A/N: Rated K. Episode tag: season 3, ep 17 "Let Pinhead Sing!" How I imagine the conversation would happen in Linda's office. Might continue if inspiration strikes!

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"I think I've made a horrible mistake."

There were the words, out in the open. He'd never allowed himself to think them before. Each time they'd started to form in his mind, he'd reminded himself that he was the literal Devil and incapable of something so human as error.

Linda said nothing. She didn't prompt him to continue. He realized he must've looked upset; there was confusion tinged with pity and a hint of alarm on his friend's face. She was giving him space to explain himself when he was ready. She didn't move, just watched. Waited.

Lucifer pressed his lips together and looked away. Her eyes were too gentle, reassuring. His gaze locked on her couch and he went to sit on it. He lowered himself slowly like an old, weary man, and rested his perspiring palms flat against his knees.

"The detective is with Pierce." More words he never thought he'd say. He felt gravel in his throat when he swallowed. Still, she was silent. "Go on then; tell me you saw this coming. Tell me I'm my own worst enemy, that I brought this ludicrous outcome upon myself. Tell me I deserve it!" His raised voice didn't frighten her. On the contrary, she raised an eyebrow and placed her pen down on her desk and sat up straighter.

"Why exactly would you expect me to have seen this coming, Lucifer? I mean, every time I try to be direct with you, you take my advice to mean something completely different. So I have to believe that whether you wanted to acknowledge it or not, you saw this coming. You're angry because you pushed Chloe away and now she's trying to move on. What other choice have you left her?"

"But that's not what she's doing, Doctor!" he insisted passionately. "She's just traded in one immortal for another. How is she going to be happy with a man who won't grow old, is cursed by God himself, can't die..." He trailed off as he watched the slightest of satisfied smirks ghost across Linda's lips. "What? Does this amuse you? I'll have you know I'm from a place where they send doctors who enjoy seeing their patients in pain and—"

"Lucifer," she sighed, exasperated. She leaned back into her chair, pushing a little away from her desk and tossing her head back to face the ceiling and closed her eyes. "You're projecting," she said, eyes firmly shut. "All the things wrong with Pierce are things that you think are wrong with you too. All the reasons you feel you can't be with Chloe. Pierce is as close to you as she can get, as far as bad relationship material goes. No offense," she half-snorted. "But you didn't save her from anything. She just found another you, basically. She's moving on. It's what you wanted. Let her do this." She finally rolled her head back down to look at him. The pity was waning from her eyes, but she hid her irritation well. She was sick of this; honestly, even he picked up on it. He had no idea why. Wasn't he paying her for this?

"I'm sorry, excuse me," he said, making a slicing motion with his hand. "Did you just say to let the detective embark on a doomed love affair with the world's first murderer? Who are you and what have you done with Linda. Is that you, Maze? Have you killed Linda and turned her into a skin suit?"

Linda chuckled darkly. For a moment he seriously considered the skin suit to be a possibility. Her expression devolved into a tight mask that her facial muscles fought hard to control. It shocked him, and that was saying something.

"What is it with you immortals, hmm? Why come here to earth at all? What is it that the 'Divine ones' hope to gain from screwing with the lives of helpless humans? I mean, I get that power is hugely addictive and your ideas of morality are far, far removed from ours, but what's the deal?" She yelled, throwing her hands up at the sky. Her gaze lingered above her for a moment, and Lucifer thought even his Father might have taken pause at the look Linda was sending Heavenward.

It struck Lucifer in brick-like fashion that, perhaps, Linda was not well.

"Doctor, are you quite alright? You seem less than enthused about helping me, which is normally something you're very interested in, and I'm becoming a tad concerned." His brow furrowed as he studied her. Her jaw was clenched tight as she began to take slow, deep breaths.

"You're right, Lucifer. I apologize. I'm not myself today." Linda stood, shoulders rigid, and walked stiffly to her office door. She left everything on her desk, so Lucifer knew she couldn't be leaving for the night. She opened the door and took a step back, then indicated with her hand that she meant for him to exit. Promptly.

He didn't budge from the couch, just stared at her, flabbergasted.

"Linda, if I've done something to offend—"

"It isn't you. Well actually—no. It isn't you. But right now, I just really, really need my own space. And I'm sorry because I know that's not professional and my job is to help you with your problems—but this I can't help you with, Lucifer. We've gone around in circles about this and I'm—" she sighed heavily and massaged her temples, "tired. So, so...tired." Her voice broke. "I think you should go home, get some rest, or try to. You're the Devil. You're nothing short of brilliant. Maybe the reason you haven't figured this out is because you're relying on me to do it for you, hoping I'll find an easier way. But there is no easy answer to how we should live. Every decision you make, it could hurt someone else." She blinked, looked down, bit her lip. "But not making a decision at all hurts everyone."

Lucifer just sat there, taking in her words. He didn't know what had disturbed her so completely, and she wouldn't tell him if he asked. He rose and straightened his suit, looking down at his shoes. He walked toward her and the door, pausing briefly to look her in the eye. Hers were shining with hurt and apologies.

"Thank you, Doctor. Goodnight."

It was all he could say.

As he pressed the button to call the elevator, his traitorous mind bombarded him with a terrible image of the detective and Pierce enjoying themselves on their date. She would move her head and shoulders along to the music, perhaps sing a few words under her breath. Pierce would be awkward because he wouldn't have been on a date in literal ages, being so consumed with his own death. The detective would find his ineptitude at romance endearing. They'd chat about the music, probably talk about work, definitely talk about Lucifer. He would offer to follow her home to make sure she got inside okay; that was old-fashioned and sickeningly chivalrous and he wouldn't know that chivalry in romantic relationships was widely known to be dead. The detective would accept his offer out of surprise and affection at his kindness.

Lucifer was sure she wouldn't try to kiss him, but if Pierce initiated it, she might be receptive. Then the vision of Pierce leaning in toward her with one goal in mind burned into his brain and it cemented his worries, all his fears. He stepped into the elevator, struggling to keep his breath even, and turned around to face the doors as they closed.

He spoke out loud, but in a weak whisper. Still, he knew his Father would hear.

"I think I've made a horrible mistake."

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