CHAPTER SIX
An Enigma In An Expertly Tailored Armani

Chloe was shaking when Joan dropped her off at her apartment hours after a hit-and-run. Despite the fact that the car had clearly been aiming for her, she had no way of knowing how Lucifer was doing. She'd wanted to stay with him and talk with the paramedics, but her fellow officers had made valid points that she would only get in the way; she was more useful going with them to make a statement than hovering around the prone man.

But he'd been hit by a car! How was she supposed to feel about that? If she hadn't just found out that he was actually the Devil, would she have felt any differently about someone throwing themselves in front of a car for her? He had said he was going to protect her but killing himself in the process hadn't seemed like where he'd been going with that.

Could the Devil even die? And, if he'd been able to take those bullets, what had made the car any different?

Going to the cabinet, she started to take out a cup, pausing when it came time to choose between herbal tea or a glass of wine. She should go to bed, let her head work out everything that had happened that day. Maybe even pop a Tylenol PM to help her along that path.

Instead, she sighed and grabbed one of her mother's novelty wine glasses, already turning to snatch the opened bottle she had off the counter.

Because, at the end of a horrendous, life-altering day, she needed something to take the edge off.

She eyed both her desk and the couch in front of her. She could turn on one of the mind-numbing procedurals on Netflix that she and her friends—well, the people who had been her friends before Palmetto—enjoyed picking apart, but it seemed too…normal. Like today was any other day and not the day she'd learned about…everything.

Yet, if she went to her desk, she knew she wouldn't get any work done. There wasn't much to be done since she was still on desk duty. Luckily, she wouldn't have the sling for much longer, but it could still be weeks before she was cleared for duty.

If she ever went back.

And wasn't that just it? The day had raised so many questions, ones that she desperately needed answers for. How could the Devil be a Guardian Angel? Why was he sent there specifically for her? What had happened to him to give him two faces? Why would Lucifer care in the slightest what happened to other humans, even if she were technically his job? If he were truly Satan, where'd the wings come from?

For the first time in her life, she wished her parents had been a bit more religious during her upbringing.

Setting down her wine beside her laptop, Chloe took her seat at the desk, taking a deep breath through her nose as she questioned where her life had taken her that she was at her work station just before midnight, asking Google about the Devil.

-.-

Chloe was shocked when she realized that the sun was rising through her windows; she hadn't realized there was that much conflicting information on the Devil. In some stories, he was a trickster, in others, a master of deception, and then they even called him God's favorite son. Theologians even discussed whether Lucifer and all the other incarnations of the Devil were considered the same being.

Almost all of them painted him in a horrible light, at least in the way of humanity. He hated humans so he rebelled and tried to take over the world, causing God to cast him out. But if the Lucifer she knew loathed the people of Earth, why would he bother to protect any of them? What could have tempted him to do something he found so repulsive?

What were the parts she was missing?

Groaning as she dumped her barely touched wine down the drain, she sent a hasty text to the lieutenant, explaining that she was going to take some PTO for the day. She thought briefly about letting Dan know that she wouldn't be in, but immediately dismissed the idea. Why should she tell him anything? He'd thought that he'd had the right to get in her face after he'd royally screwed the Hillman investigation—though that wasn't entirely his fault, but he should have had her back—and they were divorced anyways. What was the point in even trying with him anymore?

Heading for her bedroom, Chloe decided she should have just taken a pill and gone to sleep; now her entire day would be wasted and none of her research had answered any questions she'd had before, only piling them on.

It wasn't like anything she could have found out would have changed the fact that she had seen the Devil in his full glory. What did she think she was going to do if she managed to figure it all out?

Suddenly so very tired, she started stripping out of her sling and shirt the minute she crossed the threshold of her bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief as she threw it in the general direction of the clothes basket. Maybe she'd take a shower before she crawled into bed, if only to soothe the aches and pains of the day.

"While I do enjoy the show, Detective, I believe we have some things to discuss."

At the sound of his voice, Chloe nearly leapt out of her skin, wrenching her arm painfully as she tried to cover herself. Snatching up the throw blanket from the foot of her bed, she hissed, "What are you doing here?"

He stretched dramatically, smirking as he watched her wrapping herself up. "Well, I'd gotten here earlier, but you seemed to be doing some work, so I waited here. I think I might have fallen asleep in the meantime; I didn't know the case would keep you at your desk until daybreak."

With a sarcastic laugh, she answered, "I wasn't working on a case, Lucifer. I was…." She trailed off when reality struck her. Did she tell him what she had been doing? How would it make him feel to hear that she was trying to figure out what kind of a threat he was when he had been taken to the hospital after protecting her from getting hit by a car? So, she straightened up and cleared her throat. "I was doing some independent research."

With that dark smirk still on his face, Lucifer rose, eyeing her in open appreciation. "Would it be fair for me to assume that part of that 'research' had to do with seeing my Devil Face just hours before?" he asked as he stalked smoothly towards her, the movement as entrancing as a cobra's dance.

She stood her ground, though, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her afraid again. Lifting her chin, she said, "Of course it did. Can you blame me? I just found out the guy who insisted on working with me was the Devil."

He didn't stop until he was just outside of being too close, but the grin on his face had lost its mischievousness, replacing it with an almost hypnotizing aura. With their gazes locked, she suddenly felt that pull in her gut, soft as a gentle whisper in her ear telling her to say it, to tell him what she wanted. "And what were you looking for?" he replied quietly.

Shaking off the feeling, she kept her voice steady. "Answers."

He raised an eyebrow, watching her for a moment. For the first time, though, she didn't get the feeling that he could see through her. Maybe it was all the revelations she'd learned over the last twenty-four hours or the fact that he clearly hadn't expected her to be able to be in the same room as him after it all. But he seemed genuinely intrigued to find out everything she had to say. "And?"

Now, she had to think. Why should she answer him? He was the Prince of Darkness, the ruler of Hell; she didn't owe him anything other than turning him out and hoping it stuck. Wasn't there something in all the research she'd done saying that evil would be released when the Devil freely walked Earth? How was she supposed to trust him?

But a little voice inside of her was quick to say that she was only there because he'd protected her. Even if he wasn't really the man in the suit, it didn't change that he'd stepped between her and Jimmy Barnes or her and that car. He'd taken her back since he'd started working with her, helping her even when the other officers wouldn't. And what did that mean? What would it hurt to just be honest with him now?

Blowing out a hard breath, she broke their eye contact, moving around him to grab her shirt and pull it on again. "I only found more questions. It seems like everyone's got an opinion on who you are and who you once were." She gingerly pulled her bad arm through the sleeve and yanked her hair free of the neck before she let the blanket drop, noticing her hands were shaking. She clenched them, hoping it would stop the quiver, but quickly gave up.

"Yes, a mystery wrapped in an enigma in an expertly tailored Armani," he answered sarcastically. She turned back towards him and he held his arms out, doing a slow spin. "I assure you that I am an open book, Detective. Instead of asking Jeeves, why not just interrogate me directly?"

A little smile ticked at her lips. "No one uses Ask Jeeves anymore. You're really dating yourself."

"Seeing as I'm older than carbon, that may be the only way to do so."

She paused at that, the now familiar sensation of a fist clenching in her chest intensifying. That was something she hadn't even given a thought to. As the Devil, how long had he really been alive? It had to be incomprehensible. How many of science's questions could he answer if he cared to? How many stars had he seen start and end?

He must have sensed she was getting ready to bolt because he took a step back, hands up. "I can see that we aren't quite ready for that conversation. Perhaps we should start with the most burning question on your mind and go from there?"

"How am I supposed to know what one that is?" she blurted out, turning to the side table to grab her water glass, pushing past him towards the bathroom to fill it. Seizing the ibuprofen bottle, she viciously shook out three pills. She spun back towards him, annoyed to find that he was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. "Do you know what all this means to someone like me? I grew up in the antitheses of a religious household. Then, when I find out it's all real, all I have is the Internet to work with! Do you know how many websites are devoted to all things…you?"

"I am the most interesting of my siblings, of course," he said idly, tilting his head to study her. "But you had a veritable source of all things me standing before you from the start." Spreading his arms wide, he added, "So let me have it. What would you like to know?"

How was she supposed to know? He was infuriatingly blasé and she was breaking down. "So, I just ask whether you were born the Devil or became it? And then how? And that's okay with you?"

He shrugged, seeming completely uncaring, but Chloe thought she saw a flash of hesitation in his eyes before they once again twinkled with mischief. "It's better than others that have discovered my true face before have reacted. Most either go insane or run to grab their torches and pitchforks."

She didn't respond immediately, trying to search out any sign that he might be as nervous as she was. Would he really answer her truthfully? Did he have any reason to?

I made a bargain to protect you.

Stop that! You're going to reopen your stitches!

I will be right back, Detective, once I squash the cockroach.

"Do you promise not to lie?" she asked quietly, keeping her eyes locked with his. If she saw just one sign of deception, she'd find a way to get him out of her house and out of her life. "Or side-step the truth?"

Shifting indignantly to his full height, he gave her a mock bow, answering, "If that's what it takes to relax you, then yes, Detective, no matter what you ask. But I'll remind you that I never lie."

Inhaling deeply, she straightened her shoulders and forced herself to say the first thing that came to mind. "Why me? Who wants me protected?"

Clearly surprised by the question, he laughed, relaxing just a bit. "Well, that's not what I thought you'd ask; I was thinking something along the lines of 'what's Hell like?'" Moving away from the door and back into the bedroom, he said, "And I've answered this once before, you'll remember."

"You never answered me fully, though," she pointed out exasperatedly, following to stand directly behind him as he looked around the whole room, seemingly intending to scrutinize every detail. "You said you bargained to protect me, but you never told me who you made a deal with or why. It had to have been something or someone really important to get you to follow some nobody like me around."

-.-

Lucifer slowly turned towards Chloe incredulously. Did she truly think she was so insignificant? "What do you believe makes you insignificant, Detective? The fact that you're the only human in history to resist the Devil? Or how about that you are standing in front of, arguably, one of the strongest beings to ever exist making demands?"

She blinked at that; had it truly not crossed her mind that this wasn't exactly normal behavior for mortals? Opening her mouth as if to continue on that train of thought, she paused, her eyes darting as if connecting dots in the air. "No, I'm not going to be distracted," she said with a shake of her head, suddenly looking stern. "Who did you bargain with and why?"

With a roll of his eyes, he started to sit on the edge of the bed, but a warning glare had him straightening his suit instead. "Wouldn't you like to have this conversation some place more comfortable? I assume you'll have follow up questions and I hardly want to be standing here for hours trying to explain the cosmos to you."

Her eyes narrowed into darkening slits, her shoulders rising towards her ears in anger. She snatched his arm, wrapping her fingers around his wrist tightly and dragging him from the room until she practically threw him into a kitchen chair. "There, now you can be 'comfortable' and stop avoiding the question." She leaned forward to get in his face and growled, "So tell me. Now."

Lucifer couldn't stop himself from the admiration rising within him. She truly was a magnificent specimen of human; he would almost admit that his Father had done quite well in creating her specifically. Beautiful though she was, it hardly compared to the fire in her eyes that even fear of the Devil couldn't shake from her. How could such a glorious creature think of herself as a nobody?

With a grin, he raised his hands defensively. "All right, you win; no more distractions," he said amicably before gesturing towards another chair. "You may want to sit down for this one." When she just continued to glare at him, he gave a theatric sigh. "No? You're choice, Detective. Even if seeing my Face didn't knock you off your feet, I assure you this information will."

"Stop stalling and spill it, Lucifer; I'm running on no sleep…or patience."

Approving of her moxie, he smirked. What a delightful woman, indeed…. "My Father sent me a message through my holier-than-thou brother to Hell thirty-four years ago: if I gave my word to be your Guardian Angel, I'd be allowed topside until my duties were done. Seeing as my domain isn't exactly hospitable and coming to Earth otherwise would involve my siblings' interference, I gladly took the deal."

There was one slow blink, then another, as the information seemed to sink in. "And your father is…?"

"God, of course."

She reached behind her blindly to pull out the chair there, haphazardly dropping into it. Her head plummeted into her hands, gaze wide and unseeing on the floor. Her chest rose and fell steadily, then faster and faster.

Fighting the unnerving urge to reach over and soothe her, Lucifer used the time it took her to compose herself to brush nonexistent dirt from his suit. How was he supposed to calm her? The only way he'd found himself useful to anxious humans involved far less clothing and she had shown she wasn't in the least bit interested.

Once she'd slowed her breathing, she looked back at him, her voice shaky as she asked, "Why? Why would He care about me at all?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," he answered truthfully, careful not to show that he was also shaken by that truth. "I suppose it has something to do with Him having Amenadiel bless your parents with you, but His Plan has always been a mystery, even to His children—"

"Wait, what?" she asked quickly, leaping ferociously back in her seat. "What does that even mean?"

Lucifer found himself doing something he had never done before: thinking of how to say something tactfully. It had been unsettling to watch her panic and he'd like to avoid it, if possible. "Well, you weren't meant to be born; either your mother or father was infertile, though I never thought to ask which it might be." The little color she'd had in her face drained further and he hastily added, "But Father must need you for something, otherwise He would never have come to me for help—"

"Are you kidding?" she breathed, chest beginning to heave once again. "So, you've never been a Guardian Angel before? And He went to His greatest enemy—"

"Father has more to concern Himself with than me, I'm sure," he interrupted, hoping to stave off her worry. "Since He had me thrown from the Silver City, I doubt He's thought about me much."

He could see the information clicking together behind her eyes and, so long as she was focusing on that, it seemed to be calming her. "He did have you thrown out of Heaven! Why?"

Stiffening, Lucifer regretted trying to do the kind thing and tried to think of an answer that would pacify her without giving too much away.

He hated the memory of Michael snapping his wings and tossing him through dimensions, especially after their latest case. How could he possibly describe what he'd been through for simply questioning orders? One tryst in the Garden and he was still being punished, left in Hell for millennia to warden his Father's favorite prison.

"I wanted to choose my own path; He doesn't like those that go against Him," Lucifer answered simply, shaking off the phantom feeling of his wings regenerating.

"Did you disobey because you hate humans?" she asked slowly, warily eyeing him once again. "Is that why you try to get them to go to Hell?"

It was his turn to blink in surprise and, once he realized she was serious, he let out a laugh. "What? Why would I hate humans?" He rose, crossing to the cupboard where he'd discovered she kept her coffee, readying a pot. "Mortals are so much fun, constantly finding ways to entertain yourselves, cramming so many experiences into the few decades you are on this plane of existence." He turned to glance at her as he filled the pot with water. "How many scoops do I put in? I prefer my espresso maker, but I'm sure I can figure out this…Mr. Coffee."

She raised and eyebrow and stood, moving around him to take control of the process herself. As she spooned out four scoops, she asked, "Do I want to know how you know your way around my kitchen so well?"

"You're my charge, Detective," he said easily, pouring the water in as she clicked the filter into place. "I've had a look around your place to figure you out."

"The missing two weeks?"

He nodded with a smile, confused at the exasperated expression on her face but deciding against questioning her further. "Anyways," he began as she pressed the brew button, "I know you must have more to ask me, so"—he spread his arms wide, hoping it gave her the impression of an open book—"fire away."

-.-

Being wheeled through the precinct wasn't exactly how he had envisioned his return to the office, but it was still better than his previous destination. He'd even take the doctors and nurses poking and prodding him over that, despite the terrible food and boring television.

But Paolucci was smiling and excitedly telling everyone that approached them about his partner's prodigal return, what a miracle it was to have him back after the cluster fuck that was Palmetto. And his fellow officers were more than within their rights to continue offering to buy him a beer—once he was medically cleared for a good time, of course.

All in all, it just felt good to be back, to know that he had escaped Hell…for now.

"Malcolm, how good to see you back out and about," Lieutenant Monroe said, barely looking up when they finally made their way into her office. She had a small, self-satisfied grin on her face as she looked over a file, the gleam of ambition in her eyes making him straighten in his seat. "Anthony, I'd like to speak to him privately. Please close the door on your way out."

That was new. He kept his head turned over his shoulder, watching the door click closed before he gave her his full attention again. "Heard some rumors a congrats is in order, Lieutenant," he said good-naturedly, finally getting her to look at him. Her smile only grew when he added, "Or, I guess Commissioner, now."

"Yes, it seems that the high-profile cases being solved so quickly have pretty much cinched that for me," she agreed lightly, fingers lacing together as she leaned forward. A tightness appeared at the corners of her mouth and she glanced briefly back down at the paperwork. "But before I officially announce my replacement, I wanted to talk to you." She stood, rounding her desk to lean on the corner to his left. "The officer, caught in a hail of bullets in the line of duty, taken off life support only to miraculously come back to life. It's quite the story."

He kept himself from showing his nervousness but couldn't help the sweat that began wetting his hairline. There was no way she could know what he'd been up to at Palmetto, but he hadn't believed in Heaven and Hell before he'd died, either. Had someone found something on him? Why wouldn't she have had him immediately arrested? Unless…. "Look, getting shot at when I'm meeting with an informant—"

She held up a hand, stopping him rather unceremoniously, but he gritted his teeth at the disrespect. Face hardening, she said, "I know Detective Decker was looking into you. She has nothing other than a feeling and she's on record talking about a man in a suit; your job is not in danger. Quite the opposite actually." Her predatory smirk grew once again, her voice becoming a purr. "I'd like you to endorse me, Malcolm. The race for Commissioner is almost certainly mine, but I can't be too careful, not when my future is on the line."

Feeling an answering grin stretch his lips, he thought about what she was saying. "Are you offering to get Decker off my back? I mean, I'd be putting my good name behind yours—"

Her hands went to the armrests of his wheelchair, her face in his and no longer even trying to be pacifying. "The investigation into Palmetto is a blight on my LAPD. There's no evidence to say that you weren't just meeting with an informant. Chloe Decker was clearly affected after seeing her brother in blue shot and she is still under orders to see a psychiatrist biweekly." Straightening to her full height, she put her jacket back into order and went back to the other side of her desk. "I want to get Lieutenant Pierce in before I take my new post. He's the best of the best and will instill confidence within my constituents. I can probably make that transition much easier for you."

He realized then what she was saying. No one believed Chloe, even a little bit, which left him in an incredibly good position. Paolucci had already explained that no one trusted her anymore and now the higher-ups were having their doubts? It was honestly just too perfect; he got to keep everything, and he'd be even less likely to get investigated if he wanted to start up his old shenanigans again.

Theatrically struggling as he stood, he reached a hand across the desk, which she took with glee. "Get me in front of a reporter, Commissioner."