An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: “I - I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he says, emotion choking him.
Lucifer’s intensity ebbs, regarding him with something like sympathy. “Would that make you feel better? If you were able to say goodbye?”
A laugh barks out of Dan, ugly and wet. “Yeah. Yeah, man, it would.”
Lucifer studies him with a calculated air, seemingly trying to ascertain his sincerity. “Very well.”
(Or Lucifer Takes Dan to Heaven to See Charlotte)
Death Is Nothing At All By Harry Scott-Holland
Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.
*
Dan stares out into the horizon, numb. The sight of the city is hazy with distance and the sun beginning to rise. Officers had to pry him loose from where he had curled around Charlotte, sobbing. Her body has been cleared away and Ella and her team had come through and collected evidence. She hadn’t even reprimanded him for contaminating the scene, but had given him a hug, tight and lingering, before stepping back and looking at him with sympathetic eyes.
There's nothing more to be done here, but Dan can't make himself leave. He feels empty. Gutted.
Chloe and Lucifer are still here, hovering in the background. The former quietly lending emotional support, the latter drifting around the area and studying it with dark eyes. Lucifer comes up to stand next to him. He slides his hands in his pockets and stares out at the city.
“If it's any consolation, Daniel, rest assured my brother escorted her to the Gates of the Silver City himself.”
Dan knows Lucifer intends it to be comforting, he does - it’s just, it's just too much in a weak moment and Dan snaps.
He shoves at Lucifer who takes a half step back out of surprise. “Can you quit with the Devil stuff-” Dan shoves again, but this time Lucifer doesn't even budge. “-for one. Goddamn. Second!”
Lucifer reacts in a sudden burst of movement, gripping the front of Dan's shirt and pushing him backwards with powerful strides. Dan’s boots scrabble to find purchase, sudden fear flooding through him, but Lucifer’s too strong. Dan finds his back hitting the bark of the nearby tree and air leaves him in a whoosh.
Lucifer's gaze is hard. “I understand human grief exhibits itself in strange ways and that you are mourning, Daniel, so I will forgive you for accosting me,” he says, voice sharp. “But someone out there is responsible for Charlotte’s murder and you need to pull yourself together if we are to bring them to justice.”
The anger vanishes in an instant, leaving Dan feeling shaky and hollow. Lucifer's grip on his shirt is suddenly the only thing keeping him upright as sorrow sweeps through him like a riptide.
“I - I didn't even get to say goodbye,” he says, emotion choking him.
Lucifer’s intensity ebbs, regarding him with something like sympathy. “Would that make you feel better? If you were able to say goodbye?”
A laugh barks out of Dan, ugly and wet. “Yeah. Yeah, man, it would.”
Lucifer studies him with a calculated air, seemingly trying to ascertain his sincerity. “Very well.”
He releases his hold and Dan slumps back against the tree. Lucifer strides over to Chloe, reaches up to tenderly cradle her face and says quietly, “Have no fear, I will return to you.” Then he presses a soft kiss to her forehead.
Dan's eyebrows skyrocket, but there's no flare of jealousy, not even satisfaction at seeing them finally getting their shit together, nothing he can muster beyond the gaping hole of anguish inside him. Then Lucifer is back and tugging him toward the lookout’s edge.
“I'm already courting war by my presence in the Silver City alone, what's carting along a living soul to the Gates?” Lucifer asks rhetorically.
Lucifer positions him so that his back is to the ledge and fear trickles down Dan's spine, but Lucifer only reaches for him, sliding his arms around like a very awkward hug, one hand bracing his neck, the other secure around his waist. Dan looks over Lucifer's shoulder to where Chloe stands and watches with confusion on her face.
Then Lucifer unfurls his wings.
Dan and and Chloe have matching expressions of surprise, wide eyes and parted mouth, before Lucifer gives his wings a great heave and Dan's feet leave the ground. Two, three, more hard flaps and Lucifer angles his feathers and catches the wind, sending them up and up.
Dan grips Lucifer with white knuckles as the land gets smaller and smaller below them. He peers over Lucifer’s shoulders, watching the hard flex of muscle that accompanies the push-pull of Lucifer’s wings. He wants to freak out about this, Lucifer is The Devil, the actual Devil. But...that means what he said about Charlotte is true. She’s in Heaven. She’s - she’s okay. Tears fill his eyes and Lucifer makes no mention of the way Dan tucks his face against his shoulder and cries.
They must be at least a thousand feet in the air when Lucifer says, “Take a deep breath and close your eyes.”
Dan immediately sucks in a lungful of air and shuts his eyes tight. Lucifer must do something because Dan's stomach shifts like when an elevator takes off and his skin tingles.
“Alright. It should be safe now, you can look if you like.”
Everything is dark. Small pinpricks of light can be spotted in the distance and realization makes Dan dizzy. They're in space.
“Well, not strictly speaking,” Lucifer replies. “But near enough. We're in the Heavenly realm, which is why you're not dead from the crushing pressure, the lack of oxygen, or all the blood in your body boiling.”
Dan swallows, stomach suddenly uneasy. “Good to know.”
Lucifer hums, sounding slightly amused, soaring on some invisible current. “We should be at the Silver City shortly.”
Dan can't tell when they get there since he’s facing the wrong way, but Lucifer's flying pattern changes, swift backbeats of his wings and then there’s solid ground under their feet. Lucifer lets go of him and his legs feel wobbly. He stumbles and Lucifer quickly catches him and sets him aright, wings vanishing with a snap. But then Dan is suddenly focused on what’s around them.
Of all the things Heaven could be, Dan...wasn’t expecting it to look like an airport.
The gates are gold, technically - a dark, brushed metal look that resembles stainless steel and the floor has certainly has a pearly sheen to it, but yeah, it’s definitely an airport. An unfamiliar angel stands guard at the gate, dark glossy wings folded behind him, his hand resting on the sword at his hip. Dan has never met him, but he and Lucifer clearly recognize each other. The look of disgust the angel levels at them does not fill Dan with confidence.
“Adversary,” the angel sneers at Lucifer.
“Peckerhead,” Lucifer replies, appearing rather mild. Dan stands between the two of them uneasily. Lucifer ignores the other angel, deliberately putting his back to him, fishing around in his breast pocket. He jerks his head towards the big glass doors. “Well, go on, then.”
“Living souls are not allowed past the Gate,” the other angel counters sharply, his gaze cold in a way Lucifer never is.
Lucifer calmly pulls a cigarette free and tucks the carton away, hands folding behind his back in a loose parade rest. “You’ll let him pass or I’ll kill you where you stand.”
The angel narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“That’s what Uriel thought,” Lucifer replies, voice calm, but Dan notices the way the cigarette shakes between his fingers, unseen behind his back.
Something like fear flickers across the other angel’s face and he steps away from the doors, though a sneer mars his face.
Lucifer slides the cigarette between his lips, flicks his lighter and brings the little flame up to his mouth. It catches and he puts it away to inhale and let the smoke curl lazily from his nose. “In you get, Daniel.”
“You aren’t coming?” Dan can’t help but ask, surprised.
Lucifer smiles tightly at Dan. “I’m not allowed past the Gate.”
‘Neither am I,’ he wants to say, but he doesn’t have to because Amenadiel is pushing open the door from the other side, massive grey wings folded against his back.
“Lucifer!” he’s saying with a bright smile stretching across his face. He doesn’t pause, but barrels forward, wrapping his brother in a bone crushing hug that briefly lifts Lucifer off his toes. Something horribly vulnerable passes over Lucifer’s features before its schooled away. Amenadiel steps back, grinning. “It is good to see you.”
“You as well, brother,” Lucifer admits. He pulls a feather from inside his jacket, a dark grey matching Amenadiel’s perfectly. “You ought to be more careful, it would be a pity to expose humanity to the divine.”
Amenadiel accepts the feather, but raises a disbelieving brow at Lucifer. “Perhaps. I know one or two humans who might be able to handle it. Speaking of.” Then he turns his attention to Dan, who feels suddenly nervous, but Amenadiel looks at him kindly. “You must be here to see Charlotte.”
“Yes,” Dan says, voice rough.
Amenadiel nods like that was the answer he’d been expecting and turns to pull the door open for them. “Come inside. Both of you.”
“But -” the angel protests.
“Are you questioning me, Remiel?” Amenadiel asks, his voice soft with threat. “The First of Angels and Favored Son?”
Remiel lowers his eyes. “No, brother.”
“Good.” He continues to hold the door open and Dan takes the hint, skirting by and into the lobby, Lucifer following more hesitantly.
Angels are moving about, some walking with purpose, a clear destination in mind. Others are chatting to each other idly. Curious eyes drift over to them now and then, but Amenadiel’s presence seems to deter most of them.
“What? No welcome home party?” Lucifer asks, covering over his insecurity with sarcasm as they take a set of stairs to a different floor.
Amenadiel looks back, amused. “The Silver City is where you are from, but you and I both know that it’s not your home.” His expression goes sly. “I imagine you’ll return to her once your business here is finished.”
Lucifer rolls his eyes, but doesn’t refute the statement.
They go through hallway after hallway, wide stone arches and modern glass architecture blending seamlessly. Dan can see a distant similarity in Lucifer’s decor, but Lux has much more warmth than the blank, impersonal walls of the City.
“And what of Father? What does He think you you opening the City to its greatest foe?” Lucifer’s question is surprisingly soft.
Amenadiel looks briefly sympathetic. “He...isn’t here. He hasn’t been for some time.”
Lucifer’s face shutters. “Ah. I see.”
Amenadiel claps a companionable hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. “Things have been running fine on automatic, but I’ve taken over the Host since my return.”
Lucifer nods. “Naturally.”
“My time on Earth taught me much,” Amenadiel says, leading them down a corridor that looks slightly less like an airport and more like the inside of a large office building. “The nature of humanity, how confusing and contradictory it can be. I’ve tried to put what I’ve learned to good use.” They reach a door, heavy wood and fancy. Amenadiel knocks, waits a moment and then peeks in. “Charlotte? You have visitors.”
Dan doesn’t wait, can't wait, and pushes past Amenadiel with his heart in his throat. And then there she is. Charlotte. She’s standing, dresses in a professional looking suit, white, and perfectly tailored. A heavy gold necklace sits against her chest and a delicate silver bracelet adorns her wrist. She smooths nonexistent wrinkles out of her shirt and quickly tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
The motion draws his eye and he sees the small waffle charm.
“Dan,” she greets with a nervous smile.
“Charlotte,” he says tremulously. His feet take him to her and she meets him partway, coming around her desk to see him. It doesn’t feel real, so he reaches out, fingers encircling her wrist. It’s solid, she’s solid. Real.
“You’re really here.” Disbelief colors his voice.
“So are you,” she says. “You aren’t - you haven’t...” she trails off meaningfully, concerned.
“Oh! No, no. I didn’t die. Lucifer brought me here.” They both look back to where the two very tall angels wait awkwardly at the door.
“Oh, good,” Charlotte says, relieved. Then she smiles at him, soft and adoring. “Did you come all this way just to see me?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Oh, Dan,” she says, fond and exasperated all at once.
“I’ll stay.” The words spill from his mouth before he can stop them. “I’ll stay. Here, with you.”
She shakes her head, though it seems to pain her. “You have to go back. You have your job, your child. Daniel.”
“Then I’ll be back here as soon as I can,” he says, growing desperate, feeling like she was slipping through his fingers yet again and he’s so, so tired of letting things slip through his fingers.
“No,” Charlotte objects, her anger making the word slice through him.
God, of course. She - she was in Heaven. What would she want with him? This was stupid, he was stupid. “Right,” he says, taking a step back, pain blossoming through him like a bruise. “Of course not. That - I’m sorry, I shouldn't have -”
She pursues him, reaching out to snatch up his hand, not letting him retreat. “I want this,” she tells him, squeezing his fingers. “As weird as it is, I want this. I want you, all in. The whole deal. So there.”
Dan chokes out a laugh, hearing his own words repeated back to him. “Really?”
She nods and then she's gripping him and kissing him breathlessly. It's all he can do to keep up, threading fingers through her hair and keeping her against his mouth, the other still gripping hers, unwilling to let go. Her kisses are edged with teeth till his lips are swollen and tingling. Finally, and yet far too soon, she pulls away. Her eyes shine with tears.
“You, Daniel Espinosa, are to live as long a life as possible and be as happy as you can stand. You hear me?” Her words are ferocious and Dan can only bend under her command even as hope bursts wildly in his chest. “And then - and only then - you come back to me, okay?”
Affection surges wildly in his veins with a violence he’d nearly call love. “Okay,” he promises.
She grins at him, wide and beautiful and he has to kiss her one more time, doing his very best to memorize her taste, how she feels pressed against him. He’s the one that breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment while he catches his breath. Then he forces himself to take a step back, though she keeps their fingers tangled.
“Don’t forget about me up here in the clouds, alright?” he teases, though it falls a little flat.
“Never,” she swears. “Besides, time here moves a lot slower than on Earth.”
“Time differential,” Lucifer pipes up from where he’s been studying Charlotte’s office shelves. Then he slides a look at Amenadiel, eyebrow raised, curious. “You have her working?”
Amenadiel smiles, smug. “I do.”
“Someone want to explain?” Dan asks, a tad irritated.
“The Silver City is the inverse of Hell, really. Everyone has their perfectly, tailor-made fantasy to experience for all eternity. There’s probably one out there with a Dan making waffles for breakfast right now just waiting. But she,” Lucifer says nodding, “Is not in hers. She’s outside of the rooms, in the offices, working.”
“Well, I have it under good authority that those with bright, sharp minds tend to find the Silver City, well, boring,” Amenadiel says innocently. “I thought I would try something...new. Charlotte is doing what she does best. After all, the Silver City is not free of conflict, and mediating was a big part of her old job. And she has far more patience for paperwork than you ever did.”
Lucifer makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat.
“The system here works pretty well, but I’ve already found multiple ways to improve it,” Charlotte says, brimming with pride. “If only sorting out bickering angels didn’t take up most of my time.”
Lucifer has the good grace to look a bit sheepish at that. “Yes, well. No one’s perfect.”
Amenadiel nods. “In many ways we are as flawed as the humans we’ve looked down on for so long. You saw their worth as Father did.” Lucifer looks away and says nothing so Amenadiel continues, “I’m going to be making some changes around here and not everyone is going to like it.”
“If you require my aid, brother,” Lucifer says seriously. “You need only call.”
“Thank you, I may end up having to take you up on that. But you ought to return to Earth before too much time has passed.”
Lucifer grimaces. “Of course. Daniel?”
He looks back at Charlotte, their hands still intertwined. The waffle charm bumps against his wrist. “I’ll see you soon?”
She swings their hands a little. “Not too soon.”
He grins, a little roguishly. “Of course not, especially since I’ve got you looking out for me from up above, right?”
She kisses him in response, short and sweet. “Goodbye, Dan.”
“Goodbye, Charlotte.” He can’t help himself, dipping down to press his mouth to hers, quick. Lucifer makes an impatient sound.
Amenadiel is right. They should go. So Dan lets Charlotte slip though his fingers. He follows Lucifer out of the office. He doesn’t look back. Dan knows if he does, he’ll never leave, no matter what’s he’s promised.
He thought he’d feel worse, walking away from her like he is now...but he feels strangely at peace. Something in him that had broken with Charlotte’s death hasn’t...healed, exactly, but maybe it’s mended a little. This was goodbye, yes. But not forever. He would see Charlotte again. She would wait for him.
I wrote this because I’ve been watching Arrow with my best friend and I remembered how mad I was that there were never any emotional repercussions for Oliver from what he did as Al Sah-Him(regardless of whether he was doing it for the right reasons, there still should have been some). This is basically a giant angsty dumpster fire, but bear with me.
The first few weeks were hard. Oliver’s guilt over what he had done to John, to her, to everyone he cared about, weighed on him so much as to make starting a new life in Ivy Town next to impossible. They went through the motions, sure, but that was all. He was in a downward spiral, and Felicity didn’t know how to pull him out of it. Not this time. One night she was awoken by Oliver tossing and turning in the bed beside her, and muttering in his sleep.
“Oliver,” she whispered urgently, shaking his shoulder. “Oliver!” He sat bolt upright, eyes wild, hand clenched as if around the handle of a sword.
“Felicity…” he murmured in a brittle voice, the wild look fading from his eyes. He grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, making her gasp in surprise.
“I’m sorry, Felicity,” he whispered, rocking back and forth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His tears fell against her neck, soaked into her hair. She didn’t know what else to do- what else she could do- in that moment, except to hold him tight and murmur, “It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re okay” until he calmed.
Post 3x23 - Iris insists on staying alone at the loft her first night without Barry.
A heartbreaking follow-up scene to where the ep left off. Brace yourself for Iris mourning Barry in the immediate aftermath.
*As always, many thanks to my beta, @valeriemperez, for being wonderful in beta’ing for me. I couldn’t have done it without you. :)
Fic Preview:
She choked out a cry and turned away from the bed. She kicked her shoes off and rid herself of her jacket, then went to the bathroom. Her hands braced themselves on the counter as she tried to stay standing, and she stared numbly into the sink, breathing in quick spurts.
Where was Barry to say, “Is everything okay, Iris?”
Where was Barry to wrap his arms around her waist from behind and nuzzle his face into her neck?
Where was Barry to whisper “I love you. Talk to me”?
I am back with a new drabble. I am doing my best to publish at least once a week. I am currently working on a multi-chapter work so I’m excited to publish that :) In the mean time please enjoy this fluff piece.
This is unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.
Read under cut or on AO3
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
There was never a better sight than Oliver Queen on the salmon ladder. It didn’t matter if she was shown the most beautiful meadow on the planet, saw the flowers blooming in the French vineyards or leaves turning at the top of a mountain somewhere in Italy; Felicity was forever entranced by the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each movement. The way he moved so flawlessly up and down the steel ladder.
For the past four months, they have been living the dream. They traveled to different corners of the Earth, saw things that they didn’t know could exist, ate things that weren’t exactly cooked, and discovered wonders that didn’t seem real. It was four months of absolute bliss. Four months of nothing but laughters and love making. Four months of everything heavenly, and yet here she was gaping at his body as she had for the past four years.
“You know if you keep looking at me like that, it’s gonna be very difficult for us to make it to the dinner in time,” Oliver chuckled, dropping down from the ladder with more grace than she had in her entire body.
She looked up and met his smiling eyes. The blue hues gazed at her with much intensity and adoration. Standing up from her yoga mat, Felicity wiped her forehead with a towel.
Since they moved in together, Oliver had taken over the kitchen with his impressive cooking skills. He never ceased to impress her with new dishes with different flavours. He was able to mimic many dishes they tried while abroad and recreated her favourite from France or Italy. However, it also meant that Felicity was having a hard time fitting into her skirts and thus the reason for her very sweaty boyfriend.
“It’s not really my fault you’re the man Michelangelo would’ve killed to sculpt,” she shrugged.
“The guy who painted the chapel?”
“Yes, that guy. His masterpiece was a marble statue of a very, very naked man. You ever thought about nude modeling? I mean you definitely have the body for it..” Felicity marveled at his muscles. His strong arms, his hardened abs, his everything. “Did Ollie ever do that? Nude modeling, I mean.”
“We’re not discussing about that, Felicity,” Oliver shook his head and grabbed his water bottle off the bench.
“Why?” She whined, her lips pouty. Oliver raised a brow at her, a hint of smile on his lips.
What he did next was unbelievably hot. Oliver sprayed the water on his chest and face in an attempt to cool down from his workout. It was something he did often, but no matter how many times she had witnessed it, how many times she has seen him naked, it never cease to make her blush.
Even though they’ve seen each other naked countless times over the past four months, Felicity wasn’t certain if she was ever going to get used to his powerful gaze as he strips her from her clothes, or the way he strides to her all naked and hardened. It was all too much for her neurons and she loved it.
She loved the way it made her body react. The way she sighs into his mouth as he brushes his fingers over the top of her breasts or the top of her panties. The way he lulls a moan from her by sucking on that very sensitive spot on her neck or the way he moans when she runs her tongue along his length. Everything about him affected her whether it be that small laugh he does whenever she babbles too much or the way he spells out her name when she got too nervous at their weekly dinner with the neighbors . Felicity Smoak was infatuated with Oliver Queen.
_____________________________
She was infatuated with him.
As he was with her. Felicity Smoak wormed her way into his heart and staked her claim before he knew she was there. She made her mark on him both physically and emotionally, and he let her. He had tried to push her away, spent months battling with himself, convincing her - and himself - that he couldn’t be the Arrow and Oliver Queen. He couldn’t give her the life she wanted, the life she deserved.
Even now she deserved better than. She deserved someone who could give her more than a great meal and great sex. She deserved someone who loved her, someone who didn’t carry the scars of the past, someone whose hands haven’t been stained with blood, and someone who didn’t send her into the arms of a villain - twice.
But no matter what he said, no matter what he thought, she always proved him wrong. She’d wrap her arms around his waist and bury her head into the crook of his neck or between his shoulder blades and remain there. She’d tell him over and over again, “I decide who deserves me, Oliver. And I chose you.”
She was the light of his life and she didn’t even know it. She didn’t even know how truly important she was to him, not as a lover, but as a partner. Someone he could rely on, someone he could trust to have his back whether in the field or in everyday life; it was that kind of trust, that kind of commitment that drove him onto that boat nine years ago. But now, he thrived in it.
Stalking towards her, Oliver wrapped his arms around her small waist and pulled her body to his. “I’m glad the feeling’s mutual,” he whispered, their faces barely inches apart.
Felicity giggled and nodded. “Would be awfully awkward if you didn’t feel the same,” she teased, her lips now brushing against his.
“Well, we could always remedy that.”
“Mm? How?”
“Well you could always wear that red dress again,” he hummed against her lips. Felicity smiled, the warmth from her workout was still radiating from her body.
“That’s true. You do love that dress,” she giggled, her breath warm on his lips. Their breathing has changed. It was faster, so labored, and definitely not because of their workout.
“It does look good on you,” he replied, lips brushing against hers. Felicity laughed into the kiss and deepened it, flicking her tongue against his bottom lip, seeking for permission. He sighed into her kiss. He was infatuated with Felicity Smoak.
Thank you so much for reading! All feedbacks fuel my muses and keep them happy.
