Depot again with George to retrieve more rations.

It was perhaps the least exciting lifestyle he had indulged in for nearly sixty years. Nevertheless, Owen could not stop the dread coiling in his gut that the other shoe was primed just perfectly to drop any day now.

Comments

[tartanisstylish]

His smile faltered - just a bit, for just a moment, and then he pulled it back up. He felt a stab of very unangelic jealousy. Why was it that he was alone and this man was not? Not that he begrudged him the company, as it was clearly someone he cared for very deeply, but - why him? "Oh, well, I'm sure you had more to do with it than you think," he said, for something to say, while at the same time thinking, Fall. What an apt choice of words. Is that what will happen? Or has it already happened?

"Well," Aziraphale added, straightening his collar under the sudden scrutiny, "I have the benefit of age to keep me certain of who I am. Enough years make for very stubborn . . . dreams."

[inequal]

Brow furrowed, Owen cast his gaze more critically over Aziraphale before allowing that one to pass. He could understand the feeling of loneliness — he did indeed have George, but their daughter was lost to them. Perhaps for the better, even if it didn't help the ache.

"You don't look that old," he observed instead, a teasing remark. Of all people, he knew that appearance meant very little when it came to one's age. Here he was, eighty-one years old and looking not even yet to thirty if he was a day.

[tartanisstylish]

Grateful that his shift in expression had gone unnoticed, Aziraphale shrugged slightly. "I don't look that young either," he commented tartly. "But really, what do looks mean in the end? They can be altered, one way or another. I'm old enough, believe you me."

[inequal]

It hadn't entirely gone unnoticed, so much as it wasn't commented on. Normally, the rudeness wouldn't have stopped Owen from trying to nose in and talk about what was wrong... but this whole day was anything but normal.

Owen chuckled. "That makes two of us. Not sure age is going to be enough on its own, though," he mused after a moment. He took another inhale of the smoke, then sighed and dropped the spent cigarette in order to grind it out.

[tartanisstylish]

"Well." Aziraphale shrugged. "Wisdom, perhaps?" He felt himself a fairly good judge of wisdom. He used to be able to sense it on people, just a bit, like a faint perfume. Not anymore, of course. "Open-mindedness?" he hazarded. "Or perseverance. All useful qualities in confusing situations, I would imagine."

Sighing, he glanced out of the crevice into the Cave. "What I wouldn't give for some good, honest weather right now," he muttered. "Snow. Rain. Hail, even, I'd take hail." It just didn't feel quite real as it was.

[inequal]

"If what they say is true, we'll have our chance for weather soon enough." Owen leaned his shoulder against the wall and made do with the poor view it gave him to the rest of the Cave. "Right now I'd just like to find anybody else who agrees this is crazy."

Not saying that it wasn't true, though certainly skirting the very edges. He just wasn't satisfied that they were supposed to take what they were told with nothing to truly help support it. The picture and video... Well, he was trying not to lean too far, either way.

His head tilted to the side, and he continued, "Open-mindedness, if you'd like."

[tartanisstylish]

"I'd take it," he said. "All those dreams gave me a taste for rain."

Smiling, not at anything in particular, he added, "Yes, let's say open-mindedness and allow for the unpredictability of human nature, and I'm sure everything will turn out as it should. Or if not, then interestingly." He mimicked Owen's posture, head tapping back onto the stone.

[inequal]

"It'd be nice to feel some rain," agreed Owen, after giving it a moment of genuine consideration. It had been way too long since he'd properly felt the effects of nature.

He returned the smile with a grin of his own. "Glass half full kinda guy, eh? I like that." Speaking of unpredictability, that was another thing... "They say herding cats is impossible, but I have to wonder if they don't realize herding people can be even worse."

[tartanisstylish]

"I try to be, yes. It makes things easier."

Aziraphale shook his head. "Can't be done. That's the beauty of free will. Everyone goes off in an entirely different direction and soon it's not a herd, it's a diaspora. Always been difficult to manage, you - us."

He bit the inside corner of his mouth. He'd met Dr. Freud briefly. Not quite a Freudian slip, but not entirely unintentional. How he did hate being guarded - but hopefully Owen wouldn't notice.

[inequal]

No such luck. Owen had managed to wind down—or convinced himself he was as unwound as he could get at the moment—and so his attention turned elsewhere. Namely, the man next to him and the lighter in his hand. It wasn't very hard to tear his gaze from the click-clack of the lighter's lid when he heard the backpedal.

"Bit of a God-complex there?" For all that it was an innocent joke, Owen had run into several supernatural creatures back home who had tried elevating themselves above the human condition. It never really worked out.

[tartanisstylish]

"No!" Aziraphale waved his hands defensively in front of him, looking horrified. What an awful thing to say! He might be entirely unqualified to be an angel, but he was certainly no God. "No," he repeated in a normal tone, and cleared his throat. "Quite the opposite. No."

He was so bad at this.

[inequal]

Brow furrowed playfully, Owen guessed, "Devil complex?" It was entirely Aziraphale's own fault for using opposite to try and dissuade him. Obviously there was something there, but going straight for the heart of the matter rarely worked like one would hope.

[tartanisstylish]

"Er." Aziraphale felt distinctly uncomfortable and tugged on his collar. Blasphemy, wasn't it? "I mean, it's more a case of . . . distinctly neither?" That made no sense. He scratched the back of his neck. "But I do agree with you!" he attempted brightly. "Herding cats! Absolutely. Very apt."

[inequal]

"Apt indeed," murmured Owen. He then waved his hand up near his head, as if moving on to another topic. "Same issue with getting people around here to answer anything straight. What with that law the coppers are making sure we remember."

[tartanisstylish]

"Yes." Aziraphale sighed, partially with regret at the unnecessary measures and partially with relief that he'd gotten by relatively unquestioned. "I don't really understand what would be so difficult about a dialogue. All the Workers just seem so . . . irritable."

[inequal]

Considering the fact that Aziraphale could turn him over any moment for possession of contraband, Owen figured he could push his luck at some other time when it was more relevant.

Besides, he wasn't sure how much he wanted to be caught out breaking that particular law when the Workers were clearly willing to do... whatever it was that was apparently confusing him on his own name when Owen (Liam) had done nothing wrong before then. It would at least serve to be more careful until they knew what had happened.

"When they need a guy specifically just to talk to us, I don't think there's anything reasonable about it. Not much we can do there," he said with a large shrug.

[tartanisstylish]

"A good point." An unfortunate point, but perhaps things would be better when they got to the City. It was worth hoping for.

Remembering that Owen had put out his cigarette, Aziraphale turned to him apologetically. "Did you need to leave? I'm sorry, I don't mean to keep you if you do. Just blathering on. Though you're wonderful to talk to." He smiled widely.

[inequal]

"Blathering is about all I'm good for sometimes," Owen said with an indulgent grin. When he wasn't much of a physical presence, making himself known through using his voice was his only option. "George—er, my husband... he'd worry if I smoked too much. Just got my new start away from it."

Whether that was an attempt at pardoning himself or simply explaining why he had not lit up another cigarette, it was hard to say. Getting back to George (Ken?) would be a good idea; much as he appreciated the short reprieve, he would also appreciate time back at the flat before work started.

[tartanisstylish]

"Your support?" Aziraphale would freely admit that human love was mostly a mystery to him, but it made him smile nevertheless. It was, in its purest form, a wholehearted devotion on an equal footing. So human, to transform the social need for companionship into a pair bond.

"As a friend," he said conspiratorially, "I must tell you that the close air in here will probably leave your clothes smelling a bit of smoke. Fair warning. But your secret's safe with me." He winked.

[inequal]

"That would be him. If you drop by the Bar, you should get to meet him, too," he mused. George wasn't exactly the most social on the best of days, but that was all the more reason Owen wanted to make sure that he didn't close his ranks far too tightly.

Owen grimaced and automatically plucked at the front of his shirt. The thought hadn't totally occurred to him yet. He would probably have to air his clothes out... somehow. Getting it past George wouldn't be easy, but he would rather deal with his husband fretting and getting annoyed than tipping off the guard force. "Aye, yeah. Thanks for the tip, John."

[tartanisstylish]

"That would be lovely." He was very curious to meet the man who would complement Owen. He'd have to be remarkable indeed.

"Not a problem," he added, and then glanced out of the entrance again. "Although I'm afraid I do need to go, now. There's a few things I want to do before I meet you later." Reviewing that video, for one. This conversation had created more questions than it had answered. "But I'll see you later this evening?"

[inequal]

"Absolutely," Owen agreed. He needed to get back to his own place, anyway. Making a shooing motion, he added, "Get going. No need to stick around for this old man's sake." Teasing words and nothing more, born of the habit to only appear and converse with people who knew what he was. Monitoring his speech was going to become a pain...

[tartanisstylish]

Laughing, Aziraphale nodded and wiggled his fingers over his shoulder. "Same to you," he said, "solidarity in maturity and whatnot. I'll see you."

As he walked toward the residence, he marveled at himself. He'd had a mostly successful conversation with a human being. And he'd quite liked him. Perhaps this wouldn't be so difficult after all.