Italian sun

This very short, silly one-shot was written because I am feeling sad, being forced to sit at home due to the epidemic. I miss my life, I miss my travels. I had plans for this spring, all had to be postponed. I am also very sad about what is happening in Italy. I love Italy, I have been there many times and now, when I see the empty streets of this lovely cities, my heart is breaking.

There is nothing special in this story. I am not good at writing fluff and happy scenes, I prefer darker emotions. However, I was always very irritated at the idea of Chloe spending the whole month in Europe sitting in the library. Don't get me wrong, I love also libraries, but… well in that case it was a bit waste of time, wasn't it?

So, if you read it, just smile and think about all these nice things we would normally be able to do...

Chloe started at the morbid picture in the old manuscript, presenting the most terrible horrors its medieval author could think about, with the hideous monster devouring the poor victims just in the middle… and wondered what exactly was she doing here.

Whatever this book was about, it had nothing to do with Lucifer. Her Lucifer.

Even if her Lucifer was, indeed, the devil – and it was the highest time to believe that he was speaking the truth the whole time, and even if he was, somehow… someway… evil – and this was something she still couldn't believe, instead of everything she read in this library – he certainly had nothing in common with this slovenly, cruel creature, clumsily painted in the old manuscript.

I am just making the fool of myself, thought Chloe.

Outside, the weather was lovely, Italian sun shining brightly on the spotless, cerulean sky. Rome was beautiful at this time of the year when the temperatures were still not too high. Through the window, she could see a street, crowded by scooters and bikes crowding in the crazy traffic and two small cafés, both full of people. She thought about espresso and almost moaned with longing.

The detective tried to return to her lecture but became more and more distracted with the life happening behind the window. The small street became more and more crowded. It was still early, but the herds of tourists were already following their guides at their way to St. Peter's basilica. Chloe thought that she should at least take Trixie for some sightseeing. The girl was sitting in some playroom that provided care and remuneration but didn't differ much from similar institutions in Los Angeles. What sort of European holiday it was?

Suddenly, her decision was taken. She would go out. Enjoy this city and the time with her daughter. They both deserved it, a piece of simple happiness after all what they both went through. Chloe returned the books to the librarian, who eyed her carefully, as she begged for days to get access to all these old volumes – and quickly strode outside.

"Excuse me, Madam," an elderly, balding priest with a grey beard called behind her. Chloe stopped, surprised. Did she forget about something in the library?

"Can we talk for a while? I noticed the subject of your… research and I think we should exchange some… observations."

"Not today, I am sorry," replied Chloe lightly. "I have an appointment."

An unexpected appointment with her daughter, but she didn't have to inform the stranger about it.

"Ah. Perhaps tomorrow then," replied the priest.

Chloe smiled, nodding, but noted that the man knew she was coming here every day. He must have been observing her. She didn't like it and felt the wave of mistrust toward the stranger.

The weird encounter was quickly forgotten, when overjoyed Trixie literally jumped at her, hearing they are going to spend the rest of the day together. Chloe felt the sting of shame, only now realizing how badly must she have neglected her daughter. It was the first time when Trixie was in Europe and they barely had time to enjoy it, as she spent the whole days in the library.

As if I couldn't find it all on the Internet… later, thought Chloe lazily, because the Italian sun started slowly to warm her heart.

It was as if the sunrays were getting through her skin straight to her soul, warming something cold and sad inside it, melting down all her stress and worries… Chloe closed her eyes and finally allowed herself to relax.

They started with pizza. Not in one of these fancies restaurants, but in a small bakery with too few tables. They ate greasy pieces sitting on the lawn and it was the best pizza they ever had in their lives.

Chloe smirked, imagining how much Lucifer would grumble, if he had to sit on the lawn, endangering his designer trousers. He would certainly insist on eating in one of the restaurants with white clothes on the tables, serving the wine in the crystal glasses.

Or maybe not. He loved good food, and this pizza was just delicious. Perhaps he would risk his suit for it.

Chloe imagined Lucifer sitting here with them, eating the greasy pieces of pizza and suddenly she felt sad again. For the first time since leaving home, she admitted she missed him. She thought about the pictures in the medieval manuscripts and about what she saw in this fatal loft in Los Angeles, and about Marcus' body on the marble floor… but somehow it all seemed so distant under this bright Italian sun.

Perhaps except Marcus. Here her anger was still fresh. Given the chance, she would kill the bastard herself.

"Mummy? You are getting sad again," the anxious voice of her daughter interrupted her thoughts, her brown eyes already filling with disappointment as if she expected to be sent away again.

"Everything's fine, Monkey," whispered Chloe, kissing her forehead. "Let's get some ice cream, ok?"

"Yes!..." shouted Trixie, jumping up.

They went to the gelateria with the selection of more than fifty tastes of ice cream. The etiquettes were written in Italian and they had a moment of fun guessing the tastes.

Certainly, Lucifer would know what they mean. All the sources were consistent, that he knew all the languages of the world. Chloe smiled, but then grew serious again. That all was too much for her to fathom, that's why she… left. Run, would be a better word.

But now she missed him.

After the ice cream, they took a long walk down the streets of Rome – the display windows of the elegant shops reminding her about Lucifer again – and a few parks, full of bright flowering bushes. When they finally returned to the small hotel they were staying in Trixie, tired with unusual excitement, fell asleep.

Chloe sat on the small balcony, observing how the sun was setting down behind the buildings, sipping the wine – nothing special, the kind that was sold in the carton boxes in the supermarkets, but it tasted well enough – and decided to… reorganize the rest of her stay in Rome.

After all, what was the sense in reading all these books? She could ask Lucifer, he would tell her the truth. He said he never lied, right? And if it was a lie, if he was, indeed, the Prince of Lies, then the authors of manuscripts also knew nothing about him, because he lied to them all, didn't he? In each case, there was no use to lose more time on reading.

Chloe was aware of the fact, that the glass of wine might have influenced her logic, but she welcomed any conclusion that would allow her to resign from sitting in the library, going through all these terrible manuscripts… just live a little?

And what's a better place to leave a little than Italy?

She only lacked a suitable company.

The day of leisure entertainment weakened her defences and the longing, strengthened by the glass of wine, prevailed her reason. Apparently, it was the time for the drunken call to the… ex? Would be boyfriend? Would be ex?...

Drunken call to the Devil.

When she took her phone, for a moment she sobered, and the familiar sting of fear returned.

"But he is in Los Angeles, half of the world away," she consoled herself. "I do not have to tell him, where I am. He only knows I am in Europe. And it is not that we are not on speaking terms. I told him I need some space and he accepted it. One short call would be safe. Just to hear him."

After a moment of inner struggle, she chose his number.

And, surprise, surprise – no one answered.

As hesitant she was a moment ago, now she felt determined to reach him, so she called the bar at the Lux instead.

"Patric?" she asked, recognizing the voice of the bartender. "It is Chloe Decker. Can I speak with Lucifer? I couldn't reach him on his phone."

"Ah, yes…. Ms Decker… The boss is playing."

Chloe frowned and checked the time. "Did I miscalculated the time difference? I thought it is still middle of the day in the LA. Is it already his showtime?"

"Yes. I mean no, you didn't. It is the middle of the day. But it is not that… we are going by showtimes now," came the vague reply. "You know, he is playing," stressed Patric in a way that apparently was supposed to tell her something.

"Okey…" replies slowly Chloe. "So, if he is not playing for an audience, can I perhaps speak to him?"

"Certainly."

She heard Patric walking with the phone and indeed nearing to the sounds of the piano and then he must have covered the microphone because she didn't hear his conversation with Lucifer. She waited a long, long while and only when she was finally ready to disconnect, she heard Lucifer's voice in the phone.

"Detective?..."

She knew this tone. She heard it a few times before, in the voices of people who saw her at their threshold and realized she was going to break some very bad news to them… And she also understood that Lucifer could perhaps feign being kind… and gentle, shy or caring… even clumsy… but he would never manage to simulate being so scared.

He was absolutely afraid of what she was going to tell him.

"Hi," she said, not being able to think about anything better. "How are you?"

"Fine… I think. How are you, Detective? It is you who is on holiday," he stressed, in a rather pitiful attempt to speak with his usual verve.

"Fine. I mean, very well. Rome is beautiful." So much for not telling him where she was.

"Indeed. You and the urchin are having fun?"

How lost he sounded. Lucifer Morningstar failing to lead a small talk.

"Yes. Well, no. Not so much," she muttered. Great. It only lacked that she would tell him about spending the days in the Vatican library. Why exactly did she call him?

"No? Can I… help you somehow?..."

"Yes. Would you like to come here and spend a few days with us?" she blurted out.

Shit. What the hell had she done? She was supposed to avoid him, not invite him.

But it would be so nice… so right… to walk with him through this city… Drink coffee, and wine… and chose ice cream…

Lost in her phantasy she didn't notice, that he remained silent for a very long time.

"You want me to join you at your vacation?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, yes. After all, it is only half of the world," Chloe chuckled nervously. "Oh, that's fine. I understand that…"

"I will gladly come."

So. It was done. They would meet. Probably no later than in a day or two, because he sounded as if he was eager to see her. So much for keeping the distance.

"Great," she tried to cover her uncertainty with fake enthusiasm. "Do you want me to fetch you from the airport, or something?"

"No, that's not… necessary. I will find you at your hotel."

"Fine," nodded Chloe and then froze. "You know in which hotel we are staying?" she asked slowly.

Silence. Very long and very guilty silence. "Yes?..." came the shy reply.

Well then. It only confirmed there was no use in trying to avoid him. Better simply take the bull by the horns?... Devil by the horns?... No, no, just do not think about it, do not recall this dream… do not… Shit.

"Detective? I am sorry. Please, say something. Your invitation still stands? What are you thinking about?"

"Yes. I mean, yes, the invitation still stands," replied Chloe, happy that he cannot see her blush. "Please come, when it would be convenient for you. I am staying in Rome for the next two weeks," she finished a bit too formally and disconnected the conversation.

"It is all your fault," she said accusingly to the carton box with the remains of wine and, to punish it, poured it all to her glass.

She finished the wine, checked on Trixie sleeping in their bedroom and then went to the bathroom. The shower sobered her enough to revive her doubts again.

What have I done? Everything in her suddenly whined in fear. Here she was, having fled to the second hemisphere, to get some… perspective… to think everything over… and after no more than two weeks of thinking it over, quite unproductively, she called him to join her.

But in the last few years, they never separated for more than two weeks.

Whatever he is, he is now a part of my life, she thought with resignation. I cannot get rid of him, just like that… She exited to the small balcony again and admired the moon that appeared on the night sky. She recalled another balcony in Los Angeles and that short sweet moment they shared… I do not want to get rid of him.

Let's hope he would come sooner than later, she thought, heading for the bed.

And then her room phone called. When she raised the speaker, she heard the elderly owner of the hotel, who usually sat in the reception. She spoke mostly Italian, but slowly and adding a few English words, and Chloe managed to understand that she had a visitor. The lady asked whether he should be allowed to go to her room.

The only person the detective could think about that would possibly visit her here was this strange priest, as she left the address of her hotel in the library. She tensed immediately. She definitely wasn't going to let him to the room, where her daughter was sleeping and replied she would meet him in the hotel lobby. Regretting, that she wasn't able to take her gun on the vacation, she put the hotel night robe over her pajamas and went downstairs.

But in the small hotel lobby downstairs didn't wait for her the baldish bearded priest, only Lucifer, in his usual, designer glory, perhaps only a bit… windswept.

"Detective," he said, his voice breaking, looking at her as if she – in the oversized hotel robe – was the eighth wonder of the world.

Chloe only stared at him, her eyes round and mouth agape. Was he here, in Rome, all that time? Was he following her? But no, she was talking to him, she was calling to the Lux, speaking with Patric… "How is it possible?" she stuttered finally. "You have been in Los Angeles an hour ago! Just how?..."

Lucifer frowned and then suddenly bridled. "Bloody Hell, I didn't think again! I am sorry, Detective, I… I didn't want to scare you. I just… I was so happy that you called… and I forgot…"

"How did you get here so quickly?" asked Chloe, stressing each word. She remained standing on the last first step of the stairs.

Lucifer sighed and grimaced, looking quite guilty. "I flew..." he said with the same uncertainty as during their earlier conversation.

Plane? Helicopter. Not possible, too quickly. Wings, deciphered Chloe's mind. Wings, her mind repeated again and then performed an emergency shut down.

"I will come back in a few hours. Tomorrow. As if I would arrive by plane," proposed Lucifer with resignation and turned back to leave.

"No, no," Chloe called decisively, stepping down the stairs. "Stay."

The elderly lady sitting behind the reception counter said something in Italian. She must have made an acquaintance with Lucifer because she was speaking very quickly, in a dialect and expected to be understood. Lucifer smiled to her a bit sadly and turned to Chloe.

"She says I should bring you flowers," he explained. "She thinks we had a fight, and you ran away from me, and I came to apologize. And says that the flowers would help. Would the flowers help?" he asked with sudden interest.

"You have nothing to apologize for," replied Chloe instinctively.

"Right, after all, I cannot help being myself," he said with surprising bitterness.

"Please, don't!" called Chloe, reaching for his hand. "Don't speak… like this." She was still… scared, but she couldn't him fell into this destructive depression again. "Listen, Trixie is sleeping upstairs, so I cannot go anywhere, but… perhaps we could sit here for a moment and…" she pulled him towards a small table standing under the table of the lobby and stopped for a moment, seeing their reflection on the wall mirror. Despite the nervousness, she snorted with laughter. "We look funny together."

He was wearing, as usual, the black three-piece suit and the dark shirt and even if his clothes were a bit crumpled and hair in slight disarray, he was still sleek and smooth as usual, whereas she was drowning in the white, much too big cotton nightgown.

"Well, you do lack only a halo and a cloud under your feet, to look like a little fluffy angel," he agreed with a slight smile, for a moment marvelling their reflection.

There was no need to mention, whom he looked like. Himself.

They sat on the opposite sides of the little table and the elderly lady neared to them, bringing a small bottle of wine and two glasses. She stepped in front of Chloe and said something with a smile, patting her cheek.

The detective looked questioningly at Lucifer. "She told you, that you shouldn't worry," he replied. "That we learn to appreciate the good things only after we lose it. And since I learnt how it is to lose you, I would now appreciate you better…" he shook his head with a smirk. "What an old witch!..." he laughed and it sounded like a compliment. "First she didn't want to simply let me into your room and now she is definitely on your side."

Chloe questioningly raised her eyebrows.

"She desires to keep the most decent hotel in Rome," explained Lucifer with a helpless shrug. "Not very useful."

"Oh. And do you?" Chloe asked after a moment of consideration. "Do you appreciate me?..."

"Definitely," Lucifer nodded with the helpless, absolutely disarming smile, that turned out a bit sad when he said: "If I could turn back time I would have made a few things differently… and that comes from someone who didn't regret anything through millennia. Alas, I cannot, we are when and where we are… which makes me wonder why exactly are we here, Detective, in this lovely city, in the hotel led by the old Sardinian witch... Why did you call me?" he asked so suddenly, that Chloe, lulled by his rambling, had to mull over an answer for a moment.

"To spend some time together," she replied finally. "It is a lovely place, you know. It seemed to be a waste… not enjoy it."

"That's it?" he straightened and looked at her suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. "Somehow it seems too simple. And what about your… space? Distance? Have you thought everything over?" he hesitated and asked, looking her straight in the eye: "Aren't you scared anymore?"

"I am," admitted Chloe. "Very much. And a lifetime would not be enough to think everything over. But… I missed your company."

Suddenly she felt the tears trickling down her cheeks and quickly wiped them away.

"Detective? Why are you crying?"

"I don't know," Chloe wiped the tears again. They kept on flowing.

The elderly lady observing the scene from behind her courter shouted something to Lucifer, that sounded rather rudely. Lucifer snorted and shook his head, muttering something under his nose.

"Sometimes it is better not understand what they say," he commented, but then focused on Chloe again.

"Please, don't cry," he sighed sadly. "What do you want me to do? I can leave."

Chloe blew out her nose and tried to dry her eyes. "If I wanted you to leave, I wouldn't have called you," she muttered. "She is right, you know? The hotel owner."

"Our witch? Why?"

"We should learn to appreciate the good things before we lose them."

Lucifer looked at her for a long while and his expression brightened a little. "Somehow I have a good feeling about you saying it, Detective," he said with a slight smile.

Chloe thought about all the questions he had. All her fears and doubts, that forced her to run away and make this futile raid through the libraries, these research that led her nowhere… All these question still stood. However, at the moment only one qestion really mattered.

"How would I know that this all is not a lie?" she asked, looking him in the eye. "That you are not lying to me? And do not say, that you do not lie, because if you did lie, you would say the same."

To her surprise, Lucifer didn't bridle. He considered her question seriously, searching for something that would give her sufficient assurance.

"You would know, Chloe," he said finally. "You are a miracle, a real miracle. The Father directly influenced your creation."

"I even do not know what it means," she shook her head.

"Then trust your intuition. If I were lying, if I wanted to hurt or misled you would be able to recognize it."

Chloe very much wanted to believe him… only that doubts, grounded in her past, flooded her again. "I didn't know when Marcus was lying," she said quietly.

To her surprise, instead of getting angry at mentioning Pierce, Lucifer beamed almost triumphally.

"You weren't his miracle," he said, all his smugness suddenly back.

Chloe rolled his eyes.

"I really, really missed you doing it," stated Lucifer.

Their sight met for a moment.

"I need to go," said suddenly Chloe. "I am tired. And I need to check on Trixie. Can we continue tomorrow?"

She was chickening out, right. However, at the moment she didn't feel up to the task of dealing with smug, self-confident Lucifer. That, and her own… emotions… It would be too much for one day.

"But tomorrow we would return to the subject of appreciating of good things?..." that was more a statement than a question. Lucifer was openly grinning now as if he knew the reason of her sudden retreat. "Very well. I need to take care of a few things as well. Like accommodation. And some shopping. Most obviously, I have no luggage. Would it be… acceptable if I stayed in the same hotel? I fear that if I went now somewhere else, your witch could curse me. You had no idea how rancorous Sardinian witches can be," he complained with shammed exaggeration.

"Of course," Chloe shrugged her shoulders, pretending to be oblivious. "That's very nice… place. The view is nice."

"It certainly is," he agreed, looking at her, and proceeded to a long and laud conversation with the elderly lady, that resulted in him receiving the key to the room and some advice, he didn't translate.

Chloe lingered for a moment in the lobby, looking behind him, as he climbed the stairs. Somehow, she preferred to avoid walking him back to his room. At least tonight. The hotel owner said something to her, speaking slower, for her account, but Chloe was so tired, that she didn't understand anything.

"Yes," she replied only, still looking behind Lucifer. "He is the devil, you know? Il diavolo."

The lady laughed and said something, laud. Chloe blushed again, having caught a few words.

"No, not in the bed," she replied. "Generally. The usual… devil. Well," she added slowly, crooking her head, "in the bed too. At least that's what I heard."

At least now it looked that she had a chance for the real holiday ahead of her.