Ah, my first Fallen fic. I don't have much to say. I borrowed half of a sentence from a friend; (bows) please don't hurt me! That will be explained later. Anyway, read on...
The wind was warm as it swept across the golden fields of Heaven, but it brought little happiness to the multitude of angels that had gathered in its embrace. Their armor gleamed brightly under the gentle gaze of the sun, only a few shades darker than the grass that danced in the breeze, tickling their knees. Among them was an angel whose beauty surpassed that of any other, and his voice rang out, encouraging them in a time before battle. They were greatly outnumbered, he said, and, though they fought their very brothers, they fought for a noble cause. The angel, as lovely as the morning star in the East, wished them his blessing as they prepared for the final stand…and, as the war cries of their enemy echoed across the plain, the angels felt ready.
Lucifer Morningstar smiled as he looked upon what remained of his followers. They'd lost so many, and yet, they still vowed to follow him to the end. As the enemy approached, he walked among them, marking them with a small piece of himself. Finally completing his task, he turned to face the other two-thirds of Heaven, raising his weapon of fire aloft. As one, he and the angels that followed him charged, striking down any in their way. And the Morningstar cried as he cut down friend after friend, watching as their burning bodies scorched the once spotless grass.
It was as if a single ray of sun illuminated him alone as he took flight, ready to finally strike down the one that had forsaken him. A mixed cry of jubilation, pain, and victory escaped his lips as he raised his fiery weapon to finish what he had started. And then…
God struck back, and the Morningstar fell, every inch of his body, every feather of his wings, every sense, aflame.
It had started that morning at breakfast, when the mouse had tumbled from his shoulder and landed on the table, between his bowl of oatmeal and his glass of milk, with a small thud. The room had gone as still as the grave, all eyes turned on the still form of the small rodent. Finally, after several minutes, Lucifer picked it up and, cradling it gently to his chest, carried it from the room.
Now his sat in the sanctuary of the church, in the front pew, watching the faint breathing of the tiny beast that he held cupped in his palm. He had known this day would come, but hadn't expected it to happen so soon.
He knelt by the altar, not noticing the effect that the hard surface of the floor was having on his bruised knees. He knew not how long he had been there, remembering a time long since past rather than concentrating on the current passing of hours. Finally, he was shaken from his reverie by the faint scratching of a tiny animal. Opening his eyes, he searched the room for the source of the noise, eventually seeing a mouse.
The animal sat by the wall, eating crumbs. The Morningstar stared at it for a moment, perplexed. Noticing his gaze upon it, the mouse cautiously approached him, scurrying across the floor a few feet at a time. When it finally reached him, it rose up on its haunches, cocking its head ever so slightly. Its nose twitched as it sniffed the air.
"You different," it said, blinking. The first of the fallen smiled. Yes, he supposed, I guess I am different. Reaching into his simple robes, he pulled out a small crust of bread that seemed gargantuan in comparison to the rodent before him. The mouse shivered excitedly as it inspected the gift. It zipped back and forth around the food, examining every aspect of it. Finally deciding that it had become well enough acquainted with its feast, it happily dug in, eating about half.
"Do you want to be friends?" asked Lucifer, placing his hand on the dirt floor before the mouse. It gazed up at him with tiny black eyes, its paws still holding what remained of the bread crust. It sat still for a moment, before dropping the bread and climbing onto the Morningstar's outstretched hand.
"Yes," it replied simply.
The Morningstar smiled softly. For the first time since his fall, he had a friend…Noon had come and gone, but Lucifer remained constant, choosing to skip lunch rather than to abandon his tiny companion. He sat hunched over in the pew, the tiny creature nestled in the folds of the blanket that he had laid across his lap. He considered over and over trying to save it, to do something to prolong its life, but knew that it would only be in vain. This was the curse of immortality after all; as his loved ones died around him, he would live and wander the earth until the Lord deemed him fit to return home.
Reaching down, he gently stroked the velvety fur on its side and scratched it behind its ears. He smiled sadly and bent over it further, nuzzling its tiny cheek with his nose. He sat that way for several minutes, staying as close as possible with his friend. This small animal had done more for him than he could ever have asked for. Its unconditional love teaching him the errors in his ways and, in his eyes, pointing him in the direction of possible forgiveness.
The pain was unbearable as Hell leaked from the chasm that the Archons had cut into his chest. The blood red fog-like vapor collected in the protective circle drawn beneath his hanging body, choking him with its rancid stench. He was completely alone, no longer able to hide in the comforting abyss of unconsciousness. He felt sorrow fill his body, making his eyes burn. He may have deserved this pain, but the inhabitants of the world did not and he continued to try to fight the flow, refusing to give in, especially now that he had seen the face of his son. Then he remembered his friend, the tiny mouse that had been a companion to him even as he was tortured by the Powers.
The Morningstar squirmed in his bonds, swaying feebly from side to side. Looking up, he glanced tiredly at the cruel visage of Verchiel, who grinned horribly at him beneath the bandages that hid his rotting flesh, but only for a moment. Too tired to fight, he fell limp, his chin falling against his chest. And, as Hell poured from his broken body, he felt a sense of relief.
Perhaps I've carried it long enough, he rationalized, maybe this is supposed to happen.
Then he heard it, the faintest scratching. Wearily opening his eyes, he gazed down through Hell, barely able to see the rough floor beneath.
If he had had the strength, he would have gasped, for standing in the very center of the circle, seemingly oblivious to the atrocity that swirled around it, was the mouse. The Morningstar wanted to cry. This tiny creature was enduring Hell for him. Rising up on its haunches, it gazed up at him through loving eyes, reaching for him with its paws.
"You are not alone."
Lucifer nearly jumped, startled from his memories by the small movement from the mouse. Lifting his head, he stared at it, waiting for it to move again. And then it did, one of its tiny paws waving weakly in the air, as if searching for comfort. He couldn't help but to smile sadly.
"I'm here," he whispered, gently placing his index finger beneath the outstretched paw. The rodent relaxed, closing its eyes once more; its small pink fingers wrapping as best as they could around his own. The Morningstar sighed, comforted by the weak squeeze of his friend's paw, and closed his eyes.
"Lord," he prayed, speaking in a low voice, "I know I have sinned, and I am far from deserving the companionship of this incredible creature, but please hear my prayer. Please take my friend, and let him ride upon Your shoulder until You see me fit to return so that we may be reunited."
Lucifer stopped, not sure of what else to say. For the first time in his long existence, he was without words. Finally, he opened his eyes and gazed upon his friend and savior, realizing all of a sudden that it had become incredibly still. Lifting his free hand, he stroked the fur on its side once again, finding that the muscles beneath were beginning to harden.
Carefully sliding his hand beneath its body, he stood and bore it to the altar, placing it before the stone cross that stood upon it, never taking his finger from the mouse's grasp.
"I pray that we shall meet again," he said in the language of the Messengers, rubbing the velvety fur of the back of its paw with his thumb. Then, slowly pulling his finger from his dead friend's grasp, he turned and left the sanctuary, allowing one tear to fall.
Author's Note: I borrowed the one tear thing from a friend and fellow collaborator in writing. Sorry, it just seemed appropriate.
This fic is dedicated to Fred, my first rat, who died much the same way on the second day of the new year a few years ago...