Disclaimer: Of course I don't own TDC, obviously you should enjoy the real thing, it's really good.

"It is, you must concede, unpleasantly messy, this business of having feelings, this mattering to each other. I've always thought of it as gory, a sort of perpetually occurring road accident - everyone going too fast, too close, without due care and attention, or with too much . . ."
― Glen Duncan, I, Lucifer

Chapter 4:

Trouble in Paradise

The reaction was almost instantaneous, the next day the Watchword had the papers out: Favorite Lapdog Becomes Rabid the headlines screamed. Over the radio he mused on whether Lucifer had some ailment of the mind and if God could be able to fix him, like He fixed the physical ailments of His creations. Or maybe God had deemed Lucifer unrepairable and was going to throw him away. Everyone avoided the Morningstar like he carried the Plague. Almost has if disobedience, free-thinking, and critical thinking were diseases you could catch. Lucifer contemplated sneezing on someone just to see their reaction, but decided against it. Even his friends treated him like they were wearing haze mat suits. The Agent acted like Lucifer didn't even exist, and when the Agent spoke to him he did so with cold indifference, though Lucifer could see the sadness and shame in his eyes.

When Lucifer spotted Geraldine the other Ladies pulled her protectively towards them and led her away from him, but not before he heard her sobbing as if in grief. And then there was the Scribe. He spotted his long-time companion while he was heading back to his office, and he couldn't help but sigh in relief. Finally, a friendly face, he smiled and waved in greeting. To his surprise it looked like the Scribe was going to come over to him when the Librarian grabbed him by the arm, shook his head, and led him towards the Library. "Come on," the Librarian said. "Let's leave him to his Sin. We've got work to do."

Lucifer sighed and made his way back to his office. As he passed angels pressed against the side of walls to avoid contact with him. Lucifer gritted his teeth in frustration. It wasn't like he was dangerous after all, he meant them no harm. And he really wasn't contagious, sick, or anything ludicrous like that. All he did was point out a concept never contrived before. Was that really so bad? Apparently, it was. All he did was suppose (almost hypothetically) that God wasn't such the bees-knees after all, that maybe once you got passed the hype He wasn't so grand. All he wanted was for them to think about what they would be without His Holiness, where could they go with their lives if it wasn't filled with praises all day?

That wasn't to say he was advocating desertion. Lucifer never suggested they take up arms against Him. All he asked was for them to contemplate it. And if they didn't like what came to mind so be it. Everything went back to normal, no harm done. But why weren't they allowed to even imagine it? Lucifer felt a spark of annoyance as he thought of God's cold threats and hot ultimatums. Was the Creator so paranoid about losing His hold on Heaven that He had to resort to petty threats? Was a so-called All Powerful Being's control so flimsy that He felt endangered by some careless musings? And if so perhaps He shouldn't have such a lofty position over them, perhaps He didn't deserve such authority over their lives. If God was truly all that they had been led to believe then He shouldn't have cared that one angel started to consider other avenues. He shouldn't have been concerned about what that would do to others. If God was really all that He was cracked up to be then He should have been content knowing that the musings would lead to nothing, and move on.

Despite his anger self-preservation was a heady thing, so Lucifer toed the line to a degree. He hadn't told them outright that he was mistaken (because he was becoming considerably convinced that he was not), but he acted just like how he did before the incident. He followed the Creator's edicts to a T, and he continued to carry out his Heavenly duties with superb performance. All the while pretending as if he didn't notice the disdainful looks he was getting, the fact that everyone was avoiding him, or the fact that they would mutter an Alleluia prayer as he passed.

…

Time moved slowly that day, more so than Lucifer would have liked. But finally the day was winding down. All he had to do was make a quick appearance at the Speakeasy and then he could stop parading before the masses. He slide through the doors and everyone grew silent, not a church mouse squeaked. Lucifer ignored the oppressive silence and made his way through the crowd. Lucifer only saw the looks of disgust that were shot at him, he did not see the looks of curious intrigue on some angels' faces. Though to be fair they were very far and few between.

Just when things were starting to get decidedly uncomfortable, the doors swung open and God stepped into the room. The atmosphere changed instantaneously, it changed from stifling and silent to joyous and loud as everyone basked in the presence of their Lord. Everyone except Lucifer, of course, who stayed in the back of the Speakeasy hoping to remain inconspicuous. Unfortunately, God had other plans because after He finished greeting all His children God made His way over to His errant son.

Lucifer stiffened, He wasn't planning on smiting him in public was He? No, that wouldn't do for His Holy image, Lucifer rolled his eyes, He'd make my destruction a private affair, but then what does He want? When God reached him Lucifer was surprised to see a huge grin on His face and even more shocked to have God put His arms around him in a hug. Though he could feel that those arms where more caging then holding, the lips pressed against his shoulder more scowling then smiling, and the hands that rested against his back where balled up into fists; the knuckles digging into his back, almost as if God was so angry with His wayward son that He couldn't make His hands lay flat.

All the angels in the room cheered, glad to see that Lucifer and God where back to their normal relationship again, that all had been forgiven and everything was fine now. No one saw what lay under the surface of that hug. No one knew that they would have cheerfully torn each other apart and laughed about it. Upon seeing the show of Fatherly affection the Host assumed that the trouble was over, the crisis averted, but in reality they couldn't have been more wrong: it was just getting started.

Finally, God pulled back and turned to face His obedient children. "As you can see everything is just fine. There is no need to continue to shun Lucifer from our splendid society because he is in fact a part of it. He was just feeling unwell, and I'm afraid to say wasn't thinking clearly." God laughed joyously, "but fortunately for us he has assured me that he is feeling better now and is back to normal. There will be no more talk of lies and deception, only truth and devotion." The Host cheered, God got Lucifer a drink to further along the illusion, and then He went off to mingle with the Agent.

Everyone's attitude towards Lucifer changed instantly, they all rushed up to congratulate him, to say how happy they were that he's back, and how glad they were that he came to his senses. Before they wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. Now they were all too eager to converse with him, mingle with him, and enjoy his company just like before. It was like the events of yesterday never took place because God said it was over, so they felt they no longer needed to worry about it. To their eyes Lucifer was the pinnacle of Holy Worship again, the angel everyone wanted to emulate. It took every ounce of Lucifer's self-control not to whack them upside the head for their blind stupidity. As if Lucifer's entire outlook had changed overnight just because God said so. No one noticed how stiff Lucifer's body was, how curt his responses were, or the fact that he hadn't taken one sip out of his drink. They were Heavenly Angels after all, and as such they saw only what they wanted to see.

Once the crowd thinned out the Scribe saddled up to his life-long friend and started to give his congrats when Lucifer inspected his drink suspiciously and said, "Do you think this is poisoned?"

The Scribe blinked in shock, "Why on earth would it be poisoned? The Creator said He forgave you. He wouldn't say that and then harm you that makes no sense." When Lucifer neither agreed nor stopped staring at the drink like it was going to attack him the Scribe sighed in exasperation and plucked the drink out of Lucifer's hands. "Here," the Scribe muttered.

"NO!" Lucifer cried, moving to stop his friend from taking the harmful substance for him. But before he could swipe the drink away the Scribe already had half the glass down and was swallowing. Lucifer watched him apprehensively, worried that something awful would happen and cursing himself for not taking the risk instead. If anything happens to him I swear I'll kill that egotistical God, immortal or not, Lucifer promised himself.

"See, nothing happened," the Scribe said after a few minutes. He handed the drink back to Lucifer, "You're being paranoid, Luci." Lucifer was still watching the Scribe as if he expected him to keel over, but he drank the rest of it. He figured if the Scribe was going to suffer a terrible fate on his behave he might as well join him. "Everything is going to be OK now, Lucifer, you'll see."

Lucifer couldn't help but scoff. Ignoring the look of hurt on the Scribe's face he murmured, "I'm going to head out," and made his way out of the Speakeasy. He felt a twinge of regret for hurting the Scribe, after all he wasn't the one Lucifer was angry with. He wasn't the one that set Lucifer's teeth on edge. The Scribe was just trying to assure Lucifer, and he had no way of knowing that that so-called show of affection was really a farce. It was actually a true show of friendship that he was willing to take the risk when Lucifer questioned the nature of the drink. Though he felt terrible for it, what if it really had been poisoned? Then he would have lost a dear friend and a life would have been wasted. Lucifer shuddered at the thought. That won't happen, Lucifer assured himself. I'll make sure that doesn't happen. He won't needlessly throw his life away for me, ever. I'll take care of him.

Unfortunately for God, that little display at the Speakeasy did nothing to disuge the tension running through Heaven. Granted some swallowed the bait, almost eagerly, wanting life to go back to normal. But most didn't by it despite God saying it was so. Now both sides didn't believe that Lucifer really was willing to ask forgiveness, and they doubted that the proud Morningstar would take the time to feel contrite. However. Two camps had begun to form because you see that's all they agree on. One group was furious with the Light-Bringer, believing he had created distress where there was none and problems that did not exist; simply to stroke his ego, elevate his importance, and undermine his own Creator for reasons they could not fathom other than pure insanity. Why else would Lucifer want to disown his Maker other than foolish madness?

The other group was willing to weight the merits of what Lucifer had to say. After all, what if he was right? What if there really was something wrong with God's rule? What if they were in fact slaves as Lucifer suggested? He seemed to be willing to help them. He seemed like he genuinely cared that they were being oppressed. Perhaps he knew of a way to break these chains. If they did in fact exist. And they had to admit God's grasp was a bit suffocating. Sometimes it got a little tiresome pretending they were just jumping for joy when in reality they might not really be feeling it that day. And if you didn't feel it, ouch, let's not go there.

Both sides would come up to the Scribe asking if he knew if Lucifer really meant what he said. They would ask him whether Lucifer's repentance was sincere. After all, the Scribe was Lucifer's greatest confidant, if anyone would know it was him. But he didn't have the answers they sought. And it wasn't like he was trying to avoid their questions, though in truth he wouldn't have answered if he knew, it was simply that he didn't know. For the first time in millennia he did not know what was going on in Lucifer's mind. For the first time since they met the Scribe couldn't read him. And that troubled the Scribe, very much. And worse, he wasn't sure if Lucifer would give him a straight answer. Lucifer was under a lot of stress right now and he didn't know whom to trust. Lucifer would probably be hesitant to tell him for fear that he would immediately go running off to tell the Creator. Granted Lucifer had always trusted him with everything else but this was different. This was a condemnation against the Creator himself, so naturally Lucifer would assume the Scribe's loyalties to God would trump his friendship to Lucifer.

And then finally, he got his chance to ask. He was in Lucifer's office again going over some sort of Heavenly business and just as he was dismissed he found his chance to ask, though in truth he didn't know what the response would be, honest or deceit. "Lucifer…" the Scribe started hesitantly, "about all that stuff you said, you know about the Creator using us and keeping us enslaved. Did you…that is, did you believe what you said? Do you really think we can…change that?" Lucifer glanced up slowly and seemed to watch him with an unreadable expression. The Scribe shifted his weight uncomfortably at the scrutinization. It seemed as if Lucifer was trying to read his very soul to see the intent behind the Scribe's question. Finally, when it seemed as if Lucifer wasn't going to answer, he sighed in resignation and made his way towards the door.

Just as he hit the doorway a voice trailed after him, "Yes, I meant it." The Scribe paused, nodded in acknowledgement, and left.