Author's notes:

Hello guys :)

This story was in my mind since the end of the season two. I needed to write something else than my usual stories and to finally write this vague idea running in my mind for months, now.

My french beta challenged me to write only about Lucifer's POV. And that's what I'll try to do. Sorry for the ones who love Chloe's POV or any other POV.

EDIT - The story has been checked so you shouldn't find many mistakes and odd grammatical choices (thank you so much for that Kay_Kat!)

Musique advice :

1) " The World is unraveling " - Milck (soundtrack from the last episode).
2) " Dear God " - Lawless feat. Sydney Wayser.


DISCLAIMER : the characters didn't belong to me. They belong to Fox/ netflix

Happy reading !


NO MORE GOING BACKWARDS


"No more going backwards"

Warm.

Searing, even.

Why searing?

He had no idea. He didn't really want to know why, actually.

He just wanted it to stop, that this unbearable heat stops lapping at his body and mind. He just wanted to stop feeling this furnace. This stinging pain in his skull intensified by this steady burning in the air.

Where the hell was he?

Why couldn't he open his eyes or simply move the rest of his body?

The possibility of being back in Hell quickly crossed his mind, but faded as quickly. That wasn't possible. He couldn't be in Hell. How could he have been back there, except by his own physical death?

Was that it? Was he dead?

No.

He could now feel the caress of his laborious breath against his hand, the steady lifting of his chest with each new inhalation along with another sensation each time more painful than the previous one. More conscious than the last few seconds, or maybe longer than that, he managed to name this rough thing that was itching his skin and frequently lashing his face.

Sand.

No return to Hell, then.

Hell was surely a quite warm place, but it hadn't arid area of this kind. Not as far as he knew, at least. And he knew enough about this place to be pretty sure of himself. Still, he couldn't be so affirmative about his current situation. Not until he'd finally decide to regain control of his body and mind.

And with all the strength he could still have inside him, Lucifer slowly opened his eyes.

An unbearable brightness assaulted his retinas, forcing him to briefly close his eyes again to avoid becoming blind for the rest of his existence. If the Devil could be exposed to this king of risk, of course. He made another attempt, moistening his lips with his tongue. These seemed want to rival with the aridity nearby. His throat was as searing as the air he was breathing, which didn't reduce Lucifer's discomfort. Once accustomed to the brightness around him, he saw the vague edges of his right arm supporting his head as heavy as lead that he tried to lift from a few inches.

One move after another.

He could do this.

He felt suddenly nauseous as he began to lean on his forearm to get back on his feet, Lucifer clutching his hand in the burning sand. His heart was beating fiercely inside his chest, as if he had been doing intense physical training or something.

All this didn't make any sense.

Lucifer closed his eyes, inhaling deeply the stifling air filled with sand before leaning more on his numbed forearms. The world strongly reeled all around him, making briefly eclipsing the strong brightness of this arid area, but Lucifer stubbornly kept sustaining his momentum. He staggered once standing on his legs, almost collapsing again on the ground.

Come on, Luci... You can do this!

He swallowed, the inside of his mouth remaining stubbornly indifferent to this attempt of dampening. The burning sensation didn't lower either once he managed to stay more or less steady on his both legs.

Everything was burning around him.

The sand was burning his bare, skinned feet. The wind was burning the damaged skin of his bare chest. Just as the blazing star, that he had once created with his Father, was tirelessly tormenting his eyes, swallowing the smallest part of water that could possibly have remained inside his aching body. Breathless, Lucifer mechanically placed his hand before his eyes, hoping – quite stupidly – to stop the inevitable sunlight. The desert was still really fuzzy in front of him, with vague figures suggesting a few dense bushes or distant mountains.

Everything was blurring. The landscape, his thoughts...

How did he get here?

Lucifer quickly lowered his arm, tired of trying in vain to soften his pain. The sun wouldn't suddenly stop shining in the sky just "Just because he wanted it to... not anymore, anyway. It was more important to him to find out what had brought him to this desert, far from any honorable human civilization. And far from the rest of his clothes, it seemed.

He tried to remember the latest events, his thoughts clashing inside his skull before gathering in a more or less coherent thread. He remembered visiting Linda. He remembered calling the Detective without having her on the line, leaving a message before hanging up.

And then...

A flash of pain split his skull, Lucifer taking his head in his hands as he let out a hoarse cry.

You d—… not have a choice !

Sam—! You can no longer esc… —ine justice !

The strong pain faded quickly, leaving behind only a shooting pain inside his skull. Lucifer took a noisy, hoarse breath, blinking several times with his hands still against his temples.

What the hell was that?

He felt something wet running along his stiff neck. He moved his hand to this spot, then looking with growing confusion a crimson hue covering his fingers.

Blood.

His own blood.

Lucifer stroked his fingers covered in blood, frowning. How could it be his own blood? He was invulnerable. At least, he was when Chloe wasn't around. And she wasn't there, in this desert. It was obvious. He moved his hand covered in blood to his head again, feeling carefully every accessible inch of his achy skull. He stopped this inspection a few moments later, another stabbing pain answering instinctively to his clumsy touch as his fingers brushed the back of his head. His hair wasn't covered with tough sand, but with dried blood. Lucifer held back a plaintive whistling and flinched with the new rush of pain. An odd sensation appeared between his shoulder blades, like an instinctive reaction of his body to the cost of his mind.

A forgotten sensation.

First, he thought to have imagined that soft touch, that heavy weight on his back he hadn't felt since a few years. Since he'd left Hell behind.

No.

Slowly, Lucifer lowered his hand down his side, hardly swallowing, as much by the constant aridity inside his throat as by the strong apprehension he was feeling right now. He turned his head slowly to his left. Then to his right.

No... no.

His breathing became sporadic, responding to the rage and misunderstanding that stifled his entire body, his entire thoughts. He looked up, staring wide-eyed at the blue sky above him, a silent question on his crazed lips and in this horrified expression.

Why?

Why? He never asked Him this! Never!

His huge white wings took their full expansion along his sides, further imposing their return in his life. Whatever his desires, they were back to be at one with him. Lucifer clenched his fists, glaring at the indifferent sky.

"I never asked You this!" he muttered.

What had He imagined, this time, huh?

That Lucifer would welcome this umpteenth manipulation of his own free will because... because what?! Because he'd have suddenly changed his mind, this change manifesting as do not take celestial revenge with the Flaming Sword?! Because he'd preferred to send his mother anywhere else instead of risking other lives with this stupid quarrel?!

Because what?!

He hadn't asked anything in return. Nothing.

He stubbornly stared at the sky with all the hatred he had in him, hoping for a reaction, something that would explain this absurdity a little bit.

Nothing came, except the pestering wind along his wings.

Of course.

Lucifer let out a bitter exclamation and finally lowered his gaze. Of course, he wouldn't get an answer. Why would he get one now, after so many millennia retreated into silence? He looked around him again, losing interest in the untimely return of these appendages in his back to focus on something completely different. He had to find out what had happened to him. And make a quick gateway from this unknown dry place.

Where did he end up? Had he come so far of his own free will or—? No, probably not. Who had brought him here? Why? How?

Why did everything get mixed up in his head?

Lucifer couldn't remember anything after hanging up. He looked again at the bright sun that didn't seem to want to stop its unchanging intensity burning his skin. How long had he been in this desert? He searched the inside of his pockets without finding anything useful. Not a trace of his phone or car keys. Although neither of these things would have been a great help to him right now. He doubted he could find any network here to call Mazikeen or even the Detective t—

Chloe.

His call.

"Bloody Hell..." he swore, worried.

He'd promised her.

No more going backwards.

What would she think of him by not seeing him coming to her home? Definitely the worst. How could he blame her for that? Lucifer was the only one to blame here. He had so often disappointed and hurt her that his disappearance would inevitably appear as another evasion in her eyes.

He had to find her. Clear up this misunderstanding.

But how?

He still didn't where he was and where to go. Walking in this desert, without any guide, it was... he wasn't even sure to be able to walk such a distance. Whatever was the distance to walk to re-join civilization. To re-join her.

Hesitantly, Lucifer looked over his shoulder, his big feathery appendages grazing his burned sides with each of his gesture. He didn't have to walk, strictly speaking. The flight path could replace the sandy path. A possibility quite conceivable if it would be another celestial being than Lucifer.

Impossible, then.

He didn't want their return. And he didn't want to use them in anyway. It was out of the question to give his Father this satisfaction.

That was absolutely out of the question.

Lucifer put his hand covered with sand over his dazzled eyes, scanning one last time the arid area before making a decision. He took a deep breath, his wings vanishing into the relentless sunrays. He lowered his hand and started to walk straight ahead.

The so-called Christ had walked the desert for forty days and forty nights, a mere philosophical mortal crazy enough to interest the Devil himself with this crazy journey. If an insane human could have survived so long in such a place without drinking or even eating...

Lucifer Morningstar could do it as well.

-xXx-


How long was he walking?

A minute?

An hour? A whole day?

The sun hadn't moved an inch, burning Lucifer's bare, skinned back without interruption. Following each step, each wavering step on the arid and stony ground still stretching before him as far as the eye can see.

The wind, lashing sand and chafing his eyes reddened with exhaustion and heat, ruffled his ears from time to time, the noisy blast of air turning into odd words.

You must help me cl… the br… Lucifer!

We ne... to move. Now.

"Shut up..." Lucifer replied weakly, slowly shaking his head to get rid of this odd hearing phenomenon.

Maybe he was hallucinating... Yeah, maybe.

He tried to focus on his disordered progression, on the regular shooting pain along his feet scratched by the rough touch of sand and rocks. One step after another. He didn't have to stop.

Not stop.

Hurry up! They're co—!

He was thirsty.

So thirsty.

Why did his throat remain dry and achy? He needed water. Alcohol would have been preferable, but water now seemed to him a nectar much more precious and a hundred times more enjoyable than all his priceless bottles kept in his penthouse.

Water.

Just one drop. A single drop.

The main part of the troops has been requisitioned to contain the i—

"Shut the hell up!" he wanted to scream with all his strength.

Which wasn't much, actually. An angry murmur was the only thing that hardly came out from his burned mouth. His words, which were intended to be aggressive,Lucifer staggered for some distance, his balance faltering, before collapsing on his knees on the ravaged ground. He stayed like that, breathless with his heart beating fiercely inside his chest.

It wasn't a good sign. Not at all.

The voices stopped, at least.

He pushed on his hands but couldn't stand up. He had to stand up.

He had to move.

But... where?

Lucifer looked in front of him, seeing only the same burned ground, the same rocks and seedlings.

Always the same landscape.

Always the same fatality.

Always the same fear.

Was he lost? Maybe. Maybe not. Hard to say. It was hard for him to think. Breathing, too. When was he getting out of this barren area? An increasingly muggy torpor was teasing his limbs and his will. He'd have liked so much give way to it. Nothing and no one could stop him.

He was alone in the middle of nowhere.

Alone and exhausted.

"So... I'm coming over now to tell you the truth about me."

Lucifer leaned on his hands, straightening up on his shaky legs very slowly.

No way he was staying there.

Lucifer kept walking straight ahead, unwavering. Disregarding the pain, the fatigue and these odd voices that kept whispering in his ears. Disregarding the heat, the thirst... absolutely everything, except for one single thing.

One single person.

One single promise.

"—m coming over," he mumbled to the arid horizon.

He wouldn't break his word. He would never break it and even less to the Detective.

The Devil's word was his bond.

"I'm coming over…."

-xXx-


Everything was so... yellow.

Why?

He was sure there was a logical explanation to this phenomenon, but he couldn't remember it. All he knew came down to this blinding, unvarying hue in front of him.

Strange, really.

The sky shouldn't have been so bright, he thought. The sky should have been blue.

Not yellow. Not so dazzling.

Lucifer kept watching, pursuing his quite relevant study about the unusual hue of the skies. He frowned after a time, another question appearing in his mind.

Wasn't he walking?

Yes, he had walked. In this desert.

And then what?

Just that yellowish bright in front of him.

He'd never really liked this color. It was rough, difficult to wear, even for him. It was really an awful hue. It even managed to seep beyond his closed eyelids now.

Really invasive.

Why did he have to deal with this, already?

He had no idea. Just a vague sensation of urgency. Something to do. Something essential, wasn't it?

Maybe.

This quirky yellow hue went further, tirelessly assaulting his eyes, but also his body. Lucifer felt weak tremors affecting his shoulder and then his arm.

"—ack...off..." he tried to say.

The color began to make sounds just as strange. A muffled, steady noise that came with each new insistent tremor along his numb limb. A color wasn't supposed to act that way.

Another tremor against his arm came. Just like another indistinct sound.

"Go... Go away, " he mumbled, turning his head imperceptibly to the side, annoyed.

The color forced him to face it by firmly holding his face with its hands, Lucifer grumbling other incomprehensible insults while struggling weakly in its embrace. He froze after a while, confused.

Hands.

A color couldn't have hands, could it?

"—ir? Open your eyes! Come on!"

And a color couldn't definitely speak.

Open his eyes.

Open his eyes...

Lucifer began to fight against the numbness of his limbs and mind, he fought against the brightness and opened his eyelids slightly.

A blurry shadow was before him, shaking him gently and shouting encouragement. He frowned before closing his eyes again, dazzled by the merciless rays of the star in the sky.

"No, no, no! Come on! Wake up!" said the shadow.

It didn't seem like he was sleeping, though. He was tired, but...

Lucifer felt something hard against his crazed lips. Something hard and wet.

Water.

He tried to lift his head and grab with his hand the bottle that was moistening his mouth, which was grazed by heat and sand. That hands that held his face moved to his back to straighten him a little and help him drinking more easily. The liquid ran along his palate and inside his throat in an unbroken delightful flow, but it quickly stopped. Lucifer then opened his eyes again, letting out a groan of protest against the person responsible for this interruption.

The previous shadow had faded for more precise shapes. A face. A worried look. A man he didn't know.

"Easy there. If you drink too fast, you're gonna throw up on me and I really don't want to take that chance. Can you tell me your name?"

Throwing up?

The Devil didn't throw up.

Lucifer blinked several times, puzzled.

Who was that man? Why did he support him like that in his arms? Why did he want his name?

He lost interest in that person to turn his head to the side. Beyond the steady light of the sun, he could now see the asphalt road frequently smoothed by the sand of the desert it was crossing. This road where he seemed to have been lying for a while. He could see a car a few feet away, the driver's side door wide open. Probably the man's car, who was trying to catch his attention.

What now?

He winced as he felt the tremors through his numb body as this stranger shook him more sharply.

"Your name! What's your name?"

His name.

Well, if he really wanted to know...

" L-Lu...ifer. "

"Lucifer? The Devil himself, huh?" he joked, finally allowing him to drink another sip of water. "You're lucky I was driving nearby! I'm Zach."

Lovely.

The water ran along his chin, then dripping on his chest burned by sunlight. The Devil... burned.

Again.

"No, no! Stay with me, Lucifer, okay? Open your eyes! I'm gonna take you to the hospital. You just have to stay awake... Can you do that for me?"

Had he closed his eyes again?

He didn't even notice. He felt sorry for this. Apparently, his body refused to obey him. Like his thoughts. And maybe it wasn't that bad. He was tired of that yellow. Tired of struggling against sleep without any acceptable reason.

No.

There was a reason.

Of course, there was one. He remembered it, now.

Lucifer groaned as he tried to move his arm, cursing his weakness, and gripped Zach's sleeve with shaking fingers. He struggled to keep his eyes open, his eyelids slowly lowering on them with impressive efficiency as he hardly said a few words to this do-gooder:

"Decker. C-Ch...'oe Decker. LAPD...'must..."

"Decker?" Zach repeated. "I must what? Hey! Stay with me, pal!"

He wasn't going anywhere, though.

He was just closing his eyes, that's all.

Better to close his eyes.

This yellow was terrible.

-xXx-


"—ojave's desert. All he could tell me was that he seemed been there for a while. One day, maybe more than that."

"We can check the area, but—"

"I know, Dan. It would be a miracle if we found anything useful."

What were that voices?

He couldn't put a name to them. He knew them, however. There was a creasing sound, followed by a sigh expressing some helplessness.

"Look, the doctors said he was out of danger."

"Yeah, I know. But—" protested the more feminine voice.

More pleasant to hear, too.

"He's fine. It's Lucifer... He'll get over it."

Another sigh. He would have liked to know who was speaking, who was sighing so much. Know where he was and why. There must have been a reason for his presence here, right?

There must have been a reason for this.

Another sharp sound. Footsteps.

"He'll be fine," repeated the familiar male voice. "Trust me, Chloe."

Chloe.

Chloe...

Right, he remembered now. He had to find the Detective. He had to tell her. Tell her that all this was a terrible misunderstanding. She had to know...

Lucifer's left hand moved on the rough sheet covering his numb body, this simple gesture quickly awakening a shooting pain inside his limbs. He groaned weakly, caught off guard by all these truly uncomfortable sensations.

Why did he feel like his skull was split in two parts?

"Lucifer?" asked the female voice.

He tried to answer, but only an incomprehensible grunt came out of his mouth. If he couldn't say two consistent syllables, perhaps could he open his eyes? It was worth the try, anyway.

At first, he saw nothing more than the same darkness, so much so that he thought he'd felt miserably with this, too. Then, the darkness suddenly vanished from his field of vision, revealing hazy shapes at first. Two people. A rather tough man and a woman with blond hair standing near a window with lowered blinds.

The woman turned to the man, quickly grabbing his arm as her still hazy face remained turned toward Lucifer.

"Find a doctor... now!" she told him.

A doctor?

For who? Him?

Lucifer heard the man going out of the room like a shot as he blinked several times. He looked around him confusingly. He stared for a long time at the IV hanging over his head and the cardiac monitor next to it.

Was he in a hospital?

"Lucifer? You hear me?"

He looked down and realized that the young woman had approached without him noticing. He blinked again, her rough and hazy features gradually becoming clearer to his relief.

It wasn't any young woman. Certainly not.

It was her.

It was her gray eyes. Her mouth. Her face.

"C'loe..." he managed to say with difficulty.

Damn it, his throat was so dry.

Chloe seemed to read his mind and took a glass of water near the bed, helping him to drink a few sips under her worried look. Lucifer swallowed and gave her a faint smile.

Better. Much better.

"Seems the devil can also drink water from time to time," the Detective teased him, though he noticed a slight tremor in her voice.

He wanted to laugh, but his body called him to order.

Right.

Mortality. Fortunately, the Detective wasn't with him in this bloody desert.

"It's definitely not worth a good Scotch..." he whispered, looking at her.

"Scotch is not recommended for severe dehydration, unfortunately."

"Well, that's unfortunate."

They both stopped talking. Chloe kept looking at him, a gleam he couldn't quite define crossing her gaze at one point before disappearing. She put the glass on the table and sat on a seat near him, giving him a forced smile. He noticed that red marks were encircling her eyes.

Had she cried? Why?

"What happened?" asked Lucifer, quite disturbed by his partner's sudden silence.

"A tourist found you lying on the highway in the middle of the desert a few hours ago," Chloe explained, looking toward the corridor before focusing her attention on him again.

"Desert...yeah, I remember."

"What else do you remember?" she asked him like a good cop and the worried friend she was.

Lucifer tried to focus, but his thoughts ran away from him. He couldn't remember anything useful except his call.

"I remember calling you last night, that's all. I'm sorry to have let you down, Detective. I can assure you th—"

She had frowned in perplexity while listening to him, sitting up before placing her hand on his, more worried.

"Lucifer..." she said, interrupting his clumsy apologies. "Can you tell me what's the today's date?"

He looked at her, puzzled.

"Well..." he thought out loud. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but yesterday was the sixth of June. Why do you ask, Detective?"

She stared at him without batting an eye, clasping his hand with hers as her partner stared at her too, confused.

Why the today's date was so important?

He heard Daniel's annoying voice outside the room but ignored it. Chloe's prolonged silence and her look, both expressing an emotion far beyond anxiety, caught his full attention.

"Detective?"

"Lucifer... it wasn't the sixth of June yesterday," she told him, while carefully watching his reactions.

He kept staring at her without understanding. Why did yesterday's date upset her that much now? It couldn't be that important, could it? It was just a date.

A date. That's all.

"What do you mean?" he couldn't help asking, fazed.

"It was..." she stopped, hardly swallowing, looking anywhere else in the room except at him. "It was the twelfth of July."

Twelfth of July.

No. No, that was impossible. Just yesterday, he was coming out of the hospital – to come back a few hours later, it seemed – and...

No. It couldn't be true.

Lucifer gently shook his head while frowning, confused. Chloe looked at him again, squeezing his hand almost painfully to tell him the horrible reality he was struggling to deny.

"You've been missing for a long time, Lucifer. More than a month..."


TBC


Author's notes

So:? XD

What do you think about this first chapter?
Let me a little review as always. I'll answer to each one of them as always ^^
Thank you for reading this first chapter.

Bye !