Chapter 38: Ice: Doomed to Repeat

A/N: Old habits die hard. (like using profanity, apparently)

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Canaan woke the morning after coming home to a hell of a headache and insistent tapping on her door. Shaking her head to clear the blear, damn - THAT was a mistake – she slapped a palm on her forehead, trying to keep her brains in. Getting her bearings. Home. On loveseat. Under blanket. Crunchy leg up on pillows, arm on more. Silence…except for that infernal tapping. The fuck…?

"Not really able to move quickly, so you can stop splintering my door anytime, okay?" Sheesh, calling out like that just made her head pound worse. She began to struggle up, ready to liquefy whatever nemesis awaited her wrath. Her rather anemic wrath at the moment, yes, but she'd make due.

"Ms. Raene? It's the visiting nurse. I have the key you lent us, just wanted to warn you I was coming in."

'Well then why didn't you just fucking do that in the first place' Canaan groused to herself. God (oops), she knew she was such an asshole when operating at less than 115% capacity. Speaking of…she looked around her home – no signs of any deities anywhere. That jerk had cut and run after what…drilling drywall screws into her temples and filling the pits with muriatic acid? She remembered falling asleep after her elderly neighbors had left…Lucifer had probably gotten bored. Second most powerful thing in all of existence (so he said) and the attention span of a second-grader snorting Pixie Stiks. Jesus. Shit, no. Yeshua. Knowing Lucifer had put a serious dent into her stock of epithets. One more reason to be irritated.

She didn't get a chance to reflect any further as the chipper little pest bounced in making happy noises at her. Seriously, these sorts of people must bathe in speed-laced Moly: no one was this lively without chemical coercion. She did however, appreciate the assistance getting in and out of the shower and some help moving her workspace around. And organizing whatever Lucifer had done to wreak helpful havoc in her kitchen. Strangely, other than her inexplicable headache her arm and leg felt a lot better than they had (not knowing she had Raphael to thank for some of that). After food and some serious attention to the outer limits of recommended doses of aspirin Canaan felt well enough to behave herself mentally AND outwardly to this perky antagonist.

"So, I'll be here for an hour in the mornings, then James will come in around 6P each day for another. We'll drive you to PT/OT as well."

Oh great. Lovely.

"Yes, well, that's a lot of attention…I don't think I need…."

"Oh, no no…that's what you contracted for when you opted out of hospital rehab. You ARE currently in need of help…and," here the chipper glint was replaced by a mordant gleam, "…you're not the first medical person I've worked with, so don't be a moronic jerk, okay? You might slip and fall or something. Wouldn't that be awful?"

Canaan actually laughed aloud, receding headache and all.

"I sincerely apologize. No offense intended. Please, what was your name again? Because I was calling you something unrepeatable in my head."

"None taken. And Molly."

Well of course it was. Middle name probably 'Speed' and last one 'Laced'.

"All right…I give up. Your terminal cheerfulness is decimating. See you tomorrow."

"Good. Glad we got that straight." Back to rabid pre-school teacher chipperness. "Sandwich and soup in the fridge for lunch. Heat and eat – see ya later, alligator!"

Yeshua Christ, indeed.

Left in the quiet of her home, Canaan puttered through patient files for a bit at her desk, updating and rescheduling, but was a little curious that her earlier text of, 'did you smack me upside with a 2x4 before leaving last night or funnel whisky into me? either way, rude' had garnered no response from Lucifer. She knew he had a busy schedule as well, and traveled a great deal, but didn't think he had said anything specific about today.

Nothing all morning.

Nothing all afternoon.

Evening session with James came and went with no electronic updates. Canaan was relieved this nurse was much more cool and collected. Pleasant, but quieter and she remarked on it.

"I used to be a prison RN. After that milieu short, grumpy, busted-up women aren't scary. Sorry."

Perfect. Calm and sarcastic; one of her favorite flavors. Somehow the dark skin, shaved head and strong musculature made him seem oddly familiar, but she knew they hadn't met. Relieved that at least her evenings would be more serene, Canaan was settling in with tea and a book, still a little perplexed over the lack of communication. She'd missed Lucifer and this unexpected damage to deal with just when things were getting back on whatever track was normal for them? Aggravating. Definitively so.

Nothing the next morning. Nor all week. Nor the next.

She'd sent a few more variations of 'hey, everything okay?' messages for naught, and by the time her two-week PT/OT physical evaluation came around had realized SOMEthing had gone widely amiss. She'd been cleared to return to work, but only to see patients in her office. Still couldn't drive herself…probably not for awhile. Lacking that freedom meant she could not 'just drop by' his building to see if he was in (even if she was still highly wary of running into that Mazikeen). And at this point she really wasn't sure she wanted to stop in unannounced anyway. By the time the first board meeting came around where her project and the other accepted were due to be rolled out she thought surely he'd be there…but no. He'd left direction in absentia, citing other commitments elsewhere. That continued for the next one, and the one after that as well.

So, just nothing? Why? At least when she'd asked for space they'd talked about it. But then again, this was…he was…quite different. Maybe he'd decided bothering with one scratch-and-dent human was more boring trouble than it was worth and gone back a simpler palate of flavor-of-the-moment. At the seat of her mind she hoped this wasn't so…but as more time passed it looked more plausible.

Two months after her accident she finally got clearance to get back into the operating room and trauma bays. She thought the flurry of activity and crisis management would take up her headspace a little better than busywork, but found one Lucifer Morningstar still at the forefront of her thoughts most of the time. At the end of her first week she allowed her team to drag her out after their last shift. It was a decent hour, off at 8P, and she had missed them – more than she'd allowed herself to miss almost anything else in such a long time.

And why not go out for one evening? It's not like there was anything other than work to take up her time now.

"Honey are you okay to walk? It's only a few blocks but it's still nasty out with all the ice."

Canaan smiled at her. She still had a bit of a limp although PT was coming along well and it was kind of the woman to notice. "Faye, we've just been standing still for twelve hours handing sharp and shiny things back and forth. I could hack some movement so long as Dale doesn't need to chase down some new boy and drag us with him."

"I heard that, smartass. I don't chase – you know they all come running to me." She laughed, but hearing the snappy confidence tugged at her. It sounded familiar. Or it had.

Bundled and buffered by her teammates, Canaan found herself walked in a happy, chattery knot in the February chill to a cheerful bistro not far from Lucifer's building. She eyed the the top level as they passed through the adjacent intersection: no lights. No one home. Or no one vertical. She'd never dropped in, and although the thought of driving out to the mountain house had crossed her mind, deep down she knew he'd chosen this rift. Just not why and it was clear he would not allow her to ask. The next few hours were happier ones than she'd had in some time. She was still quieter than most, but pleased that her team didn't seem to care, as they never had; just enjoying being all together again. 'Work hard/play hard' with great people: there were certainly worse ways to spend a life…even if it seemed a little emptier now. Canaan found herself considering staying here instead of moving on after a time as she usually did. Maybe she could learn to put some roots down again and all other things considered, she mentally thanked Lucifer for that. They were all snickering at some of the outlandish Bohner stories they were still catching her up with as they walked back out into the clasp of late evening cold. Further down the block and across the street another group was loudly braving the winter elements, but unlike them it looked like this crew was just getting started on their night. As the two clusters approached each other, Canaan heard a very familiar laugh. A uniquely specific one resplendent in deep bell tones. She looked over and yes, it was him. Of course it was. Who else had that soul-stirring music inside them?

Lucifer was, as always, perfect-looking. Dark gray overcoat that looked like it cost more than the per capita of a small country. Black scarf with a single wrap around his neck and deep crimson leather gloves…and those weren't his only accessories. In the knot of people he was surrounded by the common theme was plastique perfection, vacant eyes and other than his own, laughter that bordered on the shrillness of wind skating a void. A woman that looked the image of Asian Barbie perfection was nearly tucked into his pocket – Canaan couldn't blame her; wearing only sequins and fluffy dead animals short enough to leave her bony legs bare under her crotch probably weren't the warmest choices. Must be rough to have an intelligence quotient lower than the ambient temperature. On his other side was a gorgeous blond with long hair. The man was just a little taller than Lucifer and had an arm slung over his shoulders, patting his chest with the other hand.

Canaan slipped, just a little. In her distraction, she hadn't been watching where she was going. Stepping on a little powdery snow covering a patch of ice made her lose her balance. Dale was right beside her next to the street and hopped nimbly off the curb to catch her elbow and waist.

"Easy now, Raeney! We just got you back…no plans to leave us with morons rotating through to deal with again, are you?"

"Sure Dale, sorry. Thanks. Fucking lightweight." She held onto him, righting herself.

From across the street a pair of dark eyes noted the erratic movement in the small knot of people and focused. The four ahead had stopped to turn and look at the two behind, a man in the street holding a small woman beside him, arms wrapped tightly around each other. The woman had long chestnut hair, loose waves fluttering in the cold wind. Canaan. His heart dropped. First night he'd been back in the city after traveling all winter, hoping to avoid chance meetings like this. First time he'd seen her in so long. She was speaking as she looked up at her companion, small smile of familiarity on her face as he laughed at what she was saying.

"Just be more careful you klutz, okay?" Giving her a swift peck on the forehead as she stood straight. Ernie asking, "Damn Dale, you finally switching teams? Go on Blake – get in there quick!" Sniggering as the younger woman hit him in embarrassment, laughter echoing through the whole group as they all began to move together once more. Dale still kept her arm through his and truthfully, with what she'd just seen across the street Canaan was grateful for the stability. Lucifer watched the camaraderie of the interactions, fiercely hurt as he felt alone in this snarl of shiny party favors. No Maze even, and this outing had been her idea – a way of keeping him from moping as soon as he'd come back. And even though he'd been the one to cut Canaan off (protecting her!) he was bitterly jealous, an emotion he'd never equated with her. She hadn't missed him; not at all. And seemed to have recovered more than well enough in several areas. Humans. Fallacious and fickle indeed. When would he finally learn that?

"Hey man, eyes on me – those idiots aren't in our league." With a sudden clench of strong fingers across his jaw and arm around his shoulders, Lucifer found himself in a faux passionate vise as the blond man mouthed him roughly. "Leave some for me!" came the squawk from the woman under his other arm. The noise and movement got Canaan's attention again and she watched Lucifer being buried in a masculine kiss as the woman beside him ran her hand under the heavy lapel of his long coat, her leg sliding underneath it as she spun to walk backwards in front of him. The others cheered raucously. Amazing they could be coordinated enough to do that and still move forward - but perhaps communal activity was something they practiced. Sure looked that way. The two groups passed abreast of each other separated by the cold glare of ice and eyes. Two pairs locked with the same hurt. Same rejection and confusion.

It was hard for Canaan to realize she'd expected no less…eventually.

It was hard for Lucifer to realize he'd expected much more…eventually.

Their thoughts were exactly the same: 'Perhaps it didn't matter for you as much as it did for me after all. Perhaps I'm too much to bother with. Seems it was easier for you to walk away than I hoped. What a fool I've been, but better now I know.'

Later that night Canaan found herself in her familiarly empty house with her familiarly full thoughts. Books were easier. They didn't cut you open, then cut you off with no explanation. Hurt you simply because they could.

Lucifer found himself in a familiar maelstrom of empty minds and empty bodies squalling to be filled in a lavish hotel suite – he didn't remember their names, or even if he'd been told them. And didn't care to. Vacant sex was simpler. Lavishly barren fucking was hollow fun, apparently all he was good for. None of these miscreants could hurt him.

They both went back to what they knew, marking time until something, somehow would change. Neither having any idea of how to make that happen and after what they saw, not wanting to either. Or wished it to be so.