my_own_advocate | Lucifer's Mansion, Very Early Saturday Morning

There was someone sitting on the steps. Someone had been sitting on the steps for quite a while, actually.

Octavia had stayed in the hold on the Rouge for -- Actually, she had no solid guesses as to how long. Until her vision had started clearing, anyway. And then she'd gotten up and, just.

Left.

Because she'd realized what she'd done, and couldn't stay. Not in Duke's home. And she couldn't go on her own boat because that was not far enough away. So. Here she was, sitting on Lucifer's steps, looking drained, wrung out. There was dried blood still on her chin and on her hands.

Welcome home, Morningstar.

Lucifer sucked in a deep breath and looked her over, taking in her pallor and all the blood.

Yes, she'd gotten Duke to get her good.

"I just can't seem to escape you people this week," he said, voice light. "If you're going to stalk me, you might as well get up, because I'm heading inside."

He was tired and he was just not going to fight this one tonight.

Good, because Octavia had nothing left in her for a fight, either. She stood up slowly, wincing a little but only barely. She hurt all over.

She said nothing. Not even to ask whether Lucifer's lack of a big reaction to the blood meant Duke had been at the Devil's Nest.

She assumed so, anyway.

Good assumption.

Lucifer unlocked his door and opened it. And then held it open, eyebrows raised at her.

Octavia shuffled in past him, her head down.

She knew she would have to say something eventually. But she was drawing it out for as long as she could.

Lucifer shut the door behind her. "You're an absolute mess," he said. "The shower is up the stairs, second door to the left."

Octavia couldn't help the snort. For such a small noise, it managed to sound remarkably bitter.

But she nodded (just barely, because her head was pounding) and began to make her way to the stairs.

Lucifer sighed, slipping out of his jacket. Did he even have any painkillers around here?

Oh, right. The Seivarden emergency hangover box. He padded into the living room to go find it.

The stairs were murder. Something hurt with every step, whether it was her head, or her hand trying to get some support from the banister. She wondered, very faintly, whether she'd fractured something with the punching bag.

But she made it upstairs. Found the second door on the left.

Managed not to throw up during this whole ordeal.

Lucifer found the box and took out the painkillers. He swept across the hall, grabbing a bathrobe from his closet.

Only then did he follow her up the stairs.

"Humans," he muttered. The complaint sounded worried even to his own ears.

Turned out there was blood on everything. Her shirt, her pants. Everything she'd touched.

Octavia thought that was fitting. Then she just... bundled the clothes and got in the shower. The cut on her knuckles stung a little bit extra as it was hit with water, but it was mostly drowned out by the way the tender patch of the back of her head protested the same.

A single, strangled sob bubbled up, forcing its way out.

Lucifer knocked once before he opened the door to the bathroom. "I'm putting a robe on the toilet lid," he said, "and some painkillers."

He took the bundle of bloody clothes on his way out. He was probably just going to throw them out.

At his own risk.

Octavia heard him, but didn't answer. That kind of thing didn't really require one anyway, did it? She'd be done soon, anyway. Once the blood was off, at least parts of taking a shower would turn into something soothing, and, well.

She couldn't have that.

For now, Lucifer was just going to throw them into one of the rooms he hardly used. (He had too many rooms in here. He'd never admit it, but it made him miss his loft in Los Angeles.)

Then he slipped into the bedroom to get himself a drink. He needed it.

Once Octavia was sure all the blood had washed down the drain, she turned the water off.

And went on autopilot. Drying off a little, pulling on the robe. Taking the painkillers she wasn't sure she deserved but which might keep her from throwing up later on. More for Lucifer's benefit than her own.

Then after a while, she drifted out of the bathroom. Examining her hand.

"I had an interesting conversation with Duke," Lucifer called, from the bedroom.

Standing by the bar with a glass in hand.

A part of Octavia saw that as a reason to go in the exact opposite direction.

The rest of her walked on unsteady feet to his bedroom. Though she stopped right past the doorway, where she could actually see him.

Said nothing.

"A word of advice," he continued, undaunted, "Next time you decide to punish yourself, maybe don't bounce your head off your easily-traumatized boyfriend's fists."

Octavia looked away.

"I fucked up," she said. Her voice was all rasp, a little hoarse. The opposite of the wet whimper of 'please' that had been the last thing to come out of her mouth before this moment. "I'm aware."

Lucifer sighed. Took an empty glass.

Poured some minty water into it. "Are you injured? Seriously, I mean."

"Might have fractured my hand." On her own, even. "Maybe a concussion."

She'd bounced her head off the steel wall pretty hard, after all.

Not that Octavia sounded like either of those counted for much.

"It's nothing."

"Remember what I said about the Stoics?" Lucifer asked, holding out the water for her.

"Don't care."

Octavia just stared at the offered water for a moment. Then reached for it --

Then switched hands. Her left hand would be better, probably, so that was what she used to take it.

"Well, I do care, and it's my doorstep you've decided to leave yourself on," Lucifer informed her. "We'll take you to the clinic in the morning."

"Don't need it."

It was more of a weak kneejerk thing than it was a genuine objection. Octavia took a sip from the glass, then grimaced slightly as the cut on the inside of her lip didn't react well to the mint.

Then she drank more.

"Yes, please do keep lying to my face about things I can clearly see are untrue," Lucifer told her. "What brought this on?"

Octavia chose to keep drinking until the glass was empty instead of answering.

Because she didn't know what to say.

"He said you pushed him to hurt you," Lucifer said. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out you were trying to get punishment."

Well, if it had been any of a number of other motivations, it would've probably soared over his head. But this one, Lucifer knew well.

"It was an accident," Octavia said, the glass still hovering by her lips, her gaze downcast. Her voice hoarse. "At first."

"And then?" Lucifer asked. "You decided you liked the taste?"

Octavia's voice went very quiet.

"Snapped."

Lucifer glanced down at the hand she wasn't using.

"Yes, I can see that."

And the hand was pre-snapping, if he could believe it. Sort of.

Octavia was looking down, but not at her hand. Not at much of anything, really: her vision was blurring again.

The question caught in her throat a little. "Is he getting home okay?"

"He's somewhere safe, sleeping it off," Lucifer said. Watching her. "I made sure of it."

Octavia's nod was as shaky as the breath that followed.

"Good."

She used her bad hand to hastily wipe at one of her eyes. The knuckles stung again, but she barely noticed.

"Sit down, Octavia," Lucifer said.

The stern irritability in his face had given away to something tired and worried.

Octavia wanted to.

But that required moving. And she didn't.

"You need to rest," Lucifer said quietly.

"I don't want to."

Didn't deserve to?

She was getting all of those mixed up and tangled up a lot, lately.

"So you'd rather keep loitering in my bedroom until you collapse?" Lucifer asked frankly. "You've plenty of time to atone for your misdeeds later. No need to rush."

"Yes," Octavia ground out.

Look, she hadn't exactly set any kind of a precedent for making sane choices today.

Lucifer eyed her. Shook his head. Slammed back his drink.

"What did you do, Octavia?" he asked flatly. "You covered your guilt quite admirably in justifications and diversions. You humans always do."

So did he, but he had come this far avoiding that confrontation with himself and he was intent to keep going.

"But it's clearly squirming inside of you and propelling you to try to destroy both yourself and the people you care for most, so you might as well come clean about it now."

There was a long moment where it looked like Octavia wasn't going to say anything. Her knuckles were white with the way she was gripping the empty glass, and her head was down. Strands of damp hair hanging down, obscuring her face.

Then, through gritted teeth, she spoke. "I led Wonkru as well as I could," she said. Every word sounded like it took effort - and like she resented that. "I made, and I enforced, the hard decisions, so that they wouldn't have to live with -- things that had to be done."

Lucifer set his glass down.

He poured another measure of scotch.

"Try again," he said, without looking at her.

Octavia wasn't looking at him, either.

"What do you want, Lucifer?" she asked. Still sounding -- forced. "What is this supposed to do?"

"I told you the secret to Hell, didn't I?" Lucifer asked lifting his glass. "I didn't scour the air looking for sinners to snap up. You lot came to Hell of your own accord. Because you felt guilty. Because you felt you needed to be punished."

He took a sip.

"You're putting yourself through Hell right now, and it certainly isn't 'because you did what you had to do'."

And for the second time tonight, Octavia snapped.

"I was already queen of my own Hell, okay! Is that what you want to hear?"

She wouldn't have thought she had energy left for yelling at him like that. Guess she was wrong, because the words came out loud and angry, which was the shield she needed for actually looking up at him, now.

"I carried -- I carry everyone else's sins, on top of my own!"

"Better."

Lucifer was used to far worse than being screamed at. At least now he met her eyes.

"Makes you itch, doesn't it?" he asked, and surprised himself, strangely, by saying that. "Stacking sin upon sin until you're no longer certain which ones are actually yours?"

"And no one else can tell the difference."

That was slightly more of a growl than it was any more yelling.

"They rarely do," Lucifer said. Watching her, now. "Can you?"

Octavia's face looked oddly defiant. Probably because it had to. "Yes."

Problem was, that didn't help.

Lucky her. Lucifer couldn't, anymore.

"Then tell me which part you feel guilty for," Lucifer said. "Then have a drink and a lie down."

Octavia shook her head.

Her boody immediately made her regret it, and she grimaced and shut her eyes tightly at the sudden wave of woozy nausea passing through her.

Lucifer sighed.

Set his drink down.

Walked towards her.

"Octavia," he said. "You are a very stubborn woman, but you have made your point, and then some."

Octavia said nothing. But, this time that was just because she was making sure nothing was about to come rising up from her gut.

Not that she'd actually eaten much today.

Lucifer reached for her hand. "Come on, now. There's a guest room around the corner."

Though with the look on her face, he was halfway afraid she wasn't going to get much further than the distance to his bed, and not in the fun way.

Octavia flinched when his hand met hers, just because she hadn't expected it. Her eyes blinked open again.

They were a lot shinier than they had been when she'd closed them. She swallowed, and nodded.

Like he'd said, she was stubborn. She could make it to a guest room.

"Come," he said again, quietly.

And tugged her slowly towards the door.

Octavia's legs felt unsteady again. They hadn't even taken any of the damage, but all adrenaline had long since left her system, and she felt sapped of all energy.

Still, she moved with him. Her head hanging again.

Lucifer took her into the hallway. He hadn't been lying: the guest room was right around the corner, complete with queen bed (ha) and too-expensive sheets.

"It's yours for as long as you need it," he said, letting go of her hand once they crossed the treshold.

Another unsteady nod.

"Okay." A tear rolled onto her cheek, obscured by her hair, but she didn't feel it. Her lip was aching again. She looked at the room.

It felt wrong, somehow. Too grand for someone who'd done what she had.

"Thanks."

It wasn't like Lucifer had a whipping closet full of thorns for her to sit in. He was kind of hoping never to do that sort of thing again, actually.

"Can you sit down?"

Octavia was one of his, but not that degree.

Another swallow, another shuddery breath. Then, all her movement looking slightly robotic, she walked over to the bed. Sat down on the edge of it, gingerly, suddenly aware of bruises she hadnt checked for but could feel were there.

She looked up again.

Lucifer sat down next to her. Gingerly. "You'll have to deal with what you did, my dear," he said frankly. "But not tonight."

Octavia was already dealing with it.

Her voice was quiet, and just a little bit broken. "He's never going to forgive me."

"You did make a mess of it," Lucifer allowed, snaking a careful arm around her shoulders.

"I didn't mean to," Octavia said, weakly. She of all people knew that didn't matter. It was just like she'd told Ilian all those years ago.

"But a sword doesn't care what you meant."

"No," Lucifer agreed quietly. "You may want to give him some space."

He leaned in to press a kiss to her temple.

Look, tonight was just-- a big bloody mess.

Octavia let him, somehow.

More tears escaped. She shut her eyes tightly again. "I can't go home," she mumbled. "I know that."

Well, she'd had a good run of... what, two weeks?

"Not that particular home, no," Lucifer agreed. He leaned away a bit, considering her. "But you have places to stay."

"Always had those," Octavia muttered, keeping her eyes closed.

She'd rarely had a home. At least one where she wasn't asked to be violent for the common good.

And now she'd brought violence with her onto the Rouge. Just like they'd done to Luna's rig before Praimfaya.

"It's better than trying to slip back into a skin you no longer fit."

"Which one am I supposed to wear now?"

Her eyes opened. Red and wet and pleading as she looked over at him.

"I've been Skairipa, I've been Osleya, I've been Blodreina." Her voice broke on the last word. She pressed on anyway, her voice tight and small. "What's left?"

"I don't know," Lucifer said simply. "That's up to you, isn't it?"

Octavia made a wounded noise and turned her head forward again, staring at nothing.

Trying to just breathe.

"You used to get upset with me if I gave you titles you hadn't chosen for yourself," Lucifer noted.

"That was different," Octavia muttered.

If only because she had actually had a decent grasp on who she was, back then. Even if it hadn't always felt like that at the time.

"Seems like a better place to start than 'assassin' or 'champion' or 'queen'," Lucifer said.

"I had to be all those things."

Which, yes, was the problem now. Nothing was forcing her anymore.

(Except the mess of guilt and rage she carried around with her.)

"And now you don't."

Octavia let her head drop against her hands. Yes, even though it hurt one of them. At least the painkillers had kicked in, dulling everything a little bit.

"But I still am." She'd still been Blodreina kom Wonkru less than a month ago. "Tonight's proof."

"Tonight's proof of nothing but that you're currently a suicidal idiot fueled by guilt," Lucifer said dryly.

Octavia rubbed her temple. Sounded tired. A little helpless, and yet still managing a faint drawl. "I worried he was going to end up hating me the same as everyone else."

This was one way to solve that, sure.

Edited 2020-07-04 19:20 (UTC)

"You know that's not something you should be proactive about," Lucifer said, eyeing her.

"Better now than after he finds out who I became without him?"

She didn't really think that. She just had to -- try and grasp comfort where she could, no matter how twisted.

"You're at least saving yourself a year's worth of 'no, baby, I love you for whoever you are now'," Lucifer said, mimicking Duke's accent with surprising accuracy.

Octavia's response to that was immediate and sharp.

"Don't."

"Touchy," Lucifer sighed. "But honestly, the line between affirmation and denial is quite thin. Especially with people like Duke."

And Chloe.

It wasn't even that. Octavia just did not take very kindly to anything that sounded like it was mocking Duke.

Her voice was back to a glum mumble. "It's not denial if they don't know what they're talking about."

"No, that's definitely denial," Lucifer said, and now he wished he'd brought his drink with him. "Pointedly ignoring all hints to the contrary."

Octavia had arguments to counter that with, but... She drew in a deep breath, then let it go as a sigh. "I don't want to talk about this now."

Felt theoretical, anyway. She'd ruined things, they didn't have to go over whether Duke should have seen it coming or not.

"Fine, I suppose," Lucifer said. He took a breath and eyed her. "If I leave you here for the night, will you be all right?"

"Define 'all right'," Octavia rasped.

"Will you try to sleep and not do anything stupid?" Lucifer amended. "Because I will stay here if it looks like you're going to do something particularly stupid."

Not exactly how he'd been hoping to share a bed with Octavia again, but whatever.

Octavia was back to those snorts that didn't really live up to the name. Also it was thoroughly joyless. "I can't promise sleep."

She couldn't promise much else, either.

Did Lucifer care enough to give up his own night's sleep to make sure she didn't bang her head off a wall all night?

No. No, he did not. No, he wanted-- deserved his beauty rest after all this. "Right," he said, getting up. "I'm going to get my drink."

"Good," Octavia said. Dry, flat.

And without looking up.

Lucifer slipped out of the room.

He did, in fact, go collect his drink, but he paused by it, struck by indecision.

Octavia stayed exactly where she was. Glanced up at the room and wondered whether she should just give up and get under the covers, even though she hadn't had a full night's sleep all week, and had just added a whole new array of nightmare fodder into her brain.

Didn't manage to actually move to make that decision.

But she was alone again, and that was probably what she deserved.

Lucifer rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb. Made an intensely frustrated noise.

He was just not going to get any amount of decent sleep tonight.

He slammed back his drink, filled it with another two measures of scotch, and then marched back across the hallway, back into the guest room. "You know beds are for laying down in," he said, sitting down on the other end. "You have a concussion, you need to get some bloody rest."

"Likely concussion," Octavia drawled, but as far as attempts at being an ass went, it was pretty mild.

You know, because he'd come back.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Okay. Okay. One step at a time. She would probably have to get up, first.

"Please."

Lucifer tugged off his shoes.

Octavia sighed. Then she finally stood up. Slowly, but she did it. And undid the robe, slipping it off her shoulders.

This probably wasn't the way he'd hoped to see her in such a state of undress again either, huh?

... Lucifer had had no plans to get naked at all, so he was mostly moderately surprised.

He only took off his vest, glancing back at her only briefly. "I could have just gotten you some PJs," he said.

Those scars looked ugly.

Octavia knew better than to think she could sleep in a robe, and he'd vanished her own clothes.

"If you want."

Skin was just skin.

There were many scars, but yes, he could probably tell the most gruesome ones - the pair that matched on her stomach and her back from when she got run through with a sword - were the reason she'd rejected all crop tops and bikinis and low-cut backs.

Lucifer just sighed in frustration, folding his vest and putting it on the nightstand.

He was not taking off anything else, thank you. He slid under the covers instead.

Absolutely no one was expecting him to take anything off in the first place.

Octavia wanted to roll her eyes at his sighing, but even that took more energy than she had. And would probably hurt, too. (Still, the urge was good to have. It was more normal than most others tonight had been.)

She set the robe aside, then slipped under the covers on her own side of the bed. Tried to lay on her back - and was immediately reminded of how sore the bump at the back of her head was.

So with a quiet sigh of her own, she turned onto her side, her back towards Lucifer.

Lucifer flipped the lightswitch and turned away from her as well.

"I would actually like to get some sleep," he said, "So please give it a try."

"I've had nightmares all week," Octavia rasped quietly. "So... Good luck."

"If all else fails, there's always my medicinal cabinet," Lucifer muttered.

Was pot a smart thing to take with a concussion?

Or with the rest of Octavia's mental state?

She said nothing. Just closed her eyes and hoped for the best.

Or something close enough to it, anyway.

Lucifer held his breath for a little bit, but there was no more noise from her end of the bed.

He closed his eyes, too.

Lucifer's Mansion, Very Early Saturday Morning

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