what's happened to these buildings? they all look rundown and so forlorn [open to all]

[i_jones]

Imagine a street in New York City. Well, you're not imagining it, someone else is. One of those long avenues where you could stand on the sidewalk in Harlem and see all the way down to the Statue of Liberty, if you could see that far. Which you can't. I mean, you literally can't see that far, but you also can't see an end to this avenue. It just keeps going, which is scary sort of in the way that the expanding universe is. What is it expanding into? Is there an edge? Is it really donut-shaped infinity? You read about that somewhere.

If you explore further, you find that it is sort of donut-shaped, or it must be, because you keep coming back to the same block. Or maybe you never leave it. Every window is - not dark, precisely, but the stores aren't open, and the apartment dwellers are asleep. Actually, not every window. Two wide windows frame a glass door and they're all spilling warm, welcoming light onto the sidewalk from underneath the scalloped hat of an awning. You can't read it if you try, and yet you know that it's inviting you into a diner. It's a really nice looking diner. Not nice like fancy, but nice like, that's exactly the sort of diner you'd like to go to late at night. Hey, it's nighttime. It's so quiet for the nighttime, especially for New York City.

You want to go to that diner, don't you? Yeah, you do. You might see through the window, or as you walk in, that it's full of worn and comfortable (but empty) leather-cushioned booths. Stools (also empty) file along the linoleum-topped counters. Nothing is dirty, but it doesn't look clean, either, like everything from the 70s. And there's just... there's a lot of pie. You probably noticed that first. Some diners might have a choice of two pies, or even three, but this one just might be run by someone who can reanimate things by touching them. It's not, don't get excited. But it could be. That's how dedicated this diner is to pie. They probably serve other food too, since it's a diner. Or they would if there was anyone to serve it. Looks like you're stuck with pie.

What? You don't like pie? Well, you're wrong. But that's okay. Ianto does. He'll eat it for you, after he's finished eating the slice he's picking at in the booth halfway down. Have you met him before? Does he even go here? You know what, it's hard to remember.

Comments

[i_jones]

"A little company, a little keeping my mind sharp, a little avoiding the black void of unconsciousness." He takes a sip of a chocolate milkshake that has always and has not been there at his elbow. "Well, avoiding PT, now. I was in a coma," he explains matter-of-factly, dabbing at his mouth. "Took my time waking up. Spent a while in here. Not here, that is." Months in a diner, Jesus, even he doesn't like pie that much because he loves it even more. "Just a way of passing the time, really. Not much else to do." He pauses before putting the next forkful in his mouth. "Ianto. Jones."

[bibliophale]

"Oh," says Aziraphale, a rather inadequate response, but he's working his way up to something better, surely. He forgot to introduce himself, how rude. "Aziraphale," he replies, opting against offering a hand, what with all the pie-eating.

"I'm... sorry to hear that," he says uncertainly. Is he sorry? He doesn't really know enough about Ianto Jones to say. He's probably sorry. But is it rude to say so? Too late now. He commences picking at his pie. "You're waking up now, though?" seems the polite next step. Let's make sure that's taken care of.

[i_jones]

"Yeah." He grimaces, nose scrunching, and pushes his thumb at the spot between his eyes. Fucking ice cream headaches. Sometimes his imagination is a little too good. Good thing that his milkshake is not actually a milkshake and is really hot cocoa. "I mean, I am. Awake. Just... not right now." He clears his throat and takes a sip of the hot cocoa. Yeah, that's leagues better. What if, bear with him, Ianto talked about anything other than his physical and mental health? That would also be great. "And you? You're new? New-ish."

[bibliophale]

"Rather," says Aziraphale, reasonably cheerful. They can talk about whatever Ianto likes, as far as he's concerned. It's good news the human is waking up. That means all is well, surely. "I just passed the one month anniversary, in fact."

Goodness, has it only been a month? Quite a lot has happened. Too much, if you ask him. Ianto hasn't asked him, yet, and Aziraphale gingerly tips the conversation back to him with, "How long have you been here - through the Rift, I mean. Since before your coma?"

[i_jones]

"What is it, August now, yeah?" Last he checked it was August, but it's been a few days since he looked at a calendar. "So, er, seven months, about. Missed spring, most of the summer." And that's a bummer, really. Going from winter right back into fall and winter." He was rather looking forward to his first hot, sticky, American summer. "Been in here longer than I was out there," he realizes as he says it. "Jesus." He pauses, stabs a piece of apple in his pie. His apple pie. That's what it is. "Have I missed anything good?"

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale's sympathetic frown fades at that last question, leaving him looking mildly taken aback. He can only presume by good Ianto means noteworthy, and he's not particularly keen on answering that. But he's not about to lie, and what's the point in skirting around it, anyway? Better that everyone's aware.

"Well," he says delicately, prodding his pie with his fork. "Lucifer came through. The Devil, I mean. I wouldn't call that good." He frowns vacantly at the table for a moment. "But it was certainly eventful."

[i_jones]

Good. Yeah. I mean, not good, that's obviously... what the Devil is. Absolutely. It just, you know, it sounds really exciting. And it's so hard, for so many reasons, to take that sort of thing seriously anymore. But he'll try. Look how concerned he looks! Oh yes. That frown. Those furrowed eyebrows. The Devil. Totally bad. Ianto coughs into his napkin - see how taken aback he is by the Devil visiting, he nearly choked on his pie. Really serious stuff.

"Has he?" He clears his throat again, reaches for his hot cocoa, decides coffee would be better, and takes a sip of his coffee. "And he's, erm, he's smiting people? Or is that more God's bag." The jukebox in the corner - what, you didn't notice it? - whirrs, clunks, and quietly kicks in with some ambient Elvis Presley.

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale sets his fork down, staring in lip-parted bafflement at that winner of a reaction, and then turning slowly to stare narrow-eyed at the accusatory jukebox.

"It's more mine, thank you," he says rather coolly. "What Lucifer does is not righteous. Which is a prerequisite to smiting. He is an extremely powerful glorified murderer." He materializes himself a glass of good full-bodied Merlot and takes a judicious sip. "And I don't know if this 'song' is a coincidence or an underhanded attempt to imply something, but I will have you know I am an angel."

[i_jones]

Ianto feels like he should have heard about a glorified murderer devil running loose. Maybe it hasn't hit the news yet. Also, wine does not go with the established decor at all, so hopefully Aziraphale enjoys his water. He won't debate the existence of angels and devils - he went to Hell or something like it that one time, he believes it. Well, he believes that in some universe somewhere, they definitely exist. Maybe just not every universe.

He shrugs off the accusation. Did he suspect something or was it really just the first devil-related song that popped into his head? Anyway, thank you for volunteering that information. "Well, that's good for us, then, as Lucifer's about."

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale hasn't exactly been shy about volunteering it so far, no matter what Daine initially recommended. Why shouldn't people know? Especially with Lucifer about, as Ianto says. So there we are.

He takes a sip of his wi- oh. He stares at the glass for a moment, then at Ianto. He assumes it's only that he's dreaming - and probably that he's been at it for a while - that allowed him to perform that inversion of one of the oldest tricks in the miracle book, but even so, Aziraphale does not appreciate having his drink choice trifled with.

"I am doing what I can." He sets the glass down and aside after a brief debate over changing it back. Not worth it, he decides. "Lucifer is far stronger than me. He has already come near to killing me twice." He says this grimly, not wanting to cast too dark a shadow over the world Ianto's only just coming back into, but neither is he willing to sugarcoat things.

"I will do everything in my power to stop him regardless," he says, hoping that sounds remotely comforting. He only feels a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

[i_jones]

What Ianto's getting from all of this is 'don't associate in any way with Aziraphale, because then you'll enter the murdersphere of Lucifer'. There's obviously a lot of preexisting drama there he doesn't want to get in the middle of, or even on the sidelines of. He had a very minor death wish, but that's all cleared up now, probably, so the Devil and all of this is very close to the top of his list of things to avoid.

He wraps his hands around his mug of coffee and inhales the smell, wishing desperately that it were real and that he was allowed to have coffee in hospital. And that they would provide him with the necessary coffee-making equipment, because there's no way he's drinking hospital coffee. "Have you heard of the Doctor? Should get in with him. He's a 'do what needs to be done' type. Fixes the unfixable." Ends justify the means, hurt your companions for their own good, etc. A dark look flits across Ianto's face. "Bet he'd love your Lucifer problem."

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale raises an eyebrow, half curious and half uneasy. Rather a grim undertone there, and he's not certain he wants to know why.

"I have, yes," he says. "I met him recently, in fact. He was investigating the Rift from the outside, but... I believe he's been pulled in now." So much for that. Not that it's very surprising. "Or one of them. I gather there's more than one? Not entirely sure." He shrugs, picking at his pie again. "He's been somewhat apprised of the problem, as it were. Whether or not he can resolve it is... to be determined."

He doesn't really want to ask anyone to do that, anyway. It feels like his responsibility. If he can just figure out how.

"But look, it's all right," he says with a sudden wave of his hand. "It's not ongoing doomsday out there. Lucifer's been keeping to himself for the most part. Most rifties have warded their homes against him. Things are about as safe as they can be." Not to sound like Ianto has some sort of choice here, about whether or not he wants to wake up, but he imagines it can't be too wonderful knowing that Satan is loose in the world you're just coming back to.

"If you stay out of his way, he won't hurt you," he adds. "He generally... doesn't really care about humans."

That doesn't sound great, but it could sound a lot worse.

[i_jones]

There's a bloody baker's dozen of them and then some, depending on the universe, and they scale from sometimes tolerable to always the worst. If he's not dealing with Lucifer now, presumably he will some time in the future, when it becomes his problem and he grudgingly does something about it - not to help people, but just because it's a problem to solve.

Is Ianto bitter much? He's had a lot of time and nightmares to let that oversteep into a really unpalatable tea, metaphorically and metaphorically literally. Their surroundings are tainted by the shift of his thoughts, a little grungier, a little moldier, less homey diner and more truck stop full of potential serial murderers. Ianto takes a sip of his cup of tea, bloomed white on the surface. "I couldn't plan on staying any farther from him," Ianto assures his guest, who sounds much more anxious about all this than Ianto feels. "I'll be living in a virtual fortress soon enough. I shouldn't worry." Assuming the TARDIS takes him back. It's either that or, like, under a bridge? Those are pretty safe too.

[bibliophale]

"Well. Good." Aziraphale sits back, more or less comforted by Ianto's apparent lack of concern, though he takes a moment to glance around at the changing surroundings.

"Is there... anything I can do?" he asks after a moment. "To help, I mean? Here or... your physical form?" He holds up a hand and waggles his fingers, an unconscious Crowleyism, as if to show off his instrument. "There is rather a lot I am capable of."

[i_jones]

Ianto truly frowns at the implication that magic angel powers could do anything to help his predicament. They could, he supposes, but he also knows the dangers of accepted unsolicited gifts of power from strangers. There are usually side effects or clever loopholes. "I'd be afraid of that going Monkey's Paw for me." The decor lightens a little as he notices Aziraphale noticing. Somber dreams, that's so four months ago. "No offense." For the few minutes they have known each other, Ianto gets the sense that Aziraphale is not that type. Still, he'd rather not owe an angel a favor. But then... "Could I get a raincheck on a miracle?" One never knows.

[bibliophale]

"Well - of course," says Aziraphale with a concerned frown. "It's a standing offer. There's no... catch or anything like that." 'Monkey's Paw', good grief. He'd be insulted if it was remotely worth it. "I only want to help. It's what I do."

He's not about to push, that wouldn't be very angelic after all, but he's still feeling stung about being useless against the Devil, he has to offer something.

[i_jones]

Ianto gets it. It would be like someone declining his offer of coffee. It's an open offer. Ianto's a giving guy like that. But wanting to help, needed to be needed... yeah. He gets it. Offense taken, clearly, okay. Ianto's just an independent Welshman who don't need no angel and is also very wary of anyone claiming to have powers of that nature or anyone who says they're working on God's behalf. Because he runs into a lot of those types, and it's always bad.

"Don't suppose you could send me back to my home universe. " Ha! Ha.

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale's face falls a little bit and he refocuses on the pie. "If only," he laments. "I wish I could do that for everyone, but." He suspects Ianto wasn't being terribly optimistic on that suggestion.

"But if there's anything else," he says quickly. "You should let me know. I have a bookshop at 1st and 87th, on the east side. Next to Glaser's Bake Shop." He brightens a little. "A friend of mine works there, she's a wonderful baker. It's a nice little corner we have. So, you know. When you're... up and about. Feel free to visit." He shrugs. People like books and baked goods, right? Even more than they like free miracles, apparently. What more can he offer?