Compromise
“If you ever go behind my back again to get my shadow to do your dirty work, I’ll-”
“Add my screams to your broadcast, yes yes, I am aware.” Stitches said it while rolling her eyes at Alastor, though her shoulders were hunched in remorse. He had been lecturing for a while now as she helped him cut the vegetables for the ratatouille that would be dinner in a few hours, but it had been mostly for show. He truly was impressed with her tenacity and resourcefulness, albeit being an overstep of his trust and a bruise to his pride. His shadow, following the instructions of someone other than him… it made his blood boil. “I promise, I won’t use Shade to trick you again.”
Alastor paused cutting and narrowed his eyes at her. “So, you plan on using my shadow in the future, without permission?” If there was one thing the little demoness excelled at, it was using words to her advantage. If she ever wanted to become an Overlord, she would have no trouble making deals, that was guaranteed.
Stitches huffed. “No, not particularly, but this is Hell.” She met his eyes. “Do you really want me to be in a position where using your shadow could save me, and I don’t take that option, simply because you are unable to give me permission?” She frowned, turning away. "Especially when I am not allowed to learn my powers?" she mumbled.
And curse this infuriating vixen! Because she was right, of course. Should Alastor be incapable of giving his consent, for any reason, he did want her to have access to whatever advantages she could take. Specifically, anything he could provide, any piece of him, as long as it kept her alive and safe from harm. If his shadow could provide her that, he would not deny her access to it. He would never say it out loud, of course, but it made it no less true.
She smirked at his silence. “That’s what I thought. Just take the win that I agree not to use it to trick you, and let me keep as many pieces on the chessboard as possible.”
“One of these days, ma renarde,” he growled, “you are going to overestimate your ability to keep a hold of those in your grasp, and lose your footing.” He focused back on the task of making dinner. “Just ask your father: Pride comes before a Fall.”
Stitches snorted. “I won’t tell him you said that if you agree to let Shade and I off with a warning.”
Alastor rolled his eyes. “You will tell him, regardless, I am sure. You couldn’t even keep your agreement to inform him that I pushed harder to keep his spiral from you the other day.”
Stitches dared to laugh at that. “I never promised a damn thing! You were the one that requested it and said ‘Deal?’. I never agreed to it, just smirked and waited for you to talk.”
He thought back to that lunchtime conversation and realized she was correct.
…Well, shit…
Caught between pride for her yet again and annoyance that he hadn’t seen it, he let the air pop with some static before returning to his work with a huff. She snickered and fell into silence as well, the rhythmic chopping of their knives filling the kitchen with a sort of domestic beat. He thought about the situation last night, and what it would mean. Lucifer had wanted to speak to her together, but…
“I will agree to your terms, if I may add a condition.”
Stitches looked up at him, curiously. He stopped and set down his knife, turning to face her and gently taking both hands in his, ensuring her knife was put aside first. Her face clouded, no doubt worried what he was going to ask. How is she so much like Lucifer when they are not blood? Both of them wore their emotions so readily on their faces, if they trusted you enough to show it.
He sighed, rolling his eyes, gently massaging the back of her hands with his thumbs. “My one condition is that you won’t move out of the hotel. You will continue to live here, regardless of what work you find yourself employed at.”
Stitches looked down at their hands, brows furrowed in thought. Eventually, she looked up, meeting his eyes with ones still unsure. “That’s all? You just want me calling this home, sleeping and eating here? That is your one condition?”
Alastor nodded. He would prefer she stay in the hotel, living and working there, where they could keep her safe, especially with the revelation of the altered timeline. If the hints of what she had shared about the Vees, Heaven, and Lute in the picture show of her reality were true, then they were likely to face many foes shortly. It didn’t take a genius, he thought, to conclude that her presence affecting the timeline meant she would become intrinsically involved in those conflicts.
Why was he not sharing it with the rest of them, not even Lucifer? Because then Stitches would become even more unpredictable. The last time she had felt suffocated and controlled, she had run away in the middle of the night and nearly died from a cannibal attack. While she was showing great progress with her mental stability, she was not above taking extreme measures. She was a wild stallion, and forcing her to stay cooped up in a stable would only lead to her finding increasingly more inventive ways of escape. Their best option to keep her safe was to allow her some freedom to do what she needed to do, so they could provide a safe anchor for her when the storm inevitably struck.
He knew she was determined to seek out the “spin-off series” individuals and investigate how other parts of the realms had been affected by the timeline due to her arrival. No amount of begging or arguing would deter her. Compromises needed to be made.
Stitches sighed and slipped out of his grip, turning back to the last of the zucchini. “Alright, I accept your terms.” She smirked and gave him a mischievous side glance. “For Shade. I can’t imagine the punishment you planned for it was going to be gentle.” She grimaced, as though she imagined precisely what he could do to torment the traitorous thing.
Alastor grinned wide, pulling at the stitching in the corners. “Why, I would not be who I am if I were to allow my own shadow to escape proper discipline for such egregious errors in judgment! A little torture goes a long way, I find.”
Stitches rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh, that’s what I thought,” she muttered, though a smile played at the corner of her lips. “Ever the asshole.”
Indeed, he thought smugly. Good thing she hadn’t figured out that he truly had minimal control of his shadow, and there really was little he could do to punish the damn thing. It certainly had worked as a good leverage tool, though, hadn’t it?
____________________________________________________________________________
Stitches groaned inwardly and nearly turned around when she entered Lucifer’s suite and saw not just her dad and Alastor, but Charlie and Angel Dust too. She contemplated turning around and leaving. Other than making dinner with Alastor (which she had only done to get the lecture about using Shade out of the way), she had been avoiding everyone else outside of group activities. She knew that no one would confront her about last night, if there were outsiders present, in this case, the other guests. So, she had kept herself busy and made sure to not allow room for being one-on-one with anyone.
Angel was one thing but after last night? She really didn’t want to talk to Charlie.
“Ah, last to arrive!” Alastor goaded her from his position, standing by the fireplace. “Did you grow bored with dramatic exits? Expanding to theatrical entrances now?”
Fucking asshole. “Oh, never fear, Alastor,” she retorted, grinning devilishly as she closed the door and made her way to the single chair waiting for her. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to outshine you when it comes to adding flair to entering a room.”
His burst of static was priceless and well worth whatever ire she had conjured from him. Spiteful he may be, but a threat to her? She knew better. Now, anyway. It never ceased to amaze her how much her perspective on everyone had changed throughout the year.
“Okay, you two, let’s not bring more tension into this than necessary,” Lucifer huffed, his eyes narrowing at Alastor, specifically. Alastor just shrugged and leaned against his microphone cane, inspecting the nails on his other hand innocently. Lucifer sighed, giving her a ‘please be more mature than him’ look. Stitches smiled softly and gave a subtle nod, to which he offered a much larger, grateful grin. “The floor is yours, sweetie. Tell us what you propose, and we can discuss compromises.”
She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I want to leave the hotel so I can explore Hell and learn to live here, permanently. I am also trying to figure out how my being here has changed, and how far it has reached, and test what is and isn’t malleable and avoidable. Are there certain events that have to happen, in some way, regardless of changes, locked in by fate? To what extent can I offer information or support before it alters the events? Does my interference significantly change the future, or does it simply delay the inevitable? I have to find out, and I cannot do that by being here 24/7!”
“But, Sis, ya don’t need to be the one to figure this shit out on ya own,” Angel said calmly, with a subtle hint of a plea. “I know ya probably feel responsible or whatever, but ya never asked to end up here. We can help ya figure this shit out.”
Stitches smiled sadly at him and shook her head. “If that were possible, I would not hesitate to ask for help. However, I cannot ask for help with this without telling you about the people and events I am investigating. Simply doing so could alter the timeline, if it has not already been altered. If I am going to test my theories, I need to keep it quiet and figure it out on my own.”
She paused for a moment. She couldn’t have them interfere with her investigation into the Helluva Boss crew. But maybe… “However, with some of the things that we already know have been altered, I am willing to accept help. I just need some time to go over what we know, what has happened, and what was supposed to happen so I can figure out how to best proceed and delegate some of the burden.”
Angel nodded and leaned back. “I accept that as a compromise, on the information-gathering part, at least. So what about the whole ya ‘moving out’ crap?”
“I have already agreed to live at the hotel, as long as I am given freedom to come and go as needed for work or the investigation,” she confirmed, glancing at Alastor. She then looked at each person pointedly. “Unchaperoned.”
Lucifer hissed. “Brandi, I don’t think that’s-”
Alastor put his hand on his partner’s shoulder. “I believe, for the sake of preserving her mission, she should be given that freedom. Given her training with Miss Vaggie and the Mark of Magne, she has enough protection to be allowed at least that much.”
Lucifer went to argue, but Alastor simply leaned down and whispered in his ear, so quietly, that only Lucifer could hear. He blanched, then relaxed, nodding. “You have a point, of course,” he muttered to Alastor as the redhead straightened. Stitches was curious about what Alastor had said to change his mind, but she couldn’t dwell on it because Lucifer turned to her. “I will agree to it, on the condition that you carry a weapon and hellphone at all times. You also need to give us your schedule and tell us when you plan on leaving the hotel and how long you will be gone.”
Stitches frowned. It felt like the same restrictions you would give a teenager, but it was certainly better than being escorted everywhere like a child, and there were ways to work around it if needed. She glanced at Alastor, who gave her a warning grin, confirming that this was the best offer she would be receiving for the time being. So, she let the matter drop, nodding her consent.
“Then, we will consider the matter settled,” Lucifer clapped his hands together. “Alastor can take you to Rosie’s Emporium so she can give you some leads on jobs. She seems to have her ear to the ground, so to speak, so she would be quite helpful in finding you something that won’t lead to unnecessary risks or deals.”
Stitches nodded, suddenly realizing she may need to incorporate a plan to make sure she could work at I.M.P., but bringing it up now seemed foolhardy at best. It would reveal who and where she needed to be to investigate things, and that would defeat the purpose of this whole mission. She would figure it out later. “Thanks, Dad, and Alastor. I am really looking forward to meeting Rosie! Oh, and seeing Cannibal Town when it is light out and I am sober…”
“Then, I do believe we should call it a night!” Alastor proclaimed and motioned towards the door. “I shall come find you in the early afternoon so we can be there at tea time, so be sure to dress-”
“Wait!” Charlie interrupted. “What about your involvement in the activities and stuff here at the hotel? You not only attend them, but you have also helped so much with planning and leading them, especially the art therapy classes! We need to know how we can make sure you keep up with those, and I still want you to work towards-”
“Seriously!?” Stitches growled, her claws digging into the armrests of her chair. “I literally told you last night that I don’t want to be redeemed, and you are already pushing the topic, again?”
Charlie was shocked at her sudden temper but recovered quickly, matching her anger. “I am not pushing, I am simply mentioning it! The main question is perfectly valid-”
Stitches laughed dryly. “Yeah, it’s valid, but it’s a conversation for after I know what my job schedule will look like, not to mention what I need to do to get information on the timeline! Obviously, since I am living here anyway, I will do my best to ‘earn my keep’ and help with the hotel tasks as I am able. But I won’t know how that looks until I figure out my schedule.”
Charlie huffed. “See, was it that hard to answer? I don’t see why redemption is such a sore topic for you.”
"Girls, please-" Lucifer tried to interject, but all Stitches saw was red. How dare she!
Stitches growled and rose from her chair. “You don’t have to understand, you just need to respect my decision.” She scoffed as she realized something. “Why are you capable of doing that for everyone but me, anyway?”
“Because you are my little sister!” Charlie growled and stood up too. “You aren’t just anyone to me, and I want what is best for you!”
Stitches’ fury snapped. “Best for me!” she shouted. “You think you know what is best for me? Who the FUCK gave you the right to decide that for me!?”
Lucifer said something, but this time, she didn't even hear what he tried to say.
“You did when you decided to make a rash decision and announce it at a fucking party, then run out like a coward!” Charlie countered. “You won’t continue therapy, you are pulling away from us, you are insisting on this stupid investigation, and you almost left the hotel! You obviously don’t know what is best for you, and I am trying to be a good big sister and help you!”
“You mean you want to control me!” Stitches seethed. Angel tried to calm her down and sit her back down, but she pushed him aside. “Like Heaven did Eve? Like the Council did Dad? Fucking just take my free will too, you-”
“ENOUGH!” Alastor bellowed, green symbols and static pulsing around them, causing all three of them to jump. Stitches looked over at Lucifer, who was in the middle of a panic attack, his breathing erratic and his eyes blown wide. She covered her mouth, her heart racing loudly in her ears. Fuck fuck fuck, I know that topic is triggering for him, why did I say that???
Alastor knelt in front of Lucifer, cupping the smaller man’s face in his hands. “Breathe, Ducky. I am right here, you are okay. Everything is okay.” He rubbed small circles into Lucifer’s cheeks with his thumb. “Come back to me, Lucifer. You are safe.”
Lucifer’s hands shot up to Alastor’s wrists as his eyes focused on him. “B-b-bayou,” he gasped. “P-please…” Tears ran down his cheeks as he begged. Alastor nodded and picked him up, holding him close. Charlie reached out to help, but Alastor glared at her as Lucifer buried his face into the deer demon’s collarbone.
“Charlie, you have done more than enough. Go finish your duties for the night.” He looked at Stitches with disappointment, which was somehow worse than his rage. He opened his mouth to speak but shook his head and spoke to Angel instead. “Take Stitches to her room, and keep her there. Stay with her to ensure Charlie doesn’t try to come talk to her tonight.” He looked between Charlie and Stitches one more time in reprimand. “I will take care of your father, so focus on calming down and stop this ridiculous squabbling! If it happens again, not even Lucifer will be able to stop me from breaking it up my way.”
Alastor didn’t wait for a response from either of them, just disappeared into his shadows and left. All three of them stood frozen for a moment, absorbing what happened. Stitches wanted to scream in frustration and guilt. She had seen last night how much her arguing with Charlie had upset him. She knew that bringing up his past was triggering. Yet, she hadn’t stopped. Fuck, she should have stopped! She had let her temper take over and lashed out, hurting him in the process. Shit, why am I so dizzy?
She glanced over at Charlie and clenched her fists. It was also Charlie’s fault. She had told her last night her thoughts on the topic. She had set her boundaries and limits on it. So, why was Charlie being such a stubborn mule about it? Charlie had a temper, sure, but in the show she had always been a fairly understanding and open person, believing in the principle of free will and respecting boundaries. How had that changed? Why was it with her, only her, that she was so different? If any other resident or guest refused redemption (several had, even since Stitches had shown up), she would have respected it. So why is she different with me?
But she was no better. How do I fix this? What if I can’t? Oh, FUCK, what if Dad-
Charlie turned to her, eyes expressing regret and worry now. “Brandi, I-”
Angel Dust stood in front of Stitches, blocking their views of each other. “Charlie, ya heard Alastor. No talking until tomorrow. I ain’t getting in trouble for ya breaking orders. Stay here for a few minutes, so I can take her to bed.” He spun on his heel and scooped her up, forcing her to keep her face buried in his shoulder. He whispered some calming reassurances in her ear as he rushed her to the elevator in the hall.
Stitches wasn’t sure what Charlie’s response was. It was drowned out by her sudden realization that she was also having a panic attack.