ranguvar33 | Frozen Tears: A Good Omens Fanfic

Frozen Tears

He’s so cold.

Aziraphale looks around at the others. They’re huddled in the boat(which surely holds more people than this, he thinks, there’s still so much room left) silent and still in the cold. He wonders if the look on their faces is reflected in his own.

He’d taken this trip on a whim. He’d been in Belfast for a blessing(and resolutely trying to deny that he was missing Crowley terribly), and the advert had caught his eye. He’d signed up for the voyage under the name Ezra Fell.

And oh, for a few short days it had been bliss. The food, the music, the company. It hadn’t quite taken away the pain he felt at the demon...his friend not being there, but it had dulled it some.

Then. Then came that horrible, sickening crunch, the scraping sound like a million souls screaming.

Aziraphale remembers the rest in bursts. The frantic run to the lifeboats. The ship…

It was meant to be unsinkable… there was no way anything could sink it…

Aziraphale watches. He watches as the ship cracks in half and sinks beneath the frigid waters.

Aziraphale listens. He knows the others don’t hear what he does. He cannot..will not block out the sounds of crying. Of children crying. He wants so badly to cry himself, but he’s too cold.

Unbidden, a face appears before him. “Not the kids. You can’t kill kids.” And oh, how he wishes he could save them. Save them all from this cold, cruel death. But he can’t.

He’s so cold.

His tears freeze on his face.

100 Years Later

It’s one of their days off, and they’re in the back room of his Soho bookstore, sharing a bottle of very lovely wine. Crowley is going on about something, and Aziraphale is only half listening. But then Crowley says “Titanic exhibition” and his senses are on full alert.

“I was there, you know.” Aziraphale tries to keep his voice light. “On the Titanic.”

“Yeah?” Crowley takes a breath. “What...what was it like?”

Aziraphale gives him a tight, false smile that goes nowhere near his eyes. “Oh, it was so luxurious! The food was so marvelous, and I had my very own stateroom! With a steward, no less! And such wonderfully intellectual people! It was...”

“Aziraphale.” Crowley’s soft voice stops his babbling. “That’s not what I meant.”

Aziraphale’s face twists. “It was...it was...so cold. I could hear them crying, begging, praying...and I couldn’t do anything!!”

He’s not sure what happens next. All he knows is that he’s surrounded by black wings, and Crowley’s arms are around him.

The tears that froze one hundred years ago now burn.