Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

99. The Things We Carry, Pt. 2

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Charlie sat perched on the stone edge of the balcony, staring at the starless sky with her knees drawn to her chest. Earlier that evening, after the meeting, and after her argument with (Y/N), she had decided to visit her parents in the Royal Circle. She hardly ate what they had prepared for dinner, much to the concern of her mother, and quickly excused herself to sit outside to think.

She had remained out on the balcony for nearly an hour before Lilith successfully convinced her husband to talk to their daughter. After watching her from inside for a few minutes, Lucifer pushed open the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony, catching his daughter's attention.

"Remember when I used to bring you out here with your mom to dance?" He leaned forward on the edge next to her, smiling when she looked up at him. "You would always end up dancing on my feet."

Charlie quickly wiped her eyes and replied, "Vaguely. That was a long time ago, Dad."

"It was, wasn't it?" His smile widened briefly. "You were so little back then."

Charlie shifted her gaze back to the deep crimson sky above Pride. A pensive silence followed, the pair looking at the distant city lights.

"Do you want to talk about it?" said Lucifer.

After a moment's thought, without tearing her eyes from her view, she started slowly: "I hate him for what he did. I'll never forgive him — and I feel like such a hypocrite for it, like I have no right running a program for redemption."

Lucifer didn't respond, but simply listened as his daughter spoke.

"I can't let this hotel fail," she continued, tears pricking her eyes. "There are good people here, Dad! People that deserve so much better than what they got — people that deserve paradise! If I don't let him back in, there goes my chance of helping anyone else!" She paused, briefly glancing at her father before looking away again. "But if I do . . . I lose my friend. She's been through enough — she . . . I-I can't. . ."

Lucifer stared softly at his daughter for a long time, then turned back to the urban scenery far away from them. "In a way, this kind of reminds me of a time, long before you were born, when God wanted one of his followers to sacrifice his son."

Charlie sniffled. "You've told me about Jesus before, Dad."

He let out a humored chuckle. "No, apple blossom, this is another story — God was very bloodthirsty back in the day." He followed his daughter's eyes up to the darkened sky. "A long time ago, he had a follower named Abraham. Abraham and his wife Sarah had struggled for years to have a child. They tried and waited for years and years — they wanted a baby so bad. Then one day, Sarah finally fell pregnant and gave birth to their son Isaac. But when Isaac was still young, God told Abraham to sacrifice his son to prove his devotion to him."

"And he actually killed him?" Charlie muttered, appalled by the story.

"He tried," Lucifer answered. "He took Isaac to the altar and tied him up to sacrifice him, but then an angel stopped him just in time. Turned out God just wanted to see if he'd actually do it."

"That's horrible," she said.

"It really is."

Charlie huddled her legs a little closer to her body, goosebumps covering her skin beneath her clothes when a winter breeze blew through the air. Quietly, through her tears, she asked her father, "What would you do if you were in my shoes, Dad?"

Lucifer looked down at her and pushed her blond hair behind her ear. "What do you think I'd do, apple blossom?"

Charlie didn't respond, but looked down at her feet in thought and pursed her lips. The chilly wind began to pick up, causing the pair to shiver. Lucifer patted her knee and turned to head back inside.

"Now come on inside before you catch a cold. Your mother made apple turnovers for dessert."

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Later that night, after some consideration, Charlie decided to return to the hotel. Stepping inside the main lobby, she locked the front doors behind her and made her way upstairs. As she quietly walked down the long hallway to her suite, she heard muffled voices coming from one of the rooms, and she slowed to a halt, eventually pinning them down to Alastor's room. She heard her sponsor speaking, followed by another voice she didn't quite recognize yet.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. Alastor very seldom allowed anyone else in his room — especially someone who wasn't within their close circle. She pursed her lips, lifting a hand to knock on his door, but stopped when the second voice spoke again, and she finally realized who it belonged to. Her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip, she withdrew her hand before it made contact with the wood, and continued down the hall to prepare for bed.