Partners, Friends…Something More

Chapter One

Day 1

The storm had been brewing for nearly two weeks, growing in ferocity as time anxiously moved forward. One small cloud, light grey and saddened yet fluffy as it should be, had become many clouds, black and angry with a brutal sharpness to their edges. The lightning and the thunder fought relentlessly with one another, battling for dominance of the air until the clatter as beyond deafening. The wind whipped in every direction, threatening to obliterate anything that dared cross its path. And the rain…the rain fell from every surface, the drops collecting until they became a strongly churning ocean of loathing.

He had waited, patiently, through that first week, tracking the storm's progress, learning about it, watching it grow. Within the swirling chaos, he had found exactly what he had expected to find. He had found reason and right, he had found purpose. Then near the middle of the second week, the storm had reached its full potential and had seemed in danger of exploding. Control had started to wane as the intended target of the storm's fury had yet to manifest and he had feared the innocent would receive the brunt of the torrent.

Still, he had continued to wait, unable to do anything more than monitor the storm. He had wandered aimlessly around the city earlier in the afternoon, absently pondering the situation. He had even prayed, prayed for a sign, for a glimpse of the storm's focus, for the deserved outcome. Contrary to his expectation, the sign had come, and rather quickly after his request. Not by words, not by a vision, but by a change in the atmosphere, a heavy electrical charge that had ripped through the air. His skin had tingled in response but he had quickly pushed aside the sensation. There had been another feeling telling him the storm had sensed the change as well. Then deep within his being, he had felt a calling, stronger than anything he had experienced before. He had known in that moment what he needed to do.

As always the case, the answer to his prayers had ushered in a flood of questions. The storm, he knew, would swallow these questions, would add them to the spinning mass of rage and animosity, and grow to a degree he couldn't fathom. Yet he had found himself unable to care about how much suffering the storm's recipient would endure. His only concern had been his new mission, a mission to restore control to the storm, to guide it to its rightful path. To spare the innocent. After having heard all he needed to hear to accomplish fulfillment of this duty, he had surrendered his own questions, his own curiosities, his own anger, and had placed himself in the presence of the storm's creator.

"Good evening, Chloe." Blue eyes, void of their usual spark, lifted from their focus on a stack of papers to meet his gaze. The light from the small lamp on her desk highlighted the arrant hairs that refused to stay tucked into a messily thrown together bun on the back of her head. It also accentuated the pallid nature of her skin, the grey circles under her eyes. The storm she was producing, the restraint she was attempting to maintain, were depleting her energy.

"Amenadiel." The offered greeting was quiet, the smile small yet genuine. "Hey, I'm sorry I haven't returned your call from this morning. It's just…triple homicide," she said, her shoulders rising in a weak shrug.

"No worries," he said with a smile. "May I?" he asked, gesturing towards the empty chair next to her desk.

"Of course." She gently tapped the top of her pen on the desk as he settled himself. "I still haven't heard from Lucifer," she started. "I'm sorry, Amenadiel, but I can't…I can't do it anymore." Her eyes began to fill with tears as she shook her head. "I can't continue looking for him." He reached forward, placing a comforting hand on hers, stilling the tapping of her pen.

"I understand," he assured her. "I do. And I sincerely appreciate everything you've done to look for him. Your assistance in the matter, however, is no longer needed." Chloe's eyes widened, her breath hitched in her throat and the gathering tears tumbled from her lashes.

"No," she whispered. "Tell me he's not…"

"Oh. No. No, no." He chuckled gently and softly squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Chloe. That's not what I meant. Lucifer is not dead." Her shoulders dropped as relief washed over her. "No, he's alive and well." A small push, he thought. "And back in Los Angeles." He felt the tension immediately seize her body, watched her features harden to hide every hint of emotion.

"Is he?" She pulled her hand away and turned her attention to the papers on her desk.

"Yes," he replied, nodding slowly.

"Good," she started with obviously and painfully feigned care. "Good. You…you talked to him?"

"Yeah. I was at his penthouse just an hour ago."

"You know, it's, uh, it's late." Chloe shook her head and pushed her chair away from the desk as she stood. "I should really get home and relieve the babysitter." Amenadiel had been keeping careful tabs on the detective, watching over her since Lucifer's disappearance and he knew the young child was with her father, not at her mother's house under the care of a sitter. Yet it was a lie he would not call out. He could not deter the storm from its path.

"Of course." He stood as she pulled the jacket from the back of her chair and pushed her arms through the sleeves. As she moved to his side, she kept her eyes on the floor.

"I'm happy that you've found your brother, Amenadiel," she said, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black jeans as he watched her walk towards the elevator. Once she was inside and the doors had fully closed, he turned his eyes to the floor and nodded as a small, sad smile graced his lips. He had come with an unfortunate agenda, one that did not include giving the detective details of Lucifer's return. She deserved to know, but more so, she deserved means through which to vent her anger. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he looked at the elevator again. He couldn't protect his brother from the forthcoming storm, and, truthfully, he didn't want to.

Lucifer

Chloe stood as still as possible, concentrating on keeping her breathing calm and controlled as the elevator ascended to the building's top floor, to Lucifer's penthouse. Tightly closing her eyes, she hoped to prevent the release of the tears she had been holding back over the previous two weeks. They had housed sadness and hurt, confusion and uncertainty, yet in the scant thirty minutes since learning of Lucifer's return to the city, they seemed to hold more anger than any other emotion.

Maybe she shouldn't have wandered by Lux, maybe she should have gone home, forgotten about Lucifer the way it appeared he had forgotten about her. A loud voice scratched at the back of Chloe's thoughts, reminding her that Lucifer, after all, had a reputation. It was not one simply blown out of proportion. She had witnessed the actual manifestation herself. The Brittanys, Dr. Martin, the countless men and women that floated through Lux, the deceased victims of a recent case, the near literal parade she had called to the station nearly three weeks earlier, all examples of the fast and loose life he led. Red flags never hidden from her.

Chloe refused to believe she had succumbed to his game. She knew how he played. His behavior, his flirting, his innuendoes had never phased her. How could she have fallen for something that didn't affect her? No, what she felt for him was not some trick of the mind, not some promise of nothing more than physical pleasure. She wanted to hear him say that something beyond his control had caused his absence. She wanted to hear him say that he never meant to leave her.

Maybe Lucifer was scared. She was. So much had happened in the twenty-four hours since they had embraced outside of the college, since they had looked into each other's eyes and confirmed what was building between them was more than a passing fling. The unnamed connection they shared had been nearly lost with her poisoning and seemingly impending death. The feelings, the discovery had teetered on the edge of destruction before having an opportunity to develop.

Chloe wanted, needed to run straight into Lucifer's arms, to fall to the floor tangled with him, to have him kiss away all of her insecurities, all of her doubts about their relationship. She needed to see the wonder in his eyes as she had during their "moment" in the penthouse, after their kiss on the beach. They were a team, a good team. They were real.

Weren't they?

And he had never lied to her, would never lie to her.

Would he?

The elevator doors opened and Chloe found herself steps into Lucifer's penthouse before she realized she had moved. The room was dark, lit only by the yellow lights of the liquor wall. The white sheets that had covered the furniture were gone, each chair and sofa, each table, the piano, all sitting proudly on display as though they were never hidden, as though Lucifer's disappearance had been a dream. Chloe moved farther into the penthouse towards the piano. She released a tense sigh as her fingers traced the sculpted edge of the instrument. It hadn't been a dream. A nightmare, but not a dream.

Chloe drew a shattered breath and willed the building tears to stop. Whatever his reasons for leaving, Lucifer deserved a rather bitter piece of her mind, deserved to hear just how pathetically selfish he had been, leaving without a word while she recovered in the hospital. But her walls were up, and they were high. She would not cry in front of him, she would not scream. She would not let her emotions get the better of the things she had to say. If the signs had been right, if she had been nothing more than a game to him, then he did not deserve the satisfaction of seeing how badly his deserting had affected her.

"Detective." Startled by the sudden break in the silence, Chloe quickly turned around. Lucifer stood before her, close yet just out of arms' reach, wrapped in a black silk robe. His features cast dark shadows across his face, obscuring his eyes in a way that made them appear menacing, in a way that caused the urge to wrap her arms around him bury itself beyond discovery. "What a pleasant surprise." She swallowed hard, confused by and wary of the sharpness of his voice.

"So, it's true," she started quietly. "You're back."

"Indeed."

"Amenadiel told me you were here, but I…I had to come see for myself." She shrugged gently. "You know, since you haven't answered any of my calls or the text messages I left you over the last two weeks."

"Why would I?"

"Why would – Lucifer," she breathed with disbelief. "You left. Just up and disappeared, and no one knew where you were! What if something had happened to you?" She dared a step closer to him. "We're partners, Lucifer, friends, and maybe something…" Her shoulders dropped a bit. "I thought maybe something more." He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, well, about that," he started. "That's a long, very tragic story of what never was." Chloe frowned and the tears began to shine in her eyes.

"What does that mean?"

"Lucifer?" Chloe kept her eyes on Lucifer but turned her head towards the unfamiliar voice. "Who are you talking to?" A woman with long and curly brown hair surfaced from the darkness of the balcony to take residence at his side. Slender fingers appeared from the sleeves of a robe identical to the one Lucifer wore. They wrapped around his elbow, slid slowly to his hand, curled around his fingers. "Who's your friend?" she asked with a pleasant smile. Chloe tore her attention from Lucifer to look at the woman. She felt a flush tinge her cheeks, embarrassed that she could not hide the hurt in her expression, the fully formed tears in her eyes.

"This is Detective Decker," he answered, gesturing towards her. "Detective, this is Candy Morningstar. My wife."

"Your…wife," she repeated with a single nod.

"Yes."

"Huh." She nodded again. "Okay. Um, I'm going to go. I'm, uh, I'm sorry for interrupting." She quickly moved towards the elevator and struck the call button as soon as her fingers could reach it.

"Detective?" Lucifer called as he slowly followed. Once she was inside the confines of the car, she turned to him. "Aren't you going to congratulate me?" Chloe looked at the woman, giving her a good once-over from head to toe before purposefully turning her angry eyes back to him. His expression hardened, his anger challenging hers. She slammed her palm against the control panel inside the elevator and the doors closed, severing their icy stares.

"Lucifer?" He dropped his chin and turned slightly towards Candy's voice. "That was the detective?" she started quietly as she approached him. "The detective?" His eyes closed and he nodded. She stood behind him and gently ran her hands over his shoulders and down the length of his arms. His shoulders fell with the release of a long, heavy sigh. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"No," he answered quietly. "I do not believe I am." Candy offered an unseen, sad smile as she rested her cheek against his back and comfortingly wound her arms around his waist.

"You have your reasons, I know, and I know better than to ask, but I am going to say it." He turned in her arms, meeting her eyes with a raised eyebrow. "You're an idiot," she chided gently.

"Perhaps," he conceded.

"No, not perhaps." She lifted her hands to his face, gently cupping his cheeks. "No woman holds that much hurt in her eyes without having held that much love in her heart." Candy dropped her hands and gently patted his chest. "You could tell her," she started. "She is a detective; she would understand."

"No doubt she would," he said with a nod. "At least, in regards to your situation."

"And all those reasons you have that I won't ask you to tell me?"

"That's an entirely different matter, I'm afraid." He sighed quietly. "One the detective would be better off not knowing."

Lucifer

The phone buzzed in Chloe's pocket for the twelfth time. Maybe the seventeenth. Honestly, she had lost count after the third buzz. She stood before the door of her apartment, wondering just when she had arrived. She could not recall the drive from Lux. She didn't remember leaving the establishment, didn't remember getting into her car. She didn't remember any turns or streets or intersections and stoplights. She didn't remember taking the short walkway to her apartment. Yet there she stood, quite possibly more oblivious to the world around her than she had been during her drive.

Despite her inattentiveness, she couldn't shake the image of Lucifer's eyes, icy and black, and so coldly directed at her. He had never acted that way towards her; had never looked at her with anything other than soft fascination and respect, and every so often a smoldering curiosity. Even after her car accident when he suddenly had become self-destructive and dark, and had purposely tried to push her away, his eyes never held the contempt she had just witnessed. The thought of his expression sent shivers of distress through her body, made her physically ill, made her chest hurt. They were sensations she only felt when she was afraid. When had he become someone she needed to fear? When I started to let him in, she thought.

Chloe's fingers gingerly closed around the doorknob and she quietly let herself into the apartment. Never again would another person gain her trust. Never again would she let someone touch her heart; see her heart. Never again would she allow herself to be susceptible to the pain. Lesson learned. The hard way, but learned nonetheless.

"Decker!" Maze cheered. "I've been trying to call you," she said, holding her phone in the air for show. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming home. But I knew you wouldn't back out of girls' night." She placed her hands on her hips and regarded Chloe as she turned to close the door. "You should change though," she suggested. "I mean the shirt and the knee-high boots are cute and all, but we're not doing cute tonight, sweetheart." Chloe turned to see Maze's eyes light up. "I have the perfect skirt to go with those boots," she said excitedly. "We're going to slut you up good!" Maze's smile fell as she moved towards Chloe, getting a better look at her face. The confusion, the sadness, the superficial normalness that had graced Chloe's features over the past weeks were gone, replaced with something Maze couldn't name, something that truly caused her concern. "Hey," she started, slowly continuing forward. "What is it?" Chloe's eyes drifted to the floor and she offered a partial shake of her head as an answer. Placing her hands on Chloe's shoulders, Maze tried to level their gazes, tried to get the human's attention. "Why don't we…stay here tonight? Just you and me." Chloe nodded numbly. "Okay. Do you, uh, still wanna get drunk?" Blinking slowly through her haze of thoughts, Chloe lifted her chin and focused on Maze's brown eyes.

"Absolutely," she answered.