Taking Turns

They took it in turns.

Being there so she had someone to look at, someone to trust would still be there when she woke. 

They took it in turns.

Pushing down their own grief and pain and heartache because they knew that the one person on Earth suffering more than anyone right now was her. 

They took it in turns. 

Comforting her after each intermittent nightmare knowing the next was never too far away. Reassuring her that no her dream wasn’t real, save for the fact that the most prominent person in it, the person who kept appearing in her mind over and over again, was gone and never coming back.

They took it in turns.

Finding some semblance of distraction from the turmoil that was their lives right now.

Chloe always started. She’d read her a story before bed, just as she always did. She knew routine would help, that normalcy would help. Chloe knew that better than anyone. Holding Trixie close, nestling her in the warmth of her body, Chloe would stroke the dark brown ringlets of hair as she fell asleep. Then her hand would start to tremble and the tears would start to stream. Tears of grief for Dan. Tears of sympathy for Trixie. Tears of grief for her own father even. But she tried her damndest to keep still, to stay strong, because it was just her now. Chloe was the only parent Trixie had left, the only pillar of support. She had to be strong.

Then Lucifer would come in and embrace Chloe, whispering gently for her to go and get some sleep. And he would sit on the edge of the bed and hope that Trixie would stay asleep. But if she woke before morning came, and she usually did, he would be there to gently stroke her hair and hug her until the shaking and screaming subsided. Trixie would always cling to him tightly, as if trying to emulate the feeling of hugging her father once again. But it would never satisfy her. After all, Lucifer smelt like cologne and alcohol. Dan would always smell slightly muskier, and if it was right after work, the faintest trace of gunpowder. It was a sensory comfort and now it was gone.

Occasionally Linda or Amenadiel stayed over. They brought Charlie too, a welcoming ray of sunshine in what seemed like the world’s darkest moment. But even he too was restless, able to sense that the adults in his life were suffering, were in pain. The fact that they knew now he was entirely human and still so sensitive to the emotions around him somehow made it worse.

Linda would teach her how to breathe, how to work through the emotions. After all, that was her job, and never had it been so important until now. She would teach Trixie that however she felt was okay. That if she wanted to cry, that if she didn’t want to cry, it didn’t matter, it was okay. Linda taught her how to bring herself back to the present moment when she’d dissociate. Her fierceness and reassurance seemed to give Trixie the biggest hope of a tangible solution to somehow living the rest of her life despite the whirlwind of grief consuming her.

Amenadiel would help her to think of happy memories, help her to reminisce, all the while praying, now to nobody in particular, but usually his father out of habit, that Dan was fighting to get to where he belonged. That he would end up in Heaven with Charlotte, as he deserved. But his presence, his smile, the fullness of his voice, was comforting to Trixie. Somehow hearing ‘it’s going to be okay’ sounded the most convincing coming from him.

Ella would try her hardest to make her laugh, to fill her mind with fascinating science, keep her caught up with school while her attendance waxed and waned. She made sure Trixie found some sort of drive, some sort of task to keep her busy. Ella reminded her of all the incredible things Trixie could do when she got older. Ella showed Trixie how the beauty and wonders of science could be found in absolutely anything, including chocolate cake. 

Maze would try to keep her brave face, but the truth was, with her newfound soul, the hurricane of emotions that amalgamated themselves as grief were hitting her almost as hard as they were hitting Trixie. Somehow that was cathartic for her, seeing the bravest, scariest person she knew shed a few tears. Or sob so hard she tore apart an entire box of Kleenex. But it also terrified Trixie. To know that grief was powerful enough to even affect Maze. A self professed demon. A bounty hunter. 

Eve would sing soft lullabies to her, Chloe thought it sounded like something in Hebrew. While she did so, it pleased her to watch Trixie’s writhing and contracting ease, watch her fall into the deep sleep she so desperately needed. But usually her turn was short, as she’d often end up holding Maze on the couch, gently brushing her hair with her fingers, whispering to her how strong she was being. Maze’s few stifled sobs would grow ragged as she shut the door to the seemingly inappropriately coloured bedroom, and settled by pressing her face into Eve’s chest.

In fact someone was always asleep or crying on the couch usually. 

And Chloe would do likewise to Lucifer on the bed, which was now their bed. She’d wrap her arms around his waist, and only then would she let the tears flow freely. Because as she kept telling herself, she had to be strong for Trixie, now more than ever.

Then morning would come, and they’d slowly pass the French press around for the humans and Absolut for the not-so-humans and get her ready for the day. If she wanted to go to school, they’d pack her bags and make her lunch just the way she wanted. And if she didn’t want to go to school, they’d tell her it was okay, that she could do some work from home, that she could watch whatever movie or tv show would make her happiest. 

But they were there for each other. That was what was important right now.

And they would keep taking it in turns, a wordless vow, until the hurt started to fade, and the smile on Trixie’s face started to creep back.