Fallen
Vaggie thought she knew pain. Pain was when her wings ached from flying sunrise to sunset. Pain was when a desperate sinner stabbed or shot her, hoping to buy a few more seconds of life. She knew better now. What she thought was pain was discomfort. She knew what pain really was now.
Pain was seeing a child, a child, looking no more than ten years of age, looking at her with terror and fear. Pain was seeing a small, unarmed child, and wondering how someone like this ended up in Hell. Pain was having her wings torn from her body, pain was a sword slicing her eye out. Pain was watching the two people she revered the most look at her with disdain. Pain was knowing the two people she once revered the most would have murdered that child without a second thought.
Pain was limping down a street covered in blood and smoke. Pain was delirious thoughts of death and damnation. Pain was realizing she had thrown everything away on an impulse.
She staggered blindly, where she didn't know. Smoke and fire filled her nostrils and the screams of sinners echoed everywhere. The drilling and training she went through as an Exorcist stopped her from simply falling over and bleeding to death. It kept her walking, moving, almost against her will.
Why? Why had she done what she did? Even if he was a child, he had ended up in Hell for a reason, right? She hadn't particularly liked or even notable in Adam's army, but she had a place to belong there. A home, and something resembling a family. And she'd thrown it all away for what? A sinner? Besides, what were the chances of the kid escaping? He'd probably be killed by another Exorcist anyway. She would have thrown her life away for nothing.
She collapsed near a wall, adrenaline finally giving out. The golden ichor that was her blood dripped out of what had once been her eye, and her breathing felt harder and harder.
Vaggie knew she was a dead woman walking. Even if her wound didn't kill her, she was stranded alone in Hell. Sooner or later, someone would find her. They said that demons couldn't kill angels, Exorcists especially, but she heard rumors that it was possible. And she wouldn't put it past Adam and Lute to make certain she was dead before they left Hell at the end of the Extermination.
In her mind, she saw the little boy running in terror trying, desperately, to find some shelter, some protection from the hordes of Heaven. The relief, and disbelief, in his eyes when Vaggie told him to run, to hide. She realized that despite everything that she had lost because of it, she would have made the same decision a thousand times over.
In her wavering sight, she swore she could see someone at the other end of the alleyway, someone running towards her. That wasn't right. She was an Exorcist, what demon in their right mind would run to her? The pain must be getting to her, making her see things that weren't there.
Except it wasn't a hallucination. The demon got closer, and she, and she was close enough to Vaggie now that Vaggie could tell it was a she, stopped at Vaggie's feet. The first thing Vaggie took notice of was how human this sinner looked. Most sinners took on some sort of animalistic quality when they were condemned to hell, but the woman at her feet looked almost human. If it hadn't been for the chalk-white skin and the blood-red irises, Vaggie could've mistaken her for a human.
The second thing she noticed was the look on her face. She was accustomed to looks of fear, hatred, disgust, sometimes determined bravado, but the face this woman held was something new: Concern. There was worry plastered over her face, not for herself but for Vaggie.
It struck her that she could not remember anyone in Heaven ever wearing that expression towards her.
The sinner acted quickly. Taking a roll of bandages out of her suit, she bandaged Vaggie's eye, and that boggled Vaggie's mind. Everything she had been taught told her that sinners were unrepentant, selfish thieves and murderers. That they would sell each other out without a second thought. Comradery, friendship, and love were concepts that did not exist to them.
And yet, here was a sinner who must have been out of the street attempting to find people like her. Vaggie must have looked like a demon that had barely escaped an attack by an Exorcist. Her wings were cut and the golden blood could easily be explained as not her's. When the woman had retrieved the bandages that now staunched her bleeding eye, Vaggie had caught a glimpse of other medical supplies. More bandages, gauze, stitching. This hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment thing, this woman had been on the streets, during an Extermination, to try and save as many people as she could. This went against everything Vaggie knew.
Vaggie managed a weak smile as the woman stepped back, who gave her own shy smile in return. The last thought in Vaggie's mind before darkness took her was that this woman seemed more angelic than any angel.
Vaggie wakes up, and the first thing she realizes is that she's still alive. Fractured memories, distorted images, and blinding, searing, agony rush into her all at once. She doubles over, clutching the spot where her eye used to be.
Out of the corner of her eye, someone runs at her, and for half a second Vaggie sees Lute, sword drawn. Vaggie swings her arm out, all instinct and panic.
Her arm's caught, held in a gentle, but firm grasp. "It's okay! It's okay, you're safe!" A nervous, yet calm voice calls to her. It's only now that Vaggie takes in the rest of her surroundings. She's in a bed, situated in a rather spacious room. Red drapes cover windows looking out into streets, red carpets cover the floor, and there's a lot of red in general.
Holding her arm is the same woman that bandaged her. A woman in a red and white suit, chalk-white skin, and that same shy smile. Vaggie lets her lower her arm down, breathing in and out to try and calm herself.
"I…" Vaggie starts, she was never much of a conversationalist with her fellow angels, how the hell did she talk to a demon? "Thank you," She settles on.
"It's fine!" The girl says cheerfully, "I'm glad I could help, oh, where are my manners? My name's Charlie," She says in one breath, leaving Vaggie bewildered as to how one person could speak so quickly.
"I'm sorry, though," Charlie said, "For not finding you sooner. If I had, you might not have lost your eye."
If you had found me earlier, I would've killed you, Vaggie thinks, but all she says is "It's ok, you did what you could. I might not have survived if you hadn't found me."
Charlie smiles at that, and Vaggie swears she felt her heart skipped a beat at it. It's also at this moment that she realizes she hasn't told Charlie her name.
"I'm Vaggie," She says, and it surprises her to hear herself pronouncing it with a hard g instead of the soft g Adam had used when he gave her the name. She had never liked the name, knowing what the First Man had meant when he gave her it, but defying him had never been an option she'd even considered.
"Vaggie…" Charlie tries out the name and Vaggie braces herself for the storm of jokes that she knows are coming. Instead, Charlie just smiles, "It's a nice name," She says.
Vaggie blinks-er, winks at her, "Really?" She asks incredulously.
"It's yours, after all," Charlie says with another smile, and this time Vaggie knows her heart skipped a beat. And if the heat she was feeling was any indication, she was blushing like mad.
"Do you have anywhere to stay?" Charlie asks, and Vaggie is shaken from her thoughts and reminded exactly what her situation is. She is a former Exorcist, a fallen angel, stranded in Hell with no allies. She is certain that anyone who learned her identity, even this sweet girl, would kill her for it.
She thinks of what she can say, half a dozen stories filter in and out of her head, all worse than the last. Eventually, she just shakes her head sadly.
Charlie nods in understanding as if she expected that answer, "They destroyed it, didn't they? It isn't fair, to make them suffer just so they can die again. Why can't there be a better way?"
Vaggie just nods wordlessly at her, not trusting herself with words. Charlie thinks the Exorcists destroyed her home, and why wouldn't she? She found Vaggie stumbling about near fire and ruined buildings.
"Well, that's alright!" Charlie says, jumping up, "You can stay here!"
Vaggie's first instinct is to decline, but she thinks better of it. She has no place to go, nowhere to hide, no allies. She cannot afford to not take every advantage she can get.
So she gives her best smile to the woman that's the reason she's alive and says, "Thank you,"
Vaggie intended to just stay with Charlie for a few days, long enough to get her bearings and devise a plan of sorts, but before long those days had turned into weeks. At no point does Charlie ever indicate that she's unhappy with this, but it still grates on the Exor-former Exorcist to have to rely on a hellborn for help.
Because, no, Charlie isn't a sinner, like Vaggie had thought. No, that would have been too simple. Charlie was born in hell, and not just any hellborn at that, no, she was the goddamned princess of Hell. The daughter of none other than Lucifer fucking Morningstar.
She knew Lucifer had a daughter. It had been covered in her training when she first joined the Exorcists. But information had been sparse. Heaven knew she existed, but that was it. In the years since, rumors and fear-mongering had compensated for the lack of info, creating a picture of a demonic figure that was as evil and foul as her father. A temptress that lured thousands of souls a day to damnation and that thrived on chaos and despair. A despicable fiend that was more cruel and depraved than one could imagine.
Charlie was…none of that. Charlie was a wellspring of emotion and had more empathy than the entire Exorcist Corp combined. She danced, she drew, she liked telling stories about the creation of the world, or at least stories about stories of the creation of the world. She sang. A lot.
Charlie was, in general, the exact opposite of what she expected the princess of Hell to be. She had said as much one day while helping Charlie renovate a bar-apparently the girl had a habit of going around and helping rebuild after an Extermination.
"Most people say that," Charlie agreed, "I mean, most newcomers are surprised at Hell itself. They expect things like spikes, boiling lava and blood, pitchforks, and I mean, we do have some of that-especially down in Wrath-but the restaurants, theatres, stores, amusement parks and people just trying to go about their day throw them off."
Charlie's not wrong. Everything she heard as a mortal, and then everything else drilled into her by the Exorcists, had painted a picture of Hell as 7 layers of torture and pain. More importantly, it was drilled into her that everyone there deserved all of it and that the annual purges were just.
Honestly, the child had just been the breaking point in a long series of injustices that Vaggie had observed during the Exterminations. She was certain now, that even if she hadn't found that child, something else would have convinced her to desert.
Vaggie steps back and wipes the sweat off her head. The work was exhausting, but it was a good exhaustion. After so many years of slaughter and destruction, being able to help build something, even if it was in Hell, felt good.
This had been just one of many, many buildings Charlie had helped rebuild. It was also one of the many, many buildings that the two of them had repaired by themselves. Another thing Vaggie was learning was that, despite being Lucifer's own blood, Charlie wasn't very respected by the denizens of Hell. Even now, she spotted two sinners, a jackal-faced thug who had clearly been drinking too much, and a burly man with a lion's mane who watched Charlie work with a look on his face that made Vaggie's skin crawl. They watched Charlie work, and she could hear the laughter and mocking conversation drift from them to her.
Charlie showed no outward reaction to it like she was used to it, and that only made Vaggie angrier. Whether it was the fact that it was happening at all or Charlie's seeming indifference to it, Vaggie found herself storming over to them.
The jackal sinner saw her first, turning her way and immediately splitting into a lecherous, toothy grin.
"Hey, baby," He says, "What's got you so pissed, been too long without a good fuck?"
Vaggie has to stop herself from strangling him then and there, reminding herself that violence wasn't always the answer anymore (The irony that she learned that in Hell was not lost on her) and took a breath to calm herself.
"She-" Vaggie points at Charlie, "Is doing this so that people like you-" She points at the jackal, "Can have somewhere to waste the rest of your pitiful afterlives getting blackout drunk," She steps closer to the sinner, who's smile had been replaced by a scowl, "The least you could do is show her some respect. If not for the fact that she's the princess of Hell, then for the fact that she's at least trying to help people,"
There's a scoff from her side, and Vaggie turns her glare to the lion-manned sinner, who's giving her a steely glare of his own.
"Ya wants us to care 'bout that bitch?" He asks in an incredulous tone, "When we'd start giving out medals for stupidity?"
Jackal laughs, "You must be new here, moth-girl-" And it takes Vaggie a second to realize that he must mean her hair, "So let me give you some advice," He gives a toothy grin as he points to Charlie, "That girl's the biggest spoiled brat this side of Pride. We're laughing at her cause she's a fool, anyone with a brain knows that acting like that just gets you killed. The only reason she's still alive is cause no one kills free labor and cause she's the king's brat."
"She's trying to help, she's trying to be a good person," Vaggie grits out each word, her temper fraying with each syllable.
"She's trying to be a good person," Jackal mocks, "Listen to yourself! We're in Hell! End of the line, bottom of the barrel!" His smile's gone, an angry frown replacing it, and he downs the rest of his drink, "The only thing people like her are good for is swindling them out of everything they got and pinned up against a w-"
He doesn't get to finish his sentence. A sharp right hook flies across his face, and before he can recover the empty bottle is ripped from his hand and smashed across his face, blood and glass shards flying. He falls to the ground for all of a second before Vaggie pulls him back up by his shirt and punches him across the face. He tries to retaliate, but Vaggie's a former exorcist, she's spent her entire afterlife fighting sinners. She easily dodges his punch and slams his head on the ground multiple times, letting him fall limply and kicking him across the ground for good measure.
She turns and whips her head at lion, who's looking at her with a mixture of anger and horror, and scowls at him. "You're going to go down there and help her." She says, stepping closer with each word, "You're going to apologize for everything you and your friend said," She's right up in his face now, and the lion sinner takes a stumbling step back, nodding shakily. "Good," She says.
As lion runs down to the bar, Vaggie walks back to the downed jackal sinner. Bruised and bloody, he's looking at her with hatred.
"The fuck's your problem, bitch?!" He yells at her, "You think you're better than us just because you hang around with goody two-shoes over there?!"
"No," Vaggie says, "I'm just as bad as you, but Charlie is better than you. Better than me. Better than all of Hell combined. And she deserves more than ungrateful assholes like you." And with that, she turns and walks away, ignoring the string of curses coming her way.
She finds Charlie in the middle of the renovated bar, making her way past the lion sinner who makes a titanic effort to find a way around her. Charlie smiles when she sees her, and that simple act makes all of Vaggie's stress and anger float away.
"Is that everything for this place," She asks, and Charlie nods. "Finally," She breathed a sigh of relief, "Though we'd be here all day…" Charlie laughs at that and Vaggie finds herself smiling a bit.
As they're leaving, Charlie whispers to her, "Thank you." When Vaggie tilts her head questionling at her, she elaborates, "For what you did."
"I heard everything, and not just what you did," Charlie's eyes grew downcast, "I heard their laughter, the names they called me, I shouldn't be hurt by it anymore but…"
Vaggie nods in understanding, "Does this usually happen?" She had been too busy with work to take note of any onlooker's reaction before today.
Charlie nods, "Sometimes they leave me alone, but most times they're just like that," She balls her hands into fists, "I don't…I don't get it. Why?! I'm just trying to help them, I mean, I know that everyone here's had to have done something fucked up to end up here, but why does that have to mean we can't even help each other?!"
Charlie shudders a bit, hugging herself, and Vaggie gets the feeling that this is something that has gathered in her for a while. Hesitating a bit, she places a reassuring hand on Charlie, and the shuddering stops.
"I think you're a good person," Vaggie says softly, "You saved my life, for one thing. You help people, Charlie. I haven't seen anyone else in Hell that does that. While everyone is only looking out for themselves, you're out there trying to do what's best for everyone."
Charlie smiles, "Thanks, Vaggie. And I don't think you're as bad as them."
Vaggie looks at her skeptically.
Charlie throws a look her way, "I mean it! You're not the first person I've tried to save after an Extermination, but you're the first one to stick around." She looks back down on the ground, "Most of them just leave after getting back on their feet, a couple even get mad at me for rescuing them, saying that I should have let them die."
Vaggie isn't surprised at this. Hell is a truly awful place to live where you can only really thrive by adopting a "Survival of the fittest" mentality. Those who can't or won't either become the steps that others use to climb the proverbial ladder or become so consumed by despair that they willingly seek out death. She herself had killed a few of those during her time as an Exorcist.
What did surprise her, however, was how much this all clearly affected Charlie. She didn't let it show often, making a show of ignoring the comments and looks thrown her way, but now the pain it caused was all too clear.
"But you stayed," Charlie continued, "You helped. It doesn't matter what it is, you help me with whatever I'm doing. You don't say I'm naive, or stupid, or, or anything!"
"You saved my life," Vaggie muttered, embarrassed by the stream of praise, "How could I not help?"
"See!" Charlie says, "Most sinners don't think like that! Those two wouldn't have. You are better than them."
"I…" For the first time since her fall, Vaggie finds herself at a loss for words.
The weeks turn to months. It's at this point that Vaggie is forced to confront two truths: She is going to be staying at Charlie's…palace? Manor? Mansion? Charlie's house for the foreseeable future. And two, Charlie is quickly becoming the greatest friend she's ever had.
Vaggie felt guilty, at first, for relying on, or as she thought it, exploiting Charlie's generosity, but the princess had laughed it off and said that her help was more than enough payment. Vaggie begins to realize that Charlie also never truly had a friend, and she suspects that the companionship was one of the reasons she kept Vaggie around.
It was two months after her recovery that Charlie shared with her something she had been working on for years. A plan to solve the population crisis of Hell without the annual Exterminations. A hotel designed to rehabilitate sinners, allow them to repent and change for the better, and redeem themselves in the eyes of Heaven.
To Vaggie, it was the personification of Charlie herself: Incredibly naive, hopelessly idealistic, more merciful than Hell, and more flexible than Heaven. Vaggie wasn't sure if it even was possible, but, to even her astonishment, she found herself agreeing with it.
Part of her wanted to believe in it. That part of her was selfish because it thought that if even the vilest of sinners could be redeemed, then maybe…
Maybe she could be too.
It had been nearly six months after her fall from grace, and she was wandering the balconies of her room that Charlie, in another instance of her unending generosity and kindness, had lent her, when Vaggie was forced to confront a third truth.
It was a terrifying truth. An insidious truth that had crawled its way past her observations until it was so established that removing it would be impossible. A truth that made facing down a horde of her former comrades seem easy.
Vaggie was falling in love.
She wanted to deny it, because it made everything infinitely more complicated, but she couldn't. She wasn't certain when exactly it had happened, though she suspected that the seeds had been planted as far back as when they first met with mirroring smiles, but she could not deny it anymore.
She hadn't meant for it to happen, of course. She had never meant to fall for the princess of Hell herself. And yet, at the same time, how was she not supposed to fall for her? The women who had found her at her lowest and healed her, cared for her, gave her a home, a purpose again.
Sometimes, she entertained fantasies. She'd tell Charlie how she felt, spill her heart to her, and discover that Charlie felt the same. They'd build a life together, prove Charlie's plan of redemption was possible, Heaven would call off the Exterminations, and they could all live happily ever after.
It was an impossibility.
Even if Charlie felt the same about her, and that was a big if, she deserved far better than Vaggie. She deserved someone who could make her dreams a reality. Someone who could stand by her as an equal.
She deserved someone who wasn't a murderer, who hadn't been lyingto her for half a year, who hadn't sat down and listened to her talk about saving her people from the Exorcists like she hadn't taken part in hundreds of them. Someone who wasn't covered in so muc o-
Vaggie pushed herself away from the railing, pressure on her chest and her hands slick with blood. She blinked and looked at her hands, they were clean. But she could still feel the blood. The gallons she had shed, the thousands of faces that had begged for mercy. What did it matter that she spared one child?! How could that even begin to atone for the massacres she had committed?!
She managed to get herself inside her room, sick to her stomach. The earlier fantasies and memories of Charlie now filled her with self-hatred. What right did she have to even dream of courting her?
She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, hugging her legs. Memories of all the Exterminations she had taken part filled her mind. The ocean of blood, the mountain of bodies. How many had been like that child? Condemned for some minor crime or some nebulous edict of Heaven?
How long she stayed there, she didn't know. Slowly, she got her breathing under control, shoved the guilt back down. The guilt had always eaten at her, slowly, day by day. Sometimes it erupted in great bursts like this, but most times it sat in the back of her mind. Quiet, small, but not gone. Never gone.
There were so many times she wanted to tell Charlie everything. What she meant to her, what she really was. She knew Charlie now, had spent enough time around her to know that her benevolence stretched to everyone. She knew, or rather hoped she knew, that Charlie wouldn't hold her past against her. All she had to do was take that final step and confess everything.
But she couldn't. Fear held her back like a shackle. Fear of seeing hatred and disgust in those eyes she loved. Fear of being cast down again, but with no one to catch her this time. She had lost everything once before, she wasn't sure she could survive another fall.
No, she couldn't do it. It was too dangerous a gamble. She could gain everything from it, but if she were wrong…If she were wrong she'd lose everything she had built. She'd be back to that miserable state she'd been during that fateful Extermination: Broken, alone.
Coward!
Coward!
Coward!
The thought hammered her again and again. She was such a coward. After everything Charlie had done for her, she couldn't bring herself to tell Charlie anything resembling the truth. She started shaking a bit and buried her face in her legs. Why was she here, pretending to-
The door opened, and Charlie's white-skinned face peaked in from the doorway. She looked like she had just been woken up.
"Um, I heard noises coming from here…wanted to make sure you were alright," She said.
Vaggie looked her head up, "Yeah, I'm fine," She answered, managing to keep her voice even. Why did she have to show up now, of all times? She didn't want Charlie to see her like this, so weak.
"...You don't look fine," Charlie said, and before Vaggie could voice an objection, Charlie was crossing the threshold of her room and making her way to Vaggie. Her golden hair was released from its usual bindings and she wore loose, plain, red pajamas. Nothing about it was striking or fancy but Vaggie thought it was supremely unfair that even those simple clothes made Charlie look absolutely beautiful.
Said girl knelt at Vaggie's side and, almost tenderly, cupped a hand to Vaggie's face. She frowned and said "You're crying,"
Vaggie felt her face and saw Charlie was correct. When had she started crying? "I…" She started, unsure what to say.
Charlie sits down next to Vaggie, "What's wrong?" She asks with concern in her voice, like she always does.
For an eternity, Vaggie says nothing. She's afraid that if she opens her mouth, she'll say everything. All the secrets, all the guilt that weighs on her. She feels as if she is standing on a ledge overlooking a chasm that she can not see the bottom of. One wrong move and she will fall.
Questions float in her mind, everything she has wondered since she fell to Hell. All the idle thoughts she has ever thought.
Why did Charlie save her?
Why does Charlie care about her?
Why does she care about Charlie?
Why is she alive?
They fracture and break before they can leave her mind, fraying in the middle like rope.
Why did Charle-
Why does she-
Why is-
They shatter like glass, a maelstrom of guilt, hatred, and sorrow that tears apart any words she tries to form.
Why-
Why-
Why-
"Why?" She croaks out. Her voice is thick with grief.
"Why what?" Charlie asks softly, trying to coax more out of the girl.
"Why-" Why do you care about me? Why haven't I died? Why am I allowed to live? "Why am I still here?"
"Because you have nowhere else to go?" Charlie answers slowly, not truly understanding Vaggie's question.
"No!" Vaggie almost shouts, "Why-Why do you still act like this? Like-Like I'm worth something?! You don't-" You don't know how many I've killed, how many of your people I've murdered "You don't know the things I've done…"
"Oh Vaggie…:" Charlie starts, then sighs, "You're right. I don't know what you did." She sighs, as if trying to find the right words, "Do you remember the day I found you?"
Vaggie nods, that day would never leave her memory.
"I hate the Exterminations," Charlie continues, "But I'm not blind. I know this is Hell, people end up here for a reason. I knew that when I went out that day. I knew the people I was trying to save were probably awful people who had done awful things. When I saw you…I knew you'd probably done some terrible things to end up here." Charlie turned and sat down next to Vaggie, so close she could feel the pale-skinned girl's body heat. "So no, I don't know what you've done, and I don't care."
She doesn't want to believe it, she knows that what she's done far exceeds what Charlie imagines, but, still, her words stir small bits of hope inside her.
"What I do know," Charlie keeps talking, turning so that's facing Vaggie directly, "Is what you did after I found you. You listened to me." Charlie turns back and hugs her legs, her voice beginning to shake, "I was so scared when I told you about the hotel," She admits.
Vaggie can only turn and look at Charlie in wonder. The idea that Charlie would be scared by anything seems ludicrous. This is the girl that went out during an Extermination, by herself, just to find the few wounded that would be left around.
"I was certain that you'd mock me, o-or laugh at me, tell me how it was impossible, th-that I was just being naive." Charlie finishes.
It was true that Vaggie was skeptical about it, she even did believe it to be a result of naivety, but she also believed in the idea of it. And never, in a million years, would she have mocked Charlie for it. Not for something so beautiful.
"But you didn't…" Charlie continues, almost with wonder in her voice, "You actually listened to me, and told me you'd help me with it. I…no one's ever done that."
"I…" Vaggie starts, unsure of what to say. But Charlie isn't finished.
"So, no," Charlie says, "I don't know what you did before you arrived in Hell, but I know what you've done since then, and that's all that matters to me," She takes Vaggie's hands in her own, hesitatingly at first, but more confidently once she sees Vaggie doesn't stop her.
For the first time since she fell to Hell, Vaggie feels…good. Like a weight has been lifted from her chest. She knows that she will never truly feel herself again, not until she musters the courage to tell Charlie everything, but it's a start. She finally feels like she has a place to belong again.
"And who knows, maybe you'll be the first one to graduate," Charlie says.
"No," Vaggie says almost immediately, "I don't want that, I…"
I can't be redeemed
I'm not even a sinner
But neither of those are the real reasons, and for once, she feels she can tell the truth. Maybe it's Charlie's words easing her guilt, maybe it's their proximity, but whatever it is, the words slip out Vaggie's mouth before she can stop them. Not that she would.
"I want to stay here. With you." Vaggie says, and she can feel the heat from her face.
"Oh…Oh," Charlie says as she realizes. She blushes and her face contorts in surprise, but not for long, then it's replaced by a smile.
It's a smile that makes Vaggie's heart stop.
"You know, I was scared about that too…" Charlie says softly, "Wasn't even sure if you liked girls until, what, last month?" Her words bring back a painful memory of a drunken Vaggie doing a miserable job of hitting on a female patron at a bar.
Vaggie cringes at the memory, she'd worked hard at suppressing it, "Did you have to bring that u-wait," She stops as Charlie's words finally click, "You mean you…?" She trails off, not daring to hope.
"My first thought when I saw you was Oh fuck, she's bleeding, get over there Charlie shitshitshitshit," Charlie says, laughing a bit, before looking back at Vaggie, "My second thought? Wow, she's hot."
She smiles at Vaggie again, "And then you spent like, half a year, standing by me, supporting me, basically being the greatest person ever. How was I supposed to not fall for you?"
Vaggie's glad that the room's darkened, it helped hide her increasingly red face. She lifted a hand to said face, yup, hot as a stove.
"I…" Vaggie starts, before just laughing, "That…makes me feel a lot better, about everything." Like a spell, all of Vaggie's worries and fears seemed to melt away. Lingering in the back of her mind remained the guilt of hiding her true origin from Charlie, but it was smaller now. Contained, pacified by Charlie's words.
"There's a restaurant I like, it's got the best steak I've ever eaten. Could I take you there tomorrow?" Charlie asks shyly, and Vaggie has to hold back a laugh because she knows it'll be taken the wrong way. After everything that happened, is she really worried Vaggie will turn her down now?
"That sounds amazing," Vaggie says, some of her old composure finally beginning to seep back into her.
"Great!" Charlie says, pumping her arm in excitement, "It's a date! Er, only if you want it to be!" She scrambles to find her voice, nervousness seeping out of her like a sponge, "I mean, I know we just had this heart-to-heart thing, and I know we just-I don't want to misinterpret things if you just meant…" She rambles on.
Vaggie smiles, the sheer warmth and care exuding from Charlie is intoxicating. Even after practically saying that she loved her, Charlie gave her a way out if she wanted. It was sweet but…
This wasn't just about Vaggie. Charlie had poured her heart out to her. Now it was her turn to say how she felt. But no mere words could ever express the admiration and sheer love she felt for Charlie at this moment. So she spoke with something else.
She interrupted Charlie's ramblings by catching her mouth with her own. Charlie's words died on Vaggie's lips as her hands stood stiff at her sides, grasping at the air, unsure of what to do. A few seconds later, she felt Charlie melt into the kiss. She grabbed the back of Charlie's head and held it as tenderly as she could, trying to pour everything she couldn't say into the kiss. Their lips opened slightly. Not much, just a taste of what the future could hold for them. She felt Charlie's hand settle on her shoulders as the world around them ceased to mean anything.
Eventually, they broke apart, both of them flustered but smiling like fools.
"Charlie," Vaggie started, "I think I fell in love with you the day we met, and that feeling has only intensified. It is absolutely a date."
"Good…" Charlie breathed, shaking slightly, what from, Vaggie couldn't tell. "W-well, I'm gonna get some sleep, see you in the morning?" She exited Vaggie's room, the smile never leaving her face.
"Yeah…goodnight…" Vaggie said as she left, with her own smile. Eventually, she managed to crawl herself into bed and notice how God-forsaken tired she was. What time was it? She checked her phone. Half-past 4 in the morning. Bad news, her sleeping schedule was officially fucked.
Good news, she had a minimum of 5 hours until her date with Charlie. And just the thought of that banished any fatigue from her body.
For the longest time since her fall, she thought she had traded everything she had for damnation. It was only now that she realized that she had instead gained everything she ever could have asked for. She was no longer a senseless killer, but instead worked to heal and repair. She was no longer alone, she had a friend, no, someone that was much more than a friend.
And that thought comforted her as she drifted to sleep.
I'm hoping that Season 2 will give some insight into how their relationship happened, but until then, my imagination will have to suffice. You can thank my sister for this fic, as she pestered me for days to watch Hazbin until I gave in, and I almost immediately fell in love with Chaggie.
As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this and I appreciate any sort of feedback.