Chapter Text
The first thing he notices is just how much more there is to the world now. Everything around him is just that tiny bit sharper, that little bit brighter. And the sound. It’s endless and all encompassing, a constant stream of white noise inside his head, flowing through him without any sense or meaning. But for reasons he can’t quite grasp yet, it’s not overwhelming. It’s almost as if he always knew it was there, he just simply chose never to listen before. Now that he is, the intention is no different to breathing; natural, instinctive, merely a part of who he is.
Who he is, and what he is. A power unlike any he’s ever known thrums beneath his skin. Occasionally, the sun catches him through the glass in just the right way, and he can see himself glowing. It’s strange, and yet at the same time, it isn’t. On some level, he recognises that he should be freaking out, but he also knows that that awareness is nothing but the memory of the man he once was. A man who with one simple, “Oh my me,” proceeded to fade out of existence, his surge of panic merely one last flare of a dying ember.
He is different now. Calmer. Settled. The anger that fueled him for most of his existence is gone, replaced by a peace he never knew he needed. Never knew he craved. Oh, he may look the same, sound the same, but every part of him is new, down to the smallest molecule. This form isn’t even permanent, not if he doesn’t want it to be. If he concentrates, he can sense the infinitesimal amount of energy it costs him to remain this way, threading together all the pieces that have made him ‘Lucifer’ for millennia. His old self would have reasoned it away as there being no need to change perfection, but in truth, there is one reason and one reason only that he chose to return to this body.
For her. Always for her.
So much has changed, but this remains. His love for her is woven into the very fabric of his being, forever entwined with all that he is. She is the catalyst, and he is her creation. When he glances over at her, she takes his breath away. One look is all it takes to confirm something he already suspects, that even a god cannot be all knowing. Try as he might, he cannot understand it; how he can hold the entirety of the cosmos in his hands, yet this human is still the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Even now, the last traces of Heaven still cling to her, as though unwilling to leave something so precious, leaving the shining light that is her soul encased in a soft golden haze.
Heaven doesn’t cling to him, not in the same way. He is Heaven now. He was born and reborn there, shaped twice in a divine flame unrivaled by any other. All that was once his Father’s, is now his to bear. A legacy he never wanted, until he had no other choice. But as he slowly becomes aware of the presence of every tree, every creature, every spark of life that surrounds him, he wonders if there was ever a choice at all. The light inside them sings to him, just as his stars once did when he was young. Stars like the one that hovers far above them now, the sole reason that life here is granted existence in the first place.
Thoughts of his stars stir a desire within him, a wish to gaze upon them, to show them to his beloved. And with that desire, comes the knowledge of how easy that would be. Just one little twist, one small extension of his will, and day would turn to night, allowing the universe to smile down on them both.
Something holds him back though. Some sense that it would be wrong, that it would upset the order of things.
And so he listens.
But despite that, curiosity still flickers, a pull he cannot resist. The corner of his mouth curls upwards as he moves them away from the oncoming ambulance, preparing for what comes next. It seems to take an eternity and no time at all for the blue flashing lights to appear in his rear view mirror, his consciousness barely registering the vehicle racing past as they approach the intersection. In his mind’s eye, he sees clearly what lies ahead of them, his head tilting to the side as he pushes forward, the only car not slowing down as the junction grows closer.
And with the slightest flick of his finger, he changes the light to green.
A frisson of excitement spikes inside him as it happens, shattering his former tranquility. He turns to his companion, a wide grin on his face as he sucks in breath to tell her. He wants to shout, to scream with glee, “Look, Detective, did you see what I did? That was me!”
But the smile slides off his face when he sees the turmoil on hers. The buzz of her thoughts joins the ever growing cacophony in his brain, and yet it’s worse somehow, because it’s her. She’s so much louder than the rest. Her mind is spinning, howling, but it still blends with everything else, making it impossible to decipher. That same curiosity from before returns to him though, and the temptation to dive in, to pluck out the streams of consciousness from the person whose opinion matters to him most, is monumental.
Once more though, he refrains. And in truth, he doesn’t even know why. The more time that passes, the more puzzled by the situation he becomes. The secrets of creation are open to him now, but somehow, she still isn’t. As he watches her, he sees the sheen of tears in her eyes, and it vaguely occurs to him that perhaps he should be comforting her in some way. A thousand possibilities present themselves at the notion. A touch on the shoulder, a lock of hair tucked behind her ear. He could take her hand, brush off some of the blood that littered her clothing. There are so many options, and he knows the consequences of each without even thinking about it. He sees the flinch she makes, the false smile she gives him, the love in her eyes as she breathes a sigh of relief.
There are too many choices, and he no longer knows which one to pick.
And so he does nothing.
Her pain though, it hurts. Heaven’s influence has abandoned her now, and the damage left in its wake is catastrophic. Flashes of memory impact him like bullets; he raises a sword as he changes lanes, holds her in his arms on a sunlit morning as he shifts gears. A sense of loss sweeps over him, so staggering in its intensity that for the first time, he forgets to concentrate on the road. A horn blares loudly from behind, but he hardly pays attention to it at all, not while the constant discordant symphony he hears in his brain finally begins to take shape, a voice he would recognise anywhere emerging from the chaos.
“What if he doesn’t even lov—”
“I do,” he says immediately, without thought, or plan. For him, his love for her is an unwritten law of the universe, a force as undeniable as gravity itself. “I love you, Chloe. Always.”
The words come easily to him now, but strangely, they don’t appear to soothe her. In fact, her anxiety grows even stronger, the feel of it spiking against his skin, making him shift uncomfortably.
“Did you just read my mind?” she says quietly, fearfully, but with an undertone of accusation that unsettles him.
He pauses, tasting various answers upon his tongue. The truth is the best option, he quickly decides. She would expect that.
Her response to the nod he gives her is bitter. “Can you not?”
On this, he isn’t sure. It wasn’t as if he chose to hear what he did, but he also couldn’t deny that he wanted to. She had been a mystery to him for so long; to unlock her would be nothing but paradise, he is sure of it.
“I can try,” he promises, and it seems right that his first vow is to her. Still, she turns from him, the gravity of such a thing eluding her.
“Good,” she says, her tone resigned, perhaps even resentful. “I don’t want that.”
She falls silent again, which he expects. What he doesn’t expect, however, is what happens next.
The sound inside his head shifts once more, fragments of prayer and worship and belief clicking into place, aligning until hers is the only thought that remains, along with a wave of fear that blindsides him, stoking his own.
I don’t want any of this.
Her fear, his fear, they crash together, each amplifying the other until he can hear nothing else, feel nothing else. The ground shakes beneath them, the steering wheel groaning under his grip, and in the distance, more sirens begin to wail. He thinks she might call his name, but it isn’t until he feels her hands upon him, her wide blue eyes desperate and pleading as she begs him to stop, that he finally manages to come back to himself.
And then he realises he was wrong.
The fear subsides, but something else takes its place. Something darker, stronger.
The anger he foolishly thought was gone rises, fueled by the realisation that he might lose her again. His fury only grows as he thinks of his sacrifice, of her sacrifice, as he envisions a future where all of it was for nothing. The love that makes up so much of him now wavers in the wake of it, overcome by the force of a rage born from loss like no other. Thunder rumbles up in the distance, and as he looks at the Detective, he sees an all too familiar terror on her face.
And for the first time since his return, he wonders.
He wonders what kind of god he will become.