#lovermrjokerr

Tuesday 6:00 PM

A flat-line broke the silence in the room and you were up and alert. Leonard instantly came out of the room knowing that you would want to go in. He held you in place while you tried to move past him aggressively. "Let me go...please. I see to see him." Tears brimmed your eyes as you tried to enter the room. Making eye contact with you, he forced you to stop. "Look, you've done more than enough to help him. Right now, I need you to stay out here or everything we did...everything you just did would have been for nothing. I'll come and get you as soon as I can, but I need you to stay here for me, and for him. Please." You glance behind him but quickly close your eyes, feeling the tears falling down your face. Giving him a nod, you reluctantly step away and go sit down. As long as Leonard has been your friend, he has never seen you so heartbroken. So vulnerable. He gives you one last look before hearing a nurse call out "Doctor McCoy! He's still crashing!" and running back into the room.

Thursday 10:00 PM

You didn't want to sleep, but that seemed to be the only option at the time instead of pacing around the room. You were still in the clothes from your mission, not wanting to go change in case he was awake. You felt a gentle shake of your shoulder, causing your eyes to open. Leonard was standing over you with a cup of water in his hand. "I would have woke you up earlier, but you looked like you needed the rest." Groggily sitting up from the now very uncomfortable spot in the chair, he hands you a cup of water. After drinking practically the whole cup, you ask "How long was I out?" He checks his watch. "About four hours." Your eyes widen for a moment before mumbling, "I guess I did need some sleep." Leonard nodded and there was a silence before he spoke up again. 

"He's alright. He flat-lined again after you went to sleep, but we got him back. All of his symptoms are gone, but now he needs two pints of blood to replace what he lost earlier. I really hate to ask this of you, but I know you're a universal donor. Do y-" You cut him off and give him a small nod. "I already know, and I'll do it." Leonard suddenly becomes even more serious. "If we do this, then I have to watch over your vitals too. I don't expect anything bad to happen, but I can't take any chances. I had someone on my team swap the chairs with the couch in the waiting room, so you have something a little bit more comfortable to sit on." 

After a quick stretch to loosen your stiff body, you follow Leonard into the medbay. You go to a room in the back and that's when you ultimately get a chance to fully see him without all the medical personnel. Cautiously walking over to the side of the bed, you get a good look at his face for the first time. His name finally being able to slip from your lips. 

"Jim."

He looked awful. Thin wires of ash and blue flames crawled up his neck and passed by his sunken-in eyes. Almost as if he was sick and fighting for his life, and he finally lost. You took a seat on the couch, very happy to be on something that wasn't rock hard. Very hesitantly, you took Jim's hand in yours. It was almost stone-cold, but still, you hoped that they would return to their comfortable warmth. Leonard came over with all his materials and gave a nod. Giving him one in return, he got started. 

Friday 2:00 AM

You were growing restless. The transfusion worked, and the color returned to Jim's face, but he didn't wake up. Leonard said that it could take a few days for his body to fully function, but you couldn't stand not knowing for sure. You refused to leave his side, with the exception of Leonard forcing you out to change out of your mission clothes and into something else. Jim's hand was intertwined with your every hour of the day, wanting him to know that someone was here for him and that they weren't going anywhere. It was late, or early rather, and you were still sitting on that couch holding Jim's hand while going through some paperwork you missed days before. It was too hard for you to concentrate on the stupid paperwork with everything going on. With a sigh, you closed the file and tossed the pen on the side table. You sat there for a while, just breathing. Just thinking. That's when you felt it. 

A squeeze on your hand. 

Sitting up and almost giving yourself a headache, you glanced back and forth between your hand and his still closed eyes. You whispered quietly. "Jim? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand again. Just a little squeeze. Okay?" You kept glancing at his hand in yours, waiting to feel the same sensation you were dying to feel again. After a couple of minutes of no response, you sighed and looked down, trying not to cry again. That's when you felt it the second time, only longer. You blinked the tears away and looked over at his hand in yours. Giving it a small squeeze yourself, you watch as his arm tenses up and does the same back to you. Looking at his face, you see his eyes trying to open, and that's when you get even more excited. "Yes Jim, yes! Open your eyes for me, please. I'm still here, I can feel you squeezing my hand. I won't go anywhere, but I need you to try and open your eyes." You can see his closed eyes darting around, almost like he was in REM sleep. It only takes a few moments, before you feel a strong grip on your hand, and then the unthinkable happens.

Jim's eyes open.

He blinks a few times to get used to the dim light in the medbay and starts to look around. Not wanting to crowd him, you lean back a little and let him finally make eye contact with you on his own. His eyes were calm, like flowing waterfalls, soft like the sky in the morning and sweet like biting into cotton candy. They were vibrant, they were open, and they were looking at you. Your lip quivers and those tears come back again. With a shaky voice, you call out to him, actually happy that he can answer. "J-Jim?" He gives you a small smile and whispers out,

“Hey." 

He huffed, took his coat, quickly searched for Crowley’s demonic energy, and disappeared.

He just had the time to notice his surroundings (an awfully disgusting alley) when something shoved him hard and he landed painfully on a bunch of dumpsters. Aziraphale hated to be touched, but the hand crushing his forearm didn’t make him want to jerk away, so it could only be Crowley’s.

“Don’t move” said the demon’s voice in a hush. “They’re here.”

The angel swallowed the complaint he was about to (loudly) deliver about his coat being wasted. Crowley was very tense, crouched next to him like he was about to bolt, fangs bared and eyes luminous. He looked like a tiger about to defend his territory. That was certainly a beautiful sight, but not a welcome one.

“Who ? Who are they, Crowley ?”

He scanned the alley with his angelic spirit. Crowley, madly gathering strength next to him, humans a little farther, dancing and drinking… nothing else.

“I can’t sense anything. What is it ?”

“Hellhounds, angel. Big ones.”

The angel scrambled desperately to his feet, an ice cold feeling running along his spine. They had to RUN.

“Crowley, quick, we have to take cover ! Come ! What are you doing ?”

He tried to pull his friend, grabbing his shoulder, but the demon seemed hypnotised.

“Too late. They’ve got me. Go, angel !”

He was shaking his left leg manically, pain written all over his face. Aziraphale let go of his shoulder and leapt, ready to smite anything he could get his hands on...

He landed on dust and mud, Crowley’s foot hitting him hard on the ribs as he tried to get up. He sat on his knees, watching his friend crawl backwards in terror, looking straight at… nothing.

Aziraphale shook his hand in front of the demon.

“Crowley ?

“They’ll kill me ! They’ll destroy me !”

His friend was obviously not even aware of his presence any more. He’d just talk to him seconds ago ! The demon cowered against a wall and started to whimper.

Aziraphale knew he should have been afraid. He should have, seeing the one being he cared the most about (and the only one to care for him in return, with one exception) in such a state. But he just couldn’t feel fear.

He felt anger. He felt wrath. He felt rage. And he would find whoever made Crowley look that wretched and he would…

But later. He slowly approached the keening figure and crouched in front of it.

“Crowley” he murmured, so softly a human wouldn’t have heard a thing. “Crowley, it’s me. It’s Aziraphale. Can you hear me ?”

He laid his hand on the demon’s knee. Crowley’s breath hitched.

“Angel ?”

“Yes, I’m here, Crowley.”

“They’re here, they came for me ! They’ll take me back, angel !”

“They will do no such thing, dear. I will not let them.” And he said that with all the assurance his Angelic Voice could force upon a demonic mind. Crowley blinked. He had lost his glasses some minutes ago and his pupils were so dilated his eyes were almost black.

“You’ll stop them ?”

“I will.”

“You promess?”

“Of course I promise, Crowley. I will not let anyone take you anywhere.”

Slowly, Aziraphale started to reach to his friend’s mind, laying his hand on the back of his neck to make him feel his presence. It was really difficult, erasing fear from a demon’s mind. It would be very easy to destroy some of the demon himself without noticing. A little like trying to destroy a sudden day to day happy feeling from an angel’s mind and erasing some of his inherent hopefulness in the process, crippling him forever. It was almost impossible to make out one from the other.

Aziraphale didn’t hesitate one second, though. He knew his demon’s mind like any of his beloved books, and he would always be able to tell the difference betwixt his core, the essence of his being, and… anything else, really.

He carefully peeled the terror away, tugging inch by inch, his grace slowly working a delicate but strong miracle. Crowley’s heartbeat was calming down against his hand, and the demon’s forehead came resting against the angel’s shoulder. Crowley would hate to be seen in such a fragile state. Aziraphale greeted his teeth. Somebody was going to pay for this. He expanded his wings, folded them around them both, and made they appeared in the back room of the bookshop.

For several minutes, he just stayed there, head spinning a little, holding on to Crowley like an anchor. He ended up slapping himself mentaly and got up to lay his friend on the couch with some difficulty.

He was bone tired. But he had something else to do before being able to rest. He gently took Crowley’s head between his hands and assured that his sleep will be deep and free of any nightmare for some hours.

Time to go.

Following Crowley’s path was not very difficult. The demon was flashy in every possible way, and his ethereal trace was easy to track back. It led him in front of a nightclub. Of course.

The barman recognised the description instantly.

“Lanky, red haired, sunglasses ? Yeah, he was there 'till the fight started.”

The angel sighed.

“Big fight ? Half of the bar against the other because of something stupid someone said, but nobody actually remembers who said it ?”

“No ! It wasn’t stupid, it was football !”

He sighed again. Lord, give me strength.

“Alright. Did you see him discuss with anyone before that… totally accidental and unpredictable brawl ?”

“Nah. Just stayed there, had a drink and smirked a lot.”

“One drink only ?” That couldn't be right. There must have been something else.

“Yeah. A beer. Oh, and the shot.”

“Somebody SHOOT him ?” Cried Aziraphale, devastated. He didn’t noticed ! What if it was a mortal wound ? Crowley couldn’t discorporate now, it was too dangerous !

The barman laughed.

“You had a few yourself, eh ? A shot ! Like, the drink. I made a few for regulars, offered him one.”

Oh. Really. A drink with a killing name. How human.

“What is that exactly ? Are there drugs in that ?”

“Hey, man ! No ! Don’t say things like this here ! T’was just a little thing I invented. Really popular here ya know ! Wanna try ?”

Well. One drink wouldn’t hurt. And he had a dreadful night, after all. He noded. Liquid courage would help pursuing his enquiries.

“Thank you, that would be nice.”

The bartender started mixing funny looking liquids from several bottles. It was quite agreable to watch.

“That’s a lovely green. What is it ?”

“Cactus. That’s real good.”

“Is that salt ? In a drink ?”

“Yep, gives it a little kick. That’s the secret ingredient, y’a know.”

“What about the yellow one ?”

“Sage alcohol. Not good alone, but a few drops in the cactus syrup just...”

The bartender suddenly stopped talking. The entire nightclub felt silent under an ominous pressure coming from... everywhere.

“You mixed salt. With sage. And gave it to him.”

Everyone suddenly felt like going home really quick, and soon there were just an angel and a bartender in an empty building.

“What… what happened ?” the young man blinked furiously, feeling like something was choking him. He gasped, starting to panic without a reason.

A hand grabbed him hard by the collar.

Aziraphale’s eyes were cold as ice as he gathered divine power in his fist. Much more than needed to eradicate an insignificant human existence.

He opened his mouth, trembling with rage.

“You, Josh Kendal, will forget that bloody recipe and never remember it for the rest of you life !”

Then he let him go. He just couldn’t smite the poor boy. He never intended to hurt. He just offered a drink to a lonely man in sunglasses.

He straightened his jacket, feeling quite put out. There was no one to punish, and that was unfair after all that stress. He walked with a dissatisfied air towards the door. Then stopped and turned.

“Oh. And you will go home and propose to Ashley. Really, it’s been seven years and you love each other, stop hesitating, you are ridiculous !”

There was a snap. Josh blinked. He was alone. He felt like he should have remembered something, but couldn’t put his finger on it.

Were they closed already ? Everything was neat and tidy. Much more so than most closing times, to be honest.