A/N: okay guys, just a few things before we get into the nitty gritty here. This is a bit of a heavy chapter, content-wise. I'll be cautious and say there may be descriptions of uncomfortable situations for some. There's descriptions of being held hostage, slight torture, and very minimal description of rape. I just needed to get that out so you can read at your own risk. I'm sure the next few chapters (the next, for sure) will be equally as triggering, so keep that in mind. Thanks, guys. We're getting closer to the end now, and I did promise a happy one.
Lucifer let a few days pass by as if nothing was going on. He went to work, went to class, texted Chloe, did surveillance, ate, drank, popped a few pills, did surveillance, texted Chloe. He was surprised he was able to keep up with everything, however, a substantial supply of Adderall, Ritalin, and Red Bull made up for the utter lack of sleep. He was only slightly concerned with the lack of, well, anything, from Gabriel. It seemed he was making good on his word and letting Lucifer deal with it. Which he had to. That night. As per instruction from the fucking beat down he received. Suffice it to say, he had allowed himself to look at the bruises with disdain. It had been a while since he had be throttled so thoroughly.
He even managed to make it to his appointment with Charlotte. He was thrilled when all she wanted was for him to eat her out under her desk while she was on a conference call. He hated himself while he was down on his knees for that woman, not even wanting to pretend it was Chloe, because she deserved better than to be something that got him through that. When Charlotte had said her goodbyes to the other administrators, she had quickly tangled her fingers in his hair and rode his face until she came all over it. Once she was done, she had grabbed his face, gave him a sloppy kiss, and had kindly told him to get the fuck out of her sight. He did so with the upmost urgency.
Maze was still radio-silent. Not a text, not a call, not a fucking note. He wanted to by angry, because she always told him if she was away for a job, always told him to look-out if she wasn't back in 48 hours. He had no fucking clue where she was, or what she was doing. He tried to not let the face that he hadn't heard from Gabriel either swamp his thoughts. He would have heard from, at least, one of them by now if they had become acquainted. Something Chloe had texted him was unsettling, though. Apparently the small woman (Ella, because referring to her as Little Chola was not appropriate) had been informed that LAPD's finest bondswoman was unavailable for the foreseeable future. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANT?!
He was taking the old saying to heart: no news was good news. As far as the police scanner he had stolen from Maze's apartment informed him, there had been no double-homicides with bodies fitting either or their descriptions. No unnecessarily large, white male victim or hot, leather-clad woman with, quote unquote, lots of knives, hidden among her person. So, he was only about 38% worried. He wasn't to the point of binge drinking and going through your Mistress clientele folder… he wouldn't do that again until he was, no less than, 73% worried. Maze was an incredibly capable woman. She was formidable against most, including men much larger than she was. Bless those Krav Maga skills she learned. She was deadly, and he let that information keep him calm and allow him the few hours a sleep he was getting.
The blur of motion brought him back to the reality of him sitting in his car, watching the target's vehicle exit the office parking garage. Lucifer cranked his engine, knowing this was his chance. The target had children, but his few days of surveillance showed that he was guaranteed at least an hour before the kids were home from their after-school activities. He only needed a few minutes. They guy didn't appear to be a physical threat, and Lucifer was betting his mental constitution wouldn't put up a fight, either. Not with Lucifer's size and expertise in small-joint manipulation.
He didn't need to follow the car directly, he had memorized the path from work address to home address in the few days of this endeavor. He chain-smoked until he parked his car three houses down from the target's home. Much like he did when he went to visit Chloe. He wasn't nervous, per say, but he didn't feel as confident as he typically felt. He dressed for the occasion: black slacks, white button-down, black shoes. If anyone saw him, or if the target called the cops, he would blend in easily to the post-work businessman class that surrounded the target. He wouldn't stick out, not like he would if he had worn all black. Yeah, officer, big-ass white guy in all black. Super handsome (he added that in there). No, he looked clean, casual, unsuspecting.
Now was as good a time as ever, he thought to himself, stepping out of his car when the street had been clear for over three minutes. He could feel his heart rate increasing as he walked to the house, long, relaxed strides; like he belonged there. He got to the door, taking a final, calming breath, only slightly shaky, and knocked. He waited approximately two minutes before the door opened, revealing a tired looking man, roughly five inches (12.7 cm) shorter than he was, pulling at his tie with obvious disdain. There was a moment where the man looked at Lucifer, clearly confused as to who the stranger was at the door, but that expression was quickly changed to shock when Lucifer pushed the door open and grabbed the man. He turned the guy around, pressing him against his front and forcing them into the house before the man's shouts would grab someone's attention. Once inside enough, Lucifer blindly reached behind himself to shut the door while holding onto the target, struggling only slightly.
"No, no, none of that, shhh, shhh," Lucifer cooed calmly, holding on to the struggling man, his back pressed to his chest, long arms wrapped around his front. "I'm not here to hurt you, just here to talk."
"Who the fuck are you?!" the man demanded, and Lucifer could feel the tremors from his body already. He felt guilty for making something that nervous, that afraid, but at least he didn't have the man worried for his children.
"Who I am doesn't matter," Lucifer informed him, walking until he found the living room, pointing the man towards the couch and shoving him down. The other man pushed himself against the back of the couch, as far as he could, staring up at Lucifer with a hard, terrified expression. Lucifer squat down directly in front of the man, forearms on his knees, maintaining eye contact during his decent. This put him eye-level, only slightly less intimidating. More direct. "What does matter is that you listen to me very carefully. Understood?" The man made a move to lean forward, mouth opening in what would be some sort of shout, but Lucifer held up a hand, eyes darkening in warning. "I want to stay civil, please don't make me do something you won't like."
The other man seemed to believe Lucifer's warning, realizing that he was outmatched, no way to escape without, physically, going through the larger man. "What do you want? Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice just below a shout, slightly quivering. "I don't have a lot of money, I don't have anything of value besides the TVs and-" he would have kept going, trying to bargain his safety with things if Lucifer hadn't held up his hand, keeping his face neutral.
"I'm not here for money," he assured him, raising an eyebrow and keeping his eyes on the other man. He watched his throat bob, sweat forming along his temples. "I'm just here to make sure you do what you're supposed to."
"What?" the man whispered, suddenly looking even more nervous. His hands had started to shake on his knees, and Lucifer wondered if backing up would calm him down, or give him an out. He really didn't want to have to touch the guy again. He didn't want to have to hurt him.
"I'm not here for myself," he started, interlacing his fingers between his crouched knees. "I'm here for someone else, and they need you to do what the lawyers have requested." Lucifer watched as his words sunk in. He could tell, the man thought about it and then recognition dawned on his features.
"The lawyers? The paperwork?" the man asked, his voice raising, growing angry. "The fucking custody papers? Are you telling me that fucking bitch sent you to make sure I sign her custody request?" Lucifer tried to keep his face neutral, but that definitely wasn't the content he figured this to be about. He thought it had to be divorce papers, alimony agreement, something. Not custody papers…
"I'm a third-party, I have no idea who wants you to sign the papers or why," Lucifer told him, feigning disinterest. "I'm here to persuade you that signing them is in your best interest."
"Oh really?" the man said, angry, no longer as scared. "What are you supposed to do, huh? Kill me if I don't? I fucking doubt it!"
"No, I was instructed to not hurt you, they don't want you harmed."
"I wouldn't think so! She fucking needs me to watch the kids when it doesn't fucking fit into her schedule. Can't do that if she gets some fucking British guy to kill me!" The man was started to stand, but Lucifer stood up first, pushing him back down onto the couch. He was beginning to lose his patience.
"I don't know who this person is, or even who you are," Lucifer argued, hardening his features, making sure the guy saw him as a threat, not an easy obstacle. "I don't want to be here all day; get the papers and sign them."
"Did she hire you or are you a client?" the man asked, staying firmly seated on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, even. "Is this a little quid pro quo for her getting you off a charge or something?"
"What?" it was Lucifer's turn to be confused, apparently.
"Richards. Charlotte fucking Richards? Only the best fucking defense attorney in LA?" he shouted, as if Lucifer was supposed to already know that information. The man kept talking, but he didn't hear any of it. Everything muffled out, sounded dulled, as if he were underwater.
"What about Charlotte Richards?" Lucifer asked, holding up a single finger, making it clear the man was to answer the question.
"She's my Ex, she's been bothering me to get partial custody of our kids. That's what she's wanting me to sign. Her bullshit custody agreement." The man's next words were lost on him again, his own heartbeat ringing in his ears, panic setting in. If this was for Charlotte, that meant that she and Gabrielle had talked, were working together. If Gabriel was doing a job for Charlotte, she had to be giving him something in return.
Lucifer ignored the man shouting as he stumbled out of the house, nearly running to his car, fear and rage boiling through his veins. He peeled out of the upper-middle class neighborhood and drove in the direction of the school. Charlotte would still be there, he was sure of it. He was hoping she would be. They had some things they needed to discuss. He needed to get to Charlotte before the man called someone. Before this got back to Gabriel.
Lucifer does his very best to walk casually into the criminal justice building, but he's boiling with rage, not nearly medicated enough to tolerate the utter bullshit that just became of his situation. He managed to not glare holes through the girls that smiled at him as he took the stars up to the offices three at a time. Her office door was closed, but he could hear her muffled voice. He listened for twenty seconds and opened the door when he heard no other voice. Charlotte's eyebrows went up slightly as he walked in and shut the door behind his back. She watched in disbelief as he walked right up to her desk, took the phone out of her hand and placed it back on the receiver without a word.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Lucifer shoved his hand against her mouth, thumb pressing against one cheek, his fingers against the other. "No, it's my turn to speak, Charlotte," he spat out, voice low and controlling. His other hand moved to the back of her neck, tangling in her hair to anchor her in place. She was a smart woman, she was a tough woman, and she wasn't easily frightened. Her eyes didn't widen, but they shone with something akin to aggravation, with a spark of concern. He stared at her while he gathered his thoughts, feeling the warm, steady puffs of her breath against his hand. "Seems like someone's chatting with the wrong people."
He can see it, when she realizes he knows what she's done. Her face eases some, the line between her brows softens, as if she's relieved that that's what he was talking about. He kept his face controlled, even though her reaction made him wonder. She looked down at his hand over her mouth and then back up at him, expectantly, raising an eyebrow. Narrowing his eyes, he lifted his hand from her mouth, not without pushing down just enough to piss her off.
"It's really hot when you get aggressive Lucifer," she chimed, annoyance clear in her voice. One corner of her red lips was curved up in a fake smile, and she took his scowl as a small victory. "I've only met one sibling, but I'm going to assume you got most of the good looks." Her fake smile grew and it took everything out of him to not want to throw her out of the office window.
"Do you understand what you've done?" He asked her, tone flat, close to pleading. "I mean, do you really think whatever you've got going with my family is going to end well?"
"Let me guess, he told you?" she asked, ignoring his statements completely. She crossed her legs, tapping her foot to show that she felt like he was wasting her time. He didn't care. "I knew that he was way too big to be as smart as he seemed. Funny how size correlates to intelligence."
"Gabriel didn't tell me anything. He's a fucking professional," he informed her, stepping closer to where she sat in her chair. He bent down, hands on the armrests of her leather swivel chair, making sure she had nowhere to look by directly at him. "The man he sent me to, you know, your baby-daddy," Lucifer hid his smirk as understanding flashed in her eyes; shock, something close to betrayal.
"He sent you to do that?" she whispered, a rhetorical question. "He's a fucking idiot." She closed her eyes, leaning her head back in the chair, sighing and rubbing at the bridge of her nose.
"No," Lucifer argued, stepping back and away from her. He kept going until his back hit a wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Nowhere near calm, and only growing more worried now that Charlotte seemed to be less in-the-know than he anticipated. "He's not. We are," he iterated, point between her and himself. "We're the idiots here, Charlotte."
Charlotte regarded him for a moment, years of looking hard in court room engrained in her DNA. She had the best poker face. Lucifer could see hesitation, though, in the way her eyes were not as relaxed as usual; slightly wider, more open, looking for the threat. She wasn't one to be played, and while Gabriel sending Lucifer to do the agreed task was not something she was expecting, it didn't really change much for. She knew better than to let that confidence show, however. So she remained stoic, statuesque, contented.
"I know you're no fool, Charlotte," Lucifer started, once the silence became too thick. "But what the fuck?"
"Excuse me?" she gasped, looking incredulous over his audacity. "You act like I pretended to be a saint, Lucifer."
"Oh, no worries, I wasn't under that impression," he huffed, holding up a hand in her direction. "You made an unethical deal with a student in return for sexual favors. Pretty sure that's grounds for damnation."
"Yeah, and let's not forget that deal was for you to get closer to Decker to, what was it? Fuck her!" Her voice rose a few levels, and they were both getting angry. "This isn't a bigger dick contest for who's the worst person, but let's not play that either one of us was good from the start."
Lucifer held her gaze in forfeit. She was right. Neither one of them were good people. He can't be mad at her for being exactly who she is. For being like him. After another bout of silence, Lucifer finally broke the tension. "You know, it's fucked up that you're the only person I can talk about any of this to." Charlotte raised an eyebrow in understanding, reaching down into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulling out a bottle of clear liquor. Vodka.
Reluctantly, at first, Lucifer sat in front of her desk, sipping the top-shelf vodka and giving Charlotte the revised cliff-notes version of his family drama. He told her enough to make her understand his family was not to be trifled with, and he left out any details that could be used against him. Surprisingly, she listened. Nodding and humming at the right times, and he could see the gears working in her head, the mind of a defense attorney gathering information and building a case.
"So why did he send you to do my favor?" she asked, sipping her lipstick-stained tumbler, rolling the liquor around like the thoughts in her head. "What would be the point of that?"
"I'd say he's lazy, or to fuck with me, but he's not that fickle," Lucifer replied, sinking into the uncomfortable chair, enjoying the warmth of alcohol in his veins. Sobriety in situations like these was overrated.
"It was definitely purposeful," she continued to think aloud, her eyes squinting. Somehow, they managed to go from angry fuck-buddies to espionage analytics over three glasses of vodka. He was not complaining. "He had to have known you would find out there. That that fucking dick would open his goddamn mouth."
"He was rather pleasant, actually," Lucifer quipped, frowning and shrugging his shoulders. Charlotte obviously scoffed before concern etched over her features.
"You didn't hurt him, right? You weren't supposed to," she asked, staring at him like a lioness would to prey.
"No, of course not!" he defended, making a disgusted face. "It would have been like trying to kick a tiny kitten or something. I'm not an animal!"
She seemed pleased by his answer, leaning back into her chair once again. "Yeah, he really is quite unthreatening, isn't he?"
"Quite," Lucifer agreed, nodding his head and raising his eyebrows. He stared down into his almost dry cup, the barely-there sip looking as sad and pathetic as his existence at that point.
"I know we're not exactly on good terms right now," Charlotte started, returning the bottle to the bottom drawer after a few minutes of awkward silence had passed.
"Were we ever on good terms?" he asked sarcastically, laughing at that insinuation, because his tongue had been in almost every hole of that woman's body, and they were hardly amicable about it.
"I guess that only adds to my case," she stated, setting her glass down on the desk with purpose. "Care to burn off some of that frustration? I'm not expecting anyone for another half-hour."
Lucifer had no reaction for a few moments before he scoffed into his glass, draining the small sip and setting his glass down with a smirk in Charlotte's direction. "Are you mad, woman?" He smiled because he figured she just had to be joking. She just had to be being sarcastic.
"Don't use that English charm on me," she admonished, a smile still on her lips. She leaned forward and traced a finger along his wrist, resting on the edge of her desk. His eyes tracked her movements, but he didn't stop her. He wasn't sure how many times he had to explain about not being a good person. "You've never let your feelings get in the way of a good fuck."
He watched her wandering fingers, tracing over the skin on the top of his wrist, tickling the hairs there. Feeling more like a spider walking over his skin than a tempting offer. "Yeah, you let me do weird things to you with my dick, but that doesn't change what's happened." He kept his face playful, but leaned forward, putting a ferocity behind his eyes. "You tried to fuck me over, we're still waiting on the results of that, and there's no way for me to fuck you over without bringing Chloe in as collateral damage."
Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when the door to her office suddenly opened. Both Charlotte and Lucifer were practiced in keeping their surprise contained, so they slowly slid from their position, but they were not able to sell the professional distance before Dan saw them. The detective went from startled to confused, and he did not hide it well. Charlotte gave him one of her bright, all-encompassing smiles while thoroughly ignoring Lucifer's presence with her body-language. Perfectly practiced. Charlotte Richards, everyone.
"Daniel!" she greeted warmly, red lips turned up, teeth glinting. "Always such a wonderful surprise." Charlotte gracefully stood from her chair and walked over to Dan, placing a hand on his shoulder before kissing him on the cheek.
"I didn't mean to interrupt anything," Dan, the douche, said suspiciously, looking over at a lounging Lucifer in the chair in front of the desk.
"Oh, you didn't," Charlotte assured him, looping her arm through his and leading him in the direction of her desk. "Lucifer was just updating me on his TA position in his criminal investigations course." Dan nodded his head, but still narrowed his eyes in Lucifer's direction.
"Now that Ms. Richards is thoroughly updated, I'll be off," Lucifer said with a sigh, standing from his seat, holding Charlotte's gaze slightly longer than necessary.
"It seems that Ms. Decker has a very dedicated assistant," Charlotte added, unnecessarily, of course. Dan's eyebrows shot up his forehead a few inches while Lucifer clenched his jaw. Charlotte wore a delicate smirk on her crimson lips. "Thank you for stopping by. Feel free to contact me if you have any more questions."
"No doubt about that," Lucifer chimes, walking towards the door where Dan and Charlotte still stand. He makes eye-contact with Dan, can see the worry and confusion in his soul, smirks at him, and then walks out of the office without another glace to Charlotte. She should know. They aren't nearly done talking. They are done fucking, though. That was the only definite in his life at the moment.
Lucifer walks out of the building and back towards the parking garage with renewed purpose. He has information. Not much, but it's better than what he did have. Gabriel needed something from Charlotte. In exchange, she got a favor (which he happily, probably, fucked up), and Gabriel had no idea that he knew that. While Lucifer hadn't managed to find out what information Charlotte gave his brother, he was pretty sure it was something to do with Chloe. It had to be that, because Gabriel wouldn't have known about Chloe otherwise. Lucifer wasn't on social media, he was known for fucking anything and everything. Nothing specific. Only someone that knew Chloe would know about her job and their (could if even be called this?) relationship.
He decided to head home, get a shower, change clothes, hope that Maze was back, or there was, at least, information for him. He would text or call Chloe later. Once parked outside of his apartment building, he texted Gabriel's phone, telling him to call him about the job. Lucifer had just opened the door to his apartment when his phone rang, and he answered, with steady breath.
She had found him. What she had not been expecting was the unnatural silence a man of that size could possess. He caught her off guard. She didn't go down without a fight, and Gabriel was now the not-so-proud owner of a three inch slash across his face, from the corner of his eye to the corner of his mouth. If she didn't hate the fucking bastard, she would have found it hot. From her position chained to the metal radiator of a run-down brick warehouse (so fucking cliché it actually worked), she realized that she wasn't in a good spot. She had gone dark, electronics-wise, and no one, no one, would be able to locate her. Not unless Gabriel wanted them to.
Her temple ached from where Gabriel had butt-stroked her with his pistol, and her lip wasn't much better from where he had immediately punched her mouth as she fell to her knees. It was undignified; she hadn't been on her knees for a man in years. Not since Lucifer. That was over twelve hours ago. She could at least find pride in knowing she found him quickly. The being held hostage part was not part of the plan. She did have one-up on him though. He had no idea that she knew Lucifer. The only thing he knew was that she was a bounty hunter associated with the LAPD… she made sure to keep her bondsman license on her, for him to find, for this reason. Gabriel would have no idea that Lucifer might be looking for her. Perhaps it wouldn't have been such a bad idea to leave some indication of her intentions for him. He was a smart guy, he would figure it out. Maybe. Fuck.
She was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of a heavy door opening and closing, followed by the loud, steady footsteps she recognized. She heard the sound of a ding from that direction, a notification on a phone, and then she was able to see the asshole, a.k.a. her captor, walking in her direction, not even acknowledging her presence. He was carrying a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. She could hear the jingling of his keys in the pocket of his slacks, his dark navy dress shirt had three of the top buttons open. He looked all the bit European high-class criminal he really was.
Suddenly his phone started ringing, and he looked mildly annoyed at it before putting the device up to his ear. His fucking monstrous hands dwarfed the phone, and she thought it was an iPhone. Again, if he were anyone else, she would probably be trying to suck one of his average-dick sized fingers into her mouth. "Ah, little brother! I hope you bring me good tidings of great joy!"
Maze knew he saw it the moment her body stiffened at his words. He glanced in her direction, just his eyes, his body still pointed slightly off-center from her. She could see the way his eyes ticked at her stiffness; his brain taking in that information, cataloguing it, analyzing. She had just made a grave mistake. Gabriel's eyes narrowed just slightly, one corner of his mouth twitching as he appeared to be listening to the other end of the phone. Maze simply relaxed her body as well as she could, with her arms chained above her head and all.
Gabriel sighed loudly, rubbing his hand across his face before speaking. "Yes, little brother, I know you can wax lyrical about peeling wallpaper, but all I care about is whether or not you got the job done." He listened for a few seconds longer before his lips fully turned up into a smile. Eyes almost glowing. "I knew that weasel of a man would divulge that kind of information like a fucking idiot." He listened a while longer, and Maze could have sworn she could hear Lucifer's voice through the phone. However, she wasn't sure if that was wishful thinking or not. "Well of course, little brother! Do you honestly think I would have sent you if I hadn't wanted you to find that out?"
The man turned to face her in that moment, not moving forward or back, just watching her the way someone would look at an interesting item in a curio. Maze was a master of apathy, and she knew she could appear indifferent to almost anything. Lucifer was her weakness, though. Making any movement, no matter how small, at the sound of his voice, by the way the man addressed the person on the phone as little brother, it gave her away. It was a rookie mistake, one that she shouldn't have made in front of someone keen on picking that behavior up.
"So what I'm hearing is that you failed." Gabriel said it as a statement, there was no question. Apparently Lucifer hadn't been successful with something. "No? So what would you call it?" He listened for a few minutes, nodding his head or rolling his eyes every few seconds. "Let me get this straight, you tell me you didn't really complete one simple fucking task and you want my word I'll leave your hot teacher and her kid alone?" Again, Maze's body betrayed her and her eyes shot right up to Gabriel's. As expected, he was looking right at her, a smirk now on his lips. He knew. It wasn't her fault. She had a bit of a soft-spot for Chloe's daughter. She had only seen her in passing at the station the past few years, but the little girl was tenacious, a spitfire, and she reminded her of what she wished she would have been at that age. "It's quite rich you think you're in any position to be making requests."
Gabriel started to slowly step towards her. He was taking his time, smirking down at her, a heavy step every few seconds. Once he was in front of her, he knelt down on the balls of his feet, reaching out to touch her boot. He ran a finger along the edge of the sole, tapping lightly when he reached her instep. "I have to say, little brother," he started, still smirking and looking smug. "I was starting to doubt your choice in residence until I met the most intriguing creature the other day."
She wanted to pull her foot away, but that would only encourage him, so she let him touch her boot, giving him an unimpressed look. "Maybe you've met her? Tall, hot, leather?" He listened to the phone, looking annoyed by whatever response he received. "Come one, love, say hi," he instructed her, holding the phone in her general direction. Maze, being the sass queen she was, lifted her other foot and shoved the phone to the side. Gabriel looked impressed, chuckling to himself before bringing the device back up to his ear. "Hold on, brother, she's being a bit of a brat."
He brought his free hand up, gripping along her jaw so that his palm covered her chin. His thumb and forefinger were pressed into the hinge of her jaw, and without much pressure, she knew what he intended to do. He started to squeeze, a quick, building pain that forced her mouth open. She quietly whimpered until he grew impatient, squeezing tighter and tighter until she cried out softly, feeling the joint trying to pop out. He let go as soon as she made a sound loud enough to carry through the phone line. "There. Did you catch that? She's tough but she can make some real pretty noises when you try hard enough." Maze spit at him and that earned her a proper slap to the face. She could feel the pulsing heat on her cheek, but didn't let it show on her features.
There was distant shouting on the other end of the line, and all that did was make Gabriel smile even more. Fucking Lucifer, she thought, trying to not let the sting in her eyes form actual tears, he wasn't thinking rationally. He should have played off he sound, pretend to not know her, then at least Gabriel wouldn't have such obvious fucking knowledge of it. "What does this one mean to you, little brother? Are you fucking her, too? I sure would. She looks like she'd be a fucking beast in the sack."
The other end was silent, and she wondered if Lucifer was talking lowly or just not talking at all. Hopefully he just shut his fucking mouth. Part of her was relieved that his immediate reaction was so strong at the first hint of her being in trouble, but the other part, the professional badass part, wanted to ridicule him for showing weakness. It angered her that she wanted to scream out to him, beg him to help, even if that went against all of her independent-woman beliefs.
"I don't think I'll need to do anything to you after all, Lucifer," Gabriel lulled, his voice sounded deceptively soft. He reached out and ran a finger down the side of her face, gently, teasing kindness. "I think I'll have more fun playing with her," his finger traced over her swollen cheek, nail digging into the bruised skin. "She's got murder in her eyes," he said, almost admiring her in some sick way. "If there's one thing we can agree on, little brother, it's that we like a challenge," and with that final statement, he hung up, tossing the burner phone (because who still had a flip-phone in 2019 under the age of 65?) to the side.
She tried to kick her feet as he pulled a dagger from the pocket of his slacks, and she was certain he was about to stab her thigh when he expertly sliced through her leather pants on both legs, cutting up to the hip. He made enough cuts to pull the tattered material away, leaving her in her very tactical, practical (tac-prac, she had told Lucifer once) boyshorts. He eyed her hungrily, as if he were a starved man. He wasn't unattractive, but he looked like a man who had been denied for so long, and she was certain it was because he didn't 'do people' in the way Lucifer did. He didn't know how to make a connection. He just took what he fucking wanted. And he was about to do it again.
Maze had practice disassociating herself from events. Years of abuse from growing up in the system, and unwanted problem-child with more ignorant mothers and touchy fathers than one girl needed. What he was doing was survivable for her. The feel of his hands up her legs still made her sick, made her hate, made her realize why she enjoyed bringing in the 'bad guys'. She could leave her consciousness, go somewhere else, and even numb herself of the physical presence of forced penetration. She could make it all go away, and she knew it was fucked up that she had learned to do it. It saved her, though. Saved her sanity, her life, and it made her strong. In no way did she appreciate everything that had happened to her, but she refused to let all those people ruin her life.
Gabriel would just be another man on the page of reasons why she unleashed her rage on the unworthy and became a self-titled warrior for the wronged.
Lucifer held the phone to his ear long after the line had been dropped. Long after he had heard the muted cry from Maze. He knew that had to be hear. It was the only reason he hadn't heard from her. Even being made at him, she wouldn't let him worry, even if she would call it something along the lines of obsessing. He didn't even know where to begin. There was no way of tracking him. He had already applied some software to his phone, and every call or text from Gabriel came back with zero results. He was using burners, had multiple license plates, and stayed clear of most traffic and CCTV cameras. Much like at home, Gabriel was like the hand of god; a ghost with extreme reach and power.
Panic settled in his mind, making him feel cold and shaky, mind racing; his thoughts the rabbit, Gabriel the greyhound. To say fear gave him an out-of-body experience would be a bit of an understatement. It was more the feeling of his entire being pulled from the shell of flesh, floating above, painful, reaching out for something to ground him. His only option, the only thing to bring him back, was loading himself with artificial coping mechanisms, false comforts; the warm embrace of liquor, the soft kiss of benzodiazepines.
He partook in his less that savory past-time, even when he could hear Maze screaming at him to get it together. Fucking get your shit together, Lucifer! The fact that she wasn't there to scream at him made it worse, made everything worse. He wondered why he had to be such a shitty excuse of a person. Why did he have to be so fucking selfish? He should be out there, looking for Maze, going to see Chloe. Looking for his fucking brother. Yeah. That was a good idea.
He rummaged through his night stand by the bed, searching for that little baggie filled with the perfect upper to counteract the benzos when he needed it. Actually, he should probably take preventative measures so he didn't fucking crash in the middle of the street or something. Not even taking the time to make a neat, little line, he placed a pinch of coke on the back of his hand, sniffed, and rubbed the remnants from his finger on his gums. That would be much better. He grabbed his keys, sniffing as he left his apartment without even locking it.
Maze would go look for him. She'd tear apart California to find him. He would do the same for her, while still ensuring Chloe was okay. It was strange, to feel responsibility for two people. Two women he cared about deeply, in different but equally significant ways. He let those thoughts die off with the rest of his rationality. He was in no state to think about such important matters. He knew one of Maze's contacts personally. He was going to go pay him a visit, see what he could get from him. Sadly, it was his only lead.
The doorbell rang and Chloe hopped off her seat on the couch and answered the door. Before she could even say hi, Trixie ran past her mother and into her room, yelling something about needing to continue her preparations for her school's talent show. "Yes, hello, daughter, blood of my blood," Chloe exclaimed the reference, rolling her eyes as Trixie closed her bedroom door with gusto. Chloe heard chuckling from the doorway and turned to see Dan smiling that she's your daughter smile. "So what's her talent going to be?" she asked the man, crossing her arms and smiling warmly. She was lucky to still have a decent relationship with her ex. It made co-parenting so much easier.
"She's deciding between tap-dancing blow-dart assassin and fire-breathing, juggling mermaid," she answered, eyes growing distant as if still deeply confused.
"And how does she plan to showcase either of those as talents?" Chloe asked, trying not to laugh. She loved her daughter. Her crazy, ambitious daughter. "At least she can never be mistaken for boring."
"No, definitely not," he agreed, smiling before his face fell flat and turned to anxious, nervous even. "Hey, so can we talk for a sec?"
"Sure, what's up?" she asked casually, moving over in the doorway to let him through into the house. He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled nervously as he entered her home, staying in the hallway by the stairs.
"So, I, um, heard you have a TA," he blurted, throwing a hand up in the air, motioning in her direction. She knew that move, it was the move he made when he really wasn't comfortable with what he was talking about.
Her eyebrows rose up her forehead before knitting back together as she crossed her arms, subconsciously defensive. "Um, yeah, a few weeks ago," she stated, trailing off. "Did Charlotte say something?" She figured she could be on a first-name basis with the woman if she was talking to Dan about her. Seriously, they went to a university function together, one that Chloe was at. She knew they were something undefined, so why call her Ms. Richards to the guy (probably) sleeping with her and make it weird?
"Oh, no, no, no!" he stammered, holding up his hands like he was trying to talk down a jumper. "I would never get all up in your business like that. I just happened to meet him in her office," he offered before the worry fell from his face and was replaced with something else. "I mean, meet him again, you know, having interviewed him after he beat the shit outta someone behind a bar."
Chloe licked her lips, almost in disbelief at what Dan was clearly trying to insinuate here. Was he saying anything outright? No. Was he making sure she knew he thought it was weird? Hell yeah. "You ran into Lucifer in her office?" She tried to keep her voice flat, neutral, but that seemed a bit off to her, as well.
"Not just once," he corrected, this time crossing his own arms. "He's there a lot, I just found out about him being your TA yesterday."
She shrugged, legitimately shrugged in front of him, when she really wanted to ask what he meant about Lucifer being in her office 'a lot'. "I didn't really think it was important," she told him, raising an eyebrow expectantly, daring him to just say something stupid.
"It's just kind of funny," he started, scratching the back of his neck. She could tell, whatever he wanted to say was right on the tip of his tongue, he was just too chicken-shit to actually say it. It wasn't really a flaw, he was just a kind person at heart, but it really pissed her off to not be able to lose her shit on him. "How he just keeps getting closer and closer. And not just to you, let me tell ya," he finished, and she could see a flash of something, anger, maybe frustration?
"What the hell does that mean?" she questioned, keeping her voice low so that their daughter wouldn't hear them arguing. Yet again.
"I just think it's weird that things just keep bringing you guys together, and he's always meeting with Charlotte, and they just seem to be more friendly than professional." He stopped talking and started pacing. So that was the problem. She could play off that.
"So what you're saying is that you're getting jealous about Charlotte meeting with a student," Chloe iterated, tilting her head slightly as he huffed at her insinuation. "It's part of her job, Dan, especially a grad student who is working as a TA."
"They have interesting conversations," he added, thinking that might make her instantly hop on board his worry-train. "I overhear sometimes when I go to meet Charlotte. They talk about you, his family, some deal."
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her voice going up an octave. If she were honest with herself, she would be wondering what the hell they were talking about, too. None of that sounded within the boundaries of normal administrator-student conversation. "What Lucifer discusses with another administrator is none of my business, and it's none of yours, either."
"Oh, come on, Chlo," he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "You can't tell me that doesn't seem strange? That feels off, doesn't it?"
"Dan, what they talk about isn't some case for you, or I, to solve," she told him, eyebrows going up her forehead. "I'm sure whatever it is pertains to his academics or his student visa." She wasn't entirely lying. The two of them could easily be talking about that, but he was right. It was weird. And if he were having problems with school, why wouldn't he talk to her about it?
"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," he agreed, sighing, seeming to cool off a little. "With her legal background, she might be able to explain the visa process, or something." Chloe nodded, but he seemed to be trying to convince himself of that. She could tell, he was threatened by Lucifer. She couldn't necessarily blame him. The guy was young and gorgeous, but surely Lucifer could see right through Charlotte's façade? He was smart, observant, but he also made a name for himself for fucking anything falling under decently attractive homo sapien.
"Exactly!" she assured him, starting to move towards the door, hoping that would send a subliminal message for him to please, kindly, get the fuck out. "Strictly professional, she's a great resource, you know that," she added, opening the door as he walked towards it out of muscle memory.
"Yeah," he said softly, eyes distant, as if in thought. "Sure, okay, I just thought you should know, in case they're looking at your course or something. Like an audit? I'm not sure," he added and she tried to not let the surprise of that show on her face. Had Dan just made an interesting point? Were Lucifer and Charlotte auditing her course? Would he do that? "Alright, see you later, Chloe, let me know if you guys need anything."
"Mhmm, will do," she said bluntly, trying to not have a total existential crisis in her doorway with her ex-husband to bear witness. After another awkward goodbye round, with weird waves, she shut the door, called out to Trixie, heard a muffled noise as a sign of life, and went and sat on her couch. Going through the information, it wasn't like she knew him long, and the entire process of him becoming her TA was sketchy, she knew that. Their entire relationship was definitely not encouraged by the university handbook. Sleeping with a student was definitely not how she saw her life going when she started teaching.
She waited at least an hour, sitting in silence, staring at the black screen of the television. Dan had sounded like a man who didn't like another guy being around his girlfriend. Valid. Okay, that happened. However, everything he said, the things he had overheard, the closeness (which, was strange, yes), as well as his casual comment of being potentially being audited. That would explain why they would be meeting frequently. To discuss her and her class. That could explain why, suddenly, she needed a TA and it had to be him. There was that… then there was the sex. What the fuck did that mean? They did have a genuine connection; her detective-brain couldn't argue out of that one. He seemed to enjoy himself, and he seemed to do so willingly. However, who knew if he was just a really good actor, or just that good a lay she couldn't even see the signs.
Finally, deciding that maybe she should just be a fucking adult and talk to him, she grabbed her phone and sent him a quick text. Nothing crazy, nothing to make her sound like some insane woman having a mid-life crisis or anything. He was busy. He worked, he went to school, he had exams going on. She didn't' expect to hear from him immediately. And she didn't. She didn't hear from him for over a day. Nothing, not a text, not a call, no unexpected booty-calls. His phone went straight to voicemail. Something felt off, and she was tempted to go to his apartment, as embarrassing as it was that she still remembered where he lived. She would go after work, when Trixie would be at her after school activities and then be on her way home with Dan.
What she was not expecting was to find a completely strung-out Lucifer, in his apartment, looking like he hadn't slept for days, drunk off his ass, and obviously snorting something, if the dried blood around his nostrils said anything. He was a mess, a complete and total mess. Worse than when he had shown up still drunk to class all those weeks ago. She hadn't even needed to knock, his apartment door was ajar, and he was sitting on his small sofa, legs bouncing, elbows on his knees, looking like someone had just told him he had seconds to diffuse a bomb that would wipe out the entire city. When he noticed her enter, he looked guilty, but he mostly looked like it was another thing added to a list of shit to do.
She almost walked out. She did. She didn't need to be a mother to a grown-ass man clearly in the middle of something she had no business dealing with. She would have walked out, if she hadn't seen the utter terror and worry in his eyes. The look of someone near drowning, trying to swim up, but not quite breaking the surface. "Lucifer," she said tentatively, approaching him slowly, like one would do a crazed animal.
"I don't know what else to do," he muttered, voice shaking from the motions of his legs. It was almost disturbing how his lower body could be almost vibrating while his upper body was completely still. "This wasn't supposed to happen here, none of this was, everything was supposed to be different." He started going off on his own tangent, getting more and more irritated by each word. Soon his words turned to mumbles, and she carefully sat down next to him on the couch. Not knowing what else to do, she reached out and put her hand on his wrist, squeezing lightly. He responded minutely, his shoulders relaxing slightly, but his legs still bouncing wildly. She had no idea how long they sat like that, but it took a while before he even seemed to register someone else was still there with him. Something was definitely wrong, and she wasn't going to leave him like that. She'd stay, and they would talk when he sobered enough to hold a conversation. He slowly seemed to realize that, as well, and he only looked more nervous as he came back to himself. That didn't make Chloe feel any better.
A/N: okay guys... we're getting into the thick of it now. I'm not sure how many more chapters there will be, but there's definitely a few left, no worries. It's going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better. I promise, it will get better, though. Hope you enjoyed!