Chapter 3
"Maze, inappropriate," Chloe reproaches absently, still staring hard in the direction Lucifer's Corvette had disappeared, as though she can convince him to come back and finish their conversation through will alone.
"Yeah, you're right, if you'd boned, he would have been singing about it, not pissy," Maze capitulates without Chloe having to say anything further. "So what happened? You look like shit, by the way."
"Yeah, thanks Maze, poison tends to do that to us mere humans."
"Oooh, you're touchy too! You guys are fighting!" Maze grins ferally and places a friendly hand on Chloe's shoulder, turning her back toward the apartment. "C'mon, I'll get you boozed up and you can tell me all about your suffering. It'll be great. Wait, where's Trix?"
"Dan has Trixie tonight so I can recover," Chloe supplies, still not quite certain what just happened with Lucifer. "I got poisoned and almost died last week, Lucifer just brought me home from the hospital. Where have you been?"
"Yeah, I knew about that, I've just been on a bounty the past few days. You're still not better from that? It's been, like, an entire week. You humans really do take forever to heal. I was at the hospital when you first got poisoned, I was supposed to help Lucifer get the antidote for you, but…" she trails off, her face falling.
"But what?"
"Hey, it's not that I didn't want to help you, Decker," Maze blurts defensively, "I just… I couldn't kill him. I wanted to, I just couldn't."
"You… what?" Chloe's eyes sharpen and focus on her roommate.
"Look. I really like you and you're hot, in a prudish kinda way. We're Tribe, and you're like, my third favorite human!" Maze reassures her obliviously, "But Lucifer was my King for thousands of years, and it was my job to protect him. He released me from his service, but that's not something that just… stops. Ya know?"
"What do you mean you couldn't kill him, Maze?" Chloe's tone is flat, and Maze suddenly seems to realize that she's upset.
"What, he didn't tell you?" She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Man, he is so gone for you, it's disgusting. Ugh, I meant exactly what I said—he needed to go to Hell to get that antidote from that whack-job that poisoned you. I volunteered to kill him while Amenadiel kept them from moving you, and Linda was supposed to bring him back. Revive him. Whatever," Maze shakes her head, dismissing the terminology as irrelevant. "I couldn't do it, so while Linda and I were arguing, he grabbed the paddles and did it himself. We finally managed to get him back, after his Mom volunteered to go back to Hell to grab him out of whatever loop he'd gotten trapped in."
"Well, look who's back. You didn't die after all. That makes one of us." He'd greeted her with those words when she woke and found him beside her in the hospital. Her heart stutters for a moment before anger swells once more.
"Maze, Hell isn't a rideshare destination, you can't just go pick someone up," Chloe growls in frustration. "How is that you both have the exact same delusion? I didn't even know that was possible outside of cults. Do you guys come from a cult?"
"We come from Hell, Decker, I know exactly how it works. You'll figure it out one day." Maze shrugs and slinks upstairs to her room, indicating that she's done with the conversation. Chloe watches her go blankly, considering storming up the stairs and demanding Maze tell her the truth about how Lucifer really had gotten that antidote. But her anger drains away, leaving her chilled with barely enough energy to silently collect her blanket from the floor by the bar and shuffle herself back to her couch, before wrapping herself inside the blanket like a curled-up caterpillar until only her face is visible. Once she's warmed up again, she can't keep the tears back any longer. They fall, leaving rapidly-cooling trails of fire down her face. She doesn't bother to try to wipe them away, letting the blanket absorb them as she replays the confrontation with Lucifer in her mind. She alternates between anger—at how easily he walked away, at how stubbornly he clings to the shelter of his ridiculous metaphors, at herself for letting him into her life and heart—and despondency. She cares for him, how could she not? He's shown her more consideration in the past year than Dan did during the 8 years of their marriage combined. He's easy to get along with if you ignore his constant innuendos and illicit drug use (that somehow rarely seems to affect him at all), handsome as the day is long, and he's helped her see casework a new way. He brought fun back into her daily life, something she hadn't realized that she'd been sorely missing. It's more than that, though. It's the way she feels around him; safe and valued, and capable of anything. She loves the way his eyes light up when he smiles, which is often. She loves his delighted laugh when she connects the clues in a case that gives them a new suspect. His soft look of panicked surprise every time Ella throws her arms around him in an affectionate hug. She loves that, despite his questionable history, he's always been gentle, and even kind to Trixie. He has never once failed her when she truly needed him to come through, and his initial questions when she shared her conclusion haunt her,
"Do you want me gone from your life entirely, or merely the personal parts? Do you wish to continue solving cases together, or would you prefer I disappear?"
What does she want? She tries to picture her life without Lucifer in it, without his relentless exuberance and inappropriateness. She feels like her life was 'fine' before she met him, but it's been more interesting, and thrilling as a roller coaster since he planted himself at her side. Now that she knows how fulfilling life can be… does she want to go back to the way it was before?
The puzzling thing is, she doesn't think Lucifer is crazy, not really. He doesn't have great interpersonal skills, but somehow his social skills are nearly always on point. She knows he passed all the psychiatric evaluations required to become an official civilian consultant. If anything, she thinks he's using his chosen identity and history as the Devil to hide from an incredibly rough past.
She doesn't think he's a liar, either, despite not believing what he's told her. She's never caught him in a lie that wasn't directly related to his identity or his past— she believes he's telling his version of the truth, but Lucifer's version leaves far too much open for interpretation.
And now with this whole Miracle notion… she doesn't know what to make of that. It worries her for a lot of reasons, partially because it seems to be an escalation of his previous delusions… metaphors, whatever they are. But also because if he sees her as some kind of… what? Gift? Trap? Tool of his father? If he starts looking at her as an object rather than a person, as a possession… she couldn't handle that.
A wave of concern washes over her, and she finds herself reaching blindly for her phone. She hovers over Lucifer's contact information for a long moment before scrolling down to Linda's instead.
"Chloe!" her friend's warm voice flows into her ear, "how are you feeling? Have they released you yet?"
"Linda, hey," she sighs tiredly, "Yeah, Lucifer brought me home a couple hours ago. I'm feeling better, just tired."
"Well, it's going to take some time to build yourself back up again," Linda groans sympathetically. "Are you okay? Not that I'm not happy to hear from you, but you don't normally call me, and you sound kind of upset."
Chloe hesitates, considering. This is why she called…
"I'm… worried about Lucifer," she offers, and she hears her friend's soft sigh.
"Chloe, I can't discuss anything that goes on in our sessions—"
"No, I… I know that Linda," she rushes to explain, "but… we've been getting closer over the past few months, and we had just recently started to consider a relationship together. Today, when he brought me home we were going to discuss that, only we kind of got derailed."
"Okayyyy…" Linda drags out the word.
"He just…" she growls in frustration, "he won't tell me the truth, Linda, he keeps hiding behind these stupid metaphors and I just keep… letting him. And then today, he tells me that I was made for him. Like… that his dad, 'God' put me here specifically to be in his path for who knows what reason, and that he thought our feelings were… I don't know, manipulated, or manufactured." She scoffs.
"Oh, really?" Linda replies, keeping her tone neutral.
"He said he'd been working with you to try to find a way to tell me about it that I would actually believe…"
"Hmm."
"Linda… I just… I don't think he's doing well. With this new idea of his, of me being some kind of 'miracle', it… it seems like he's actually getting worse."
"Did he tell you anything else, Chloe?"
"His usual nonsense about being the devil. He brought up a few instances where weird things have happened with him, and he got really frustrated that I don't believe him like you apparently do."
"I can understand how frustrated you must be, Chloe, I know what it's like when it feels like you're going in circles."
"Linda, he told me that you believe he is the devil. I mean… seriously? Is this some therapy trick?"
"I can't discuss our sessions, Chloe, but I'm sorry you're feeling frustrated. What else did you talk about?"
"I thought that maybe I could get him to open up, so I asked him to show me. His wings, his face, something," Chloe feels like she's whining, and she doesn't like it… but she also doesn't like how they've left things, and Linda might be able to help. "He just told me that he doesn't have his wings, and that he won't show me his supposed 'Devil face'." She lifts her hands and makes air quotes, even though Linda can't see her.
"You know about his face?" Linda breathes quietly, and Chloe rolls her eyes.
"He's told me about it, yeah," She huffs an annoyed laugh. "Sounds like he watched way too many monster movies when he was a kid."
A long awkward silence rings across the line, until Linda clears her throat. "I wish I had an easy answer for you, Chloe, but it appears the two of you have reached an impasse. You refuse to believe him unless he offers proof that you accept, and he refuses to provide that proof. In light of that… it seems you both have a decision to make."
An impasse. That's the same word Lucifer had used. She grits her teeth and counts to ten. Then she pulls in a deep breath and does it twice more.
"I'm sorry, Linda, I shouldn't have bothered you with this," she's truly exhausted now, and just wants to hang up and fall asleep. "I just didn't like where we left things today. Can we chalk this entire conversation up to exhaustion?"
"If you think that's best, Chloe, of course we can," Linda agrees, but Chloe can tell she doesn't think it's a good idea. "Can I ask where you did leave things?"
"I… told him that we couldn't move forward unless he offered me something real about himself," Chloe admits, suddenly feeling a surge of guilt as the memory of all the very real things Lucifer has brought into her life: his support, his humor, his joie de vivre, his affection. "But when he still wouldn't let me in, I told him that I was concerned that he could become unstable, and that I couldn't allow that around Trixie."
"Oh," Linda breathes quietly, taking in the new information. "Then what happened?"
"I told him that I wanted him to talk to you about this whole 'miracle' ridiculousness, but he said he already had. And…" she bites her lip as she gets to the crux of the matter, "and then he asked me if I wanted him out of my life completely, or only my personal life."
"Ohhhh," Linda groans, and Chloe is sure she's burying her face in her hands right now. "Did you have an answer for him?"
"I… got mad. That I meant so little to him that he could just walk away from me… from us so easily," Chloe admits, now twisting the blanket in her hands.
"Chloe…" Linda's tone is shocked, the word catching in her throat. "Do you realize that you essentially told him that he either had to prove his identity to you, or remove himself from your life?" A void opens in Chloe's chest… that wasn't what she'd intended, she'd only wanted him to talk to her. "There is so much that you don't realize…"
"I would if he would just tell me, Linda!" she wails, "but he won't and… and I just can't anymore. He said I was right, that he shouldn't be around me or Trixie, and… I got so angry. I accused him of being afraid of his dad."
A long, shuddering exhalation is the only reply Linda can muster for a long moment. "What did he say to that?"
"He… got mad, too. Spewed something about fighting with his dad once before and suffering for it, that he didn't want to drag me down with him this time, and that he struck some kind of deal to protect me with his dying breath or some other craziness. Then he thanked me for our partnership, and left."
"How long ago was this?"
"I dunno, maybe an hour? Less?" Chloe shakes her head. "Maze got home just as he was leaving and said something about how she couldn't kill him to help get the antidote for the poison, and… I guess I just wanted to talk to someone sane, Linda, I really am sorry to dump this on you."
"They're not crazy, Chloe," Linda begins, but she's overshadowed by another, lethally calm voice.
"So you think we're crazy?" Maze's voice, velvety soft and deadly, rings out from the stairwell and Chloe startles, popping up from her blanket nest like a prairie dog. "You think I'm crazy?"
"Maze!" Chloe barks in surprise, and hears Linda's low gasp from the phone. "I… I don't really think you're crazy, I just… I don't know what to think. I can't understand how the two of you have the exact same delusions, and it drives me crazy."
"You just told Linda you thought that Lucifer could be unstable, and you didn't want that around your kid," Maze growls, stalking closer as Chloe tries not fidget. Her roommate's nose wrinkles, as though she smells something sour. "So what does that mean for me? You don't want me around Trix either?"
"Chloe," Linda murmurs urgently in her ear, "tread very carefully here, okay?"
"Maze, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it the way it came out—"
"So you wanted to see Lucifer's face, and he wouldn't show you, huh?" Maze sneers derisively, her tone dangerous as she moves silently down the last few stairs and toward Chloe, who remains frozen like a mouse before a snake at the sudden malice evident in her roommate. Aimed at her. "I mean, I knew you didn't believe us, but I didn't know you thought we were just nutjobs. I can help you with that, you know… convince you that we're not crazy… but it might make you wish we were."
"Maze, no!" Linda cries loudly into Chloe's ear, and she flinches. She'd forgotten Linda was still on the line as Maze approached her. "Chloe, let me talk to her, please."
"Um… Linda wants to talk to you…" Chloe slowly holds the phone out, and Mazikeen curls her lip in contempt at Chloe as she darts forward to take the phone.
"What." Maze growls into the phone, glaring at her roommate. "Linda, you heard what she said… She thinks we're crazy. Yeah, but—No… No, but…" Maze starts pacing, suddenly producing one of her engraved curved blades and flicking it nimbly in her free hand. "But what if she thinks I'm unstable and doesn't want me around the kid, either? But Linda, you know I can prove it, and then she won't… Well, yeah. No. Fine. Okay. I guess not. Fine, I won't. I said I won't, Linda. Yeah. Okay, here."
She thrusts the phone back at Chloe with a withering glance and barrels out the front door without another word, leaving Chloe staring after her, stunned. She hears the motor of Maze's Spider roar to life and the sound of tires peeling away. She's probably going to get another sternly-worded note from the landlord about disturbing the peace… After a moment she hears Linda's voice distantly rising from the phone in her hand, and raises it to her ear.
"—thing okay? Chloe? Maze?"
"Hey," Chloe says dazedly, "it's me. I'm… not really sure what happened just now, but… I think I just managed to monumentally piss off two of my best friends."
Lucifer sits at his piano in the penthouse, trailing his fingers over the keys without making any sound. Normally, he uses music to help make sense of the world around him. Somehow, when he plays… when his skilled fingers dance along the keys and the melodies pour forth, it feels as though he can understand things better. Or perhaps it's simply that the music clears the emotions that persistently cloud his thoughts so he can think. He doesn't know, but it always helps.
Today, though his tumbler of scotch sits untouched on the lid and his burning cigarette grows a tail of ash and sends a tiny plume of nicotine-tinged smoke toward the ceiling, the music doesn't come. He hasn't been able to summon it for over a week now. It's as though he's been emptied of everything, so here he sits, an empty vessel wanting so badly to be filled.
He doesn't dare allow himself to think of the conversation with Chloe yet. Though it's been over a week, that wound is still too raw. He can't consider his future without her in it, because that isn't just raw, it's still hemorrhaging. So, he lets himself consider his situation with his mother, and brother. That's somewhat Detective-adjacent, so he prods it carefully, turning and examining it so only the pieces he can currently process are on view.
What is she plotting? She admitted to pushing me toward… pushing me, knowing that the truth would… would hurt. And that she's been working to aggravate my anger at Dad. So… the question is, why? She wants something of me. Perhaps if I can provide it, she'll leave me be.
The elevator chimes, but he doesn't acknowledge his visitor until she moves to stroke his cheek. His hand whips up, faster than a striking snake and holds the delicate wrist away from him in a vice-like grip.
"Do not touch me," he hisses venomously, glaring up into wide slate-blue eyes. "Why are you here?"
"I've been worried about you, son," the Goddess murmurs breathlessly, "You haven't answered any of my calls in over two weeks!"
"That was your first clue that I didn't want to speak to you, Mum," Lucifer sneers, releasing her wrist and standing so he can move away from her. He hasn't been answering the Doctor's calls, either, and he skipped his past two sessions with her. He can't bring himself to speak to any of them. "Here's the second: I don't want to speak to you. Now leave."
"Lucifer, I…"
"I don't want to hear your excuses, Mother," he interrupts loudly, raising his hands abruptly in a silencing motion. "Amenadiel has been petitioning for me to speak with you as well, so you've got him firmly on your side. Is that not enough for you?"
"I'm your mother, Lucifer," she gazes at him from across the room, her grey-blue eyes shining with tears. "Is it so wrong that I'd want you by my side as well? That I might want and need your support, as I have supported you?"
"Fine," he growls, suppressing a sigh of annoyance. Well, I did ask for a way to find out what it is that she wants… though if this more of Dad's meddling… "Let's have a chat, then. I'll start by saying I do not forgive you."
"I deserve that," she lifts her chin, as though resigning herself to his judgement.
"Hmm," he acknowledges before continuing hesitantly, "However, you did make quite a sacrifice for me. Despite your callous manipulations, maybe you were well-intentioned. Somewhere. Deep, deep down. Perhaps that counts for something."
"I'm glad you think so, son," her face relaxes a little, and her voice is infused with hope.
"Besides, I'm far more pissed off at Dad," he throws out casually, hoping to goad her into revealing more in her attempt to sway him to her side. He continues bitterly, "I mean, you just tried to speed up feelings I already had, whereas he... Well. He made all those feelings a lie." Speaking about the Detective, even without saying her name, twists something sharp in his chest, and he lets that agony show on his face before he deliberately turns away. "Anyway. Nice catching up. I'll see you in a few millennia."
"Lucifer, wait," she calls from behind him, and he allows a small shark-like grin to cross his face before his expression smooths back into the pain he still carries. He turns back to his mother, lifting an inquisitory eyebrow in a silent encouragement to continue. "I appreciate your honesty. And now, I'd like to be honest with you."
"Oh," he scoffs derisively, "This'll be a hoot."
"Since I escaped Hell," her tone holds a note of pleading now, and he focuses intently on that, "all I've wanted is to get back to the Silver City, to reunite our family."
"You're still fantasizing about heavenly rebellion?" He blurts disbelievingly, the taste of bile and blood rising in his throat. "Just let it go, Mum. Been there, done that, big fall."
"But that's just it," she steps toward him and touches his elbow gently, eyes alight with something he can't quite name... is it hope, or something else? "Why do you think you lost that fight?"
"Oh, I don't know, let's have a think, shall we?" he snaps waspishly, turning away to stride back to the piano. He grabs his previously untouched tumbler of scotch and downs it in one. "Not enough cardio? The fact that dear old Dad's slightly almighty? Because I was young, woefully foolish and..."
"Unarmed?" His mother pounces on that little fact. His stomach lurches at the memory of her watching impassively as Michael had dug his swordpoint into the soft flesh under his chin before tossing him from the Silver City like a bag of week-old rubbish. He stuffs that memory back in its box with the rest of his too-vivid memories of the Silver City before his mother can read it on his face. "You know that if you had possessed the Flaming Sword, the weapon that guarded Eden— the weapon that can cut through anything, even the Gates of Heaven itself… well, you would've won that rebellion."
"Why are you dwelling in the past?" He throws the words at her as a defense, not wanting any more of those memories to surface. "The fact is, I didn't have the sword, and Dad destroyed it soon after, so..."
"What if I told you that the sword was right here, on Earth?" She challenges eagerly, eyes alight, and he no longer thinks it's hope… now he thinks it's victory as she adds triumphantly, "And it's already in your possession."
"What?" he freezes in place, a cold tendril of fear wending down his spine as he wonders if his mother has somehow gone mad.
"The Flaming Sword is Azrael's blade," she breathes reverently, "We have everything we need to go home!"
"Explain," he demands curtly, "and perhaps I will help you, if I'm able."
Chapter 4
The ever-present exhaustion from Chloe's poisoning slowly disappears as her strength returns. She follows the therapy plan the hospital had recommended to keep herself in physical shape as she recovers, and fields all the calls from her mother, her friends and well-wishers, assuring them that she'll be back to work in no time. She tries not to let her tears escape when everyone she speaks to asks about Lucifer… because apparently no one she knows has spoken to him since her release from the hospital.
Chloe herself hasn't heard from Lucifer in more than two weeks, and she's barely seen Maze in that time period as well. The rent money had appeared on the counter, but other than that, it's been like living with a surly ghost that leaves empty vodka bottles and dirty dishes on the counter and occasional knife-marks in the door. She picks up her phone a dozen times a day to text Lucifer, but she talks herself out of it every time. She tells herself that he just needs some time to decide what he's going to do. He likes working with her just as much as she's come to love working with him… she's sure he won't be able to stay away indefinitely, even if they can't have a personal relationship together. He'll come back around when she's back to work, surely.
Or at least, that's what she tries to tell herself. Every time, she comes circling back to his expression as he'd turned away from her, that veneer of anger thinly veiling the hurt that she'd caused with her thoughtless words. They had wounded far deeper than she'd intended, and she doesn't know what to do to help heal it… so she does nothing, hoping it will scab over on its own.
At the end of the third week, she gets notice from Monroe that she's been cleared to return to duty in three days, and Ella insists on a girls' night out to celebrate. The Friday before the Monday she's scheduled to return, they meet up at Lux.
Chloe had been reluctant to enter Lucifer's domain with their relationship as tentative as it is, but Ella had insisted, and Maze had backed her up. Chloe remains in their booth while the others join the teeming masses on the dance floor, staunchly denying that she's hiding from her erstwhile partner. She's been watching the floor carefully, but hasn't seen any sign of perfectly tailored Prada, or a flash of his dark hair and languid grin. The club is packed, and she finds herself surprised that he's not down here in the thick of it. Patrick the bartender drops by with new drinks for everyone, and Chloe thanks him with a smile before hesitantly asking about his boss.
"He hasn't been around much the past few weeks," Patrick says disappointedly, "he pops in while we're closed to make sure we don't need anything from him, and I've seen him pass through a time or two, but he doesn't even come down to the club level, just straight from the elevator to the door. We all thought he was busy with you."
"Oh," Chloe mutters, nonplussed. "No, I've been home recovering from an incident, I haven't heard from him at all."
Now Patrick looks less disappointed and more concerned. "Oh, wow. Uh… okay, Detective Decker, did you need anything else right now?"
"No, I think we're set for a little while, thanks Patrick," Chloe gives him another smile, which he can barely return. She sees him search the floor for Maze and he stands talking animatedly with her for a little while, Maze shooting dark glances her way the entire time.
Despite avoiding Chloe like the plague, Maze is still spending time with Trixie. Chloe knows this because Trixie has only been moaning about missing Lucifer, not Lucifer and Maze. Chloe isn't sure what to tell her about Lucifer, so thus far she's said nothing, only changed the subject each time his absence enters the conversation. She watches her friends dancing together under the bright lights as her mind wanders. She isn't concerned about Trixie spending time with Maze, even though Maze shares the same delusions as Lucifer… and if she's honest with herself, she's not concerned with the idea of Lucifer being around Trixie either. She knows he would never hurt them, even if he is delusional. So why had she used Trixie as her excuse to push him away? Was it merely to try to push him into opening up to her? Her face flushes, and she gazes down at both of her untouched drinks. That seems… manipulative, and she doesn't like thinking herself capable of that, but… it feels like it could be true. Isn't that what manipulators do? Push others' buttons to try to get them to respond the way the manipulator wants them to? She buries her face in her hands and tries to think of something, anything else.
"That is the look of a lady who hasn't had nearly enough alcohol," Ella's ebullient voice rings out from the seat beside her, and Chloe startles. She hadn't felt her sit down. "What's up, girl? We're supposed to be celebrating your return to work on Monday… but you don't seem like you're really in a celebratory mood."
"Sorry, Ella," Chloe offers with a trembling smile, "I'm not sure what's going on with me right now, but I'm sure I'll get over it."
"Well, c'mon then, drink up and we'll talk about something to take your mind off whatever it is," Ella nudges one of her beers toward her, and picks up her own nearly empty banana daiquiri, slurping thirstily until the straw makes an empty rattling noise. She shoves that glass out to the edge of the table and slides her next drink in front of her and picks up that straw. "Is Lucifer excited to be coming back? I bet he is."
"I don't know if Lucifer's going to be coming back to work, Ella," Chloe admits quietly. Ella leans closer in order to hear her over the thumping of the club music. "We… we had a bad fight. I said some things I didn't really mean and… we haven't spoken since I was released from the hospital."
"Hey, it's okay," Ella soothes earnestly, her arm instantly around Chloe's shoulders. "It's okay, partners fight all the time, it's totally normal."
"I… don't think anything about this is normal," she confesses morosely. "I basically told him I didn't want to have him around unless he dropped his Lucifer persona… or at least let me see the real person behind it."
"Whoa," Ella's dark eyes widen in shock, her jaw falling open, "you think he's… what, someone completely different than he presents himself as? I mean… sure he's a damn good method actor, but… I've always felt like he's been really genuine within that role, like… he's still himself, just… playing Satan, ya know?"
"Yeah, well, it's not really healthy to try to enter a romantic relationship with Satan, Ella," Chloe mutters, and Ella gasps as her eyes widen even further. Linda breathlessly drops down beside them then, pulling her fourth fruity frozen drink to her and taking a large sip.
"You guys look like you're thinking way too hard tonight," she observes playfully, her hair bouncing energetically as she tosses it back over her shoulder. "Something bothering you?"
"It's nothing," Chloe dissembles, at the same time Ella blurts,
"Chloe thinks Lucifer's been lying to her about who he is!"
"Hmm," Linda doesn't miss a beat, swallowing her drink without choking, looking thoughtfully at her friends.
"You don't seem surprised," Ella takes another slow mouthful of her drink, watching Linda carefully.
"I'm not," Linda shrugs, allowing her eyes to flicker briefly to Chloe before taking another deep drink.
"You think he's lying too?!" Ella exclaims, "About who he is, I mean, not his name or the devil thing…"
"No, of course not," Linda denies flatly, but doesn't elaborate.
"I already told her about the fight, Ella," Chloe sighs, "that's why she's not surprised."
"Oh," Ella nods quickly, stirring her drink to break up a clump of ice stuck at the end of her straw, "that makes more sense."
"Ellen, Linda!" Maze has finally shaken herself free of Patrick, and waves them over for more dancing. Ella happily complies, leaving Chloe and Linda seated together at the booth. Linda doesn't say anything, merely sips her drink, staring placidly into the distance.
"How is he, Linda?" Chloe finally can't hold the words back anymore, and they fall from her lips in a plea for Linda to tell her he's all right. That she didn't damage him too much.
"I don't know," Linda shakes her head. "He canceled his sessions for the foreseeable future, and he won't answer my calls or return my messages. I tried going up to the penthouse but he hasn't been there every time I have, and he doesn't respond to the notes I leave asking him to call when he can."
Chloe's eyes flicker to the elevator, before drifting back to Linda, who's watching her now.
"Do you think he left Los Angeles?" Chloe asks quietly, fiddling with the straw of her otherwise untouched drink.
"I don't know that either," Linda shrugs, swirling the dregs of her own drink and shrugging. "His things are still there, and the notes I've left have been gone each time I've been to visit again, but he could have a cleaning service coming in that's removing them. I've no way to know."
"Do you…" Chloe hesitates with her next question, before deciding she was already all in, she may as well ask. "Do you think he could be dangerous?"
"To himself? Absolutely," Linda snorts, "To someone trying to hurt an innocent, or one of his few friends? Without question. To an innocent, or to those same friends? Hardly a chance in Hell… not without an incredibly good reason."
"You don't think his delusions could… cause him to become unstable or obsessive?"
"Chloe… he's Lucifer. When has he not been obsessing over something since you've met him? And I told you, he's not crazy. Neither is Maze."
"He calls himself the Devil, Linda," Chloe lifts her eyebrows in disbelief, "Maze calls herself a demon."
"That's true, they do," Linda lifts her own eyebrows in response, waiting for Chloe to draw her own conclusions.
"There's really only two options, then, Linda, either they're lying or they're crazy."
"But you don't really believe either of those options, do you." It's not a question, and Linda's clear blue eyes have no trouble meeting Chloe's troubled blue-green ones. "There is a third option that you're not willing to entertain."
"You're seriously saying that you believe that Lucifer is really the Devil?" Chloe throws up her hands in annoyance. "I'm really tired of the games, Linda."
"If you believe that Lucifer isn't a liar, and he's told you he is the Devil from the moment you met…"
"So… you're saying that when you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth? The Devil isn't a real thing, Linda."
"You can quote Doyle at me if you like, Chloe, but it doesn't change your situation. You need to make a decision."
"What should I do?" She hates how small her voice sounds, but she's been trying to consider her choices for weeks now, and is no closer now than she was then.
"I can't tell you that, Chloe. Big decisions like this are rarely easy. As his—and your— friend, I can tell you that he cares for you deeply. But only you can decide if you want him in your life as he is… as he's trying to be." Linda finishes her drink and stands with a small nod toward the elevator and walks away to find Maze and Ella on the dance floor.
Chloe's eyes follow Linda's nod and lock on the silver doors of the lift. No one she knows has seen, or even spoken to Lucifer in weeks. He didn't definitively say that he wouldn't come back to work with her. She can go get her answer and check to make sure he's at least okay…
She stands from the booth before she can overthink it, and makes her way quickly through the throng toward the elevator, pushing the call button. The carriage takes a long moment to arrive, giving her hope that he might actually be upstairs… and once she presses the button for the penthouse, it suddenly occurs to her that he might not be up there alone. The doors open with an inaudible chime just as Lucifer punches a hole in his Assyrian wall, with Charlotte Richards and Amenadiel looking on in surprise. Chloe's jaw drops, and she finds herself unable to move or make a sound. She knew he was strong, but a stone wall?
"That's where it's been this whole time?" Amenadiel demands, leaning forward as Lucifer pulls a vaguely familiar blade from the new hole in his antique wall. Where had she seen it before? None of the room's occupants had noticed the arrival of the lift, due to the noise of Lucifer's bare fist smashing through his wall.
"Mmhm," Lucifer hums, turning to face them, which gives Chloe his profile. He grips the blade uneasily, holding it out awkwardly in front of him. She notices distantly that his knuckles are scraped and bleeding. "Put it somewhere I could keep an eye on it. Wouldn't want someone to incite another stabbing rampage, now, would we?" Stabbing rampage? Surely that's not the knife that disappeared from the Glory case?
"Well, it's not my fault humans can't handle the divine," Charlotte scoffs defensively, before smiling excitedly, "Besides, if I hadn't done that, we wouldn't have found out what that blade actually is."
"And you really think that this is the Flaming Sword?" To Chloe's surprise, Lucifer gingerly wipes the stone dust from the blade with the sleeve of his perfectly tailored Burberry jacket, then holds it up to display it, eyeing it skeptically. "I thought Father destroyed it during my rebellion so I wouldn't use it against Him."
"Father said He destroyed it," Amenadiel chimes in eagerly, then Charlotte finishes for him, "Apparently, He just hid it in plain sight."
"But it's so small and so... not flaming," Lucifer stares at the blade in confusion, as though expecting it to burst into flame at any moment.
"That's because only you, my Lightbringer, can ignite it." Charlotte practically coos, reaching up to cup his face in her hands and staring earnestly into his eyes. Lucifer doesn't move away, his gaze locked on her, and Chloe feels her stomach lurch. Charlotte pulls away and Lucifer slowly transfers his glower back to the blade.
"Well, what am I supposed to do, dip it in some whiskey and light a match?" If Chloe could move, she would roll her eyes, it's just such a Lucifer response.
"Last time it caught flame, you were angry," Charlotte offers eagerly, "so think about your Father, that should do it."
"All right," Lucifer clears his throat, sighs, and holds the blade before him, glaring malevolently at it. His brow wrinkles and his lips draw back in effort as he visibly strains before releasing it with a slight stagger and a shudder. His voice is rough with effort and annoyance as he exclaims, "No! Right, back to my whiskey plan."
"No, you're much too calm," Charlotte argues vehemently, "When it flamed before, you were furious."
"So you're saying the blade can sense my emotional state?" Lucifer asks doubtfully, "It's the most powerful weapon in the universe, Mum... The sword that guarded Eden, not a groovy mood ring."
"Maybe I should try it," Amenadiel offers readily, stepping forward.
"Your brother is the Lightbringer, Amenadiel," Charlotte dismisses him, and the big man shrinks back a little as his mother continues, glaring at Lucifer, "He just needs to apply himself and get angry!"
"Well, I can't just get ang... Detective!" She'd caught his eye as she'd moved to press the button to take her back to Lux, hoping to escape unnoticed. His voice goes from the annoyed tone he was using with his mother to one devoid of all inflection, of all emotion. "I wasn't expecting you. I assume you need something."
"I… um," Chloe notices Amenadiel and Charlotte looking at Lucifer in surprise, both clearly shocked at his coldness toward her. Has he not told them anything? "I was downstairs with the tribe tonight, and didn't see you in Lux… No one has heard from you in weeks, and I… guess I just wanted to make sure you're okay?"
"I see," he says coldly. "Well, now you've seen me with own your very own eyes. You have your proof that I am indeed 'okay'. Was there anything else?"
She gapes at him for a moment, not really surprised at the animosity, but trying to find some hint of her partner hidden in his shuttered brown eyes, but they're flat and unreadable. "I'm, uh, going back to work on Monday. They said I was fit for duty after my last checkup."
"Congratulations, Detective Decker, on your complete recovery," Lucifer intones formally, and a ball of lead settles into her stomach. "But I fail to see what that has to do with me."
"Well," she swallows nervously, "I was hoping that my partner would be there with me…"
"Oh, have they assigned you a new partner already, then?" Lucifer's brow arches arrogantly, "Excellent. Bully for you for moving on, Detective. I wish you well."
"Lucifer, you're my partner," Chloe whispers, looking down as Lucifer snorts disdainfully. "I hope you'll come back, if you're willing."
"And why on earth would you—" he begins heatedly.
"Lucifer!" Amenadiel interrupts, stepping forward and placing a steadying palm on Lucifer's now heaving shoulder and pulling him away, "Can I speak with you for a moment?"
"Brother, I'd really rather finish with—"
"Now, please, Luci," and Lucifer allows himself to be dragged into the depths of his flat. Once they've left the room, Charlotte regards Chloe with intense interest.
"How are you feeling, Chloe?"
"Better," Chloe answers shortly, "Thanks."
"Have you and my son had some sort of falling out?" the other woman tilts her head curiously in a way that reminds Chloe eerily of Lucifer.
"I'm sorry, but I don't see that it's any of your business, Charlotte," Chloe mutters quietly, very aware of Lucifer and Amenadiel having their own hushed conversation in the other room.
"My son's well-being is very much my business," Charlotte counters, and Chloe manages to keep her face from twisting into a sneer with a monumental effort.
"Well, as your son just pointed out, he's apparently just fine," Chloe spits, and Charlotte lifts a brow in another uncanny impersonation of Lucifer's wry expression. "And if you were so concerned about your son's well-being, why has he never once spoken about you in the time I've known him until you showed up here? Why haven't you been involved in his life until now? What is it you need from him, Charlotte?"
"I need his help to get home to the rest of my children, of course. And I was in Hell. He knows that," Charlotte waves her hand as though that makes her previous absence completely fine, and Chloe doesn't even try to restrain her eye roll. "You know, you really are impressive, for a human. I can certainly see why Lucifer has been so fascinated by you—you truly have no fear of us. It must be the novelty of meeting someone who is so totally immune to his effect… I can certainly see my husband's hand in your design."
"Oh my—are youthe one feeding him this idiocy of my being created for him?" Chloe whispers angrily, glancing off to where Amenadiel has led Lucifer for their little chat. "It that why he's only bringing it up now?"
"He told you about that?" Charlotte's other eyebrow lifts to join the first in genuine surprise. "But I thought you didn't believe him?"
"What, that he's the Devil?" Chloe hisses, "Of course I don't believe him, the Devil isn't real. But I guess I can imagine where he got the idea now, if you're any indication of what he had to deal with growing up—"
"Oh please, all my children were crafted with utmost care and attention to detail. They were all created exactly as they needed to be for their duties, although Lucifer has had a… more difficult path than the rest." A brief look of worry crosses her face. "But you didn't answer my question. Have you had a falling out with my son? If you have, it would make convincing him to return to the Silver City with me much easier. I'm sure you're a big part of the reason he's been so adamant on staying here among you… humans."
"Why are you so intent on taking him away from his home?" Chloe demands exasperatedly, "He's happy here, he has friends, he has his business… he has a purpose."
"I can assure you that whatever he has been keeping himself busy with in his short time here with you humans has absolutely nothing to do with his original purpose," Charlotte snaps defiantly, and Chloe gathers herself for a response when Lucifer's sardonic voice lilts from the hallway that Amenadiel had dragged him down.
"Now, Mum," he appears around the corner, his hair mussed as though he's run his fingers through it several times in the short time he's been gone, "You know I've wanted nothing to do with my purpose for a very, very long time now. Let me speak with the Detective for a moment and we can get back to seeing if I can help you with your little issue, hm?"
Charlotte lifts her chin and nods, walking past her son, presumably to go find Amenadiel.
"Are you sure you're all right, Lucifer?" Chloe studies him carefully, seeing nothing out of place outwardly aside from his still-shuttered eyes and his mussed hair. She can't shake the feeling that it's all a mask, that if he would only drop that cold expression, he would crumble to pieces before her. She also can't shake the feeling that she's a big part of the reason behind that hidden fragility.
"I am as well as can be, given the circumstances, though I'm aware you probably think I'm lying." He replies smoothly, with only the slightest hint of the anger he'd shown back at her apartment weeks ago. "As to your returning to work, I am delighted that you've recovered enough to do so. I doubt that I will be continuing my consultant's position much longer, but until they find an adequate partner for you, I will be sure to remain available, should you need someone at your side."
"Is this because your mother is trying to get you to go back home?"
"Not entirely," Lucifer's expression clouds over, his brows drawing together in annoyance. "I'm sure you can deduce the primary root of my desire for some distance, Detective", and now the title that has always sounded so fond falling from his lips has a bitter sound to it. It gives her a sick feeling in her stomach, that this hostility has come between them, and she can't help but think that he's hurting just as much as she is over it.
"Lucifer, please," her voice breaks, and she pauses a moment to compose herself as he watches her blandly. "I… I don't… I know you don't lie, and I don't think you're crazy. I… don't want to lose you."
"Yes, I'm aware that you 'need the eggs', as you so quaintly put it," he huffs testily. "I will extend my consulting services to you while I'm here, but there is a real possibility that I may be returning to the Silver City with my mother and Amenadiel, and that will put me quite out of your reach. So. Your eggs are available for a limited time, Detective. Do call if you need me, and I will provide. Was there anything else?"
"Don't let your mother use you, Lucifer," Chloe reaches out to take his hand but he steps away, out of reach. She stands there, hand extended toward him in a pleading motion. "If you want to help her, fine, but… don't let her use you."
"What else am I good for, Detective, if not a tool to be of use?" She doesn't miss the heavy irony aimed directly at her, but she doesn't comment on it. "I can manage quite well on my own, as I have for eons. If there's nothing else, then you should be going. You seem quite sober, and I'm sure that is forbidden for girls' night."
"Lucifer…"
"Good night, Detective," and the thin veneer of calm contempt cracks, just enough for her to glimpse the overflowing pain underneath. "Call if you need my services."
He turns and strides away, leaving Chloe to watch helplessly as he disappears into the depths of his flat, presumably to rejoin the conversation he was having with his family before her intrusion.
She shuffles to the elevator but doesn't return to the booth, choosing instead to head directly home. Only Linda spies her rushing from the elevator to Lux's front doors.