Husker had mixed feelings watching Elida and Alastor fly off on her broom. On one hand, he owed that girl his soul. He'd be grateful to her every day for the rest of his eternity. She'd been endlessly kind and had accomplished something that he'd thought was impossible. He wouldn't have his halo without her.

On the other hand, that psychopath at her side had treated him like a source of entertainment at best; and entertainment for the Radio Demon was never fun for the plaything. Alastor didn't deserve to see Heaven, and yet there he was, zooming off into the sky among the clouds. He hoped Elida wouldn't end up under that demon's thumb.

Alastor winked at him as they sped off, making Husk growl. He'd only just gotten to Heaven's gates, and still that asshole was inescapable.

Anthony stepped in front of Husker and took his chin in his hand, "Now look here, pussycat, you forget that prick. He ain't worth it." He forced Husk to look him in the eye, "I'm free from Val, and now you're free from mista radiowaves. You got that? It don't matter where he is, or what creepy shit he's up to. You're off his leash."

Husker looked at his love, staring into his eyes. There was still pain there, haunting him, but it was fading. The decades of assault, drugs, and abuse remained in memory only. For Husk, his wounds were still fresh. He'd barely been there an hour, and the shock hadn't fully worn off. He turned, properly taking in his surroundings for the first time.

The group of redeemed souls all chatted with the mailman. Marcel, was it? They looked so much happier than when they'd sat at his bar, bitching about all the shit they'd gone through. Husk knew everything about these people, so at least he'd have some familiar faces around, even if those faces were fairer and more angelic than they had been before. He wondered how his own face had changed. He'd need to find a mirror.

Husk nudged Anthony's shoulder, "Well, then, why don't you show me around? I've got a lot of Heaven to see."

"You got it, toots."

While Husker was taken to and shown around Redemption City, Elida gave Alastor her own tour. She'd lived and worked right on the Promenade, so she'd grown quite familiar with the area. She gave him a bird's eye view, soaring through the sky to let him see it all at once. Hell wasn't even visible from up there; likely to keep the angels from thinking about it in case they had loved ones that didn't make the cut.

They explored for a bit, letting him see the city as the angels did, free and flying. Alastor wondered how far someone could fall before that angelic durability failed, and they got hurt. Clearly, falling all the way to Hell couldn't quite kill them. That was obvious based on historical cases of fallen angels, but at what point did they at least get injured? He wondered how far Elida could fall before she'd feel pain. He'd maim anyone that tried.

He'd been thinking about her a lot lately. Plans of owning her soul were slowly being replaced with thoughts of simply wanting her around. He pictured her sitting by his fireplace, contentedly chatting away with him about this, that, and the other. Sometimes the conversation was stimulating and deep, other times it was just gossip and silly nonsense. Those were his favorite moments, and he didn't even need to force her to be there; she'd come in to visit him all on her own; no contract required. Eventually, their visits became so frequent that he just gave her her own key to his room and radio tower. It was bizarre feeling like he could trust someone.

She'd been helping him with the letters to his mother as well. Rather than making any grandiose deal out of it, Elida had just stopped by each week, took his letter from him when no one was around, and given it to Marcel among her own stack of mail as if they were hers. It was easier than sneaking the letters into the courier's bag though the shadows, and he'd never had to ask her to do it. She just showed up and helped him, no words exchanged or needed.

He looked at Elida again. Clever, unhinged Elida, with her unpredictable mind and unstoppable tenacity. He studied her face as she pointed out her favorite landmarks, telling him about all her home. Her voice was sweet and musical when she was happy, but the longer he listened, the more he could tell that something almost sinister lingered beneath the sound, tantalizing in its unidentifiability. To him, it was delicious.

He smiled at her, just like he always did, listening to her speak. He could talk to her all day; and he had. Multiple times now. What had started as a political game had turned into a genuine friendship that Alastor hadn't planned on. Still, he found that he didn't mind. Friendships could be liabilities, but there was no stopping this one. Elida had become one of his favorite people he'd ever met, and he wasn't looking forward to they day that she'd return to Heaven without him. When she left, he'd continue to write to her. He'd miss his best friend.

Alastor missed his mom, too. Was she down there in the city, or had she made a home for herself elsewhere? He couldn't wait to see her, and Elida somehow found a way to make it happen.

During his long, sleepless nights, Alastor had eventually admitted to himself that he loved Elida, and that he loved her more than he thought himself capable of. But the problem was, he hadn't quite decided exactly what type of love it was. It could be platonic, like with Rosie… it could be familial, like with his mother… it definitely wasn't parental, like with Nifty and Charlie… He just couldn't figure it out, and that irritated him. None of the definitions he tried on quite seemed to fit.

He didn't want to bother thinking about it, but she'd embedded herself so thoroughly into his mind that he couldn't relax. He tried distracting himself with music, torturing a few souls he owned for the fun of it, even doodling on scrap paper to pass the time, but she just wouldn't leave his brain alone. She was an enigma to him.

Too soon, Elida touched back onto the ground, dismissing the broomstick. They stood in front of an elegant castle-like structure. In the center of the courtyard, a massive brazier glowed, rainbow flames within it. The fire stretched upward no less than two stories, magnificent in its multicolored light. It smelled different than the brimstone hellfire Alastor had grown accustomed to. This one smelled almost sugary, like s'mores, giving a feeling of sitting at the hearth with friends and family.

"This is one of my favorite monuments," Elida explained, "It's called the Eternal Flame. It was burning long before Heaven made the Earth and is fueled by a powerful spell that ensures it will never go out. It's the perfect embodiment of eternity, and energy, and magic. I just think it's one of the most beautiful things. What do you think?" She lifted her hand and let the flames kiss her fingertips.

"Very vibrant," he agreed, focused more on Elida's polished nails than the flames dancing around them. "It reminds me of the myth of Prometheus. I personally know of at least three people back at home who get their livers eaten out every day. Rosie likes liver in her stew, and luckily, they regrow quickly."

"Gross," she laughed, smiling. "Why the liver of all things? Not the ribs?"

"Ribs too, but those are farmed at the respawn area, since people tend to die quicker when their ribcages are removed. It's a pesky inconvenience, but what can you do?"

"Isn't there a torture method called the spread eagle or something like that where they take your ribs out?"

"You're thinking of the blood eagle, I believe the spread eagle is a sexual position."

"Yeah, but don't they survive it for at least a little while?"

"Yes, they're kept alive. I've tried it a few times myself. Managed to keep one gentleman's heart beating for a full three days before they finally died of blood loss." He sounded very proud of himself. "Though, the ribs stay attached, you can't eat them very efficiently until they're removed properly. Livers, on the other hand, are much simpler to deal with."

"I couldn't do it. I nearly cry if I so much as step on someone's toe," she mused.

"And yet, you watch the daily violence and torture we demons enjoy without batting an eye," he pointed out.

"Sure," she admitted, "But I'm not the one doing the hurting. I don't hold myself responsible for other people's actions. Just my own."

"Drinking from that cup would leave you drowning," he agreed. "Especially in your line of work. But I do wonder why your eyes linger so long on the more gruesome events, when you could just as easily look away."

She thought about that for a moment, considering the implications of his observation. He wasn't wrong. Her eyes were practically drawn to blood and bones. Maybe in another life she could have made a good surgeon. "I suppose," she answered after a few beats, "that I find it fascinating. Like watching a train wreck, or an explosion, or learning the science behind fatal diseases. And with how unique each demon's soul takes form, it only adds to the intrigue. Their anatomy isn't always identical, and you can never be completely sure how their bodies will respond to an injury. I guess it's a clinical interest, if nothing else."

And that, right there, was just one more reason why Alastor loved her.

As they left the Eternal Flame behind and made their way toward the entrance to the castle-like building, they chatted casually about other clinically interesting things. The bronze bull, the iron maiden, the rack. Things that were on Alastor's bucket list. Elida's intimate knowledge of them would have been shocking if he hadn't spent the time to get to know her better. She was a cinnamon roll with blood-flavored filling.

They entered the building and were greeted by a very befuddled little cherub. "What in the name of our Lord is a demon doing here? Out! Get out, you fiend!" He shouted, holding up a book like he would throw it at a moment's provocation. It was the least threatening thing Alastor had ever seen. He grinned down at the funny little creature.

"We have clearance," Elida explained, producing the necessary documents proving their right to be there.

The cherub looked from Elida to the papers, to Alastor, and back to the papers, face paling like a ghost. Elida would know; she'd been a ghost a fair few times. The cherub put their book down and frowned, but nodded, "Alright then. This way." Angels like Elida were higher status than any cherub, and even if they weren't, only God and the Prince of Heaven had the authority to go against an order directly from the Seraphim. The cherub had no choice but to let the demon in. Mercy be on his soul…

The cherub led the odd pair to a small room with a single computer in the middle of a large desk. A printer sat on one end and there was a single chair. It was cozy enough, and clean. Good for projects being done by one or two people. "We'll need another chair, please," Elida told the cherub.

"Yes, ma'am," they offered her a slight bow, then left, giving Alastor one last side-eye as they closed the door.

Alastor, being the gentleman he was, offered the current chair to Elida. She sat, pressing a few buttons to wake the computer up. She could have control of the keyboard all she wanted; Alastor hated computers. Pressing her hand to the screen, it read her prints, and let her into the system. "Okay," she began, "Who's up first? I have a list," she began fishing through her pocket for the clipboard she's prepared.

Alastor saw his chance. He had to get this done first. If something happened and he lost access to these files, he'd be completely fucked. He couldn't wait. Elida had earned his trust; it was time to test it. "If I may," he chimed in, leaning over her casually, "Perhaps we could start with myself?"

She looked up, "You want to find loopholes to your own contracts? What would you do with those besides…" She trailed off, not wanting to give him ideas. Finding his own loopholes would let him close them, which would make it harder to free other people like Husker in the future.

"Besides what, darling?" Alastor egged on, very interested in the missing half of her sentence.

"You tell me," She evaded, "But sure, let's look you up."

She typed his name into the search bar. There were more results than she could count. She set them to sort by most recent, but then changed her mind and sorted them alphabetically. "Anyone in particular you want to look at?"

The moment of truth.

"Lilith Morningstar and I."

Elida stared at him blankly, trying to read his expression. He was nervous. That was odd. "Lilith… as in… THE Lilith? Charlie's mom?"

"Yes."

"You own Charlie's mother? The literal queen of Hell?"

"Just look for yourself, would you?"

There was no way she wouldn't. Knowing that the contract existed at all, whatever it was, left her with a curiosity that would consume her every waking moment until she fed it. So, she did. She looked it up, and sure enough, a file popped up under the names 'Alastor Hartfelt and Lilith Morningstar.'

She sent it to the printer's queue and waited as the machine whirred to life, printing page after page of complicated fine print. "I'd like two copies for myself as well, please," Alastor requested politely. So, Elida made two more copies. They wouldn't be permitted to take the papers out of this room if they belonged to anyone else, but as a participating party, Alastor could do whatever he liked with the contract. It was his to share or hide per his discretion.

While the copies printed, the cherub returned with Alastor's chair. They slid it into the room and bolted, not wanting to be anywhere near the scary red man, clearance or not. Alastor grabbed his fresh paper copy and sat, adjusting his monocle. He'd have done this years ago, but Lilith had intentionally hidden the contract from him, not wanting him to try to find any backdoors out of his servitude to her. Finally, he had the paper in his hand. God, he could just kiss someone right now!

Elida took her own copy and glanced down at it, reading the first few lines.

"Holy fucking shit!" she exclaimed, jaw dropping, the temperature in the room getting noticeably colder. Alastor raised an eyebrow; He'd never heard her swear before. It didn't sound right on her lips.

He knew exactly what she'd found.

"Allie! Why didn't you tell me?" She looked at him, horrified. "This whole time?"

"Save your pity, kid. I did what I had to do." He narrowed his eyes.

She looked at him, silent as the grave, eyes misty. Pieces fell into place in her mind; his role at the hotel, his hatred for Lucifer, his willingness to help Elida at every turn, his mysterious seven-year disappearance. It all boiled down to this.

He'd sold his soul to the Queen of Hell to protect himself from the exterminations.

While Lilith couldn't make him perfectly invulnerable, her magic provided an armor that made otherwise lethal blows from angelic blades far less fatal. The contract promised him that she'd patch him up if he ever did get hurt with a divine weapon, and in exchange for her protection, she got his soul. It all but guaranteed that he'd survive far longer than any other soul in Hell, which would give him time to eventually become one of the most powerful humans the pit had ever seen. He'd survive, and he'd get the power he wanted, but it came at a horrible cost.

Elida left her chair and sat on Alastor's lap instead, hugging him, "We're going to fix this," she promised, holding him close. "We're going to set you free. I don't care how long it takes."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, darling," he warned. "Eternity is a long time, and Lilith is no fool."

She pulled back, hand on his cheek, intimately close, "I never do," she whispered, "I'm going to do everything I can. You can count on it. I assume you don't want anyone knowing?"

"Respectfully, if you tell anyone about this, I'll never trust you again."

"I won't. You know I won't."

"I know you won't," he agreed. And he believed her. "But let's make it official, if you don't mind." He held his hand toward hers, an awkward gesture when she was literally sitting on top of him.

"I swear not to discuss this with anyone who doesn't already know, or who you have not given your permission to tell," she promised, taking his hand.

The search results for Alastor's contracts increased by one.

They sat there together, ignoring the other chair and instead holding each other for comfort as they began to work through the contract, line by line. It was complex, nuanced, and difficult to interpret. Lilith had made it needlessly wordy, likely as a precaution to prevent anyone from doing exactly what they were doing now.

By the time an alarm went off on Elida's phone, they'd been so engrossed in the contract that she nearly jumped. Alastor, not easily startled, ignored it, still puzzling over a paragraph that didn't quite make sense.

Elida sighed, putting the papers down on the desk, "That's all the time we have. I'd hoped to look through more than one contract today, but it is what it is. We can bring it back to the hotel with us and work on it more there. Maybe we could look into finding a divine lawyer?"

"No," he shut that down immediately, "No one gets to know."

"If that's what you're comfortable with, then okay, no lawyer," she conceded. "But for now, my brain is fried." She handed him her copy of the contract, "Here, take this. Sera says if anyone other than the holder of a contract tries to take one out of this room, it disappears. I can't carry it until we're gone from the building."

"Very well," he took the stack of papers and placed it safely in his jacket pocket with the other two copies, folded neatly and hidden from sight. "Where to next?"

"Dinner," she smiled, "I hope you're hungry. We were supposed to take a break for lunch hours ago, but I got a little distracted. And you're like sitting on a heated blanket, it's very comfy."

She took his arm, and they left the building, reemerging out by the Eternal Flame. "Do you want to freshen up a bit at all or are you good?"

There was only one reason she would bother asking him that, and it made his stomach drop. "I'm quite well, dear, let's be off."

"Okay," she confirmed, "Here we go." She opened a portal.

Inside it, Alastor could see a cozy cottage surrounded by flowers and vines. It sat in the center of a swamp. Fireflies flew about, adding a glimmer of lively sparkle to the air. Sunlight gleamed downward, making the water glisten. A frog sat on a lily pad, ribbiting away happily. The cottage was surrounded by a beautiful garden full of herbs, peppers, and berries. There was smooth jazz playing in the air wafting outside from an open window, and it smelled like Cajun spices mixed with freshly baked bread.

The door opened, and suddenly Alastor felt like nothing more than a kid again. It was like he was coming home from a paper route to find her waiting to give him his lessons for the day. She stood there, smiling the same smile he'd seen in his own mirror over and over again, only with far less cruelty in her eyes.

She opened her arms, beckoning him toward her, "There's my sweet little alligator. I've been waiting for you. We don't want your dinner to get cold."

He rushed forward, forgetting the world as he wrapped the smiling woman in his arms, embracing her like she was more precious than the purest gold. Tears welled in his eyes as she held him tight. His knees gave out, and they collapsed onto the ground together in a heap of long-lost love.

"Ma… I've missed you so much."

[A note from the author: In honor of pride month, Alastor's thoughts in this chapter on what type of love he feels for Elida were taken (almost) verbatim from my own thoughts as an ace-in-the-hole falling in love with my best friend many years ago. While I don't speak for every ace person in the world, because no one can, this is a very real representation of what being asexual is like, particularly in the case of a first love. In my case, that friend and I dated for a bit before life took us in different directions. We're still friends to this day. We send each other memes and they tell me all about their loving spouse and kid. Happy pride! Go forth, be gay, and do crimes.]