Author's notes:
Thanks for your review guest !
I'm a bit stressed lately; a lot of work and my cat sick now… I need a break - -'
As I promised ; the second and last chapter.
Still not beta-checked (It will come later ^^) and still very sorry about the grammatical mistakes.
Music advice : Matt Maeson – Grave Digger (stripped)
WHAT IF
The fall is never-ending. Blinding, even.
To such an extent that he doesn't feel anymore, not even the wind which is supposed to cut his ribs more strongly than before. He doesn't feel anything along his limbs, his face, along his partially opened lips, but-
He feels anyway.
The pain is consuming him from the inside.
He can't tell where it comes from, he can't see it. That's impossible, he can't see either. He's blind, mute… stripped of his five senses for a reason he doesn't know. Is it a punishment? Wasn't it terrible enough for his Father to make him fall? Is it necessary to take everything's left from him?
He feels anyway.
He feels this cadenced pressure on his chest; that fire ravaging his lungs stripped of the slightest breath. He feels this lack of breath, he feels that it's eluding him, struggling together with the pain that paralyses him. All this air around him… All this air that rejects him.
This is stupid.
He feels all this and nothing at once.
He sees this bright light all around him, but remains nevertheless blind to the smallest details.
He hears this strong buzzing, but remains deaf to everything around.
He tastes the ferrous smell of his own blood, but tastes nothing more than that.
A fall as unique as odd.
How long will it last?
There must be an end to this, right?
"-up."
What is this?
This new sound grazes him and vanishes as quickly, to such an extent that he's not sure he really hears it. It would hardly be surprising that his mind begins to act up, after all. But it comes back. Stronger, longer and all around him.
"-fer."
It sounds like a kind of echo; sometimes vague, sometimes blaring.
An intelligible sound he would have gladly ignored if the pain didn't seem to eagerly answer to this call. He doesn't feel anymore; he's enduring it, he lets himself being tormented by this repeated suffering against his torso, around his lungs, helpless. He can't do anything against it.
"-eathe!"
What?
It's pure agony, the pain is everywhere; in this pressure and that sound that is thickening in the air, that is screaming and whispering to his ears at once.
"Breathe! Come on!"
Breathe?
Why not.
How is he supposed to do that?
"Come back, please."
He knows that voice, he's sure of it.
He has to come back, but where should he go? How can he go there?
The pain is simply unbearable now; it's setting fire to his lungs, to his heart… The feel of a upcoming explosion to which he can't be unresponsive. He needs to expel it, to get rid of it.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Then comes the foretold explosion. Everywhere. His body, his senses hitherto gagged… He leaves the nothingness and finds himself assailed with increased ferocity.
Not so sure that "breathe" was the best solution to his problem.
He hears; that voice, and another one. A breathing that struggles to continue. A constant row behind him.
He feels; the blazing in his chest, his painful heartbeats. Those vibrations along his numb limbs; that's terrible. He would have been a wandering soul without a real sheath that it wouldn't have surprised him.
He feels and hears, but he still can't make a move.
"-ou hear me?"
Is it talking to him?
Sensations, noises, voices… That's confusing, so strong and nauseating that he can barely hold it. He can't remember being so much in pain by just breathing.
Strange.
This numbness, this pain… Maybe he's finally arrived?
Maybe.
He never goes to Hell before; he only very occasionally observed it from a distance, at a much safer distance than this intense proximity.
He's surprised he didn't feel anything; such a fall… You must feel something about it. But the situation is such strange that not feeling anything - even after this presumed crash with the infernal heath - doesn't seem so extraordinary.
"-fer? Listen to me-"
Easier said than done.
Everything is so loud. Too loud. Too much, it's too much to bear. He can't-... This isn't-...
"Damn it!" muttered this other voice, a man just as familiar.
That voice expresses some struggle he can't define; blinded and tormented as he is right now. He's also struggling, he can't tell against what exactly. His own body? This fire ravaging his throat as well as his lungs? This light that weighs upon his eyes?
He's not even sure to have his eyes opened.
"I'm trying to help you, Goddam-!"
Help him? Really? By torturing him like this? He's seen better help.
"Lucifer."
The other voice.
He tries to focus on it, beyond this endless struggle and unbending suffering. The task is not easy.
"Lucifer, it's me; Chloe. Try to take a long, deep breath, okay?"
But-...
"It'll help you, I promise." said the voice again. "Just breathe. Slowly."
Really?
He doubts he can do this, the pain won't leave him even for a moment and comes beneath his ribs with each of his desperate attempt to catch a tiny portion of air. Doing it more slowly can't be the solution.
It can't be that simple, can it?
He makes a first shy try, the pressure around his chest also trying to fudge his move before submitting to it reluctantly. It's difficult, painful; but already more tolerable.
"That's it." her voice supports him. "Go on."
"Come on, man… Come on."
A death rattle, another inhaling, deeper than the previous one and the fire is gradually contained. He can finally feel the air tickling the inside of his throat, fulling his lungs without any other pain than a brief discomfort that is so light it's ridiculous.
The world darkens, becomes clearer, less insane.
He blinks, his eyes burning a lot; but he can finally see. He stares at the spotless white ceiling, the fuzzy shapes leaning over him and sometimes swallowed by the light above; only reappearing in his field of vision a moment later.
"Easy, Lucifer! Just take slow breaths, it's okay."
He doesn't really listen to these fuzzy shapes and looks around; he looks at his body. His hands, palms turned towards the ceiling, on this cold ground touched by other shapes.
Are those… feet? How strange is that.
He watches his chest rise, his shirt wide open, an icy breath stinging his skin. He shivers strongly and let his head fall against the floor; this head full of interrogations. It's so confusing in his mind, just as his sensations. He hardly swallows; he's still panting and his chest keeps fighting to maintain his breathing.
"Lucifer? Hey…"
He shuts his eyes and feels for the first time this wet mark along his cheeks; which continues, which doesn't run dry. Something softer is covering that mark; covering his cheeks. His head is spinning, he's feeling nauseous, but he opens his eyes anyway; two narrow gaps that let a single picture filter.
The lightness that breaks through the fog.
He focuses on that face, those thine hands, those lips that ask him to listen; just a little bit.
Just what is necessary.
And he finally understands.
"Hey…It's okay. We got him." Chloe reassures him by wiping away his tears. "You're safe now, it's okay."
It's okay.
He understands; he understands that the fall has stopped a long time ago. He realizes that he has never fallen, not recently at least, except this slight fall that is still tormenting the back of his skull. He stares at the detective, according his breathing with hers.
He never fell.
He is not falling.
"It's okay." repeats Chloe as the backup arrive inside the room.
It's okay.
It's okay.
-xXx-
He's okay.
It might seems incredible, but he is. No matter how much he has repeated it, each person he might have met since the last hour won't trust this very simple truth. That's a fact; Lucifer is okay. He concedes that having been poisoned earlier by a toxic gas with surprising effects may be a reason to worry; as much as the heart failure that followed, but-
He is okay.
The gas hasn't acted on him for a while now and his heart strongly beats in his chest as it has always done since the beginning of time. He doesn't hide the fact that this was pretty trying; physically speaking, but it's circumstantial. An explanation called "Detective", or "Chloe" to her friends. A few meters between each other, a glass of bourbon and every traces of pain, exhaustion or any other physical disorder will disappear. It's not by dint for auscultation, more stupid questions or serious warning about going to the hospital that it will change something. Why do they want to find a problem at all costs? This is a waste of time, for him as for them.
"I'm okay." he repeats for the twentieth time with a kind smile. "Thank you for your concern."
Apparently, twenty brings luck. The man who was checking his vitals seems finally concede that his patient doesn't need real medical care in the near future; the worst is over, as his utility here. He nods and turns to see his colleagues driving a taken stretcher to the second ambulance further down the parking lot, its rotating lights piercing regularly the darkness of the night.
Lucifer is watching, too.
He watches the unconscious critically-ill man; just like his previous victims, like Lucifer was earlier. All this just not to be taken alive. Or not to deal with the Devil's wrath. Both were really stupid. If he lives, he will ends the rest of his life in prison, thinking about his own fear over and over again because he used the other's fears to murder them. If he dies, he won't avoid incarceration either. A rather different kind of prison, for sure - a suffocating, repetitive and so much more nightmarish place than his pathetic gaseous tricks. Another kind of jailers, longer punishment - eternal, actually - that would make him regret the human world.
Human justice - obviously flawed - or divine justice…
The choice is simple, isn't it?
Lucifer just hopes he'll succumb to his injuries, although he knows that those kind of desires wouldn't please his partner, so straight, so moral and naive. But Lucifer knows. He knows what's waiting this man down there. Oh, he so much hopes hearing his end, he wants to see and feel his soul cross the Threshold to a darker and amazingly nightmarish destination. He wants to see fear on his face for a very long time; and that will never end.
The fear; sheer and bestial.
Too bad he swore to never come back to his Kingdom of Fire and Blood.
Lucifer lets out a disdainful exclamation as he follows the noisy procession of rescuers with his eyes. The man near him doesn't notice it, also occupied by this vision and his professionalism. He quickly walks away from his devilish patient, wanting to help them somehow. Lucifer doesn't stop him, he keeps staring at this dying murderer with a strong disdain.
That man…
How could he have thought to know everything about fear, the real one?
How could he have thought to inflict it on him; the Devil?
Ridiculous.
"Throw him into the Flames!"
He shudders.
It's just the wind.
No wonder he's cold; with his Armani suit jacket gone and his shirt opened on Los Angeles nocturnal breeze. He moves his hands to his chest, wanting to put his clothing in order. His hands are slightly shaking, not enough to really mean something but enough to trouble him.
It's just the wind.
Just the wind.
Lucifer swallows and rubs his hands together with a blank stare.
"Throw him!"
He takes a deep breath, grimacing when he feels again some tension where Daniel has tried - quite roughly - to bring him back to life. How it must be with the women…
He rubs his sore ribs and shuts his eyes, absent-mindedly catching snatches of conversation a few feet away, the hurried or slower steps from other people on the crime scene.
"Is it just a hobby or an odd coincidence that you always imperil yourself?"
He opens his eyes and looks at the detective who has approached him without he notice. Her voice is expressing a deep annoyance, but Lucifer hears further than that. He knows she's still worried about him. He knows she's feeling bad.
This is how she is; guilt is a human feeling, it appears.
As much as telling him off for doing the only thing to do.
"It depends who's my savior." he replies, lowering his hand that was remained against his sore side.
"I thought you invulnerable."
"It depends.", repeats Lucifer without any other explanation.
Chloe shakes her head; she is angry.
Right.
"You can't play with your life like that, Lucifer." she tries again.
"I'm invulnerable, you said it yourself, Detective." he politely interrupts her with a smile as he begins to button up his shirt.
Who the hell pulls off the half of it?!
"You can't play with your life." she insists. "Yours as ours!"
He stares at her, confused.
"I didn't-"
"Like hell you didn't! Your rushed headlong bring face to face with our suspect without even telling me or Dan. You had no idea what was waiting for you in there! You fell into his trap as we could have fallen into it while coming rescue you - We could have died; the three of us! It's lucky that the gas was almost gone when we found you…"
She stops talking and glares at him. He doesn't like the way she's looking at him and he looks away, feeling uncomfortable. He could answer to her, but he doesn't want to. He just wants to go home and have a drink before going to bed. His fingers are playing with what's left from his studs and he nods slightly without a word.
"Apologies, Detective. I thought I could handle this on my own without risk your life. It appears that I have slightly overestimated my strength here." he says, giving her a faint smile while he's still pretty tensed.
She is still glaring at him, hesitant. Lucifer is sincere, she knows that. Lying doesn't look like him; it never does. She takes a deep breath, looking far away, and releases the tension that was inside her body until then. She finally lowers her arms along her sides, accepting her partner's apologies and comes to sit next to him in the back of the ambulance.
They stay like that; silent and peaceful. Lucifer looks up and sighs. A sky without a tiny clouds – this isn't common at that time of the year. He can see each of the stars prick the timeless ink of the skies above them.
"I'm glad you're fine."
Lucifer looks down at Chloe. His eyes don't leave hers; seized by the shy gleam inside them, the spark of an emotion that he's trying, is afraid to name.
"Don't do this to me again. Ever…Deal?"
"Deal."
It's difficult for him to hold her gaze, to hold that emotion threatening to overwhelm him so easily… Lucifer looks away much more quickly than he wants and becomes quiet again. He doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't want to say anything else.
There's nothing else to say.
But he knows her too well. As she does.
They both know what happened. They're partners; a combined and unavoidable knowledge about the investigation, the cause of death and the murder weapon. He would have willingly done without it. He would have preferred to leave some doubts about what happened to him; no sure thing, no more questions. It is that simple. It could have.
He won't be able to discourage her; she's far too tenacious. And he won't be able to dodge; not very long, at least. He doesn't lie; that's the problem.
He never lies.
"Lucifer-"
He shuts his eyes, defeated.
"-what did you see?"
He keeps his eyes shut, just like his mind. He doesn't want to think about this. He doesn't want to think at all; just feel the wind, that peaceful night around, the detective's presence near him.
He doesn't want anything else.
"Fulfill my Will!"
Nothing more.
Talking about this won't make any good to him or his partner. Lucifer is the Devil; her partner. A terrifying legend…
What's the point to demystify this?
Fear takes its power from its recognition. Ignoring it is the only thing to do.
It will pass… With time.
Time wipes off everything . It has wiped off his name, his former life; why not this?
It will pass, wiped off with a blast of air like the gas that brought it inside him and inside the other victims. Lucifer is certain about that; he can't sacrifice that for a simple human. That would be stupid.
Chloe sighs beside him; she thinks she lost the fight - he didn't know it was. Lucifer has still not opened his eyes, and he doesn't want to. He can feel her standing up, looking at him for a moment. She begins to walk away, feeling uncomfortable with his quiet "no".
"I better get going and check what's Dan-"
"I was falling."
"What?"
Chloe turns to Lucifer when he opens his eyes.
"I saw me falling." he whispers.
"Oh."
That's all the detective answers to him. She doesn't know what to say and that's fine; how could she understand the hidden meaning of his words? How could she understand this fear that is eating up from the inside? She can't. She never will.
But it doesn't matter.
Now that he breaks the silence… It's probably best to continue.
"I was falling and-... There was no one to catch me. Who would want to, right?" he says with a bitter exclamation. "That was rather the opposite. They were dragging me to the void. Do you even know what you feel when you're thrown into the void, Detective? The real void?"
She remains quiet and Lucifer doesn't wait an answer. He continues.
"You can't breathe. You can't even remember how; your own breathing is like a stranger. It is swallowed by the void, the fear. This fear that is gripping you and won't let you go… It's the only thing that takes you and yet, it won't protect you from the fall itself. It pushes you into it with such satisfaction! The wind digs into your body, it rips your limbs and you're suffocating… Isn't that ironic? You fear the end of this fall but-... you desire it with all your heart."
Lucifer hates the unwanted tremor in his voice with this last sentence.
He hates the wind.
He hates that man lying on the stretcher.
he hates them all.
He doesn't want to see the concern on the detective's face; no more than this other expression - doubts. He doesn't want to see her doubt.
Not now.
He's still looking down, slowly shaking his head; surprised to feel that fear deep inside him, to feel it on his lips and say other insane words.
"What if I fall once more?"
He's laughing; he's trying to. But his throat his shaking too, he can only let out this trembling exclamation filled with some stupid emotions.
This is stupid.
He won't fall. Never again.
This is behind him.
"You won't."
Lucifer lifts his head and stares at Chloe's quiet expression who is still standing a few steps from him. There is no doubt; only the truth. A truth that doesn't dare to approach him, this isn't his truth. It can't be a lie either.
Not coming from her.
He is looking at her, trying to see this truth beyond her calm expression, beyond the breeze, the fear. He's trying strain to find it.
"How can you be so sure?"
How, when there was just doubt everywhere from his side?
How?
The answer - this truth - was simple; it was here, right in front of him. In that smile, the breeze brushing their skin, the look they were sharing, the doubt she was hushing inside him. Without even touching him, with nothing more than a few words.
Simple. True. Undeniable.
"Because I'll catch you before you fall."
THE END
Author's notes:
Thanks for reading ! I hope you like this last part.
Let me know with a review/follow/fav or on tumblr/twitter.
For my writing ; I've almost finished to write "Sous un nouveau jour" in French, so the translation will come, I promise.
See you soon :3
