The Girl In The Handcuffs

The Reason Why

"Let's get you to bed darling, you've had quite the day."

You let out a noise of discomfort when he lifted you into his arms, the pain you were feeling briefly flared before settling back into an uncomfortable throb. You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I'm fine on my own, you don't have to stay."

You thanked him as he sat you down and handed you a clean shirt.

"You've lost quite a bit of blood, at this point it's more for my own peace of mind."

You laughed lightly at that and nodded.

"Fair enough."

He smiled and pulled a roll of bandages from his pocket.

"Now lift your arms a bit, I'll dress that wound and let you get some rest."

You did as he said, watching him wrap the bandage around your stomach.

"Thank you for not telling Dan."

His hands paused and his eyes met yours.

"It's not my place to tell." Lucifer said dismissively.

"No, but most people would tell either way."

Lucifer smiled lightly as he stood up straight.

"I suppose they would, but everyone is entitled to their secrets, and yours is far too fascinating to divulge to anyone else, especially someone who would put a stop to such a noble cause."

You laughed, placing a hand over your stomach when your laughter pulled at your sutures.

"You're a strange man, did you know that?" You joked.

"So I've been told, is that a good thing?"

You thought for a moment before nodding.

"Depends, but in your case it adds to your charm."

"You think I'm charming?"

He grinned at that and you rolled your eyes.

"Goodnight Lucifer."

He raised his hands backing out of your room.

"I'll be out in the living room if you need me."

"Oh wait! I have a guest room, my couch isn't so comfortable, you can sleep there, it's just down the hall."

Lucifer smiled, thanking you as he closed the door behind him.

Once the door had closed you stripped out of your blood soaked clothes, standing in front of your mirror for a moment. There were scars scattered about your body, most were faint, small, but a few were large more angry, easily hidden, yet incredibly noticeably now while you stood in your underwear. Some were newer than others, but one provoked emotions you wished would go away.

It was the oldest among them, a gunshot wound. You lightly touched it, the memory of it, despite being so long ago, was still fresh in your mind. The only scar on your body you weren’t proud of, the only scar you didn’t get from successfully protecting someone, saving someone.

The one you got because you failed.

You exhaled a little, shaking the thought from your mind as you slowly got dressed. Tomorrow the memory would be in the back of your mind where it belonged. Always looming over you, the thing that drove you, the guilt you couldn't forget.

But that was for you to worry about, no one else, and yet when Lucifer had asked why you would do such a dangerous job, you'd wanted to tell him. You wanted to admit the real reason you knowingly put yourself in harms way.

But you hadn’t been able to say the words you wanted to.

You stared at the ceiling as you laid down, nestling into your blankets. With the memories resurfacing again you doubted you get much sleep, but you had to try. You speculated Lucifer might notice if you didn't. With a heavy sigh you rolled onto your side, staring at the picture on your nightstand.

The woman in the photo with you smiling so happily, proudly showing off the best friend necklace you had gotten her. You didn't realize you were crying until you felt a few tears hit your hand. You wiped them away as you turned your back to the photo.

"I'm sorry..."

Those two words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them known only to you. The uselessness of them, they very notion of even saying them empty. It wouldn't change what had happened, no matter how many times you said them. Yet you did, over and over, like it would help ease your conscience. Your thoughts quickly got away from you turning dark and furious and you tightened your grip on the blanket.

So much for sleep.