InsaneJournal

During the three days of the Red Alert lockdown, when Lucifer’s attention wasn’t consumed with making sure Tony and later Seven were both alright, or at least, alright as they could be, his focus drifted to others trapped on the ship. And inevitably he always came back to Hawke, who seemed to be trapped in her own quarters. So when it lifted, he was glad to see her come in for the Red Alert special and had meant to get over to talk to her, but by the time he’d made it that way she’d disappeared.

Presumably to sleep, because from what he’d seen she didn’t look like she had slept at all those past three days. Even so, he knew better than to presume that she’d be able to sleep, and so he’d snuck into her room, unsurprised when he found her awake. He didn’t even need to say a word. Once he’d crawled into bed with her she was out, like he knew she would be.

He was actually surprised when she didn’t sneak into his room any of the next few nights, but after he read the departure list on Sunday evening, he knew he was going back to her room that night.

This time for his own benefit.

He closed the lounge as quickly as he could and then immediately headed to Hawke’s room. Again, he wasn’t surprised that she was still awake, but this time he was grateful. When he climbed into bed, he only said two words. “Caitlin’s gone.”

"Oh no..." Hawke said, while rolling over to face him. She didn't always seek him out, sometimes because she was working late, other times because she didn't want to get too used to him. Though she was already striking out on that last point, despite trying to keep her distance some days. Normally when he showed up she snuggled in and got ready to get a full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep - something she desperately needed, which she never seemed to accomplish alone. That night, though, she could tell Lucifer was upset. She gave him her full attention when she landed on her other side.

Hawke had seen Caitlin's frantic post on the ships logs, and later her breakdown during the singing night. Lucifer had been there to comfort her, and Hawke knew that they were close. "I'm sorry, Lucifer. I know that you two were good friends. You were trying to help her through something, weren't you? Though I didn't have all the details."
“We were,” Lucifer answered, laughing softly. “We got stuck in the turbolift together, for about four hours which seemed like forever then, but little did I know… Anyway, you know how that goes. She started panicking, as she had special powers that half the people on this ship seem to have. But she was worried about controlling them if we were stuck that long.”

He shrugged. “The short story, without too much detail, is she was afraid those powers were going to change her into someone unrecognizable and heartless. And as someone who’s a bit put off by the ideas of destiny and the inevitable, I didn’t want her thinking that way,” he said.

So they’d become friends, and he had looked out for her. And now she was gone, and hopefully in a better mental state. Somewhere with lots of sun and the friends she’d left behind. He supposed he should be happy about that, but he wasn’t feeling quite that selfless presently. And there was no way of knowing if that’s where she even ended up.

Glancing over at Hawke he said, “There is one inevitability that I won’t be able to avoid, that I don’t want to think about yet. Or ever.”

"It's better not to think that way, I suppose. I'm often sad I didn't have the luxury myself. If I were to teach tiny mages their craft I think I'd have done it more your way." Hawke replied, while trying to think her way around his other words. He was mentioning it, but that didn't mean he wanted to talk about it, whatever it was.

She thought she might know, in any case. There was always the chance that one or the other of them would eventually be sent back, too. The thought often sent a chill down her own spine, but she couldn't be sure they were on the same page.

"I want to think I'm reading your mind right now, but I'm... not sure that I am. Or if you actually want to talk about it, since you're actively trying to avoid thinking about it. But... if it IS what I think it is, you aren't the only one who tries to avoid thinking about it."

Hawke hoped that made any sense at all. She mumbled, "I feel like I'm talking like one of Varric's overly cryptic spy characters right now."

Lucifer had no idea what she meant about Varric, but he sighed as she tried to reassure him he wasn’t the only one thinking about what he was thinking about. Which he thought might be the case but probably only partially, and he might as well just say it out loud. “Are you thinking about how anyone can disappear from this place at anytime? Because that’s half of it,” he told her.

“The other half? Oh, only the inevitability that everyone I care about is going to die, and I’ll outlast you all. And that’s going to cycle on for eternity or until my father gets bored with his little experiment and destroys everything. But who even knows if I’m in his universe now. Anyway, Beckett pointed that out to me, which was nice of her, but it’s the truth.”

It was also true that his life would be easier and less complicated if he didn’t care about mortals, but it seemed like he was well past that point.

"I... definitely was only half right, there." Hawke replied, nearly whispering. This conversation had started out in a dark place, but it seemed to be plummeting quickly down the cliffs and into the abyss. "But of course that makes sense. It should, shouldn't it? You barely need to sleep, nothing seems to hurt you, so I doubt time has much sway over you at all."

And that was... well, Hawke had a much shorter lifetime compared to him, and already it had been filled with more partings than she could handle. Before she'd come here she'd been certain she was doomed to spend the bulk of her twilight years alone. It was a thought that made her chest ache, and her brows knit together. "Is it really living if you don't experience this? Attachments, I mean. People will come and go, they'd do that whether you cared or not."

But it sounded like she was trying to convince the both of them, not just him. "And I admit, I haven't really... I don't know. You could live for thousands more years, and I'll maybe live for another twenty. But I was determined to spend all twenty of them with people at arm's length. Only it never seems to happen that way."

“Too late for that,” Lucifer replied, trying to lighten the mood, even as he thought about the reality of his situation. “I’m way closer than an arm’s length away.”

But she’d asked him a serious question and he was brooding over that. Which was better? The centuries he’d spent unattached except for with Maze, also essentially immortal. Or now, where he seemed to form some new attachment every time he turned around, that were only going to be losses one day. That was a really depressing way to think of people, so he stopped.

“That’s enough negativity for one night, isn’t it?” he asked. Surely there were better things to discuss.

Hawke's brows knit together as she studied his face. It was true, they both preferred to think of more positive things in each other's presence, though they rarely got their wish. The entire ship had just been through the kind of messes that she'd previously thought could only have happened in Kirkwall, and he'd lost a friend.

It wasn't the time to press him, she thought. Even if this was a topic she felt needed discussion. "Alright, but promise me you'll talk it out with someone later on. Maybe with Beckett? Just... don't keep it all pent up."

She sounded worried, and she was. No one liked to think about these kinds of things, but Hawke was pragmatic enough to know that if he didn't prepare for it now, it would be even harder to handle, later. When he left, or she did, or someone else did. Or if, Maker forbid, one of them died.
Lucifer glanced over at Hawke, somewhat taken back by her tone. “Hey, I’m alright,” he said quietly. “I mean... “

He didn’t know what he meant. That was the problem. But he also knew he wanted to be there, with Hawke, on a night he was upset and that meant something. “I’m here,” he told her. “You can worry when I’m upset and not around.”

"Lucifer, I care. You don't get to tell me when I'm allowed to worry about you. Which is rather a lot, actually." Hawke replied, giving him a fond look, "I could tell you the same but you wouldn't listen either. But I'm not scared that you'll push me away, if that's what you're wondering."

She was scared of being without him, but that was a different kind of fear. One of those things was intentional hurt, a thing that people had done to her over and over, and she was taking a risk in trusting him with that. He already knew it. But the other was out of their control. Hawke hated situations like that.

What she wanted to do was pull him closer, because words only did so much. It was her bed, and she decided to do just that. Let him run away at that point, if she was going too far.

This was new. Lucifer had grown somewhat accustomed to being on the opposite side of such interactions, but as Hawke took him into her arms, he tensed momentarily, to such a degree she couldn’t have helped but notice.

But it was Hawke, and after a couple of seconds he realized he felt comfortable and maybe something else, more than comfortable, that he couldn’t quite place. He took a deep breath, and visibly relaxed.

He didn’t trust his voice, so he remained silent, slightly in awe of how a single gesture could make him feel so safe and terrified at the same time, and how the feeling could be both wonderful and awful.

Often times, Hawke compared the way she felt in these moments to that one time she'd gotten a sucking chest wound. It ached, it was difficult to breathe, and it felt like letting things in were as painful as anything else. It was a comparison that didn't make sense to a lot of people, and she hardly ever said so aloud. But feelings were complicated, and so was vulnerability.

Lucifer hated being vulnerable even more than she did, and nothing said so as much as the way he stiffened at first. But he didn't get up and run away, and Hawke didn't try to hold him more tightly, either.

She laid there with her arms around him, patiently waiting to see if he'd relax. When he did, she pressed her lips against his shoulder.

Lucifer remained quiet for a minute or two, but eventually the moment got to him. “Right. Well. That was nice,” he said. It was far more than just nice, but at the moment, he couldn’t come up with a better word. “I uh… think it’s time to sleep.”

Hawke chuckled, "I'm glad you're saying so because I really am exhausted. It wouldn't have done to have dozed off during a serious chat." At least the moment had lasted for a bit before it was over. He'd actually tolerated the comfort longer than she'd been expecting, and she decided that had to be enough. The two of them were both damaged beyond belief, in some similar ways but also separate ones. Whatever road they were on together, the steps would have to be taken slowly. Lest either one of them decided to turn around and bolt.

She let go of him so he could make himself more comfortable, and then settled in, herself. A yawn cracked its way out of her mouth, and she closed her eyes.

Lucifer may have said it was time to sleep, but he was going to have a hard time doing so that night. Instead, as Hawke drifted off to sleep beside him, he started making mental lists of the pros and cons of emotional attachment. He wasn’t quite sure which side was winning, but he knew he didn’t want to leave Hawke’s room right then.

Maybe that counted for something.