A/N: TRIGGER WARNING: Bodily injury.

Rainbow After the Rain

Part Three: Rising Sun

One of the biggest hurdles since moving to New York had been finding a babysitter for Charlie. Neither of them had family in New York nor did they have the chance to make many friends. But then Carmilla Carmine walked into Lucifer's shop and he thanked the heavens for her every day since.

His shop hadn't been open to the public yet. He had just started reconstruction and he had Charlie there to help him that day. The sawdust had been heavy and the summer heat was blazing, so he had opened the front door to allow some air in. That's when Mrs. Carmine strolled in, her youngest daughter falling in step beside her. Her husband owned a shop on the same block so she had come by to welcome the new business to the neighborhood.

It was easy to speak with her and, better yet, Charlie had made her first friend since the move. Little Vaggie was of the same age, though far less energetic, and she had taken a liking to Charlie. The two girls hit things off. And as it turned out, Mrs. Carmine had two other daughters, teenagers, who were in the babysitting business. The two of them struck a deal and they finally had a babysitter.

When Lucifer went to pick up Charlie after the club, he was informed that she had no intentions of coming home. Charlie had never stayed at another's house before so it was a surprise she was so insistent on staying. Odette and Clara offered to watch her throughout the rest of the evening and Mrs. Carmine approved it, so Lucifer let her stay and paid a hefty tip for the trouble. He wished her a good night, said Alastor wished her the same, then kissed her on the head and left.

He was anxious to leave her for a whole night but he pushed his nervous jitters away. He was always telling Alastor to be more trusting of others so he'd only be a hypocrite if he let his fears control him. Charlie would be fine. She was only a phone call away.

As he returned to their dark and empty house, he came to regret leaving the club so early. How he wished he was back there, ensnared in Alastor's arms and dancing the night away. Now that he had sobered some, he felt ready to tackle the night all over again, but that opportunity felt long-since passed. If he went back now, there was a chance Alastor had already left. If that were to happen, Lucifer would wind up in a club full of strangers and Alastor would come home only to find both Lucifer and Charlie absent. He didn't want to imagine how that would turn out for either of them.

So, he stayed home and occupied himself. Once all the broadcasts had come to an end on television, he instead entertained himself with Alastor's vast collection of records. He danced in the privacy of the living room, imagining Alastor there with him through each song. Lively jazz numbers, sorrowful tunes of the blues, relaxing symphonies of an orchestra, Lucifer danced to them all. He needed to get more practice in if he planned on staying out later in the future. And he very much intended on doing just that.

He wound up sitting heavily on the couch, catching his breath, and doing his damnedest to ignore how late the hour had become. It wasn't uncommon for Alastor to stay out late, but he had never been out longer than the witching hour. At least, not since they had moved in together.

"What does it matter if rain comes your way," started the first verse of the next song on the vinyl, "and raindrops patter along? For rain descending should not make you blue, the happy ending is waiting for you."

Lucifer stood up and removed the needle, silencing the record player for the evening. He suddenly didn't want to listen to music anymore. A pit was forming in his stomach and it only grew with every glance at the grandfather clock. It'd be ringing the second bell within the half hour, assuming the time was right.

In hopes that perhaps the clock's inner chain had reached its end and the projected time was off, he went ahead and busied himself by winding it. He knew he could easily cross-reference the clock with his pocket watch – abandoned on the coffee table – or merely study the length of the weight's chain, but he'd rather provide an excuse for Alastor's absence. Plus, it gave him something different to do to take his mind off the worry swelling in his chest.

The distraction only lasted a few minutes before he was left alone to worry all over again. Worse yet, the clock had been correct. He paced to the telephone and tapped his foot. If something happened, then Alastor would have called him. He had no need to worry.

Alastor was fine.

Loneliness draped over him like a heavy cloak, weighing him down. He hadn't spent a night alone since before his marriage with Lilith. Even when Lilith had tragically passed, he still had Charlie to keep him company. "Maybe I should check on Charlie," he mused aloud, staring into the rotary of the phone. No, no, no. He couldn't do that. It was beyond late. Certainly he'd get an earful from Mrs. Carmine for calling at such an unreasonable hour.

Abruptly turning away from the phone, he made his way into the bathroom. Perhaps running a bath could help calm down his nerves.

Damn that Alastor! When he told Lucifer not to wait up, he didn't expect that to mean he'd never come home. How could Lucifer be expected to sleep when he had grown so accustomed to having Alastor there, brushing long fingers through his hair, kissing the crown of his head, and filling the air with a gentle hum, even while he slept? It was impossible.

As he tested the heat of the water with one hand, he opted for his other to reach for Alastor's bar of soap instead of his own. Since Alastor wasn't present to stink the place up with spice, then Lucifer would have to do it for him. Lazy bastard, making Lucifer do all the work...

He was just putting the stopper in the drain when he finally, finally, heard the front door open with the crash of hardwood against hardwood. Lucifer let out a heavy sigh, choosing to instead be frustrated about Alastor slamming open the door rather than focus on the sheer relief he felt upon his return. Alastor must be thoroughly drunk for him to make such a ruckus coming in, especially since he believed Charlie to be home and sleeping. Hell, he should probably be assuming that Lucifer had gone to bed as well and merely left the lights on for him.

"It's about time," Lucifer called out, standing up from his kneeled position by the tub. "I was one minute away from filing a missing person's report."

There was no response. With another sigh, Lucifer made his way towards the living room, leaving the water to run. "Are you passed out on the floor again?" he teased as he made his way down the hall. "If I have to drag your drunken ass to bed, you'll be hearing about it for… Alastor?"

The front door was slung open, but there was no Alastor in the entryway. "Alastor?" He made his way over and peeked outside. Still no Alastor. "Alastor?" he called again. Confused, Lucifer went to close the door, halting when something caught his eyes.

Blood. There was blood on the bronze handle and smeared across the paint of the door. The pit in his stomach grew. "Alastor?" he called again, louder, as he closed the door.

Making his way back inside, a glance towards the kitchen revealed the profile of his elusive partner. "You didn't hear me calling?" he asked as he made his way towards the kitchen. "Did you drink too much or can you just not beer to answer me?" He chuckled at his own joke but it died out when he got no response from Alastor. Not even so much as a glance his way. The pit in his stomach only grew, threatening to swallow him whole. Desperate for a response, he continued to roll with the joke. "Get it?" he pressed with forced cheer. "Instead of… bear… Al, are you all right?"

He was at the door to the kitchen now and he finally had a good look at Alastor's profile. He was disheveled and dirty, spots of dirt stood out starkly against the white of his dress shirt. His jacket was missing, too, and Lucifer didn't recall seeing it hanging on the coat rack. Most alarming of all was that his glasses were missing. He still had yet to regard Lucifer's presence in the doorway and instead was wholly focused on putting the kettle on the burner. Was he making coffee? At his hour? And was his hand shaking?

"Alastor?"

Something must have finally cut through his hyper focus because Alastor jumped, face cringing, as he whirled wide, wild eyes in Lucifer's direction. He took a cautious step back and clenched his left hand in a fist as he regarded Lucifer. Terror swam in his eyes but it slowly trickled away to recognition. "Ah, Lucifer," he whispered, averting his gaze back to the pot. "You weren't supposed to stay up."

Lucifer's brain had stuttered to a momentary stop once he managed to see Alastor in full. The whole right side of his body was covered in blood. It masked the right side of his face and was splattered along his right shoulder, dripping down and staining his sleeve, and sprinkled across his trousers. Now that he could see him up close, Lucifer could also see that he was trembling from head to toe.

"Alastor!" he howled, rushing forward with reaching arms. "What the hell happened?"

Alastor stepped back, pressing against the far counter. "Don't!"

Lucifer stopped instantly, retracting his hands. Alastor's eyes had blown wide and he looked down at Lucifer apprehensively. Something iron-clad clamped painfully onto Lucifer's heart. Was Alastor… afraid of him? Clenching his jaw and flexing his hands uselessly, Lucifer struggled with what to do. "Don't what?"

"I…" Alastor clicked his tongue and looked away, anguish clouding his face. He brought his left hand up and buried the heel of his palm into his eye. "Nothing."

Worry and panic flooded Lucifer's veins. "What happened?" he pressed.

With a flippant wave of his left hand – why hadn't he moved his right? – Alastor turned his attention back to the kettle. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

No, no, no, Lucifer was not going to let Alastor dismiss his concern this time. "Don't give me that bullshit, Alastor! You're covered in blood!"

Alastor looked at Lucifer as if he was the one acting ludicrously. Lucifer moved around to his other side, not ignorant of the way Alastor kept his eyes on him, to prove his point. Once he got close, he got a better look and could see the extent of the damage.

There was a gash in Alastor's temple, the wound a matted mess of congealed blood, matted hair, and dirt. His shirt sleeve was tattered at the shoulder. Through the gaps, Lucifer could see that the skin underneath had been peeled away. Pieces of rock, grit, and dirt clung to shredded divots in his skin.

Lucifer stared in mortification. "What happened to you?"

In an alarmingly delayed response, Alastor looked down to his right shoulder and smiled. "Oh. That must have happened when I fell out of the car."

"You fell out of a car?!"

Alastor pulled away from him again, pressing his back against the counter and crossing one leg over the other. His smile, which had been on the verge of mania, turned crooked and bitter. "I assure you, it was better than the alternative."

Lucifer wanted to ask a hundred, thousand, million questions but first things first. "We need to call a doctor!"

Alastor shook his head adamantly. "No doctor. No hospital."

"What are you talking about?" Lucifer snapped. "Al, this is serious! You need a doctor." When Alastor shook his head again, Lucifer pressed. "Why not?!"

"I don't want anyone else to touch me!"

Lucifer froze, stunned at Alastor's outburst. It was a desperate plea, an outcry of heartache and it hurt Lucifer to hear. Alastor pressed his legs close together and glared down at the ground. The kettle began to whistle, cutting the thick tension in the air with a shrill that had the both of them jumping.

"Okay. Okay, no doctor," he relented, voice breaking alongside his heart. When Alastor reached for the kettle, Lucifer went ahead and grabbed it for him. Lucifer's heart clenched when he saw the way Alastor quickly retracted his hand.

Alastor was watching him warily and suddenly it felt like they had reverted back to three years ago when they first met, apprehensive and hostile. Anxiety prickled in the back of Lucifer's mind but he pushed it down along with the sense of déjà vu. He forced a calming smile and offered his hand, giving Alastor the chance to take the offer. "You should sit down. Come on, I'll help you to the couch." Alastor was still trembling and Lucifer believed there was more than one reason he was leaning so insistently against the counter.

Alastor eyes shot up and he glared at the offered hand. He looked up to meet Lucifer's gaze then looked back down to his hand. His left hand trembled, but Alastor reached out—

A splashing noise from the bathroom drew both of their attention and Lucifer cursed. "I'll be right back, okay?" He started out the kitchen but hesitated. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Alastor alone. "Just… hold on," he said as he ran out of the room.

The bath tub was overflowing, water cascading over the edges like a waterfall. Lucifer cursed again as he ran in and turned off the tap. Water splashed across his chest, his legs, his feet, effectively soaking his pajamas and house slippers. "Damn it all," he spat as he glared down at his clothes. He didn't have time to worry about those, though. He'd just have to remain soggy.

While he was in the bathroom, he took the initiative and dug into the medicine cabinet. Since he was always hurting himself with his woodworking, they were well stocked with bandages and medicine. Lucifer went ahead and grabbed a towel off the rack too and dipped one end into the tub, letting it soak up some soapy water.

Running back towards the kitchen, he found that Alastor had somehow managed to get himself to the couch. "Hey, don't push yourself," he lightly reprimanded, concern lacing his words. He emptied his armful onto the coffee table and noticed that Alastor had brought a mug with him out to the living room. Upon closer inspection, Lucifer noticed that the mug only contained steaming water. Alastor had forgotten to mix in the coffee.

On the couch, Alastor was looking down at his hands. His right one was trembling terribly, his fingers unable to curl. Again, Lucifer was uncertain as to what to do. He moved to sit next to Alastor on the couch, but another wary glance had him hesitating. Instead, Lucifer sat across from him on the table.

Lucifer busied himself by grabbing the towel and offering it to Alastor. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Oh, nothing for you to be concerned with," Alastor said, attempting once again to dismiss Lucifer and his help. He straightened on the couch, wincing in the process, and tried to put on an air of indifference.

Lucifer's blood boiled and dread coiled in his gut. "Don't do that," he said, voice hollow. "Don't block me out. This is important."

"This was merely a learning experience," Alastor said breezily, a smile pulling at his lips. But it was all wrong. The smile was crooked, strained, mismatching with the misery in his eyes. "A reminder of a lesson learned."

"Don't dismiss this, Al!" Lucifer jumped at his own tone, the clamp on his heart tightening when he saw the fear return to Alastor's face. "I'm sorry, I just—stop. Stop acting like things aren't important just because they only affect you. They're important because they affect you."

Alastor held his gaze for a moment before averting his eyes down to his hands. Lucifer took a breath. "I'm here for you. I can sit here and wait with you all night. If you don't want me to touch you, then I won't—"

"I never said that." Alastor's words were a whisper and Lucifer had to strain his ear to hear it. Alastor went to clench his hands, but only his left cooperated as his right spasmed from the effort.

Hope rooted itself in Lucifer's chest and he clung to it desperately. "That's how you're acting," he pointed out and Alastor frowned. "Let me help you, okay?"

Alastor didn't look at him. "If you must."

That's wasn't particularly encouraging but Lucifer was going to take what he could get, and that was a win in his book. "Okay. Good. Here, let's remove that shirt—"

"No!" Alastor lifted his face and stared at Lucifer in alarm, rearing back on the couch. He brought his left hand up to clamp tightly at the fabric on his vest. After a second, he added in a forced calm, "I'd rather not."

Lucifer nodded mutely, dread and anxiety only building. The sense of déjà vu had returned, bringing with it the fear that they were reverting back, losing ground. "Okay, that's fine. We'll worry about your shoulder later." He showed his hands, one still holding the towel. "Can I touch your head?"

Reluctance was evident on his face, but Alastor complied and leaned forward to allow easier access. Lucifer was slow as he reached forward and pressed the towel against his head. The good news was it seemed the injuries had stopped bleeding at some point on his way home.

"Why didn't you call me?" he gently asked as he probed at Alastor's wound with a delicate touch.

Alastor hissed beneath the touch but didn't pull away. "I lost my wallet and change during the fall," he explained quietly, as if speaking any louder would break the fragile peace they had established.

"Why didn't you hail a cab?" When Alastor didn't answer, Lucifer frowned. "Yeah, okay, stupid question." It was difficult enough for a man of color to get a cab, much less one covered in blood and smelling of alcohol.

They fell into silence as Lucifer continued his careful ministrations to Alastor's head. Guilt crawled its way into Lucifer's heart and he fought the urge to cry at the realization. "I'm so sorry, Alastor. I never should have left."

"Don't be foolish," Alastor responded. His tone remained light, contrasting starkly with the topic. "This was my own fault and no one else's."

"How could this possibly be your fault?!" Lucifer blurted, pulling back the towel so he could look him in the eye. Alastor's face was pinched. His expression was one that Lucifer often saw reflected back at him in the mirror: self-loathing. "Al, come on, talk to me."

Alastor stayed resolutely quiet. With a heavy sigh, Lucifer changed tactic. "Were you jumped?"

With a scoff, Alastor scowled at the floor. "If only."

Okay, they were getting somewhere. "Did someone pick a fight with you?"

"It could hardly be considered a fight," he responded with a growl.

Lucifer raged with growing frustration. Alastor's vague responses were hardly much help. Lucifer didn't understand why he was acting so aloof now of all times but he did his best to remain calm. Alastor obviously wasn't of sound mind.

"Then tell me what happened. Who did this to you?" he demanded, despite himself. When Alastor seemed to recoil at his tone, Lucifer backpedaled. "You don't have to tell me everything," he added softly. "Just tell me something."

There was a long stretch of silence, nothing but the beat of their hearts and the growing tension thick in the air filling in the space. Eventually, Alastor said, "It was Vox."

"Vox? The television ad guy?" Lucifer asked.

"My former…" Alastor struggled for the right words before settling on, "dance partner."

That was unexpected. Ever since their first night together, Lucifer had made a point to learn about Vox. He was a charismatic man who had quickly climbed up the corporate ladder since moving to New York. When Lucifer learned the man was from New Orleans, just like them, he suspected there was history between him and Alastor, but he had assumed it was a business conflict since they worked in competing mediums. Lucifer had never suspected they had been an item before.

Alastor had told him several times about a previous fling, but he always kept the details vague. All Lucifer really knew was that it had ended in disaster and that Alastor had been more averse to touch since. Over the last few years, Lucifer had been helping him out of the shell his previous relationship had forced him into.

He never suspected that former partner was Vox from VoxTek Industries.

"What did he do?" Lucifer pressed.

Alastor hesitated. "We shared drinks. That's all it was supposed to be."

"He was at the club?"

"Watching us, it seems. He asked after you."

Lucifer blinked in surprise. "Me?"

Alastor smiled bitterly. "I don't believe he approved of you."

He scowled. "I'm sure he didn't. What did he want?"

"He said he wished to make amends," said Alastor, laughing humorlessly. "And I was foolish enough to believe him."

"Stop blaming yourself," Lucifer scolded. "This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known—"

"I should have known!" Alastor snapped, glaring at Lucifer, eyes sheening. "I did know! It's not like he hasn't done it before. I should have known the moment he brought me to the car—"

Lucifer couldn't hold himself back any longer. He threw himself forward and wrapped both arms around Alastor, mindful of his shoulder and very aware of the way he flinched under his touch. Lucifer hated it. He hated how Alastor looked – the pain in his eyes. He hated the way he sounded – verging on the edge of hysteria. He wanted to make it all go away but he didn't know how and he was crushed under his uselessness.

"It's not your fault, Al," he cried, tears prickling painfully at his eyes. "It's not! You didn't ask for him to attack you. Don't you dare blame yourself for this."

Alastor sat frozen for a moment, still as the dead, before he lifted his hand up and clasped at the back of Lucifer's shirt. His grip trembled but he held strong, tightly tugging at the fabric. His whole body shuddered in Lucifer's arms and he slowly, so slowly buried his face in Lucifer's neck. They sat like that for a long time, Lucifer holding him as he cried and Alastor trembling in his arms.

"Damn it," Alastor said, his voice shuddering as severely as the rest of him. He pulled away and Lucifer reluctantly let him go. Alastor's eyes shined silver before he brought up his thumb and forefinger and rubbed at them. "Lucifer," he said, voice grave and graveled, shoulders shaking. "I can't… I can't do this."

Lucifer frowned. The words were spoken with finality, as if they promised the end of something. Anxiety and panic whirled in his chest. Abandoning the towel, he reached out with both hands and grasped Alastor's, pulling it away from his face. Alastor flinched and averted his gaze but he didn't resist. "What do you mean? Can't do what?"

"This." Alastor looked at him, self-loathing flooding his eyes. "Lucifer, I…" He pulled his hand away and clutched at the front of his vest. "I can't give you what you want."

"Alastor," Lucifer said, matching his tone, "you've given me everything I want." He reached forward again, resting his hand on Alastor's thigh.

Alastor visibly shuddered and abruptly stood from the couch. He crossed the room, clutching at his injured arm and keeping his back to Lucifer. "You don't understand."

Lucifer shot to his feet next, terrified that he had somehow made things worse. "Help me understand," he begged, fighting back his anxiety and desperation and growing alarm. His heart pulsed painfully in his chest.

"I can't—" His voice cracked and he took a shuddering breath. "I can never… love you the way you want."

Love? Lucifer raised his brow, unsure of what he was saying. "What are you talking about?"

Alastor clicked his tongue angrily and he shook his head. When he spoke next, his words came out in an angry rush. "I can never have sex with you."

Lucifer's mind and heart came to a screeching halt. "What?" he asked, bewildered. Where was this coming from? The most they had ever done was deep kissing and tight embraces. The topic of sex had never even been brought up before. "When have I ever said I wanted sex?"

"You didn't have to," Alastor said darkly. "Everyone wants sex."

Lucifer frowned, fighting the urge to reach out again. Is that the dribble Vox had been pouring into his head? "Not everyone wants sex."

"Everyone wants sex!" Alastor spun around and glared at Lucifer with a burning gaze. He gestured to the bookshelf, then the record player, then the television. "Every book, every song, every movie! They all lead to sex! Every conversation, every dinner, every dance! Everyone. Wants. Sex! It's what everyone wants, it's what everyone expects."

Lucifer could only stand there and stare with wide eyes, fully blindsided by the outburst. He opened his mouth to say something but then Alastor was gesturing at him.

"Even you! Charlie didn't just fall from the sky – you had sex. You were married; it was inevitable. And now we're…" He trailed off, grasping at his hair with his left hand. "It's only a matter of time before you… But I can't, Lucifer! I can't."

"Al, I—" Lucifer choked on the words, fresh tears falling down his face. "I'd never ask you to do something you don't want to do. I don't care about sex."

Somehow, that had the opposite effect. Alastor's glare only intensified. "Don't fucking lie to me!"

"Why is it so hard to believe?" Lucifer asked, forcing himself to remain calm and speak evenly. "I only care about what you want. I don't need sex. I just need you."

Lucifer's mind was reeling. Where did this sudden change in topic come from? He took a mental step back and reevaluated Alastor. He was still trembling all over. His uninjured shoulder was hunched, making him look caved in and closed off. His legs, shaking as they were, remained obstinately closed tight. Lucifer thought back to Alastor's behavior since returning home and realization settled over him like icy water, leaving him shivering and cold. Lucifer's heart plunged into his stomach and his eyes burned anew.

How many times can one man cry in an evening before no tears were left?

"Alastor, did…" He brought his hand up to his mouth, trying and failing to fight back the tears in his eyes and the bile rising in his throat. "Did Vox try to—"

"It doesn't matter!" Alastor snapped. "Nothing happened and nothing will ever happen. Not even with…" He scoffed at himself, face red with mounting rage. "Because I can't just let things happen… because I'm some broken, dysfunction freak."

Nope. Lucifer was done hearing this self-deprecating bullshit. He couldn't bear to hear it anymore. "Don't! Don't you dare!" he retaliated, unconsciously raising his voice. He poked Alastor hard in the chest. "Don't you dare think you're less than anyone – less than me."

Alastor's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to argue but Lucifer didn't give him a chance. "You're different, so what? You think I'm not? You think I'm not just as broken? Just as much a freak?"

Alastor snarled. "You are not—"

Lucifer plowed on. "Are we just forgetting all the times I've called you in the middle of the night so you could help me turn my dysfunctional brain off and get some damn sleep? How about the times you've had to physically pull me from the shop because I couldn't get myself to stop working? Oh, and let's not forget! How many times have you had to talk me down from a panic attack because I couldn't drag my ass out of some depressive spiral because life sometimes gets too hard?"

Alastor was stunned. "But—"

"Don't," Lucifer interrupted again. "You have been there to support me through everything. Do you really think I wouldn't do the same for you?" Upon realizing how close he had gotten in Alastor's space, Lucifer stepped back and took a deep breath to calm himself down.

"I love you," he said, pouring every ounce of affection, devotion, care, admiration, and passion he felt for the man into those three words. "I'll face anything and sacrifice everything if it means I can be with you."

Alastor continued to stare at him, the heat of his glare unwaveringly staying in place. Until it suddenly wasn't. Alastor crumbled, leaning forward and resting his head on Lucifer's shoulder, using his left hand to clutch at the front of his soaked shirt. "I'm a mess," he whispered. "I can't expect you to keep waiting for me."

Lucifer wrapped his arms around him again. "I'll always be here for you," he whispered back into his partner's ear. "I promise. We're in this together for the long run, no matter what."

They can deal with Vox later. Lucifer didn't yet know how, but he'd deal with him in due time. For now, Alastor took precedence.

"We really do need to get you cleaned up," he eventually said after a long pause in silence. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he smiled when he said, "I drew a bath. I had planned to use it myself but I guess you can have it."

"How kind of you," Alastor grumbled into his shoulder.

"Can you promise not to fall asleep and drown yourself?"

"…I can only promise to do my best."

"That's good enough," he responded with a light chuckle.

They stood there for another minute before Alastor pulled away from him. Lucifer offered his hand but Alastor shook his head. He had reached his limit of touch for the day and Lucifer was astounded he had allowed so much already.

"I can make it twenty steps to the bathroom," Alastor said with a petulant glare as he made his way towards the hall.

"Sure you can," Lucifer said, walking alongside him all the way. "I'm just here to bear witness."

Once they got to the bathroom, they both paused to evaluate the room. Puddles were scattered across the linoleum floor and most of the bubbles had disappeared. The water was lukewarm at best by now. Still, Alastor voiced no complaint and made his way inside. Warily, he glanced over his shoulder at Lucifer.

"I'll stay out here," Lucifer promised, forcing himself to stay put and not join Alastor inside. While they had never shared something like a bath before, they had shared the bathroom on multiple occasions even while one was bathing. It hurt to suddenly no longer be welcomed.

Guilt flittered across Alastor's face. "Be patient with me a little longer," he pleaded sorrowfully.

Lucifer shook his head. "I'll be as patient as you need me to be. If you need space, you need space." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you want me to sleep on the couch?"

If Alastor had been sorrowful before, then this was downright grief on his face. It looked as if his heart had broken. "I'd rather you didn't."

Lucifer offered an assuring grin. "I'm glad to hear that. I'll be right outside, so call if you need anything." He then closed the door and allowed Alastor his privacy.

Bloodlust rose to the surface but Lucifer squashed it down with great force. He wasn't ready to deal with Vox yet. He'd have to wait a while longer. Besides, it wasn't as if they could call the police. It would be one man's word against another and Alastor would not be in the law's favor. Besides, Alastor would have to come out as a flit and, if he did that, then he'd never be able to get his station off the ground.

Lucifer shook his head with a growl and refocused on busying himself. He gathered some nightclothes for Alastor and set them outside the bathroom door. He then prepared Alastor a proper cup of coffee, just in case. In hopes that some music would offer some comfort, Lucifer turned on the record player, returning the needle to the record he had been listening to before. Not knowing what else to do, he settled himself on the floor and leaned against the bathroom door.

All that separated them was an inch of hardwood but it felt like years now sat between him and Alastor, keeping them apart. But Lucifer was a patient man. He had helped Alastor before and he could help him again.

His mind tried to replay everything that had taken place, tugging painfully at his heart in the process. Lucifer brought his hands up to press into his eyes as he silently sobbed. He felt so helpless, so angry, so guilty. If only he hadn't left the club. If only he had pressed about Vox that first night. If only he knew what to do!

"Starlight?"

Lucifer froze, unsure if he had heard right. The voice had been so soft and quiet he could have imagined it.

"Are you out there?"

"Yeah," Lucifer responded in a heavy breath. He rubbed at his face. "I'm right here."

"…Thank you."

Music filtered in from the living room, bringing with it a woman's promise of better days to come. "Sadness ends in gladness. Showers are not in vain. If you want the rainbow, you must have the rain. Look for brighter weather, or watch for the sun again. If you want the rainbow, then you must have the rain."

A/N: The song played both at the beginning and end of the chapter is 'If You Want the Rainbow, You Must Have the Rain,' as performed by Annette Hanshaw and written by Oscar Levant, Billy Rose, and Bryce Duffour.