Jehovah Kristi sat on one of the benches in the mall’s main corridor. He’s sitting in the dead center of the bench, one ankle across the opposite knee, arms stretched over the back of the bench in either direction. He wears a pair of black slacks and a white oxford shirt, the top button left opened, and the tie around his neck loosened immensely. His long black hair has been pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck, the red streaks removed, for the time being. His eyes, the eyes that he shares with his bastard father and his brother and sister, are wide and dazzling green, though not nearly as innocent as his brother and sister’s.

He’s scouting, if you will, for another victim. He was in need of a thrill, being a cop, an investigator, just was not cutting it anymore. It had stopped ‘cutting’ it a few years prior this one. Before that, it had been animals, burning squirrels and masturbating, or pocking out the eyes of frogs and pulling the wings off insects. After becoming a cop, it became bodies to find, crimes to solve, and when that had failed to thrill him, it had become bodies to hide. And one body every two months just couldn’t satisfy anymore. In recent months, Jehovah had moved down from a body every two months to a body nearly every week, sometimes twice a week. And he was finding people less challenging. Maybe he needed a new technique. A change of pace. Or maybe just more challenging subjects.

At his side, slumbering peacefully, snuggled down into a soft blanket that Jehovah had bought at a convenient store, was a baby, the aforementioned little sister. But who was to know that. She could pass as his, or maybe even his brother’s, own child. After all, who would expect that two men in their twenties would have an infant sister? At any rate, the child was precious, little fingers curled around the top of the blanket. She quite resembled Jehovah. He was still calling her baby because he did not know what his bastard father had named her, nor would he subject her to a name that he had given her. He would leave the name to Lucifer. But he’d decided that if anyone were to ask, he would call her Rebecca, his mother’s name.

Jehovah would never admit, nor did he actually know as of yet, that he was growing attached to the little child and he felt that giving her a name would strengthen that bond and get him stuck with the babe for life. He certainly didn’t want that now, did he?

(Hey Ky, do you mind if I post here with Luc?)

((Not at all.))

((Cool. ^^))

As always, Lucifer was just simply not as put together as Jehovah. Not that he tried to be, but he looked so much like a poor homeless child compared to his tall, handsome, professional-looking half brother.

Today he didn't look quite so grungy as he always did when he was walking out on the streets, or out in the park, but there was still that careless way he held himself... and chose clothing that didn't flatter his body. But, in all reality, it was funny, because he never had a flattering body in the first place.

Out of coincedence, Lucifer had his dark brown (not quite black) hair pulled back, too, into a rather half-ass ponytail, with pieces still falling into his eyes. To go with it, he had a pair of small, circular, purple-tinted sunglasses to hide his green eyes. The reason for this was, if nobody saw his eyes, or remembered his hairstyle, they wouldn't recognize him. He didn't want to be recognized.

He had two silver hoops fixed in the cartilage of his right ear, and a cross necklace around his neck, that was in clear view, over his slightly baggy black shirt, that had sleeves that went past his elbow and then stopped. Lucifer wasn't religious.... it was simply something to remember a certain someone goodbye.

Out of habit, his small fingers were wrapped around it, and he kept sliding his finger up and down and up and down on the straight part of the cross. Call it a nervous habit, if you want.

Anyway, Lucifer was slowly walking in the mall, without a purpose, in the crowd of people, with his head down as always. His pants were so long as to be like a broom to the floor, and cover his shoes. They were baggier than his shirt, and a faded black color... with many pockets to boot. But they were simply just old crap he found in his dresser and decided to throw on for the hell of it.

He was still feeling empty... like he served no purpose in life... and he wanted to get away from Bomani. Just walk without someone finding him or recognizing him.

His shoulders were slumped, his eyes half closed, and he wasn't paying much atten--- his head snapped up when he'd recognized the figure on the bench, and he stood still, with a deer-in-the-headlights look. Not him. Not Jehovah--- with Chris' daughter?!

Lucifer wanted no part of that at all. He never wanted to see his half brother's face again. He didn't trust him... Jehovah hurt him. He'd never trust anyone again... never care about anyone... never be nice again. Never be himself again.

He swallowed, though, and soon continued on his way. Jehovah would never recognize him, he hoped, except by the bruises, that were almost starting to fade after a week or two.

He might've recognized the scar from the bullet on his arm, too, if he saw it before. His roommate shot him, he didn't take care of the wound properly, and it scarred. It figured.

He wouldn't have recognized the blatant scars on both of his wrists, which had once been rather deep cuts that a shadow had sewn up... from a couple days after his meeting with Jehovah, when he'd tried to kill himself.

Now, his walk was almost nervous... something that hinted he was afraid. But it wouldn't matter. He was sure that Jehovah wouldn't recognize him, especially with all these people around... and that kid.

He felt a twinge of guilt for letting Jehovah stay with her... that monster of a half brother... but he kept walking, anyway.

Better her than him...

At first, he did not see Lucifer. But the moment that his green eyes lay on the figure, he automaticly knew that it was his brother. Call it...brotherly instinct. He looked his brother over. Well, there were a few new additions to Lucifer that certinally hadn't been there since he'd gotten angry.

Only a week or two ago, Jehovah had kidnapped his brother to kill him but found that he didn't really want to kill Lucifer. Then Lucifer made him realize something that he'd been supressing since his first murder. No matter how inhuman he tried to make himself, Jehovah was still human and still had emotions and still had a weakness. That weakness? Lucifer. And so he'd beat his brother up because he blamed Lucifer for being his weakness. Now he did not blame Lucifer. Now he blamed himself for being weak, for allowing himself to care.

He uncrossed his legs but didn't move when he saw the scars up the inside of Lucifers arms. What's this?

So we see that Jehovah was definatly not meant to be a father as he stands and crosses the hall to grab Lucifer around the wrist in an abnormally gentle (for him) hold, leaving the baby on the bench, sleeping in it's carrier.

Without a word, he turned Lucifer's wrists over to look at the scars, his eyes flashing, not with anger but with...annoyance and...worry? Yes. Jehovah's decided that maybe worrying about his brother isn't too bad, as long as no one else knows that Lucifer is a weakness, not a strength, to him.

"What did you do you idiot." Not a question, and suprisingly softly spoken.

Lucifer spun on the heel of his boot when Jehovah grabbed him by the wrist, whipping his head around to face the offender. Please don’t be him… please don’t be Jehovah… Lucifer thought desperately, hoping he wouldn’t see his half brother’s face when he looked back.

His hopes were crushed when he realized that it couldn’t be anyone but him. Who else would go out of their way to do that? None other than Jehovah, the monster. Lucifer blinked once, twice, three times, and stared at him for a moment. He didn’t trust him anymore… he didn’t trust anyone anymore because of him. He finally snapped, and something about him just… wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t himself anymore at all; he was simply empty. And he blamed everything, before he completely lost all nerve to care about anything at all, on himself and Jehovah. Oddly (or not so), he blamed it more on himself than anyone else.

“Let go of me.” His voice was completely and totally devoid of any emotion whatsoever. He was dead to himself and his friends now, after Jehovah had his way with him he couldn’t remember how many days ago. He didn’t care. In fact, he wouldn’t so much as protest if someone came up and killed him right then and there.

And he still never answered him about what he did. He didn’t even acknowledge that Jehovah had said something to him.

opps...Jack Jack didn't sign off before I got on....sorry Arcy.

((There. That's better))

The baby slept on on that bench alone, people paused to frown at the man whose back was to 'his' child. Didn't he know that anyone could just snatch the child at any given moment.

Of course he knew that. He didn't really care. Nor did he care that Lucifer was telling him to let go of his arms. He held firm with his all-too-gentle-to-be-Jehovah grip and reached for the other wrist, turning it over. He raised Lucifer's arm so that the scars were mere inches from Lucifer's nose. Showing him, making him look. As if Lucifer didn't already know they were there.

"What d'you do you little prick?"

Oh, now he's starting to sound more like a teenage brother, maybe he's making up for the teenage years they could have spent together but missed. Or maybe Lucifer unconciously broke Jehovah.

At any rate, Jehovah was acting strangly around Lucifer now. His feelings were (of course they were completly self-centered because that's just...well...Jehovah) that Lucifer would rather be with that Eric guy instead of him. That he cared about that Eric guy more then him. Well, he hoped that creature...that...that monster demon offed Eric. He could do it himself except that Lucifer would know it was him and...would he turn his own brother in?

He hadn't yet, not so far. But Eric wasn't a random guy that Lucifer didn't know.

"What? Why do you care Jehovah? Why? Because it wasn't you who did it to me? Is that it?" As he spoke, he was staring at those scars of his. He knew they were there, but if Jehovah wanted him to look, fine. Let that bastard have what he wanted.

"All you're capable of is hurting things. Do you want to hurt me now? Is that what you want? If you do, go ahead, because I don't care. I don't care anymore. So why don't you just hurt me, kill me, do as you wish, take your damned child, and go on with your stupid life." For almost the first time since he'd seen Jehovah a few days (weeks?) ago, he sounded hurt.

"Or why don't you go kill Bomani, and then Erik? And then me? You selfish murdering bastard." And that had to hurt, coming from Lucifer... Jehovah's only weakness.

But, really, if you think about it, Lucifer was simply returning the favor. Jehovah had hurt him, from the inside and outside.

Except, that might not have only hurt Jehovah by saying that. In fact, for some reason, hidden by his sunglasses, he was crying, and unable to wipe the tears away.

He just could never win... could he?

Jehovah stared at Lucifer for a long silent moment. People were staring at them as though they were a sqabling couple, staring because they were arguing, whispering because they should take their arguments else where. And at this point, Jehovah would agree.

He glanced sideways at them, narrowed his green eyes and snarled.

"What're you looking at? Get on with your damned lives."

People quickly looked away. You don't just stare at people who talk like that. The words didn't matter, it was the tone they were spoken in. Jehovah had a way...a tone that said murder. And why not. He lived and breathed murder, being both a homocide investigator and a murderer.

It's not what Lucifer said to Jehovah that hurt. It had been how he'd said it.

"Lets go."

Not an offer. And his grip has tightened on Lucifers wrist. It's not an offer. Lucifer has no choice. He started to pull him in the direction of the nearest exit but stopped abruptly, turned around, and pulled Lucifer to the bench where the baby was sleeping. Picking up the carrier, he then pulled Lucifer towards the door. As they walked he spoke.

"I care because...." your my brother? He couldn't say that! It would be...just weird. So un-jehovah like. Moving on then. "I wasn't going to do that to you and you know it. Why would I be angry because your self-destructive and I'm not the one destroying you? And I didn't kill Bomani and Eric because," you would rat on me "i had no reason to. Why would I? They don't interest me. I don't give a damn about them."

That last bit though, selfish murdering bastard. It's what he was. But it stung coming from Lucifer, but he did not flinch and he would not let the weakness show.

now that we think about it, Lucifer knows that Jehovah's a murder, but does he really know that much about the murders? Does he know why Jehovah's never been caught or why there are no leads on the murder cases that Jehovah isn't conducting but creating, does he even know how Jehovah chooses his victims?

Lucifer ignored the people who were staring. He was used to being stared at, and was used to ignoring people. It wasn't like he cared, anyway. But let Jehovah feel better for snarling at them. Lucifer was just used to being looked at like he was some freaky lab experiment, and quite frankly, it didn't bother him.

But you know what did bother him? That's right. Jehovah. And the fact that he was dragging him off again without asking and without caring bothered him. He cared? What a load of shit. Jehovah didn't care about anything but himself.

Nevertheless, having no choice in the matter, Lucifer sullenly followed, although it was not of his own volition. His feet only moved, because otherwise, Jehovah would probably pull his arm out of its socket or something. Also, because if he didn't move them, they'd drag on the floor. And Lucifer wasn't one to be dragged anywhere.

"So they don't interest you? So that's why you've made Erik your business? So that's why you followed him, and know about Verkur? That sure means a whole lot to me, and tells me you 'don't give a damn'." Well, he had a point.

What the hell was wrong with him? Usually he wouldn't argue with Jehovah, or sound so, so, so terribly hurt, as if he'd been pushed into the mud, rained on, and then stepped on. Twice.

"And if you think you have the damn nerve to take me anywhere you want, go ahead. Because everything I say and do is never right, and it'd just be better that way." My, my. He sounded like he was talking to Bomani now, his ornery Egyptian roommate. But he did shut up after that. Clamped his jaw closed and didn't speak, in fact.

And, of course he has a vague idea of why Jehovah has never been caught, but it's probably the wrong idea... or on the right track, but still wrong. He knew he was a cop, because he'd mentioned it the first time they'd met... that the pictures were ones of a case he was dealing with, but he didn't know that was how he got away with all his murders. In fact, he didn't care to know, and didn't want to know how or why he got away with them. That whole murdering business made him completely uneasy.

Yes. It made him feel much better to yell at them, but not enough. He really needs to find an outlet for his frustration...I mean, besides being a murderer. But he wasn’t used to being stared at by everyone. He dressed and seemed so normal to look at that many people paused to look at his face, then ignored him altogather. And being a stalker, he’d rather be left as background scenery.

Jehovah, had Lucifer not followed, certainly would have dragged him out side screaming and kicking and all. As it was, Lucifer trailed behind him so he continued, swinging the baby carrier just a bit to hard, but their sister didn’t seem to mind so terribly. She barely opened her eyes at the shakes given to the carrier.

Jehovah noticed how terribly...moppy Lucifer was sounding, nearly over looking the fact that Lucifer was actually fighting back to him instead of meakly agreeing even though he didn’t really agree as he usually did. He glanced over his shoulder briefly as he pushed open the door, exiting the mall and emerging into the parking lot.

“I made them my business because they associate with you. And you are my business.” It came out a half snarl as if he were offended that Lucifer hadn’t picked up on this fact on his own.

They reached the truck and Jehovah shoved the baby carrier into Lucifer’s hands, then unlocked the door, threw the dipper bag into the floorboard, turned, and took the carrier again. While Lucifer had the carrier, she opened her eyes, green, like her brothers. But they were neither confident and imposing like Jehovah’s or big and mournful like Lucifer’s. Rather...they were ignorantly blissful. He fumbled, half struggled to seatbelt the carrier, jumbling it around and causing the child to whimper. He’d turned to grab Lucifer’s arm and shove him in the car and paused.

because everything I say is never right and it’d just be better that way.

Jehovah stared at Lucifer. Then stared some more. Then let his large hand drop it’s firm hold on Lucifer’s arm and drop to his side. He sighed. Stared more.

“Get in the Truck...please.” That last bit he struggled to say. He didn’t like to be polite when he didn’t want to be. “Please.” That one was stronger.

Maybe he dressed normally to cover up the fact that he was a stalker and a murderer, but to Lucifer, how he dressed didn't matter. He knew what was under that disguise, and what Jehovah did in his spare time. Or, at least, he knew enough to not want to know. He didn't want to know more than the fact that Jehovah was a rapist, a liar, a murderer, and so much more. He didn't want to know any more of that at all, and didn't want to be any part of it at all. He didn't want to hurt anymore... he didn't want anyone else to hurt anymore. He didn't want... Jehovah to hurt anymore? Maybe he only hurt people because he was hurt inside... but Lucifer just wanted all the hurting to stop. It gave him a splitting headache, and made him think he was insane. But he was insane, in some ways... Jehovah had helped in making him insane. He was no longer the happy, nice, loving, soft, trusting, kind, gentle Lucifer people knew him as. He no longer felt at all... and hardly ever spoke. Now, all that was left of the old Lucifer were memories from people he knew... and old scribbling of text in his journal.

Now, Lucifer was a completely different person... though I shouldn't say completely. He was a different person, in the sense that he'd hardened inside, lost his gentle touch, didn't smile at all anymore, didn't appear to be happy at all, and even if he did smile, it was fake... He was different in the sense that he never felt or looked put together in that goofy disheveled way he used to. Now... he just looked broken, beat up, and looked as if he'd been taken in an alley and spit out by a bunch of thugs twice, or three times his size. He didn't trust anyone anymore... not even his own roommate, and the people who loved him. And he was always sorry for things he didn't do, and guilty for screwing things up, and blamed most things on himself.

Now... he was just an empty shell... a body, with an identity that he went by. Nothing important, and nobody important. Lucifer was a nobody now, more so than he'd ever been before. He felt like a nobody, acted like a nobody... he didn't demand respect from people now, like he used to. He let himself be trampled over, and then some. He was insane, because he'd lost all will to do anything at all. He was insane because he didn't want anyone to hurt. He was insane for obeying Jehovah...

Lucifer followed only because he knew he was going to be going with Jehovah, as it always was, whether he wanted to or not. He was going to be a part of this stupid thing whether he liked it or not. He was going to do whatever Jehovah wanted him to do, whether he liked it or not. He was going to be subject to Jehovah's yelling and whatever else... you guessed it, whether he liked it or not. He saw no sense in not obeying a command he was going to be forced to do anyway. It was a waste of time and energy... two things he didn't seem to have a lot of these days. Two things he could care less if he had any of, though. Two things that were useless and dead to him now, for he had no motivation, and no need to go anywhere. Without motivation, you have no energy, and without the need to go somewhere, or do something, time is useless.

How should he feel that he was Jehovah's business, though? Terrible. The first time he'd felt something other than sad or numb in a very long while (to Lucifer, since he'd stopped counting the days, and stopped caring)... and it was the worst feeling in the world. He didn't want to be anyone's business, least of all his half brother's. He wasn't worried for himself, though. His life was the least of all his issues, and the smallest one, after all.

Lucifer didn't seem to respond to being snarled at all, as if Jehovah hadn’t done so in the first place. He didn’t pick up on the fact that Jehovah was probably annoyed that he hadn’t figured that out earlier. Lucifer wasn’t so great at piecing things together, though.

He sighed, and stared down at the baby in the carrier in his hands, wordlessly. The child was cute… adorable, even, even though Lucifer wasn’t one to usually think babies were adorable. Perhaps it was because they were related, in a way, was why he cared? He wondered, absently, if she had a name… he hadn’t heard them call her by any name when he knew about her. He didn’t know. Maybe Jehovah knew? Or maybe he named her himself?

He had almost smiled when she opened her green eyes… so ignorant, innocent, and beautiful. Green eyes, like the lot of kids standing here, but different in a way… They had their own characteristic, and their own emotion that was different from both Lucifer and Jehovah’s.

He continued to stare at the carrier, even as Jehovah took it away to put it in the truck, and the baby fussed and whimpered over Jehovah’s rough handling of the carrier. He really should’ve been more gentle with the baby… should’ve known not to jumble the carrier around like that. Lucifer had almost said something like ‘here, let me do it’, but didn’t. His lips never moved, and he never even attempted to try and make a move to handle her gentler than Jehovah did… And he sort of felt bad…

“It doesn’t matter… it’s not like I have a choice in the matter anyway.”

And he proceeded to get into the truck, as instructed.


(Sorry, crappy post.)

Startling is the fact (and this would probably be horrid for Lucifer if he ever found out) that if Lucifer could get past the fact that everything was his fault and start blaming the world instead, he would be just like his brother. He would be the one stuffing people into hand-built torture devices, scrubbing their bodies clean, and then dumping them in the most public of places. Then turning his humor on the irony that half of his murders were case he was assigned to solve. And then he put more people (most innocent) into prison for those murders they did not commit. Lucifer would be just like his brother.

And the thought hurt Jehovah.

He didn’t want his brother to be like him. No, this wasn’t because of some deep-seated self-centered thing that most brothers and sisters have towards each other. He simply didn’t want to see his brother destroyed. Already, he’d broken him. No longer did the carefree, happy, smiling Lucifer exists. Because of him. That had been his fault. He wanted Lucifer to hurt like he hurt. And now he’d gotten what he wanted and now...it wasn’t so sweet. He didn’t want it anymore. He wanted Lucifer to be like he’d been.

Jehovah recognized the emotions he’d felt in the truck a week ago seeping back into his heart now and he pushed them away, trying to ignore the surge of emotion, humanity, that he’d tried to get rid of for so long. He turned his eyes away from Lucifer’s, turned away from his weakness entirely. He walked around the truck and got into the driver’s seat, pulling the seatbelt across his chest. The baby had settled and was slowly returning to sleep.

He waited, wanting Lucifer to get in the truck.

No. Jehovah hadn’t named the child. He’d called her baby for the two nights that he’s had her. One time he’d called her a thing and another he called her an it, but never an actual name. Someone stopped to goggle at the child the way a lot of women do and it had annoyed him, bothered him. Staring at a baby as if it were an object, cooing at it as if it were a puppy (even if the cooing seemed to calm it). She’d asked the babies name and he scowled at her. ‘I don’t know lady. I’d have to ask her mother that one.’ And pleased by the shocked look of horror on her face, he’d walked off. Lucifer might not be so happy to know that Jehovah had planned to let him name the kid. Probably take it too, before he himself grew too attached.

Of course, the jumbling of the carrier had upset her but Jehovah was being as gentle as his hands could in this matter. He treated his victims gentle once they were dead, but he really didn’t relate his murdering to the child (which for the child’s life’s sake is deffinatly a good thing) so he just went on with the way he was doing things and only knew he fucked up when it started crying. But it wasn’t now. It was simply...watching.

It doesn’t matter… it’s not like I have a choice in the matter anyway.

“It does matter Lucifer.” His brother was trying his patients. He was trying oh so hard to not force Lucifer into the truck. He was trying so very hard not to raise his voice or use that stony tone. But as a cop, the serious face and stony tone was beat into you. As a man, his personality and history made him naturally morbid and Violent, and he was struggling not to be. “If you don’t want to get in, don’t. I’ll just...drive away now. I’ll leave you alone.”

He could never leave Lucifer alone. He knew too well that Lucifer was a weakness to him and he knew too well that he would worry that Lucifer would do what he’d done to himself again. He would say he’d leave him alone, but that meant he’d follow him, watch him, just not speak or approach or be seen by him.

((wasn't Crap...just veeeerrry loooong))

Of course, that would be the case, but Lucifer would never stop blaming himself and start blaming the world. He blamed himself, and only himself (okay, so maybe he blamed Jehovah and his father too, but that's not the point)... it showed, too. On his arms, and on his chest, and... the two tattoos he had. His self-inflicted wounds showed that he hated himself...

Would it please Jehovah to know that Lucifer made his way into the truck, anyway? Would it please him to know that, despite his offer to drive off, Lucifer still made it a point to stay with him? Probably not. Besides, Lucifer had his reasons for staying... reasons of his own.

Of course it'd upset and irritate Lucifer that Jehovah was planning on making him give the child a name and possibly keep it. But at the same time, he would've felt better that she would be with him, and not Jehovah. Jehovah was not fit to be a father... he was a murderer, and a big brute (in Lucifer's eyes), whereas Lucifer was a gentle, fragile, caring person. Not as of late... but it could change, for the child's sake. He could change... be better for her. But this was all a big 'if'. The if was that, 'if' Jehovah would hand the child over to him.

And, subconsciously, that was one of the reasons he didn't want him to drive off. He couldn't let him just take the baby... he couldn't stand for that... monster to take something so innocent as that. Sure, Lucifer wasn't the greatest father in the world, and people who were close to him knew that... but he could be like a big brother to her, even. Take care of her, and at least he wouldn't beat her and scream at her... like his father would. At least he'd take care of her better than Jehovah would've...

Notice how, even as he climbs into the truck and knows Jehovah is driving, he doesn't put on a seatbelt? He just doesn't care anymore. Jehovah could send him through the windshield of he wanted, and he wouldn't care.

"It doesn't. It would never be that simple, Jehovah. You might've drove off now, but God knows it, you'd be back, whether I noticed or not. Because you always are."

(Sorry about that. This one's a lot shorter.)

Actually, it did please Jehovah that Lucifer got into the truck anyways. The offer to drive off and stay out of his life had been one of those offers that he really didn’t want to offer. Like when you want something you say you really want it...then you add in a none too excited tone ‘but if you want it I guess you could have it...’ And so it was that Jehovah really was pleased that Lucifer got in the truck. And he did notice that Lucifer neglected to put on his seat belt.

Jehovah leaned over the baby and past Lucifer, taking hold of the seatbelt and pulling it across Lucifer’s chest. He’d offer to drive off but a seatbelt, this time (since he wasn’t mad and trying to hurt Lucifer) was not an option. But he wouldn’t be doing any reckless driving today anyways...not with the baby in the car. He knew at least that much about children. Their frail little bodies can’t handle the abuse that an adults can.

It isn’t that Jehovah doesn’t like the little beastie. He just has never had reason to learn to care for a child. That’s all. Actually, he’s rather angry with himself when he realized he was growing attached to it...her. He leaned back over and started the truck, pulling out of the parking lot carefully and into traffic. It probably is funny, Jehovah was driving five under the limit this time.

He sighed at Lucifer’s words. Another reason why Lucifer was a weakness to him, aside from the fact that Jehovah was realizing that he loved his brother, was that Lucifer knew him better then anyone alive now, and he barely knew him. And he knew that he would always watch Lucifer. But he wondered if now Lucifer knew why.

“Why’s that?”

Why's that?

Well, Lucifer didn't actually know why that was, in all honesty. He couldn't tell him, because he personally didn't know. Why he followed him, anyway, he didn't know. But what he did know was that it was a pain in his ass when he did it, and... it scared him...

"I... don't know." He said, quietly, staring away from Jehovah, and down at the floor, as he pulled the seatbelt across his chest. It wasn't that he wouldn't just not look at Jehovah, because he did that to everyone. He didn't like eye contact, or looking at either people. So he just looked away. He wasn't trying to be rude or anything, it was just how he was. Jehovah might've known that, if he really spent all that much time stalking him. He never looked people straight in the eyes. Never. Not even people he knew well.

(Errk. Short post.)

Jehovah hadn't actually expected Lucifer to answer, just as he didn't. Jehovah now nodded once, almost more like a rise and fall of the chin rather then a nod.

"Because, little brother," that was the softest he's ever gone in aknowleging that Lucifer was indeed his brother. He'd never called him little brother. "I wouldn't want you to do that again." His eyes left the road for a breif moment to glance at Lucifer's arms.

"Why did you do that? I told you not to do anything stupid." He was having trouble keeping the 'you disobeyed me Lucifer when I gave you a direct order' voice from flowing in his tone.

Of course Lucifer hadn't seen him nod, because for one, he wasn't looking at him, and secondly, he'd closed his eyes soon after he'd looked down at the floor. It had surprised him, though, when Jehovah called him 'little brother'. Sure, he was younger, by a few years, but had never expected to be called 'little brother' by Jehovah. He'd never been called 'little' anything, since he was one of three, and the three were triplets... with the exception of his mother, who'd called him 'little angel' or 'little Luc'. Never 'little brother', though, even by Jehovah, who was in fact older. That was new. Something he wasn't used to.

He swallowed, and opened his eyes for a moment to stare down at his arms, too. Another failed attempt. Bomani's cyanide, or guns, would've worked so much better. He couldn't expect a knife to do the job for him, even with cuts so very deep.

Honestly, he didn't know why he did it... there was just no reason for it. "Be...cause... you hurt me, that's why..." his voice was very, very small, and very, very weak at that last sentence. But Jehovah asked, so he got an honest answer. Would that please him more that he was telling him the truth, instead of lying, which was so much easier? Lucifer didn't know.

"It doesn't... make me feel as bad with the thought that I won't have to deal with anything... it doesn't hurt as much... And I... don't want to hurt anymore." With his German accent, his weak voice was hard to make out. He'd been trying to speak English better, though, so he could be understood more clearly. He recently gave up, though.

It was something that Jehovah wasn’t used to either. But he said it nonetheless. And he wondered momentarily why he’s said it. Bah! No he didn’t. He knew why he said it. He said it because he, like it or not, cared about Lucifer. And he didn’t like admitting it to himself. Much less to Lucifer himself.

He looked briefly at Lucifer again, then the road. What a change it was in his driving skills. The baby between them began to whimper, closing her eyes and whining. Jehovah grunted and put his hand on the edge of the carrier, giving it a few slow shakes that, were he a little more gentle, would have been an equivalent to a rocking of the carrier. The baby sniffed on, then slowly the sniffing turned to soft cries. He glanced at her, his eyes holding...panic?

Yes. Every time the thing began to cry Jehovah began to a. worry what was wrong with it and b. worry that it was going to start crying and go on all night like it had two nights ago. He’d gotten no sleep at all.

He continued to rock/shake the carrier, trying to calm the thing back to sleep or at the very least into silence. It wasn’t working. And he was busy thinking about Lucifer. Was it guilt that was making his chest feel tight right between the rib cages?

“I didn’t...” No. I had meant to hurt you. “I...” Now what? Deep breath. Try to relieve that tight feeling in the chest.

“I’m sorry.” A little. Ok. More then a little. But he wasn’t going to say that if he didn’t have to. He wanted to grab his hair now and pull it out. “I...shouldn’t have done that too you. I didn’t know you’d do that.”

Lucifer wasn't used to whining people. Nevermind whiny children, since he had previously lived alone, before he'd met Bomani. This is why, when the child whined, its whining made its way into Lucifer ears and slowly ate away at his brain. Whining, especially from little children, was the worst sound in the world, and would probably give him a headache after enduring fifteen minutes of it. That was another reason Lucifer wouldn't make a good father, and he almost felt bad for Jehovah, for having to deal with a whining, crying child.

He looked back at the carrier for a moment, and winced. Then he looked back at the floor. Stupid whining...

"Yeah. It's not your fault." So, Lucifer's logic is a bit screwed, but who could blame him?

('kay. that post was the worst one I've made all day.)

And...the whining continued. Jehovah’s rattleing the child’s brain wasn’t helping. But try telling him that. He thinks it should be soothing the little beast and that it was crying still to annoy him. He heaved a sigh. Letting go of the carrier he pointed at the dipperbag in Lucifer’s floor bored.

“Get the bottle out of there. Maybe it’s hungry.”

It. Bah!

“You just said it was my fault Lucifer.” He corrected his brother. He shook his head. Where was he driving too, he wasn’t sure. “Do you want to go home? Or should I take you back to the mall.” Now that he knows what he wanted to (why Lucifer slit his wrists) he thinks it’s time to return his brother. He doesn’t want to beat Lucifer as punishment for doing such a thing. Even though beating looked like a very good idea. He wouldn’t.

Wincing yet again at the child's inabillity to stop whining, Lucifer did as he was told, and leaned over to grab the dipperbag. He pulled a bottle out of it, and frowned at the thing.

"You want me to feed the thing?" Is it that obvious that Lucifer doesn't know what to call the child, either?

He was slightly taken aback at the question, and thought for a moment. "Wouldn't it just be a waste of time?" He had climbed into the truck of his own volition, lest Jehovah forget... and home? He would've laughed at the very idea. Bomani's apartment. Not home. There was no real 'home' for him now.

"...where are you going?"

Lucifer's mind was still on the baby, though. He stared at it with those big, sad, green eyes of his.

He gave Lucifer a sideways look. He hadn’t expected Lucifer to react like that to a baby. He’d thought he’d be better at calling it something besides thing or it like Jehovah had been doing..

“Yeah Luc. And you’re going to name it to. It’s a girl.” Lucifer already knew it was a girl. That’s the only reason Jehovah had known it was a girl before he’d taken it was because Lucifer told him that.

Where was he going? Home. Where he could get the child into that stupid swing he bought for it. It seemed the only thing that would stop it’s crying was to turn on that automatic rocker and that mind destroying lullaby music.

“I’m going home.” He didn’t think Lucifer would want to go there.

Before he had time to think, he immediatly said, "Jocelyn. Her name's Jocelyn." Well, that hadn't really been her name, but since he was going to name it... her, that was going to be her name. Like Jehovah would tell people who asked what her name was was Rebecca, his mother's name, Lucifer, at the thought of a name, had done likewise. His mother's name was Jocelyn. Jocelyn Valentine, the prettiest woman on earth...

But before he was too caught up in that, he decided his mind would be better off wandering on other topics... and proceeded to gently ease the bottle into the baby's mouth... and at least it shut her up for a little while.

He was going home? Home... he vaguely remembered Jehovah's home. Was it different now?

Lucifer was silent for a long moment, and he stared at the baby, while still holding the bottle in his hand...

"Oh."

Not as pretty as Rebecca. At least, not in Jehovah’s opinion. His mother was the most beautiful woman on earth. No one deserved to share her name even, not even this little baby could have his mother’s name. He felt, however, a small smile tug to the corner of one lip when Lucifer named the child. Jocelyn. Jehovah would not be a very good stalker...or brother as he was coming to call himself more and more in this case, if he did not know that this was Lucifer’s mother’s name.

“It’s nice.” He approved.

He’d not taken his eyes off of the road to watch Lucifer slip the bottle into the child’s...Jocelyn’s mouth and hush her. He continued to drive mechanically, his eyes instinctively looking for two things. 1. anyone who looked suspicious (it’s a cop thing) and 2. anyone worth victimizing.

oh

“Do you want to go? Or do you want me to take you back to the mall,” he asked again.

Lucifer didn't know that he knew it was his mother's name, and he didn't care if he approved. Well... actually, he did. If he hadn't approved of the name, or said something bad about it, he probably would've snapped at him. Call it an instinct, but he was very defensive when it came to anything concerning his (dead) mother.

He stared down at Jocelyn, happy that she'd stopped crying, but still didn't smile. She was pretty... yes, but nowhere near as pretty as his mother had been. It was funny... he wondered what his mother had looked like, as a child...

but that thought only threatened tears, so he quickly shoved it away.

"I have things to talk to you about." And that means he's staying with him. He wants to understand... doesn't want to run away anymore.

And how's that for another contradiction, on Lucifer's part?

Jehovah dared a glance at Lucifer at these words and nodded. “Fine.”

That was all he said. The rest of the trip passed in silence, except for the sound of baby Jocelyn ‘gooing’ at the bottle. Big green eyes began to slide closed in sleep. Jehovah had heard that somewhere, that milk or full bellies make babies tired. It saved him the crying half the time.

He eventually pulled into the car garage that stood attatched to his building and unclipped his seatbelt. Unclipping the baby carrier, he opened his door, scooped an arm through the carrier and took the bottle to hold hit in her mouth.

“Grab the keys Luc.”

Maybe it was just Lucifer, but to Lucifer, he seemed to possibly sound angry... but it was probably just Lucifer. To him, lately, everyone sounded angry. He shrugged it off as nothing.

When they came to a stop, the soft clciking noise indicated he'd taken his seatbelt off, and wordlessly, he grabbed the keys, as instructed.

(Blahshort.)

Jehovah wasn't angry. Actually, he felt sort of mellow. With a bit of tension peeking around the corner, but mellow for the most part. The baby, Jocelyn, was nodding off with the bottle in her mouth. He heared the jingle of the keys, saying that Lucifer was following him as he stopped in front of the elevator. He hit the button with his elbow because he was still holding the bottle to Jocelyn's mouth.

Ding.

Doors slid open and Jehovah stepped in, holding the door at bay with his elbow for Lucifer to get in.

"Yer sure you want to come up?"

Wow! Jehovah being tentive? *shudders* Don't use those words in the same sentance. He can't be tentive. Hes a murderer for crying out loud!

Lucifer followed wordlessly, but paused when the elevator door opened. Did he really want to go with Jehovah into his apartment? Did he really?

He didn't walk on, for a minute.

Then he nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure."

And he followed Jehovah into the elevator.

Jehovah let go of the door and it slid shut automatically. He punched the button for the third floor and watched the little light that indicated the floor numbers.

The door slid open on the second floor, a wreck of a teenager stood outside it, needle marks up and down his thin arms. Jehovah shook his head once, the kid hesitated, then backed away from the doors. They continued up and he exited when the doors slid open on the third landing. He was the only tenet on this floor.

“It’s the other key,” he told Lucifer. Since there were only two keys on the ring, one belonging to the truck, the decision wasn’t hard. He stopped in front of one of the doors.

They say, when you're in an elevator, you're weightless for just a second.. for Lucifer, that second seemed to last that a whole five minutes. He shook it off, and gazed at the kid with needle marks up and bown his arms, sadly. He almost reminded him of himself, in a way. Of course, a lot of people were like him. Starved, and self-destructive... and other things.

He supressed a sigh, and continued to follow Jehovah, taking the key that wasn't the one to the truck, and using it to unlock the door. He opened it and held it open for Jehovah.

Jehovah entered.

His apartment had changed minimally. He was a creature of habit and order. Perfection. Everything was the way it had been the last time Lucifer had been there, right down to the handcuffs on the back of the sofa on the spot they’d...well...everything was the same.

Except that there was now a baby crib, oak painted white, with pink bedding standing against one wall. There was also a blanket with animal pattern and toys spread over the floor and a baby walker in the corner. Behind the walker was a can of white paint. He’d painted the crib himself. Another sign or that forsaken attachment to the kid.

He put the carrier down on the coffee table, took the bottle from Jocelyn’s mouth and unbuckled her. He lifted her into one arm, making her seem even smaller, and deposited her into the crib.

He turned and sat on the sofa, looking at Lucifer. Or rather, looking sadly at Lucifer’s arms.

Lucifer followed Jehovah, only a few moments after he entered. He shut the door behind him, and it slowly closed, giving a small click afterwards to indicate that it did.

He looked around, in Jehovah's perfect apartment. It figured it was clean. It figured it was perfect. Everything else about Jehovah was nearly perfect. It didn't surprise him. The crib almost di, but after a moment, the surprise was replaced with realization. A baby needed a crib to sleep... even Jehovah would know that.

He didn't see the can of paint.

He stood at the door, where he felt safe, in case he needed to bolt away... and just because he felt out of place here. It was almost... uncomfortable.

He didn't notice Jehovah looking at his arms.

"...can you tell me how in the hell this makes any sense?" What's happened to Lucifer, anyway. He doesn't know how that made sense... he didn't understand why Jehovah had done the things he did. He didn't understand... anything, come to think of it.

He continued to gaze up at Lucifer, a thing he would have never done before, sitting lower then the other, and blinked confusion across his face.

"How what makes sense?"

This was an awkward situation to Jehovah, being in an uncontroling position. Too often he's the man in control, the man that chooses what punch people will throw, when they'll throw it, and how hard they throw it. He makes the decissions, his victums have no say. Even when at work, as a Detective grade three, he calls the shots. People listen to him, people get confused. He doesn't. People care. He doesn't.

So why does he care now?

It was giving him a headache equivilent to the one that Jocelyn had given him while crying all the previous night.

Lucifer crossed thin arms over an equally thin chest, frowning. Something he did a lot of, unless he decided he could go without emotion. Usually it was the latter.

"Everything. Anything. Tell me why you have the mind to do what you do, because I sure as hell don't understand why."

And that's what I've been hung up for so long on. Why. Why you do anything you do. Why, it's always that damn question. Now answer it, Jehovah. Why.

This situation isn't a very big change for Lucifer. He doesn't feel like he's in control at all. Quite the opposite, really. And he always feels like a failure, and the one who's getting trampled.

Lucifer had always cared. And that was his problem. He cared. Maybe he shouldn't have all his life and this would never have happened.

Or maybe... maybe he would've ended up just like Jehovah.

He probably would have ended up like Jehovah since that's the one thing that really set them apart. Jehovah quite caring.

Jehovah got to his feet as Lucifer made his question clearer, as he understood Lucifer was asking the one thing that Jehovah didn't want to explain. He got to his feet and began unbuttoning the shirt. Professional as it may look, it wasn't very comfortable and he began walking to his bedroom. He didn't return after a few moments.

Was he avoiding the question?

Jehovah changed out of button down shirt and slacks into black baggy jeans and a black and red muscle shirt, letting loose his black and blood hair. Then he sat on the edge of his bed. Clean was his living room, cluttered but just fairly kept was his bedroom.

"You wouldn't understand it."

He said it only loud enough for Lucifer to hear, carefully low enough to keep the baby asleep.

Lucifer waited, pateintly, in silence, for his half brother to return. He never moved at all... aside from blinking, or some general expect motion. Lucifer could wait. He had time. Even if he had something to do, it could wait. He would get his answers, though... although, if he didn't get them, he wouldn't try to force them out. He'd just walk away sadly, in understanding. If he didn't want to answer, so be it...

But he did answer. Not the answer he wanted, but at least it was an answer at all.

"No... how would you know if you never tried to explain? Right now, I don't understand. If you care, then you could at least try to explain. If you don't, I'll just leave and not bother you."

That's just it." It was almost a snarl, not quite but almost. "I don't want to care," meaning he did. About Lucifer anyways. And about the baby. But only about them.

"I've never had to explain." Don't want to explain. Don't want to ever have to. He remained seated on the edge of his bed, leaned forward making contact with elbow to knee.

"You wouldn't understand that." Maybe. "The bastard...." That was where it all started at. The bastard. Lucifer should know enough to know who that was.