WHO Mary & Nicholas WHEN middayish, Sunday, 4th March WHERE Fusion Blues WHAT Honey, I'm home (and dealing with everything fine!) WARNINGS talk of Lucifer murders
While they drove the rest of the way back to New York City, following the back streets and toll-free roads, Mary took it upon herself to protect Much.
There wasn’t all that much to protect him from in the van, but Mary was so acutely aware of the fact that his current trauma was almost certainly related to her. He wasn’t the first person that Lust had gone after just to get under Mary’s skin, and like always it had worked. Lust was an unstoppable monster, but Mary would really have loved to stop her.
Since returning to life a few days ago, Mary had been focused only on getting home. Everything had felt uncertain and unstable and ‘get home’ had seemed like the only thing that really mattered. And now Much had added another layer to it: get home and make sure Much was okay.
Mary wished she had a gun with her. She would have felt safer with a gun. Fucking Sins, fucking Lucifer, fucking forces of hell insistent on being such complete pains in her arse.
The night time lights of Fusion Blues were such a familiar comfort as Mary climbed out of the van. She leaned back in the driver’s side door to look at Much, telling him that he could message her at any hour for anything. (He couldn’t call though, not until she got a new phone. But she had a laptop up in the apartment, making her at least contactable.)
The club was busy and Mary waved tiredly at Patroclus as she passed the bar, having little energy to stop for small talk. She got to the top of the stairs before realising that, of course, she didn’t have her keys. Right back down she trudged, finding the spare under the bar while Patroclus served someone at the other end.
Mary’s apartment was surprisingly quiet for being above a jazz bar, but even if the sound had been pounding through the walls it wouldn’t have kept her awake. She didn’t even bother to peel off Much’s jeans and t-shirt before collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep.
Because of the excellent soundproofing, Mary couldn’t use the club below to give any indication of the time when she woke later, sobbing and gasping for breath. Now that she was home and no longer having to focus on the journey, Mary was, for the first time, able to properly let herself process what had happened in the desert.
Mary twisted her fingers in the blankets as she doubled over and cried, her whole body shaking with fear and helplessness and horror at her murder. Every shadow in her room looked like Lucifer’s smiling face, every flash from a headlight through the window like the fire of his hands.
She fell asleep again once she’d worn herself out with crying, and when Mary woke properly she felt truly wretched. Lucifer had been in all of her dreams, along with visions of hellfire and a sense of her own body caving in.
Where on earth could those harrowing concepts have come from?
She showered, keeping her eyes on the door in case something came bursting through, and put on clean clothes - a blessing - before padding in socks down the stairs and into the club, hoping to find something to eat in the kitchens.
"Nicholas," she said with a tired smile as she spotted him. It had been months and it was so good to see another familiar face. "You're looking very bright for- oh, is it really almost one?" The clock on the wall betrayed her with such a harsh truth. Mary supposed she'd needed the sleep, and eyes still felt puffy from all the crying she'd done.