Lucifer's Loft, Los Angeles, Saturday

[my_own_advocate]

Yesterday had been a still being played out day full of musical numbers and Dad and a woman murdering her judgemental referee husband for entirely understandable reasons. Lucifer had gone to bed entirely wiped, tired, too exhausted to remember he shouldn't be naked with Duke and Octavia.

He was still in that bed, sleeping more comfortably than he had in a week.

Unaware of the man hovering by the edge of the bed with a large tray full of breakfast foods in his hands.

[[ for those two and once again taken from Lucifer 5x10! ]]

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Re: Loft

[hismysteriousways]

With Father in pursuit. As always.

God raised his arms, wide and suffocating. Or was that Lucifer's imagination? "But there are dreams that cannot be, and there are storms we cannot weather."

Re: Loft

[my_own_advocate]

Lucifer faced Him, in all His overbearing glory.

He was angry. He was sad. He was a strange and fluctuating mixture of both.

But it was easier to project the rage than the rest of it, each word a snap of fury.

"I had a dream my life would be,
So different from this Hell I’m living,
So different now from what it seems..."

Except fury was finite, where the sorrow was not. He loathed these moments, where his expression broke, his voice cracked, because after all this time the mask kept slipping through his fingers.

"Now life has..." His gaze dropped from Father's face. "Killed--" he forced out, short, an off staccato beat. "...the dream..."

He thought of Octavia, begging him to stay. Duke's dogged pursuit. The look in Chloe's eyes.

Long years of ash drifting in silence.

He collapsed in his chair with jagged, imprecise motions, as if each part of his body gave in to gravity separately, uncoordinated. "...I dreamed."

He was crying again. He leaned forward and pressed his fingertips to his eyes so Father couldn't see, a useless gesture, done because it was all he knew.

Re: Loft

[hismysteriousways]

"Oh, my son, the Lightbringer," God said softly.

He settled His hand on Samael's back, between his shoulder blades. He hoped His son would take it as the comfort He intended it to be.

"So full of light that it blinds even you sometimes."

Re: Loft

[my_own_advocate]

What?

Lucifer sat up, sucking in a wet breath that was too-loud to his ears. "What does that mean?"

He couldn't resist being cryptic even now, could He?

Re: Loft

[hismysteriousways]

"It means that I understand... that you're angry at me," God said, His own sadness in His eyes. "And I'm so very sorry about that."

Re: Loft

[my_own_advocate]

Had Lucifer ever heard Him sound like that before? He could almost believe for just a second that Dad actually cared.

But the Devil was always in the details.

"So, You’re sorry for me, but You’re not sorry for what You’ve done," he concluded flatly.

Re: Loft

[hismysteriousways]

"I didn't say that."

God sounded almost desperate.

"But I will say that I cannot fix you, Lucifer..."

Re: Loft

[my_own_advocate]

Lucifer stared at Him through wet eyes. "But You're God."

He wasn't proud of how small and young he sounded. And he hated the silence that followed even worse. Eventually he took another sad, damp breath and wiped some of the snot and the tears from his face.

"Okay, fine," he said. Forced himself to his feet, to find some bloody dignity. "If You can't fix me, Dad, at least-- stop trying to control me."

The bar. A drink. Get yourself together.

Re: Loft

[hismysteriousways]

There they went again. "How do I control you?" God asked, and yes, that was definite desperation there.

Re: Loft

[my_own_advocate]

He really didn't see it, did He? Lucifer whirled back around to face Him. "You just made me sing! Again!" He just. He just. "I mean it has to stop, Dad!"

And he was crying. Again.

Re: Loft

[hismysteriousways]

"Actually, I... I don't think that's possible," God said quietly.

Re: Loft

[my_own_advocate]

Were those... tears sliding down Dad's cheek? No. Impossible.

"Right, well, if you’re not gonna try," he sighed, waving a hand as if to cast that thought aside. "I don't know why I should even bother."

No more of this.

Just. Drinks.

Re: Loft

[hismysteriousways]

"It's not that I won't."

Now the crack was in God's voice, instead.

"It's that I don't think that I can," He sobbed, voice twisting.

Re: Loft

[my_own_advocate]

What... what was He saying? For the first time, the feeling at Lucifer's core wasn't anger or hurt, it was... dread. Fear. He looked over his shoulder, searching Dad's bizarrely grief-stricken face, and said, "W-what does that mean?"

Re: Loft

[hismysteriousways]

"My powers, son," God said. Helpless terror filled His face. "I, I, I think I'm losing control of them."

Re: Loft

[my_own_advocate]

Time seemed to stop.

(Dad was... Dad. Dad was forever. Always there, always in control, always around...)

Impossible.

Couldn't be.

It was Dad.

What did that mean?

It couldn't mean what he thought it meant.

Why did he feel eight days old again?

Dad was forever.

"Dad?"