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Time gets a bit fucky after one has lived beyond their first millennium. Decades and centuries mean little; minutes and seconds mean less. Names and memories are lost to the current of time. What’s the point in recalling when the object of that recall will be gone eventually anyway?
Time means nothing, and fewer and fewer things matter.
Save for Charlie. She’ll always matter.
And the hubris of Heaven, which Lucifer has been giggling like a lunatic about for the last twenty minutes (years? Decades? Centuries? He’s really having a hard time recalling just how long he’s been trapped in his glass box fish bowl thing). Those rules-lawyering know-it-alls up there had the brilliant idea of trapping him and his unending well of angelic power down in the pit with millions of sinners with nothing but time on their hands.
Someone was bound to eventually think of a way to use him against the Heavenly Host. Idle hands and all that jazz.
It’s genuinely hilarious, and just when he thinks he’s done chortling about it, the giggles come roaring back.
As far as distractions go, it’s been a pretty decent one. Better than the sharp, painful tickles that whatever the shit he’s hooked up to have been randomly pumping into him.
Was it yesterday (a week? A month? Years?) that the first one hit? Whatever it was left him alone in the dim glow of the machinery for a while. Maybe a few hours? He really can’t tell. His head feels like a hive of bees has taken up inside. Someone else may have been down here? Charlie’s girlfriend? He has no idea. He’s not even sure where he is anymore.
When he is either…it's all getting rather confusing.
…this could just all be a clogged-sinus induced fever dream. Is he asleep on his opulent couch in the palace watching the Trials and Tribulations of Sir Quackington? Is he dreaming up scenarios in which Charlie could charge in to his rescue and no longer be furious with him? It certainly seems like something he would do…
…he used to spend months locked in his workshop after Lilith left doing just that. Was there a way to endanger himself that she might appear from a portal, scoop him up, and promise to never leave again? If there was, he’d be the one to find it…
The machinery groans, and he just catches the timber and cadence of his daughter’s voice under the noise. Is she here? Is she in danger? He weakly pulls at his restraints, but it proves fruitless. Is she singing? He always loved her voice.
…they’re singing together in the lobby of her hotel. He’s dashing a tear from her cheek…
…Sera’s long, elegant finger traces the curve of Lucifer’s chin before she pulls away to take her place for his sentencing…
…Lilith’s hands frame his face as he weeps. She tells him everything will be alright as long as they are together…
…Charlie is telling him to leave with furious tears in her eyes. The disappointment is painfully familiar. She looks so much like her mother…
The forced introspection is worse than the pain. He’s having a hard time staying tethered to the moment. Pain similar to the Fall will do that to you, apparently. Though, he survived that. Surely, he can survive this.
Probably.
Maybe.
No one has ever taken a shot at him like this before. He’s feeling drained in a way that he can’t quite describe. The well of power within him is starting to sputter, and shit, that can’t be good. But on the other re-enforced angelic steel cuff, Lucifer can’t help but find that novel. Being immortal and older than time allows for so few new experiences. If he files this away in the dark corners of his mind like that, maybe it will stop feeling like he’s actively dying.
~but maybe that would be for the best at this point~
Nope. Nuh-uhh. Not charging through that particular curtain.
He’s surviving at least long enough to apologize to Charlie. He needs to tell her he’d do anything to help her, even if he might fuck up a bit on the way.
…he’s saying as much to Lilith after he’s pulled himself together as they take in the desolate landscape they’re now trapped in. The loss of Heaven’s Grace is a burning chasm in his chest, but her hand clinging to his is a balm against the loss. He has her. He couldn’t do this alone…
His mind whites out as wires plunge into his chest. The machine churns, drawing from his again. The diodes and doohickies are smoking and shattering around him. Coherent thought is impossible as he sags in his restraints. Charlie’s soft voice fades under the din as others swirl around him. Breathing heavily, he manages to lift his head. This could just be death. If he’s finally fading, at least it’ll be to his daughter’s beautiful voice.
…he reclines in the cradle of Sera’s lap, eyes closed and drifting as she wordlessly sings to him, her fingers carding through his hair…
…a wide smile cracks across his face as he hears the gorgeous woman in the Garden singing. Her voice is a symphony…
…Charlie’s little voice echoes through the halls of palace as she improves a song about her new doll…
…Charlie’s singing with him (with him!!!) as they hold each other tightly, declaring their love and support for each other…
…Charlie’s humming to herself as she sits at his bedside, fussing with a tea tray on the nightstand.
Wait.
What?
Unceremoniously, Lucifer’s arms drop from the restraints. He crashes to the ground among a halo of shattered glass.
…he loses his grip on Lilith’s hand as they are shoved out of Paradise and crash through the craggy earth below…
He’s barely pulling himself up and out of the friend machinery, trying to ignore the deep ache at his core.
…he’s driving his hands into the earth to draw himself from the crater his fall created. Lilith hauls him up the rest of the way, her expression pained as bloody horns rip from her skull. She’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen…
He’s face down on the ground as gentle hands roll him over.
…there’s tears in the Speaker’s eyes as she caresses his cheek before pressing a kiss to his forehead as she passes judgment…
…he’s holding his daughter for the first time, finding his belief in miracles hasn’t been completely snuffed out…
Charlie is helping him to his feet, trying not to be distracted by the large screen displaying the snake guy she’s been so broken up about. He gently pushes away to stand on his own ( and to avoid the golden ichor leeching through his suit staining her pretty outfit). She reaches for him again, but he puts up a hand and a brave face. He boops her nose and turns her towards the crowds waiting to thank her and her friends.
He can see the beginnings of a heavenly portal, and the seraphim stepping through is so familiar he things he may weep. Instead, he draws on whatever strength he has left and teleports to the palace.
But…as his eyes slowly blink open, Lucifer isn’t at the palace.
He’s in Charlie’s room back at the hotel, his head cushioned on a soft pillow. The blankets are tucked around his sides. He can feel his powers simmering just below the surface. The stab wounds appear to have mostly healed.
He wonders just how long he’s been out of it.
He must shift or make some soft, pained noise, because in an instant, all Charlie’s attention is back on him. She sits bolt upright and stares at him with watery eyes. She’s dressed comfortably, but the redness of her eyes and frizziness of her hair suggest it’s been more than just a few hours since they returned.
“How long was I—”
“Why did you go to the palace?”
They speak over each other, but Lucifer clicks his mouth shut to allow his daughter to finish first. He sits up a bit with a muffled grunt of pain. He could just lie. He could just say he was trying to get away and not really paying attention. But he doesn’t want to lie to her. This feels like a make or break moment here, and he cannot mess things up again.
“I…uh…wasn’t sure I’d be welcome,” he says, not able to make eye contact. “After…well, everything, I thought…”
She’s looking at him like she’s realizing something for the first time, and he isn’t sure he likes it.
“You were so hurt,” she finally says, her voice wobbly as she fights back tears. “I couldn’t find you when we got back here, and I thought…”
“Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t—”
She doesn’t let him finish. She throws herself at him, clinging to him in a way she hasn’t since she was very small. Lucifer holds her tightly, buoyed by the warmth of her in his arms. “I’m sorry I worried you. And for before.”
“So am I,” she said into his shoulder, “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I want you here. I want to work on this. I love you, and you’re all that I have and —”
He pulls her away so he can hold her face and smear away her tears. He leans in, kissing her forehead softly before pulling her down beside him. His expression cracks painfully as a spasm of pain runs up his spine. He bites back the pain as Charlie settles her head on his chest, her hand twisted in his shirt over where his heart would be. Lucifer settles his face into her hair and falls back under to the sound of her breathing.
He’ll remember this when he wakes.