IV
He stood on the balcony overlooking the circle of Hell he called home and watched the fiery skies do what they had for eternity: burn.
It usually didn’t take long for them to come once he called, but each second that went by felt like an eon.
Despite the awkwardness between them, built up over hundreds of years of life, they still had a decent relationship when it came to office-related matters.
And this was an office-related matter as far as both parties were concerned—and if anyone from the absolutely horrifying Seraph’s Office inquired about the meeting—so he hoped his old friend wouldn’t mind the late summons.
The sky flashed white in the distance, merely a pinpoint in the endless horizon from where he stood, and Lucky breathed a sigh of relief.
In a matter of seconds, a form appeared beside him.
Tall and thin with long, wheat blonde hair that covered their body like a cloak and half-hid their face, the archangel formerly known as Gabriel looked at him with a less-than-enthused expression.
Their skin was a sun kissed tan, flawless from both the Heavenly nature of their being and the rigid skincare routine they’d perfectly crafted over their long life.
Their halo spun in slow circles and their pale wings folded over their body like a shawl.
Their earthen eyes caught his gaze, the two ancient beings squared up and waited for the other to speak first. With a few shuffling steps, Gabe closed the distance between them.
“You look like Hell, ironically enough,” Lucky sneered.
“And you look like a swollen zit on the face of a preteen,” Gabe replied plainly.
Lucky smirked before he wrapped his arm around them.
He flicked their halo away, sending it spinning into the distance before he kissed the top of their head.
The shimmering golden loop struck a flying imp in the head, sending the poor thrall spiraling to the pavement.
The halo sped back like a boomerang on a mission.
Gabe lightly smacked him on the chest with a ‘bad boy’ comment as they exchanged smiles and formalities.
“Hey,” he said quietly as he snatched the halo out of the air. He returned it to its gravitational pull and tucked some long strands of hair behind Gabe’s ear.
“You fucked up,” Gabe said nonchalantly.
Lucky groaned. He knew he’d messed up in a truly spectacular fashion if Gabe admitted it with that level of crassness.
That also explained why the archangel looked exhausted, they must have already been running damage control for him without him even knowing.
Even after all this time they were good to him.
Gabe lifted a wing and stuck their hand inside of their designer cashmere cardigan. Lucky hissed and shielded his eyes as the golden glow from within grew with intensity. He knew damn good and well what it was. It was Charlie’s life file, and he really had fucked up on a Biblical level.
“Oh… no, Gabe! Gaaaabe, why?! Why is it gold!? Why is it sparkling?” Lucky whined, then growled, then whined again.
“Because, you really fucked up. You ran over a patron saint,” Gabe said as they waved the golden file folder around.
“HOW?!” Lucky bellowed as he ran his hands through his hair, groaning as he squatted in disbelief. “How could that… useless, bumbling little accident-prone meat sack be a saint?”
“Humans will make saints out of anyone,” Gabe reminded him as they lifted their hand to start counting their fingers.
“Saint Drogo, the Patron Saint of Ugly People. Saint Clotilde, the Patron Saint of Disappointing Children. Saint Isidore of Seville, the Patron Saint of the Internet. Turns out Charles Reed Wickham was supposed to be the Patron Saint of Sad Office Workers. Until you hit him with your car, that is.”
“That’s… yeah, that makes sense,” Lucky mumbled.
“So what do I do? He can’t stay here. My old man is pissed and I’m sure yours isn’t too happy about this, either.
We have the walking embodiment of Murphy’s Law in the body of a holy man wandering around the epicenter of Greed!
We have to fix this! Also—” he pointed to the folder— “You bad angel, I can’t believe you actually stole that folder from the Seraph’s Office because I asked.
Seraphiel will end you if he finds out. You do still love me. ”
“Shut up, you literal scum of the Earth,” Gabe groaned. They handed over the folder so Lucky—who was still on his knees with his arms in the air like the drama king he was—could look at it. Then they leaned on the railing.
“Technically, God doesn’t know. Charlie isn’t dead, just in a coma, so he’s not on our radar.
His file was in the to-be-processed box.
I only knew about him because you called after the accident.
We process so many folders on the daily he got lost in the shuffle.
They can’t keep him alive forever, though.
Nor will they. He’s an orphan, raised by the church, and they really don’t enjoy expensive charity cases.
A can of beans here and there for a starving soul?
Sure. A used winter coat for a homeless man?
Of course. A bumbling young priest on life support with no family to care for him?
With America’s healthcare system? They’re going to pull the plug eventually—”
“No… No, no, no… they… they can’t,” Lucky said in a hushed tone. That… hurt? Did it hurt? It felt weird. “They can’t do that to him.”
Gabe titled their head. Their long, straw-like hair fell around their angular features and their thin eyebrow cocked in question.
Lucky clutched the folder tight. He opened it with shaking hands and looked at the sad photo of Charlie clipped to the papers.
He skimmed the information inside. Meaningless, simple things, but every line revealed something new about his little priest that made him feel even weirder.
He was over feeling weird, it was ruining his mood.
Charles Reed Wickham
Age: 29
Family: None, parents died in a house fire.
Education: Brilliant student, graduated with a 3.90GPA
Insomniac, Clinically Anxious, Neurodivergent
Experiences Night Terrors Brought on by PTSD and Religious Trauma
Doesn’t like being alone.
Doesn’t know how to socialize.
Crybaby.
Dedicated to God and the church.
Does not believe he’s worthy—
Lucky groaned. “Please, Gabe, we gotta do something.”
“Why do you care so much?” Gabe asked quietly.
“I… don’t know. I… he deserves better. He doesn’t deserve an eternity in Hell.
I want to fix this. I have to fix this, you have to help me, that’s how this works, right?
Can you help me? He’s… he keeps saying he’s hungry, and in pain.
He passed out earlier, and I can’t keep lying to him and giving him the excuse that he’s just abnormal.
He is abnormal, but that’s not why he’s feeling that way.
It’s… wrong, and I don’t know what to do!
I can’t tell him that it’s because he’s not dead. ”
“What does it matter if he knows or not?”
“I can’t get his hopes up like that! What happens if I tell him there’s a chance for him to leave and he dies before it happens?
That’s… cruel, even for me. Could you imagine?
He’d blame me for eternity for not doing enough, or-or blame me for being evil and keeping him here against his will! Or worse, he’ll think that I lied!”
“You did, though.”
“Yeah but he doesn’t know that! I don’t want him to hate me!”
Lucky pouted. It was a pleading, pitiful expression. One that begged for help. The archangel crossed their arms over their chest and bundled their body up in their pillowy wings.
“I…” they hesitated, “there isn’t much we can do, Lucifer. You did a lot of damage, it’s a literal miracle his body survived but the only thing we can do is give it time and hope he heals. It’s up to modern medicine, Charlie’s willingness, and the church’s patience.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have hit him with your car.”
Lucky looked at Gabe with heartbreak in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to… Please, Gabriel. Help me fix this. I’m literally on my knees begging—praying—for help.”
Gabe flinched. “Ew… why are you being so weird?”
“I don’t know! I want it to stop! Charlie’s been messing everything up, and everything is odd and uncomfortable. I feel these pains in my chest and it makes me angry when he gets all mopey and, ugh, when he cries? It’s like the world is ending!”
“That sounds like guilt.”
Lucky looked at the file again. The sad little human’s face staring up at him from the photo made his stomach churn.
He closed the golden folder and winced as the glow clipped his eyes.
He grabbed a pillow from the nearby patio chair and set it on top of it to keep the holiness from blinding him, then he stood.
“What can we do? Help me figure out what we can do, Gabe. If Charlie dies on Earth while his soul is here he’ll be stuck.
Father already threatened to send him to the Pits.
We can’t let that happen. He doesn’t… I can’t let his eternity be here,” Lucky said gently, his golden eyes shimmering with the threat of tears.
“How do we make sure he stays alive until he can wake up? That’s the issue, right?
If we can get him to wake up we can scoot his little butt back to where he belongs? ”
“And what then, Lucifer? He wakes up paralyzed and in insufferable pain, alone, without anyone to support him?” Gabe proposed.
Lucky’s hands grew unusually clammy. “I… I don’t know.
But at least it means his soul gets to go where it actually belongs the next time something does happen.
Even if it’s a brief second or two before he slips away again, we just have to get his soul back into his body so it goes up, not down.
We keep war from breaking out, we make sure the patron saint gets his golden halo and the eternity he deserves, and we scrub the mistake from my record. ”
“Are you doing this for you? Or are you doing this for Charlie?”
Lucky didn’t know how to respond. All he could do was shrug and look down in shame.
“I may be a devil, Gabe, but I have morals. You know that. I’m not like my father.
I only take the souls who deserve it, when it’s their time, and I only do it because I have to.
We both know I’d rather not be doing this, and Charlie didn’t deserve it.
I’m trying to atone for my mistake, but I need you to help me figure out how. Please,” Lucky begged.
Gabe shifted and turned their deep brown eyes to the penthouse. They looked at the bed, at the small frame under the duvet who had rocked the constitution of the Prince of Hell in a way no one had ever seen. With a slow sigh, they turned back to the weirdly emotional Lucky at their side.
“You’re going to get me in so much trouble,” Gabe mumbled.
“So you do have an idea!” Lucky said with a smile.
“I… possibly, but it’s so sinful. I’m not sure I can… I…”
“Gabe, please—” Lucky took their hand in his own— “I’ve made two major mistakes in my long life.
I can’t fix the first one, but if there’s a chance we can undo this mess and give that poor…
whiny little soul his life back? Or make sure he gets to Heaven?
If I can make this right? I want to try.
I’ll take the brunt of it, I’ll take on the sin and I’ll do it masterfully.
I will even suffer through a meeting with Seraphiel if I have to. I just need your brain.
“I can’t undo what I did to you, what I did to us, all those years ago.
I can’t fix my messy personality or the broken bits of your heart from my stupid youthful impulses.
I can’t blame anyone but myself for hurting you.
Can’t fix the awful things I said, or how I took you for granted.
But I can get you the finest bottle of Eden wine in Father’s collection and owe you big time. ”
“I want a case of wine, and a hellfire-seared steak.”
Lucky shot out his hand. “Deal.”
Gabe nodded and took it. Lucky laughed happily and picked them up in his arms, spinning them around with excitement and a sense of relief. Their halo trailed along with the motions, loose feathers flew about until he set them back down and hugged them properly.
“How do we do this? What’s the plan?” Lucky asked as he slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks, looking at them expectantly and bouncing from foot to foot.
“Well… we’re going to need to lie to major powers in the church, embezzle tithes, fake documents—”
“Hell yes, I’m in! Sounds like a fun afternoon!”
“And, we’ll have to talk to humans. Which means you’ll have to be nice to humans.”
“Eww… ugh, fine. Fine. Whatever it takes,” Lucky said with an exaggerated groan. “Seriously… thank you.”
“I hope it’s worth it.”
“It will be. It has to be.”