A/N: It's here, just like I've promised.

I sincerely hope you'll enjoy that, since I'm not sure myself if it's that good — although I'm pleased with how it turned out and I feel like their reactions and interactions are probable, I'm not 100% sure you'll think about them the same. But hopefully you'll find them fitting too.

Unbetaed, but proof-read.

Oh, and I don't know if you've noticed, but English is not my first language, so mentioning possible mistakes is still very appreciated, thanks!

Without further ado, enjoy!

Chapter 2: Scared Of The Fall

She couldn't remember what exactly she was dreaming about, but it involved an angry peacock and a hellish blade covered with peanut butter. Although it wasn't the weirdest thing Trixie had seen while sleeping, there was something off about that dream—something that made her feel really bad—so she was happy that a sudden scream woke her up.

At first, she wasn't sure who the voice belonged to, but soon she recognised Lucifer's distinctive accent. His presence made her feel very excited, and she would've certainly jumped out of her bed and rushed to the living room if she hadn't heard anger in his voice.

She looked over at the door, her brows furrowed. She couldn't understand why he was so angry, and she didn't remember hearing him sounding so… scary before. Maybe something bad had happened and—Mommy.

However, before Trixie could make even a slightest move—let alone come up with what to do—she heard footsteps, approaching quickly her room. She promptly closed her eyes, deciding that whoever it was, it was best if she pretended to still be asleep. "Monkey?," she heard her mother's soft whisper, and immediately felt relieved.

But it only made her more curious as to why Lucifer had got so emotional. So, as soon as her Mom left her room, Trixie lifted her head up. Having heard footsteps getting farther away, she climbed out of her bed and tiptoed across the room, careful not to make any noise. Cracking the door open, enough to peek into the living room, she could finally see what was happening.

Lucifer was standing close to the front door, his body tense, and he was looking down when her Mom approached him. Their voices were lower this time, so Trixie couldn't make out what exactly they were saying. Both of them looked upset, though, and soon her worries came back.

Her breath quickened and she felt wetness gathering in her eyes. The memory of her Dad arguing with Maze immediately came to her mind, and she almost broke in tears again. She couldn't lose another friend, because adults tend to do and say stupid things while they're angry—just like her Dad had told her. What's more, Trixie knew that if Lucifer and her Mom parted ways, Mommy would be really unhappy, and that would only make everything worse.

Why they were even doing this, Trixie couldn't understand. Lucifer—and Maze, too—were so happy, hanging out with them. They were family. But then they were destroying it suddenly, as if it all meant nothing to them.

If it wasn't for Lucifer's words, Trixie might've broken down. "Do you really want to know what is my problem, Detective?," she heard, having noticed with horror that Lucifer had almost stormed out of the house.

Trixie held her breath, waiting anxiously for what was going to happen. A part of her expected a bunch of hurtful words again, but it quickly turned out she was wrong, luckily. She watched as Lucifer closed his eyes and braced himself as if he was about to do something very hard.

Then, out of the blue, a beautiful pair of wings appeared behind his back. Trixie's eyes went wide as she took in that incredible view.

She had been imagining those many times, but not one of her fantasies could ever match the sight before her. They were so beautiful, white as snow, with a majestic aura to them.

Trixie smiled softly to herself. She had heard the story of how Lucifer lost—or rather got rid of—his wings—Maze had surprisingly avoided many details, saying only that he'd not wanted them anymore, but, even despite Trixie's curiosity, she hadn't asked about them as her friend had seemed upset by that memory.

The girl was very happy now, though, that he'd got them back, they were gorgeous. She was already looking forward to the morning, so she could draw what she saw. Despite her eyelids growing heavy, she stayed at the door, nervously anticipating her Mom's reaction.

Chloe's breath hitched, as her fingers let go of Lucifer's arm hastily. Her mind seemed to come to a halt upon seeing a pair of striking wings, sticking out of her partner's back. They barely fitted within the hallway, their full span quite likely wider than the living room.

However, it wasn't their size that got her attention, not really. Pearly feathers shined in the lights that illuminated her apartment, but she could swear there was an unearthly glow, too, emanating from them. They clearly didn't belong here, their divinity obvious even to her sceptical mind.

She took a few steps back, her hands finding its way to the counter to support her weight, since her knees suddenly felt like they had turned to jelly. It was… it had to be… but it wasn't even possible. It couldn't be. It had to be a very effective practical joke. A very impossible practical joke.

Her eyes shut, as she tried desperately to gather her thoughts. Sadly, her efforts had barely any result, as her mind only filled with dozens of memories of all the things about Lucifer that had made no actual sense up until this very moment. A quiet voice in the back of her mind mocked her that it had taken her so long to accept that there was something supernatural about her partner, like the fact that he was a freaking angel.

Chloe hid her face in her trembling hands, her breath getting shallow. Panic began to rise in her chest and she had to actively remind herself that having a mental breakdown right now, in front of Lucifer, wouldn't end well. Even if she couldn't wrap her mind around what she had just seen—it had essentially turned her whole life upside down—she assumed that it must have been difficult for him, too.

If it wasn't for her shock right now, she would've laughed humourlessly. He'd been right back then—she really was selfless to a nauseating degree, as in spite of finding out that she hadn't known the actual truth about the world around her, she still found herself worrying about her partner. Her partner—the Devil. That was ridiculous.

She groaned, pressing her fingers firmly to her temples. She had all the right to freak out—she knew she did—and yet her thoughts kept coming back to him, and not he's-the-real-Devil him, but he's-her-partner-best-friend-and-maybe-more him. It was… so confusing.

"Detective?," he called her softly, bringing her attention back to him.

She slowly looked up, bracing herself. Their eyes met and she was able to see wariness and fear all over his face. He had to be very anxious about her reaction, which she didn't really know how to feel about.

The wings were still there and she couldn't help but wonder how they even worked—how he was capable of walking around with these majestic things completely hidden from view. The fact that there was very little that she understood about them only made her feel more lost in all of this. It wasn't her world, after all—it was something utterly foreign to her, which in turn made it seem even scarier and more confusing.

Lucifer must've noticed the way she was glancing over them, and, with a roll of his shoulders, they were gone. "How did you—?" Her wavering voice broke before she could even finish that question.

He just shrugged. "Perhaps we ought to leave discussing the details for later, eh?" His eyes never left her face, clearly studying her reaction. "Are you okay?"

Chloe laughed nervously, a strained hysterical giggle escaping her throat. "Coffee wouldn't do anymore," she said weakly, not knowing herself if she meant it as a joke or just a casual remark.

Lucifer seemed puzzled by her inept attempts to use humour to dissolve some tension. She could say his anxiety had only grown, but he stayed silent, watching her intently. Only now did she realise that he hadn't moved even an inch during that whole time. As comforting as it was, she found it a bit distressing, too. He was clearly waiting for a more serious reaction, a question or something of the like.

She took a deep breath, trying to clear her thoughts enough to hold an actual conversation. Once again, the implications of what had just happened came to her mind. "So, it is all true?," she asked quietly, toying with the bullet on the chain around her neck. (Later on, she would have to ask him about that, too.)

"Yes." He nodded firmly, still wary.

Chloe cleared her throat, trying to accept the fact that it meant she was talking to the real Devil. "They weren't bizarre metaphors, some insanely devoted method acting or anything?"

He shook his head dismissively, snorting. "No."

Chloe slowly nodded, her eyes focused somewhere far away. "You really are the Devil," she stated plainly, unsure of how she felt about it.

Her partner winced slightly, apparently reading her statement as a not-so-favourable assessment. "Yes." His voice was somewhat strangled and she could easily tell he was afraid of where that conversation was heading.

And, quite frankly, so was she. "It's—a lot to take in." She puffed, frowning.

"I don't doubt that," he said in a small voice, closing his eyes as if he dreaded asking the next question, or rather hearing an answer to it. "Do you want me to leave?"

Chloe looked up at him, pursing her lips. She wasn't sure herself if she wanted him to go or stay, she had no idea what was worse. If he left, she would peacefully deal with it all on her own or just convince herself that it was only a mere product of her too vivid imagination. On the other hand, she had so many question—about God, Heaven and Hell, about him, about all of it—that only he could answer right now. "No—Yes—I don't know." She threw her arms in the air, annoyed by her own indecision. "I need time to process it—all of it," she explained, desperately hoping he would understand.

Lucifer tried to smile reassuringly, but it came off as a little forced. "That you do and that's not an issue," he declared immediately. "I will provide you with as much time as you wish."

"Lucifer," and then she paused, hit by the realisation that she'd just called the Devil by his name. "Okay, that's actually weird," she muttered, slightly confounded. "Morningstar, really?" She looked back at him, suddenly baffled by his choice of the last name.

He sighed, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "It's accurate, so I do not have to lie about my identity," he explained patiently. "And, as you know perfectly well, people don't usually treat it very seriously."

Chloe just shook her head, deciding to drop the subject since it wasn't the most important thing she wanted to talk about right now. "Look—I can see it's difficult for both of us, but—don't run off," she said earnestly, pleased with how steady her voice was. "You tend to do this, and as confused as I feel right now, I know we have to talk about what just happened." She took a step closer to him, her boldness surprising both of them. "And I really want to talk about it, I'm just not sure if it's a conversation for one evening."

She looked at him pleadingly. Yes, she was looking at the Devil, but it hadn't fully sank in just yet, and who she saw was her partner she could trust with her life. Somehow, she was unable to combine those two personas into one, and she opted that for the sake of her mental health it was better to talk to him as if he was no more than Lucifer she knew and cared so much about.

Lucifer cleared his throat, nodding slowly. Although she had a point and he was aware that fleeing right after such a revelation would be very unfair to the Detective, a good part of him felt like it would be so much easier, vanishing from the face of the earth, maybe even literally.

However, just like he had told her back at the very beginning of their partnership, everyone had to face consequences of their actions, and deep down he knew it also applied to errors of his impulsiveness. So that Lucifer put his hands back in his pockets and waited for questions that were about to come.

Upon seemingly making sure he didn't intend to go anywhere just yet, Chloe took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. "So, God really exists?," she asked neutrally, but he could see concern in her eyes.

"He does," he said, doing his best to convey as much contempt in this two words as he was capable.

She seemed not to notice it, though, too immersed in her thoughts. "I—I haven't actually believed in any of that—," she admitted quietly, an undertone of fear in her voice.

He gave her an incredulous look. It genuinely surprised him sometimes how fearful humans were of his absent Father, considering his normally bordering on lacking involvement in their lives. Pity that it didn't seem to apply to that one woman he cared about.

"As if He even cared, Detective," he scoffed. "He certainly enjoys His own cult, but, as much as it pains me to say that, He's still more open-minded than most of those people," he admitted reluctantly, sparing a quick glance at the ceiling.

For Chloe, though, it was clearly quite overwhelming. "Okay." She nodded, her eyes still absent. "And Heaven and Hell are apparently a thing, too."

"Yes, but, in all honesty, I've enjoyed my stay on Earth the most so far," Lucifer admitted wholeheartedly, unable to stop himself from making that comment.

Chloe barely spared him and his words a second thought, apparently trying to wrap her head around all those things. "The universe was created by God. Does that mean that all those myths from the Bible are facts?"

Lucifer couldn't help but snort. "Only to a certain degree," he pointed out. "They were inspired by actual events, that is, but writers took a lot of creative liberties—oh, perks of having free will—"

He barely finished that thought, when he spotted that something in her face changed. An emotion he wasn't able to recognise filled her eyes, and it made him feel that unpleasant heaviness in his chest.

She titled her head, her gaze boring into him like a flaming sword. "That's why you're so fixated on it—it makes so much sense now," she muttered, more to herself than him.

He looked away swiftly, unable to hold her intense gaze. Out of fear that their conversation would go back to what it really had been about before his—stupidly impulsive—reveal, he decided he had to make his exit as quickly as possible.

"I may be tempting people to act upon what they desire—," he said matter-of-factly, a wry smile on his lips, "—but I would never force anyone to do anything. I'm not like Him." Resentment sipping of his voice had to make much more sense for her now as well, as her brows furrowed. "Okay, enough life-wrecking revelations for you, Detective. I'd rather leave you to your own devices now," he stated, flashing her his trademark smile, and intending to turn away, when she once again interrupted him.

"Lucifer—oh, it's gonna take some getting used to," she added under her breath; wasn't the atmosphere so tense, he would probably crack up a bit. "I'm serious—I don't want you to disappear on me again, not after—this." She gestured from her to him, indicating the whole encounter, and Lucifer was a bit dumbfounded by it.

Why she even cared so much about it—right after finding out who she actually was speaking to—he couldn't understand. It was simply nonsensical that standing in front of the Devil and fully aware of that, she nevertheless insisted on making him stay.

She must've noticed he was about to argue and folded her arms, determination setting on her face all over again. "Okay, we can do this your way. Why don't we make a deal? If you stay, I will owe you a favour. And I will do anything you'd like me to. Anything," she stressed, looking deadly serious.

Even his surprise by her earlier much-calmer-than-expected reaction couldn't measure up to the astonishment he felt now. The way she said that last word aroused weird feelings within him and he couldn't help but believe her absolutely. However, it did very little to make her reasons for such tenacity clear for him. "But why?"

She sighed defeatedly, as if she was explaining something both obvious and quite awkward to say out loud at the same time. "I'd rather have just a little bit of you in my life than have you disappear from it completely," she admitted sincerely, looking down at her hands. Seeing her so flustered normally would result in a light-heartedly cutting remark, but he wouldn't dare to say anything, her words having taken him by surprise. "Even if you are the literal Devil, which still sounds totally ridiculous." She shook her head, snorting.

He didn't pay much attention to the latter statement, his mind seemingly coming to a halt. Plethora of developments that had unravelled this evening was truly overwhelming, and such a confession… His heart seemed to skip a beat, before he even could call the realness of that statement into question. Not only had it sounded very sincere, but it also hadn't implied that she was actually pushing for them to be together, she just wanted to be close to him. Which, for his Dad, might be more than well enough, he reminded himself sharply, shaking his head.

Unfortunately, Chloe must've misunderstood that gesture, taking it as a rejection of her offer. She looked away, blinking rapidly, disappointment clear on her face. It took her a few moments to start speaking and when she did, her voice was quiet, but steady. "I can't force you to do anything. You'll do what you want anyway. I just—I don't—I don't know what to think about that whole Devil thing yet, but—we're working together. And you're still the best partner that I've worked with, so I don't want to lose it."

There was something in her manner of speaking that was both reassuring and breaking his heart. As much as he desired to do well by her, he just couldn't decline her what she wanted. Even if it meant that he would still bother her with his presence.

"I will stay, Detective," he promised solemnly, his eyes not leaving her face, so that he easily caught how her features seemed to brighten up almost immediately at his words. "And, when it comes to your favour—I want you to take it slow," he added cautiously, breaking their recently made eye contact. "All of it. I—You losing your mind would be a great inconvenience, and it's certainly something we'd like to avoid."

"And that's it? That's the favour for you?" She looked at him questioningly, clearly expecting a hidden agenda, not that such a suspicion surprised him.

"Yes," he said sincerely, unable to stop himself from gazing back at her. "No other strings attached."

She didn't appear convinced at first, but then seemed to remind herself of the fact that he wasn't the one to lie. "Okay, then." She took a deep breath, leaning back against the counter.

An uncharacteristically awkward silence fell between them. Lucifer didn't really know how to act to break it, suddenly remembering about the party that was organised at Lux, the one he was supposed to attend, even if it hardly mattered now.

Luckily for him, despite doing her best to supress it, Chloe yawned involuntarily. It was his cue to leave, as he realised how exhausting a day it had been for her. "I'd better go," he stated hurriedly, taking his hands out of his pockets and straightening creases on his suit. "I should check on how that party I was supposed to be at is going."

Chloe nodded, a weak smile playing in the corners of her lips. "Goodnight—Lucifer," she said, still a bit hesitantly.

His smile didn't do any better, the atmosphere between remaining tense. "Goodnight, Det—Chloe."

"Have fun," she added, before he could turn around. "See you tomorrow. I hope you'll turn up, we have a case to wrap up."

He looked at her, once again surprised by her statement. "Do you actually want me there?," he asked, astonished.

Her expression remained honest when she replied. "Yes. Yes, I do. Like I've said, we're partners."

Chloe leaned back against the front door that had just shot behind Lucifer. She let out a deep breath, her mind in a total frenzy, to the point that she didn't really know what to do with herself. She desperately needed someone to talk to—someone else other than him—but she had to stop herself from reaching for her phone.

As far as she knew, she was the only person who was aware that the so-called Luciferness wasn't just an artful schtick. Maybe except Maze, but that would mean that she's an actual demon. So, she had been living with the demon and working with the Devil, which summed it all up pretty plainly.

Chloe groaned irritably, walking back into the kitchen to retrieve a wine bottle that she had stashed away for emergencies, such as this one, apparently. For a moment she pondered pulling out a glass, but soon decided that it was just a pointless waste of time.

All those conflicted feelings that were tugging at her heart were also driving her insane. Although she worried about Maze very much, a part of her was glad that her friend wasn't actually here, it would only make things more awkward.

Unfortunately, it didn't mean that her need for a sympathetic ear to lend had dissipated. In all honesty, she knew well enough not to run around, telling everyone about everything, not that Lucifer was very discreet himself. Besides, who would even believe her—she needed proof, physical evidence of his supernatural abilities. The proof that she might actually still be in possession of…

Without thinking twice, she took off upstairs, grabbing the wine bottle on her way. Having almost left all the lights on, she remembered herself enough to go back, quickly check on Trixie, who was still sleeping soundly, and put them off. A quiet voice of reason reminded her that she had to go to work the next morning and getting drunk on a workday wasn't advisable, very unlike her, however, she deliberately ignored it.

Nothing disrupted both silence and darkness in the penthouse, with the city outside panoramic windows being a sole source of light. Lucifer couldn't help but feel comforted by that stillness, reminding him of rare moments in Hell when he had some time for himself. In some way, during his exile, he had found a lot of peace in solitude, and being alone had quickly grown on him. Quite ironic, if you took into consideration that he once had been the life and the soul of the heavenly party.

He winced, reaching for the closest bottle of Scotch and a nearby glass. His level of sobriety was absolutely too high for his liking, especially if his thoughts were to keep wandering in that particular direction. Memories of Heaven were never ones he keenly recalled, too much withheld grudge not to see the God's plain for a world full of hypocrisy and delusions that it truly was.

Lucifer shook his head, doing his best to stop that train of thought. After all, there was way more pressing matter at hand, one that needed a very careful consideration. The Detective had initially reacted better than Lucifer could've expected, it was still too early, though, to tell whether it was a good or a bad thing. In addition, he noticed with horror that he cared a bloody lot for what Chloe's going to think about him after his revelation. With Linda, it all had been relatively easy—even if a thought of his therapist not wanting to see him ever again had in fact bothered him, he would've dealt with that loss eventually. With the Detective, however, it was a completely different story.

His fingers clenched around the already almost empty glass, as he made his way to the piano, the bottle in his other hand. The question why he even bothered with the glass at this point flashed through his mind, but it was quickly replaced with the reveal dilemma. He had really wanted to avoid it, especially now that the Detective seemed to have a shot at a more normal relationship, but his impulsive behaviour sometimes surprised even him.

What he needed to do now was talk it all through. He didn't trust his reckless feelings and sticky consequences of him acting on them. Fortunately, he knew exactly whom to turn to, while he reached for the phone.

Despite a very late hour, calling Linda proved effective, as she picked up fairly quickly, even if her voice was a bit groggy. "Lucifer?," she asked, a strain of genuine surprise in her voice. The Devil might've stormed into her office unannounced more than once, but he had never been the one to call her in the middle of the night, often being occupied with much more pleasant activities. "Did something happen?"

She must've thought that a call had been an emergency, and Lucifer scolded himself for making her think so. The fact that he didn't necessarily require any sleep—thanks to which his sleep pattern was rather irregular—made him forget sometimes that humans actually needed a good portion of it every day to even function. "Not much, really, but—could I come over tomorrow morning, Doctor? There is—a few things I'd like to discuss with you," he explained calmly, absent-mindedly tapping piano keys.

It took her a moment to respond and she didn't sound too convinced by his reassurance. "Of course. Is everything alright?"

Lucifer's eyes fixated on a panorama of the City of Angels. He had always found that name rather amusing, but it had just hit him how ironic it essentially was—that Lord of Hell himself ended up in a place that reminded him of his old self, not as much, though, as those two irritating feathery things that were on his back again.

"Lucifer?" Linda's worried voice brought him back to the present.

He looked down, at the bottom of his empty glass. A few seconds passed before he recalled her question. "It is," he answered assuredly, a majority of his mind remaining somewhere else. "It's just—I've finally moved forward."

"Oh, you have?" He could easily imagine the Doctor's amazed expression, as he toyed with the glass. "Well, you've piqued my curiosity, but I'm afraid our conversation will have to wait until tomorrow." She yawned quietly.

Lucifer smiled softly. "Naturally, that's exactly what I've had in mind," he said light-heartedly, deep down glad that she didn't question him any further.

Another yawn reached his ear, and he could hear rustling of sheets. "Goodnight, Lucifer," the Doctor mumbled warmly.

His response was almost automatic. "Goodnight, Doctor," he said, his voice slightly strangled.

Quiet beeping signalised that she'd already hung up, so he put the phone away from his ear and held it in his hand for a long time, just looking blankly at the black screen. Exchanging pleasantries was not much more than a plain courtesy, he reminded himself, and yet a part of him couldn't help but wonder why they did it—why, despite knowing the truth about his nature, they acted as if they still cared. He was the Devil, the Prince of Darkness and the Lord of Hell, for Dad's sake, why, instead of running away screaming, they stuck by him was something he doubted he would ever comprehend.