#devin

The question, though, seems to rouse Devin. He sits up straight and then leans forward – again, slow and labored. His gaze fixes on her face with an intensity that makes her feel like she got caught shoplifting. It reminds her of the urgency with which her mum had once said, Honey, chickie, you can't get in trouble with the police. Okay? I know I don't give you orders very often, I know, but I really do need you to listen to this one. For me, yeah? Promise?

She wishes, suddenly, that Devin would go back to ignoring her.

"Why would you ask that?" he asks, as if pain isn't seared into every creasing line on his face.

Lily shrugs. It seems like a dumb question.

"Did someone say something?" Devin presses.

Lily shrugs again.

It's not like anybody had to tell her. But it's true that she knew to look for the pain. She might not have noticed if she didn't already know a few things about gods. And though Devin definitely doesn't seem fussed about her attitude thus far, she doesn't know if he'll feel the same way about her faith. Sorcha and Saoirse are both jealous gods, in their own little ways. Neither of them can really help it, no more than Nova can help lying with her every breath. Even the best gods are bound by their inhumanity.

It's not great to have two hallowed parents.

Lily's trying to be at least a little careful with the divine.

Her non-answer does not appease Devin. He starts to rise – and then sits back down, abruptly, his teeth gritted, the strain visible in his jaw. Maybe because of the pain.

Or maybe because of Lily's visible flinch.

It's so embarrassing to flinch. She doesn't mean to do it. She's kneed neighborhood boys where it hurts, wrestled them in the mud, hit them when they're mean. She broke Sunflower's nose once, during a play fight, which she still feels bad about. Since arriving here, she's bit her "uncle" Finn until he howled and bled, and done the same to the smarmy man Nova calls Cammy, and tried to gouge out the eyes of the annoying bodyguard whose name escapes her.

Nova, of course, has erased these incidents as easily as she erases everything else that vexes her.

Well. Everything except Lily.

"If someone said something–" Devin starts, and then stops. Takes a breath. Visibly gathers himself.

"Look," Devin tries again, speaking slowly, "there are a lot of people who are upset with me right now. It's gonna feel good to them to – to think I'm in pain. You don't need to worry about all that. Don't pay any attention to them. They just – they just – they're just bastards. That's all. None of it means anything."

Lily looks down at her hands. She doesn't know what to say, so she shrugs again, smaller this time.

"Do you know the name of the person who talked to you?" Devin presses. "Look, listen, I – I'll talk to your mom. I know neither one of us are happy with her right now, but she – she won't let people talk shit to you. I promise she'll make them stop."

Lily swallows.

"Nobody said anything," she whispers.

"No, look," Devin says, "I know it's – I know everything's shit right now. I know, okay? I promise I know. Let's just – let's not let some random shithead make it worse. Okay?"

The concern in his voice is too much. It sounds just like her mum, every time Lily's come home scraped to hell from climbing trees she shouldn't climb or trawling lakes full of old scrap metal or diving over the hood of Sunflower's old pickup truck because they both wanted to know how it felt to be hit by a car.

You know you can tell me if you need help, yeah? I won't be upset.

It's too much. It's just too much.

Lily buries her face in her hands and starts to cry.

She hears Devin move, then. Not as swiftly as her mum would, because Devin is clearly still fighting the claws of a thousand tearing specters – but he does move. He comes to her side, in this metal folding chair at this metal interrogation table, the only furniture in the cell besides his seat and the hard nailed-down bed.

Her mum would lift her up and hold her. But her mum isn't here, and Devin isn't her parent, not really. He just stops, kind of looming, shadow-like. When Lily looks up, she finds his hand half-outstretched, frozen in midair. And she remembers her first words to him, then, her first-ever words, back before Devin had even tried to speak to her: Don't touch me, don't you fucking touch me, I don't know you.

Devin drops his hand, taking a step back.

"I just want to know who it was," he says softly. "That's all. I can – I can make sure they don't get hurt, if that's what you're... I just want to know. Okay?"

It's unbearable.

It's unbearable.

And it's clear he's going to keep saying these unbearably gentle things to her until she answers, and she doesn't think she can take that. The past few weeks have been the worst of her life. Somehow this feels like the worst thing that's happened so far.

It's not the worst thing that's happened. The worst thing was probably being grabbed out of her house in the middle of the night, or seeing them drag her mum away, or screaming for Starlight, or begging the neighbors to help, or being told the truth of her existence. There is nothing about the earnest kindness of a newfound father that should rank as the Worst Thing Ever.

It just feels like the worst thing ever.

So she tells him the truth.

"Nobody said anything," she mumbles, swiping at her eyes, fighting hard to control her shaky breath. "I swear. For real, no one said anything. Sorcha just... Sorcha just told me it hurts for him to be in Saoirse's grotto. So I thought – I thought – I thought..."

"Oh."

Lily's still crying too hard to read the expression on Devin's face. She wipes her nose with her sleeve and hugs her arms around herself, wanting her mum, more than anything just wanting her mum, and hating herself for how much she wants her mum. Like some pathetic little child, like a toddler lost in a grocery store. Wailing for comfort she knows isn't going to come.

Devin retreats another step. He clearly doesn't know what to do with her, which is understandable. She doesn't really blame him. She's kind of a handful.

"No, no, chickie," he says, very gently. "I'm okay. I'm not in any pain."

He's lying, obviously. He's also trying very hard to make the lie sound like truth. Lily can tell by the way he sits, now – much more fluidly, letting his weight fall like it doesn't matter, his expression carefully frozen as the impact jolts his body. If he'd just done that from the start, maybe Lily wouldn't have clocked the pain at all.

He's doing a better job of lying than Nova does. Which is probably because he's not used to being believed.

It's just not quite good enough to convince Lily.

Something else catches her attention, though, something more important than arguing with her father about how he's a dirty liar. She sniffles hard and then pulls herself together, momentarily distracted from her misery.

Devin shoots her a cautiously hopeful look.

She must seem so stupid to him – a pathetic, angry little girl crying just because she can't bear to see her estranged father suffer. A naive, dumb little girl who believes her father's obvious lies, just because he says them softly. A girl who can be convinced not to cry as easily as flicking a switch. He must think she has the emotional intelligence of a four-year-old.

"Did you talk to my mum?" she asks.

It's too much to hope for, but Lily can't stop the hope from blossoming anyway. She doesn't know how else Devin would know her nickname. As far as she's aware, Devin and her mum hadn't corresponded until they did, and after that, everything was immediately ruined. Ruby has never penned long missives with tales of Lily or Starlight's antics. Ruby's raised the both of them alone, never daring to let their father even think about them. It would have been too dangerous.

Lily should have thought of it already. Maybe the Centerspire's cells hold more than just Devin. Maybe Ruby's right here. Maybe Nova's been hiding her under Lily's nose the whole time. Maybe her cell is close enough for Devin and Ruby to whisper to each other through the vents, like the sneaky prisoners in Lily's favorite adventure stories. Maybe they've had all these weeks to catch up – for Ruby to share a lifetime's worth of stupid anecdotes. Maybe neither of her real parents has been alone at all.

But Devin shakes his head.

"I don't... think I can make that happen anytime soon," he says.

Well, obviously not. Not in any official capacity, at least. Devin is a criminal who let a stranger kidnap a baby. Ruby is a criminal who kidnapped a baby and then loved it more than she ever needed to. Even if either of them were allowed regular visitors, Nova would never willingly let them speak.

Then Devin adds, hastily, like he's worried Lily might burst into renewed tears, "But I can try. I can try, if you want. Right, I can... I'll talk to Nova about it, okay?"

Lily frowns.

He really must think she's an idiot.

"Mum calls me chickie," she says.

"Oh," Devin says. "Does she?"

"Yes." Lily folds her arms, unimpressed. "I'm not two years old, by the way. Just in case you were wondering. I actually pay attention when you say things. So. When did you talk to her? And don't lie to me."

"Fuck's sake, kid," Devin says, although Lily senses more fondness than exasperation. "You sound like a cop."

"Oh, boo hoo," Lily says. "You sound like a criminal."

She feels a little bad even as she's saying it – but then she doesn't anymore, because Devin laughs aloud.

It's the first time she's ever heard him laugh. It's a nice laugh, actually. Weather-beaten, sort of, like the laughter of the sailors telling bawdy jokes down at the fish market. It reminds her a lot of home.

"I called you 'chickie' first," Devin says. "She stole my nickname. Can't believe it. You ask a woman to commit one single crime, just one time... Damn. Can't trust anyone these days. Your mum's a thief, kiddo."

It's clearly lighthearted. Lily tries to smile, but the disappointment hits her before anything else.

Even knowing she can't get her hopes up, the truth still hurts. Of course Mum isn't down here. Of course Devin doesn't know where to find her. And of course Devin doesn't know anything about Lily, not really, no more than Nova does. There have been no weeks of bored gossip and shared stories. There have been no letters or phone calls. Just distant memories of a tiny infant, given away when she was still too small to have a personality.

The laughter fades from Devin's eyes. He seems to sense the press of fresh tears at the back of Lily's throat, because he quickly adds, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. It's not – no, I was just surprised. It's nothing, I mean, it's – it's been forever. It's her nickname now. Sorry. I won't say it again."

Lily gets up and goes to him.

He watches with open surprise, all widened eyes and slightly parted lips, but he doesn't stop her. He also doesn't reach for her, even though she wishes he would, but that's fine. She shouldn't expect him to act just like her mum.

She climbs into his lap, heedless of the way he stiffens with renewed pain, and only a little sick with guilt about that. She wraps her arms around him and lays her head on his shoulder, and she bunches her hands up in his scratchy prisoner's shirt, and then she cries until she can't anymore.

He's very patient. It's amazing how patient he is, considering Lily's bony knees and sharp elbows and clawing fingers. He hugs her against him, warm and solid, finally holding her the way she wants him to. It's the quietest comfort in this garish, awful place.

He lets her cry without comment. She knows she's hurting him worse with every second that passes, and she knows she can't bear to let go, and he's being very kind, so they both pretend that his labored breathing doesn't border on agonal.

Finally, after the last hiccuping sob leaves her, Lily turns her face toward his ear. She knows there must be microphones in here, and cameras, and the guards and Nova lying in wait outside, so she's very careful as she breathes, "Help me get home."

Devin lets out a long, slow breath.

"I know you can," Lily whispers. "I know you can. You did it before."

She knows, even before Devin speaks, that he's going to say no. She can see it in the downturn of his mouth, the tightness in his eyes. She knows, too, that it's a ridiculous thing to ask. Yes, Devin had orchestrated her kidnapping thirteen years ago, back when Devin had freedom and Ruby and a prayer of moving unseen. There's nothing Devin can do for her from a prison cell in the depths of hell.

But maybe he can't bear to kill her hope. Or maybe he's just hoping that if he keeps her from crying, she'll get off his damn lap and stop knifing his bones apart.

They were nearly holding their breath as they started their laptop up, immediately opening up their favorite sites. It had taken them forever to hunt these down, they learned quickly to find ways to save the things they enjoyed. They looked through the images and videos available to them, searching for the one subject who could always brighten their day. They found one of their favorite videos of him, making sure the volume was up before they hit play.

The recording started with somewhat shaky footage of a man on the floor, wearing only boxer briefs, it was being filmed with someone's phone, only held steady with one hand while the other held a frightening looking device, a rod that had prongs on the end of it. Th man was desperately trying to push himself backwards, away from the approaching danger, but he only succeeded in his back hitting a wall, while the person filming laughed at his attempts.

"Come on mutt, you know you can't escape." He laughed, while the man on the floor growled at him. Devin didn't know how he did that so well, but it thrilled them every time. Mutt, the man filming called him, that's what he was often called in these videos, but Devin had watched enough of them to piece together his real name, Zander.

"Fuck off." Zander snapped at him, though the rage on his face quickly shifted to fear when the man triggered the device, the prongs at the end sparked to life. Devin liked it when his eyes got all big and frightened, he was such a scary looking guy, it excited them to see him so terrified.

"Language." The man told him, and with that the device was jabbed into his side, the electric shock drew an agonized scream from Zander, his body going tense as the man held the trigger down. Devin couldn't help but smile as they watched him writhe on the cement floor. They could see all the scars that covered his body, the C burned into his arm. They often wondered what it stood for, though they knew they'd never find out.

When the man filming finally pulled the device away, Zander was left panting, struggling to catch his breath. His body was trembling, they could see the sweat on his skin, Devin wondered just how long this actually went on, the video itself ended shortly after, before he could be shocked again. Devin liked to think he endured more than just the one.

They pulled up another old video of him, one they'd seen many times before. They hadn't actually found anything new of him in a couple years now, they had to assume the worst at this point. After what they'd seen him endure, surely he wouldn't survive for all that long. They found it kind of sad, they missed the feeling they got whenever they came across new videos and pictures of him. Of course, he wasn't their only subject of interest, just, one of their favorites.

This time, he was shirtless and surrounded by people, on his knees with his wrists chained above him in the middle of the room. Someone had painstakingly taken on the task of censoring the faces of everyone involved- except Zander, of course. They'd seen a few before where his face was also hidden, but there were always clues that gave it away, the brand on his arm, the other specific scars, the collar he wore, even his voice. They'd watched so many by now it was always easy to recognize him, but they preferred to see his face. He had the prettiest brown eyes, and while he was typically angry and defiant, their favorite part was always when that facade finally broke, and for just a few moments, he'd look like a terrified little puppy dog.

They idly kicked their feet behind them as they watched the video, delighting in the way people repeatedly kicked him in the stomach, the way his eyes were squeezed shut in pain while he grit his teeth, unable to try and defend himself. When someone noticed his eyes were shut, he was slapped across the face.

"Eyes on the camera, sweetheart." A man reminded him, the same man who had been filming as he shocked him. Zander visibly shuddered, they had seen it a few times when this particular man was involved, identifiable by his voice and the black leather gloves he always wore. He only ever called him mutt or sweetheart. Zander seemed to hate the second one the most.

He did look back at the camera, for a moment Devin could see fear in his eyes, but then he was slapped again, his expression returned to one of anger, while the people around him laughed at his reaction. He appeared to be the main entertainment for some kind of party, Devin always wondered just how they could get invited to one of those, they wondered what they had to do, who they had to know to get to be a part of this. Somebody passed by and snubbed their cigarette out on his shoulders, he yelped in pain, like a kicked puppy, it gave Devin that excited, fluttery feeling of butterflies in their stomach.

"He makes the cutest ashtray, doesn't he?" A woman said, Devin sometimes wished that they smoked, just so they could've had a shot at making him sound like that.

The video progressed, and they watched as he was kicked and punched in the face, his nose broken which caused blood to run down his face. They liked to draw him in their spare time, they often drew him with the bloody nose he sported in so many of his videos. They found it to be one of his most attractive features. Their favorite part came later on, when he'd gone slack in the chains holding him up and could no longer try and look tough, when they heard the crack of a whip that struck so quickly it was easy to miss it. The whip left a bright red mark across his chest, blood welling up where the skin split, and he let out an absolutely pitiful cry. He attempted to bring his arms down to protect himself but it was no use, he was trapped in that vulnerable position.

Sometimes they liked to pause the video here, right after he opened his eyes to glare at the camera again, though today they simply let it play. They swore they could see tears in his eyes, they wished the camera were just a little closer, they wanted to take in every detail of him, the way his body trembled from the pain, the labored rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to breathe through it, the way his hands clenched into fists above him. He was so pretty, they couldn't believe he was even real.

They probably would've spent the entire night like that, scrolling through their favorite sites, but after an hour or two of that, their phone went off, they snatched it up quickly to see one of their friends asking if they wanted to go out that night. Their mood already lifted from earlier, their favorite distraction was all but forgotten already as they quickly shut their laptop down and got up off their bed, eager to start getting ready for a fun night out.

***

Zander looked over the list in his hand again, earlier he'd stood in Eli's room in front of his bookshelf, hurriedly scribbling down which manga series he still needed volumes for onto a slip of shark patterned note paper he'd snatched from his desk. He thought getting a few for him would make for a good Christmas gift, he knew Eli would appreciate the help in adding to his ever growing collection. He stood in a bookstore now, though he'd never been to this one, he'd been wandering around for a bit trying to find the things he was looking for.

"Hi, do you need help finding anything today?" He looked up, almost startled by the voice, to see one of the employees standing there. They had black and pink hair, he thought that was cool, and when he glanced at their name tag he saw the name Devin written in pink marker, framed by cutesy stickers. They were looking up at him with their big brown eyes, a smile on their face, and while they seemed perfectly friendly, Zander just felt like something was off in the way they looked at him, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

"Um, yeah actually, I'm just looking for a few of these for my friend." He said showing them the paper he'd written the list on, they quickly looked it over.

"Oh, these are right over here actually! Follow me!" They said brightly, leading him through the store. "Are these for you? Or maybe a gift?" They asked, making conversation as they led him to the right shelves.

"Yeah, a gift for a friend," He told them, "I thought he might appreciate some help filling up his collection." He said, thinking about all the different books on Eli's shelves, all arranged alphabetically by series.

"I'm sure he will!" They said, that smile still on their face. They were very upbeat and bubbly, being perfectly helpful as they simply did their job, so he didn't understand why he felt so odd about them. Something about their smile, the way they looked at him, it made him want to get out of there as fast as possible.

When he'd first gotten away from Cain, he had a lot of anxiety going new places, or out in public at all, but it had been a couple years now, and at least one year on anxiety medication, he was shaken by this fear suddenly returning. He resisted that urge to drop everything and run though, and they helped him find each of the specific books he was looking for, he ended up with about five of them that he carried towards the front of the door, they offered to check them out for him as well. He kept telling himself he was being ridiculous, there was no reason to be so unnerved, but still, he couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong.

"Thanks for the help." He told them as he finished up paying. He was sure he was the one being weird here, they'd done nothing but be helpful after all.

"Of course! I hope your friend likes them! Have a good day, Zander." They said happily, tucking the receipt into the last book before placing it in a bag. They handed the bag to him, Zander thanked them and left, though the feeling he'd had before was worse than ever.