Chapter 5
By the time Chloe makes it home, her brain is abuzz. Admittedly, that's not unusual for returning home from girls' night out, but this time it's not from the alcohol. She undresses and pulls her favorite ratty t-shirt and fleece pajama pants on before crawling into bed, pulling the covers up to her ears and settling in to think.
She's certain now that the knife Lucifer had hidden in his wall is the weapon that had disappeared during the Glory case not long ago. Come to think of it, he'd been acting oddly that entire case. Well, even odder than usual, anyway. He'd had an idea of what had happened in that yoga studio even before Ella had gone through her pantomime with his assistance, and what had his mother said?
"It's not my fault humans can't handle the divine."
So… what, Lucifer had stolen the knife and hidden it away to keep anyone else from getting their hands on it and turning into a serial killer? And how had he punched through that wall with only barely damaging his hand? He hadn't been completely unscathed, but the scrapes had seemed superficial and his hand had obviously been functional enough to grip the blade without issue. Chloe should try to convince herself that the wall wasn't really stone, but she's been to Lucifer's penthouse too many times. She knows those walls are actual stone.
"You're having a very hard time with the 'immortal' thing, aren't you?" his voice whispers in her mind, a remnant of another time he'd managed something that had seemed impossible.
"He's not crazy, Chloe," Linda's echo insists.
Once you've eliminated the impossible…
"Is he dangerous?"
"To himself? Absolutely."
Chloe already knows that's true, she doesn't need to look any further than his behavior with that shooter a few months ago… he had exhibited zero regard for his own safety, taunting the man to shoot him while Chloe crept closer.
"To someone trying to hurt an innocent, or one of his few friends? Without question."
"Every killer must be punished." Lucifer's desolate voice rings in her mind.
"To an innocent, or to those same friends? Hardly a chance in Hell… not without an incredibly good reason."
"You really think I'd do these vile things? These kids were pretending to be bad, but they weren't, they were innocent, so I would never hurt them, I'm not a monster."
"You can't seriously believe I killed that pathetic malcontent."
"It doesn't matter what I believe."
"That's all that matters, Detective."
Chloe huddles under her blankets, trembling as though she's chilled. It's impossible for four people to share the exact same delusion, let alone have a psychologist reassuring her they're not crazy. But believing it… That her partner is the actual, factual Devil? What on earth does that mean for her? And if she really was created, placed here by God… specifically to cross paths with Satan?
She can't even begin to start to think about it, but Linda's right… she needs to make a decision, because right now she's only hurting them both. She loves Lucifer, and it feels real. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to separate out anything that feels 'other', but nothing surfaces. It doesn't feel as though her thoughts or emotions have been manipulated… but would she notice if God were the one doing the manipulating? If it is God's doing, would he bother manipulating in the moment, or would he simply build it all in from the beginning? And if that's the case… is anything about her life even real? There's no one she can ask… Even Lucifer told her he doesn't know for sure exactly why, or how much his father had meddled. And he'd been genuinely distressed at the entire situation, which… really makes her care for him more. After all, if she's been manipulated, so has he… and she knows how much he hates that. He could have let her blindly love him without revealing any of this to her, but he was insistent on her full knowledge, her free will… her informed consent.
What had Linda said? She needs to decide if she can accept him as he is, as he wants to be?
Even Chloe can't deny that Lucifer has grown since they've been working together. While she would never have called him unkind, he has become more empathetic, finding connections with victims and occasionally even suspects. While he's still unpredictable, he's become… steadier. She knows she can rely on him to come through when she truly needs him… and now her stomach sinks as she realizes that she's now proven to him that the same can't be said of her.
Even if he wasn't the Devil… she'd asked him to show her something real and he had, even though it was painful and he'd known she wouldn't believe it. He'd told her his truth over and over, and over again, and she'd simply continued to brush him off… no wonder he was so hurt.
Am I really talking myself into believing this? She wonders incredulously, but her words from earlier come back to ring in her ears, "Whatever remains, however improbable…"
"Holy shit," Chloe blurts out loud, startling herself. Realization and understanding washes over her in a raging flood, obliterating the last stubborn vestiges of disbelief and denial. "Lucifer's the Devil. It's real. It's never been a metaphor."
Her breathing speeds until she's curled tightly under her blankets, panting until his bleak voice whispers in her mind again,
"It is possible to be both. At least, I hope it is… To not be evil, and yet still be a monster. Because a monster I am and shall always be, but… I don't want to be evil."
A blinding bolt of truth hits her, and she sits bolt upright in bed with a gasp. He isn't. He isn't a monster, even if he is the devil. He's not evil, nowhere even close to it. He's not crazy, he isn't unstable, he's just… not human. He's my partner. He's… he's mine, just as much as I'm his. Oh, Decker, you have so much damage control ahead of you.
She reaches out without thinking and picks up her phone, pulling up Lucifer's contact, with that damn smirking selfie he'd set as his photo. The Devil steals my phone and uses it to take ridiculous selfie photo-shoots. She touches the photo and the line begins to ring. She holds her breath as it continues to ring, until finally,
"Hello, this is Lucifer. You know what to do. Preferably in the nude."
She hangs up and thunks her head against her headboard in frustration before she notices the time. She does a double take, it's 4:30 AM. No wonder he didn't answer. Or at least, I hope that's the only reason he didn't answer…
She lays back down and pulls the covers up over her again, trying to shut down her racing brain and get some rest. Eventually, exhaustion takes over and she falls into a restless sleep.
"I'm glad you made an appointment, Lucifer, I was worried about you," Linda admits easily as she settles into her usual chair. "How have you been?"
"I think you well know how I've been, Doctor," Lucifer says quietly, learning forward to pour himself a glass of water to have something to fidget with. "And unless you can help me gain some control over my emotions, I'm afraid that it's only going to get worse."
"Well," Linda says slowly, considering her response, "emotions can't really be controlled, Lucifer, only understood and dealt with."
"No, that can't be right, Doctor," Lucifer protests quickly, shifting his weight on the couch anxiously. "I need to be able to control my emotions in order to…"
"In order to what?"
"In order to help Mum and Amenadiel get back to Heaven," he confesses heavily. "I need them to be gone so I can… so I can try to move on with my life. I can't do that if they're still here, nipping at my heels to help them with their little revenge scheme."
"What revenge scheme is that?" Linda tilts her head in invitation, and Lucifer tells her about the Goddess' confession as she woke him from his Hell loop, about pushing him toward the Detective so he would be angry with his father, so he would help her get back to Heaven and take her revenge for being thrown into Hell. About Azrael's blade being the very tool they needed to make that plan a reality, but in order to light it, he needs to be able to channel his emotions into it.
"Mum wants Amenadiel and I to go back to the Silver City with her so her family can be together again," Lucifer offers.
"Didn't you say you're banned from Heaven?"
"Oh, yes," Lucifer says grimly.
"Wouldn't that be dangerous for you, then?" Linda asks, concerned.
"Incredibly."
"Are you planning to go?"
"I… I don't know," he sets down his glass and rests his elbows on his knees, rubbing his face wearily with his hands. "I'll admit, the thought had occurred to me to simply use the sword to open the gates and boot both of them through, then slam it shut behind them, but… but now, Doctor, I don't know that I have anything here to stay for. So why not go with them?"
"You said before that Los Angeles was your home now." Linda suggests, watching him carefully. "What's made you change your mind?"
"I know you've spoken with the Detective, Doctor, so you already know what's happened between us," Lucifer groans, sitting up again and leaning his head against her wall. "Please don't make me spell it out for you."
"I only know Chloe's side, Lucifer," she points out softly, and he scoffs. "I'd like to know yours, if you'll tell me."
He groans and complains, but he tells her. Unsurprisingly, his version doesn't differ much from Chloe's as far as what was said and done during the discussion and following argument. The emotions involved, of course, are a different story.
"This is what's making you consider actually going back to Heaven with your mother?"
"I can't stay here in Los Angeles if the Detective can't accept me, Doctor, it…" he flounders for words for a moment, and she gives him time to choose appropriate ones, "it would be too painful. I just want to be free of my family's machinations, and unfortunately, she is one of them."
"You could relocate somewhere else, you wouldn't have to stay in LA," she presents an alternative, trying to give him other, more viable options than celestial suicide.
"It's true, I could relocate to Las Vegas… Beijing…" he muses briefly, "It could be worth it, knowing Mum and Dad would be tearing each other apart… that they're both getting what they deserve."
"And what is it they deserve?"
"Punishment," he hisses venomously, leaning back and meeting her clear gaze with his own anger-clouded one. "For manipulating me. I mean, Dad set a trap for me, but Mum was the one who made sure that I fell into it. She was the one that made sure that I felt..." he falters, hand gesturing vaguely and swallowing thickly before continuing on, "that I... that I felt things that I don't want to feel anymore."
"That, right there," she reveals, her eyes lighting with sympathy, "that, what you stopped yourself from feeling, that's exactly what you need to feel."
"What, the anger?" He nods and huffs a bitter laugh, "Oh, I feel it. "
"Not the anger," she argues gently, "the pain. That's what you've been suppressing. All the pain and heartbreak that you have over what's happened with your mother. And Chloe. I know it's difficult. But the only way to get over that pain..." she chuckles sadly, "is to go through it."
After trying to call him several times on Saturday and receiving neither an answer, nor a call back, Chloe is surprised when her phone announces the arrival of a text from Lucifer on Sunday afternoon. She stares at it in shock for a moment before she fumbles to read it, hands shaking too badly to touch the notification before it clears itself from her screen.
If you are still interested in proof that I am what I claim to be, come to the penthouse tonight at 7:45. I'm aware you are likely to still write it off as a trick, but at least this way you can't say I haven't tried.
She reads the cryptic message three times before the meaning sinks into her overwrought brain. Should she go? Should she reply? Ask what kind of proof he's offering? Tell him that she doesn't need proof anymore, not now that she believes him? That's… probably a conversation better to have in person.
I'll be there.
It's already half-past three, so she only has a few hours to try to work out what she wants to say. She wracks her brain trying to find the best way to apologize for her lapse in judgment, and comes up completely blank. Once seven o'clock rolls around, she can't wait any longer to leave. She arrives at Lux a bare twenty minutes later and enters the elevator, prepared to apologize to her partner, the Devil.
"So, you think you've figured it out?" Amenadiel is asking as the lift chimes to announce her arrival. He and his mother are standing side-by-side, while Lucifer stands a distance from them, the short sword in his hand again.
"Yes," he says shortly. He doesn't look in her direction, but does acknowledge her, "Hello Detective, you're early. Thank you for coming, I think your presence will make this easier."
"Make what easier?" she wonders, but Charlotte overrides her quiet words with her own strident demand,
"And you're sure this time?"
"Just... let me do it, Mum," he growls, "please."
He holds up the blade and turns away from his family to face Chloe, though he still doesn't look at her. She studies the blade in his hand. She'd spent all of Saturday online trying to find good sources of information about all things celestial, including anything about a flaming sword, but the information she'd found had been unreliable at best. Too many different interpretations based on differing theologies and theories. Apparently, God doesn't really do hard facts when it comes to His family and humanity's record-keeping. She focuses past the blade, on her partner's face instead, and her heart lurches at the desolate expression she finds there. He'd said something about the blade feeding, or reacting to his emotions the last time she was here… what emotion is this?
He pulls in a shallow, shuddering breath and focuses intently on the blade as his mother and brother inch closer, hardly breathing. Chloe stands in place, staring back at him curiously until she notices his breathing coming faster, becoming tremulous as the blade starts to shiver in his shaking hand. After a moment, his eyes leave the knife and lock with hers. She can see anguish in them, small pools of unshed tears collecting along the bottom lid as stifled near-sobs escape his parted lips. She starts to move to him, to comfort him, when a collective intake of breath from his family causes her to look away and she notices the gentle tongues of flame coating the blade of the dagger. It's beautiful, otherworldly, and she gasps in surprise, her eyes finding her partner's once more.
Amenadiel steps forward into her line of sight, and she notices the look of joy and awe on his face fall into concern as the angel, oh my God he's an angel, notices the expression of excruciating pain that his brother had managed to hide from him until now. Lucifer is still staring fiercely at Chloe, though his trembling is becoming more pronounced as his breathing becomes harsher, ragged sobs breaking from his control now, until the flames wane, then disappear completely as he sags nearly to the floor in exhaustion. Chloe rushes to him, supporting him with an arm around his waist. It's a good indication of how very depleted he is that he doesn't pull away from her.
"I believe you, Lucifer," she murmurs in his ear, but his mother's shrill indignance once again drowns her out,
"That's it?! You must not be feeling enough!"
"Trust me, that's it," Lucifer scoffs exhaustedly, trying to gather himself again. "That's all I've got!"
"You have to try harder," Charlotte insists, adamant. She crosses to them and shoves the blade toward him again, with a demand of, "Try harder!"
"What?" Lucifer breathes, staring horror-struck at his mother as though he'd only seen her before in nightmares. Chloe opens her mouth to deliver a blistering reprimand when Amenadiel steps forward angrily.
"Mom!" he barks commandingly, "That's enough!"
"I'm not broken," Lucifer insists, weakly trying to shove Chloe away from him. She grips him more tightly, refusing to be moved. "The sword must be."
"Okay," Amenadiel commiserates, staring hard at his mother, "Okay, then we'll fix it. There's plenty of time."
"Of course," Charlotte shakes herself, takes a step back and sucks in a deep breath, pasting a wide, fake smile across her face as she rests a palm against Amenadiel's cheek. "You're right, son. There's plenty of time."
She reaches for Lucifer to do the same, but he tilts himself away, further into Chloe's protective embrace with a watery noise in the back of his throat, and Charlotte settles for an attempt at a soothing pat on his chest instead. Lucifer watches her warily as she turns and walks away, Amenadiel stepping closer and placing a protective hand on a surprised Lucifer's shoulder as the elevator doors close behind her.
"It's all right, Luci," Amenadiel rumbles comfortingly. As close as they're standing, Chloe can practically feel his words reverberating through her, but she refuses to step away from Lucifer, who is still allowing her to support him. "If I can use your library, I can start researching the sword, to see how we might be able to repair it."
"Fine," Lucifer barks curtly, shaking off his brother's hand and Chloe's supportive arm and weaving unsteadily to his bar, which he leans heavily against as he pours a hefty measure of scotch and downs it in one. "Have at it, brother, Dad knows I'll be useless at helping you with that."
Amenadiel nods at this unfriendly dismissal and turns to climb the spiral staircase to the second level where Lucifer's well-stocked bookshelves live. Chloe stands, silently watching her partner's tense shoulders heave for another moment before she slowly approaches.
"Lucifer?" she tentatively reaches out to him, feeling him tense as her fingers gently brush against the back of his midnight-black Burberry jacket. "Are you okay? What… how did you do it?"
"Thank you for coming, Detective," he says dully, pouring another measure of scotch and sipping it as he turns to face her, his mask of indifference firmly back in place. "You were… instrumental… in my success today."
"You said before that the… the sword reacts to your emotional state?" she asks hesitantly, sidling closer and perching on the barstool next to him, her shoulder brushing his. He looks askance at her, but doesn't move away. "That's the weapon from the serial stabbing case isn't it? The one with the yoga studio."
"It is," he acknowledges blandly, "Daniel got to the blade at the scene before I did, and nearly managed to slice me into oblivion before I was able to talk him down. That's when I decided to hide it here, where it couldn't influence any more humans into murder sprees."
"What is it?" she breathes, curious. She looks at it, still loosely clasped in Lucifer's hand, but makes no move to touch it.
"That's… a complicated answer, apparently," he sighs, shaking his head as he holds up the sword for inspection. "More complicated than I knew at first. Initially I simply thought it was my sister's blade—a celestial weapon that destroys souls entirely. It won't just kill you, it will erase you entirely—including Celestials, no Heaven, no Hell, just… gone. But then we found out that before my father gifted it to my sister, it had been the flaming sword that guarded Eden. It's incredibly powerful, able to slice through the dimensional planes, even… powerful enough to get us back to the Silver City… if I can manage to light it properly."
"It looks like you can," she offers, trying to think through the implications of a weapon this powerful here on earth. "From what I just saw anyway."
"I must admit, I'm surprised that these are the questions you've chosen, and I'm more than a bit curious as to why you're not demanding to inspect the blade to see if you can find my 'trick' for lighting it," he lifts an eyebrow at her as he takes a deeper drink from his tumbler. "Please don't feel obliged to stay, I'm aware that you think me a charlatan."
"I figured you hadn't heard me," Chloe's nervous smile shivers into place. "I told you, when you nearly collapsed just now. I believe you." He stiffens next to her and starts to step away, but she reaches out and takes his hand firmly in hers. "After I went home Friday night I… thought a lot. About the things you've told me, shown me, over the time we've been working together. The hints that Maze and Linda have thrown my way. I… realized that it's all true. You've never been speaking in metaphors, I just… I chose to interpret everything that way, because it let me keep my worldview intact." She sucks in a shaky breath, trying to repress the cold lump of dread that's growing in her stomach. "I'm sorry, Lucifer. For… for not believing you. For brushing you off every time you've told me the truth. For everything I've said and done that has hurt you. I know you're not a liar, or crazy. You're just… you. You're not human, you're more… and once I thought that over, it actually means you make a lot more sense to me. I—I kept trying to stuff you into this too-small box to make you fit my definition of reality, and kept getting so frustrated when you just wouldn't fit."
He watches her in thoughtful silence for a long time, only moving to finish his glass and pour himself a new one without even looking away from her, as though trying to spot the lie. She merely gazes back at him, keeping her expression open, letting him see into her as her thumb slowly rubs circles across the back of his hand. Finally, he gently disentangles himself and moves into his bedroom. She watches him go, then hears the beeping of his safe keypad, the opening and closing of the door and he re-emerges without the blade. He pauses at the top of the steps in the doorway of his bedroom and leans his shoulder against the frame, absently swirling the amber liquid in his glass. She watches him steadily, waiting for him to break his silence.
"You're here," he says eventually, his tone puzzled.
"Of course I'm here," she tilts her head in confusion, "You asked me to come."
"I meant, you're still here," he elaborates, and she shakes her head a little, still not understanding. He sighs and takes a drink, but doesn't move from his position across the room from her. "If you truly believe I am the devil, then why are you still here?"
"Oh," she breathes, searching for the words she needs. "I mean… it basically came down to… you're my partner. And I think we're better together."
"You recall what I told you those weeks ago, about my father purposely placing you here, yes?" he asks acerbically, and Chloe nods.
"I thought about that a lot, actually," she admits honestly, and now it's Lucifer's turn to tilt his head in consternation. "I spent a lot of time trying to separate out anything that felt wrong or not me… but there wasn't anything. If your, uh, dad did anything, he must have built it in from the beginning… and as far I'm concerned, that makes me just… me. I can only do so much about my innate self, you know? And, well, I'm happier when I'm with you. I got a little glimpse of my life without you these past few weeks, and… Lucifer, I wasn't happy."
"Hmm," he grunts, looking away from her. He descends the stairs and moves out onto the balcony, pulling a cigarette case from his pocket and a lighter from another. She listens to Amenadiel rustling about in the library above for a moment before she pours two more tumblers and follows Lucifer outside. He's leaning against the railing, looking out into the twilight dusk covering the city far below. His empty tumbler sits on one of the tables, and a lit cigarette trails a weak plume of smoke that curls affectionately around him like an overly friendly housecat. She's not a huge fan of smoke, but she moves to stand next to him on the side away from the smoke trail.
"You never answered my questions from before," she prods gently. He looks down at her and takes a deep drag of his cigarette, a long tube of ash appearing as he fills his lungs, then turns away from her to release the cloud of smoke and stub out the cigarette in the nearby ashtray. When he returns to the railing—a bit further from her than he had been—she offers him her second glass. He accepts it, carefully not touching her hand, and takes a small sip as he regards her.
"Which ones?" he finally asks. His eyes are nearly black in the dimming light of evening, but she doesn't avert her gaze.
"Are you okay?"
"Oh," He seems surprised at the evident concern in her voice. "I'm as well as may be, Detective, nothing to concern yourself over. I thought you would have other questions." More important questions, he doesn't say, but she hears the words anyway.
"What did you have to do, to light the sword?" she queries quietly, "It… didn't look pleasant."
"It wasn't," he huffs a bitter laugh, taking another sip from his glass. "Doctor Linda helped me figure it out, and I had hoped she was wrong. I should have known better. It does respond to my emotions, but it takes its toll."
"What toll? Which emotions?" she takes a slow sip from her own glass, the warmth of the whisky complemented by the burning in her eyes as she remembers the raw pain in his expression as the golden flames erupted from the blade.
"Pain," he confesses softly, looking down into his glass but unable to lie. "Doctor Linda figured out that I needed to let myself feel the pain I've been holding at a distance. That's why it helped to have you here. Seeing you, knowing what you think of me… it made it easier to feel it."
"Lucifer," she breathes, horrified at his matter-of-fact admission. "You… you asked me to come because I hurt you?"
"Of course," he glances back up at her, brows contracting in concern at the pain in her tone. "I needed to feel it, and seeing me light the sword might have given you the proof you so badly desired. That seems like a win-win to me."
"No!" She cries softly, gazing up at his bewildered expression, distress shining in her wide eyes. She reaches out to grasp his left hand tightly. "Lucifer, that's… that's not—I don't want to cause you any pain. Certainly not to prove anything to me!"
"You desired proof, Detective," he says plaintively, "I won't show you my face, and I can't show you my wings, so I must provide what I can, regardless of the cost to myself."
"Not if it hurts you, Lucifer," she squeezes his hand tightly, willing him to understand. "Nothing is worth that, all right?"
"We'll have to agree to disagree, Detective," he tries to pull away, but she doesn't release him, resulting in him inadvertently pulling her closer. "Providing you unassailable proof of my identity without frying your brain would be far less painful than having you believe me a liar or a mental patient."
"I am so sorry, Lucifer," her voice breaks as her breath catches in her throat. A hot tear spills over, quickly followed by more. "I never should have said those things, I… I should have had more faith in you."
"Detective," he sighs, and seeing her crying seems to spur him to a decision. He pulls her closer, and she goes willingly into his slightly awkward embrace, both of them still holding their glasses of scotch. She rests her cheek against his chest, and feels his heart hammering through the fabric of his shirt and jacket. The coarse stubble of his chin and cheek resting against her hair tickles, but she nestles into his arms, gripping him tightly around his waist. He murmurs into her ear, "As you said, you can't help being yourself, and you do require proof for everything."
"I know," she groans into his jacket, and he huffs a gentle laugh into her hair. "Is there any way that I can help? Why exactly do you need to light up this sword?"
"Well," he hesitates, and she glances up at his face. His hand absently strokes her back, and his gaze is turned thoughtfully inward. "No, I don't think you can help beyond what you've already done. Mum's idea is to get us back to the Silver City so her family can be together again."
"Why is your mom here now?" Chloe wonders, "And why can't she get back to Heaven on her own? Why does she need you for that?"
"Er… Mum's actually escaped from Hell," Lucifer admits quietly, "Dad threw her down there a few millennia after I managed to fight my way to my throne. She's been banned just as I have."
"But she wants to go back…" Chloe trials off, her thumb lightly rubbing circles on his lower back. Before a thought occurs to her, sending a thrill of fear up her spine. "And… she wants you to go with her?"
"She does," he confirms slowly, glancing away from her. "I haven't decided if I'll go with her or not, but there's a possibility I will."
"Lucifer! You said the last time you fought your dad you… you fell." Her mind flies into gear, trying to piece together things he'd said that she'd previously disregarded as nonsense.
"Yes."
"And didn't you say that sword could wipe even you from existence completely?" A frightening realization looms on the horizon.
"Yes."
"But… if you and your mother have been banned, and you both go back to Heaven…"
"Yes," he says again, heavily. "It will mean war."
Chapter 6
"Lucifer, how—"
"Luci!" Amenadiel's voice emanates from the penthouse, and Lucifer and Chloe pull away from one another as they both turn to see the former angel emerging onto the balcony. "I think I found something, we'll need to find this book, and— Oh… hello, Chloe. I didn't know you were still here."
"We were just chatting, brother, as you had suggested," Lucifer brushes the concern away. "What did you find?"
"I found a reference to an ancient Sumerian text that might have the information we need," Amenadiel gloats excitedly. "Do you have the Book of Eden?"
"I don't have anything in Sumerian," Lucifer shakes his head firmly, "I can't read it so what would be the point?"
"You speak every language, Luci!" Amenadiel protests, but Lucifer just scoffs.
"Speak, not read!" he refutes. I only have texts in languages I can actually read, brother," Lucifer thinks for a moment, swirling his glass. "I bet Mum-as-Charlotte has some connections that can get that text for us. I assume you can read Sumerian, then?"
"Of course, Luci," Amenadiel grins, "Unlike you, I spent my younger days studying."
"Which is why you've become the dullard that you are now," Lucifer replies easily, but Amenadiel only laughs, too happy to have found a path toward their goal. "Perhaps you'd like to enlist Mum's help? I've rather had my fill of her at the moment."
"I understand," the angel glances between the partners, and starts to back away. "I'll get started on that now, and uh, leave you to your conversation." He turns and practically flees to the elevator, while Lucifer watches him go, amused.
"Coward," he murmurs under his breath, and Chloe snorts in response. "He's wonderful at interruptions, you know."
"I can see that about him," Chloe responds lightly as she steps closer to him. "I have a lot to catch up on here, don't I?"
"That's not necessary, Detective," Lucifer looks down at her earnestly. "Now that you believe me, I trust you'll make the right decision for yourself and your offspring, and walk away. You needn't involve yourself in this mess any further than you've already been dragged."
"I told you before," she reminds him gently, sitting down on the chaise, "I wasn't happy without you around, Lucifer. You said that I meant something to you—"
"I most certainly did not," he denies flatly as he seats himself next to her, and she recoils from him in shock.
"I thought—"
"I said you mean everything to me, Detective," he corrects her roughly, and the shard of ice that had lodged itself in her heart melts instantly. "Which is why I'll urge you to take this opportunity to walk away before my poison affects you further than it has."
"I won't," she assures him, and a frown flickers across his face. He empties his glass and sets it down on the floor at his feet before straightening up and appraising her carefully.
"You won't, or you can't?" he asks, parroting her own question back to her.
"Both," she shrugs, not breaking his gaze. "I can't walk away from you, and I won't let you face this alone."
"We don't even know what this is yet, Detective," he reminds her, "I haven't decided what I'm going to do, and we have to wait for this text and then Amenadiel's translation before we can even begin to repair the sword."
"If he can read it, and you can speak it, why don't you just have him read it aloud, and then you can translate it?" Chloe asks reasonably, "Wouldn't that save some time?"
"Detective!" Lucifer breathes after a moment of stunned silence, "you are bloody brilliant!"
"So, get your text and start working on the flaming sword problem, but then we can keep working together in the meantime, yeah?" She asks hopefully, "And… Trixie would really like to see you."
He exhales in surprise, "You didn't want your offspring around me when you thought me unstable, you surely can't want her around me now that you know I'm the Devil."
"I wouldn't have extended the invitation if I didn't want you around her, Lucifer," she points out candidly. "I know you'd never hurt us. And Trixie loves you."
"Yes, well," he sniffs, "What's not to love?"
The words don't hold any of his usual confidence, though, and it's obvious to Chloe that he's got reservations about accepting the invitation.
"It's okay, we can take it slow," she reaches out and places her hand on top of his. His eyes follow her movement and linger there. "But Trixie would like to see you, she's been asking for you for weeks."
"Perhaps I can stop by at some point and say hello, then," he allows hesitantly, "If a case were to necessitate a visit to your apartment."
"So you'll come back to work?"
"I did say that I would be available should you need me," Lucifer huffs, "At least until my decision on Mum's situation is made."
"Lucifer…" Chloe begins quietly, "Do you even want to go back to Heaven? I've never heard you say anything good about it… on the rare occasions you talk about it."
"Of course I bloody don't, Detective," he scoffs, fidgeting and looking away from their hands. "I've made my home here, but I've been considering relocating."
"Relocating?" Chloe repeats, her heart sinking. "I thought Lux was your home?"
"I'm quite fond of Lux, it's true. It's more of a home than anywhere I've ever lived." He can't stay still any longer and stands, slipping his hand from under hers. "But perhaps it's time to move on. The curse of immortality, you know, sooner or later those around you start noticing you're not aging and start asking awkward questions. It's apparently easier to start over in a new locale."
"Lucifer, you don't care who asks questions. You tell everyone you're the Devil anyway."
"Of course, but I've never been on Earth so long, so I'll likely need to adapt my approach if my stay lengthens." He paces in front of the chaise, his long legs taking him the entire length of balcony and back in only a few strides. "Which could be another argument for returning to the Silver City, I suppose, but… I've no desire for war, Detective, let alone with my siblings. I've already…"
"You've already what?"
"It's… irrelevant to this conversation," he prevaricates, "the point is, my services are yours to call upon until my relocation actually occurs."
She stands and plants herself in front of him, bracing her hands against his chest to stop his restless movement. "It's obviously bothering you, Lucifer, so irrelevant or not… if you'd like to talk about it, I'll listen, okay?"
"Thank you, Detective, I'll take that under advisement," he looks down at her hands on his chest, and takes a long step back. "It's getting late, and you have to be back in the office in the morning, do you not?"
"All right, I can take a hint," she chuckles, holding up her hands in defeat. "I won't push you to talk about it, Lucifer, but I hope you can with Linda if you need to."
"Thank you," he repeats, straightening his cuffs, "And thank you again, for coming this evening."
"I'll… see you tomorrow?" she offers hopefully.
"I shall await your call," he assures her, his smile warming his eyes. She returns the smile and darts forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek. He startles back, his eyes wide and dark. "Detective?"
"You've had a rough night," she explains, "I'm sorry, I just thought maybe… you'd like it."
"No apologies necessary, Detective," he says slowly, his right hand lifting to hover adorably over the place her lips had brushed. "You just… never cease to surprise me."
"It's just a little kiss on the cheek, Lucifer," Chloe blushes at his discomfiture, but he simply smiles again and shakes his head.
"And I am the Devil," he reminds her unnecessarily. "Casual gestures of… of support, affection… those are not typical."
"You're my partner," she shoots back, "So you'd best get used to them."
Lucifer gets a text from Chloe about a new case at a psychiatric hospital while he's monitoring his mother's interaction with her fence. His distraction almost allows the fellow to leave the table with the suitcase of cash he'd given her for the occasion, but fortunately he manages to intercede in time. He replies to the Detective's text when he's at the bank with the key to the safe-deposit box, waiting for access.
So sorry, Detective, stuck working on Mum's plan at the moment. Perhaps I can come by later, and you can catch me up?
Come for dinner. Trixie would love to see you.
He grimaces at his phone, but replies with an agreement, and she asks him to come by around seven. He slides the phone back into his pocket just as the sweaty, balding manager approaches him to guide him to the box, apologizing profusely for the wait.
Later, back at the penthouse, he finds himself thinking longingly of dinner with the Detective and her Offspring, if it means he can get away from the nauseating spectacle that is his family.
"My smart boy," his mother coos warmly over her eldest son, who drinks in the praise like a wilting flower in a spring shower. "How quickly can you translate it?"
"Not long, it should only take me a few days," he assures her eagerly, but she draws back in dismay.
"Days?" she gasps, appalled, "I don't have that kind of time!"
"I may be able to help with that," Lucifer interrupts, before his mother can go nuclear at the delay, "We can have Amenadiel read the text to me. If I hear it spoken aloud, I can translate and then we'll be that much ahead."
"Oh, that's absolutely genius!" She crows, "My Lightbringer!"
"I can't take credit for that idea, Mum, that was all the Detective's doing, but it lets us get started immediately. Why have you got your knickers in such a twist, anyway?" Lucifer narrows his eyes suspiciously at her, watching her reaction. He knows she's hiding something, but he hasn't been able to ferret out what it is, yet. "Is there a reason why you're in such a rush?"
"I-I'm just anxious to see the rest of the family," she stammers anxiously, backing toward the elevator and pressing the call button. The doors slide open immediately and she slips inside, throwing back the plea, "Please start translating."
The doors close behind her, and the brothers regard each other, each at a loss to explain their mother's stranger-than-usual behavior. Amenadiel breaks the silence. "There's something going on with her."
"Do you think so?" Lucifer taunts lightly. He claps the exasperated angel on his shoulder, "Dad only knows what it is though, I haven't been able to figure it out yet. Let's get started on this, then, brother. I have an appointment with Linda in a couple of hours, then I'm supposed to go to dinner at the Detective's apartment to get the details on our new case."
"Chloe seems like she's handling everything well?" Amenadiel hints, and Lucifer looks askance at him.
"It's hard to say," he finally says with a shrug, "She doesn't appear to be running, nor has she asked me to leave. I can't help but wonder if that's Father's hand at work, but of course we've no way to prove anything, and the Detective always requires proof."
"Does she know you're intending to come back to the Silver City with us?"
"I agreed to help you and Mum get back to the Silver City, brother," Lucifer reminds him shortly. "I've yet to make my decision as to weather I'll be accompanying you. You know I've made a home here."
"Luci, you can't just stay here, not when you could go back!"
"I won't make any promises beyond what I've already made, Amenadiel," Lucifer snaps, "I'll be sure to let both you and Mum know when I've reached my decision."
Lucifer arrives at the Detective's apartment feeling distinctly frazzled, which isn't unusual for him after a therapy session. He sits in the Corvette for a moment, trying to compose himself before braving the minor hell of subjecting himself to the company of the Detective's overly enthusiastic Spawn.
Linda had brought up some valid points that he'd overlooked during his initial planning for Mum's little project. He'd already known that he had no interest in instigating a war with his siblings—he'd never hurt anyone during his initial rebellion, and killing Uriel… well. It had been nearly as bad as his fall and subsequent shunning, in terms of grief. While it's true he doesn't particularly care if his parents tear each other to Celestial shreds, he hadn't considered what consequences the fallout of that battle might have on Earth, and his friends here. Sure, they'd probably be fine; Dad is mostly hands-off, and the universe runs well on its own now that the whole creation project is done… but can he take that chance? Can he risk the Detective and her offspring? Linda and Miss Lopez? The Douche?
Perhaps the Douche…
His mother certainly can't stay here, though, and he doesn't particularly want to send her back to Hell again, either. It's a complicated sort of feeling… wanting to punish her for abandoning him in his time of need, but also not wanting her to suffer as he had. He knows Mazikeen would say he's going soft, and he tries not to think about the fact that she might be right.
He's lost in thought when the Detective's front door is thrown open, and a joyous shriek of "Lucifer!" fills the air, startling him into awareness.
The elderly woman walking her tousled terrier gawks in affront as the Urchin barrels from her apartment and toward his car, parked next to Chloe's cruiser.
"Hi Mrs. Derryman!" Trixie chirps as she bolts past her toward his Corvette. "Lucifer! You came!"
"Gah," he responds eloquently, leaning away from the door and quickly pressing the manual locking mechanism to keep the child from crawling into the seat with him. "Hello, Offspring, your mother says you've been requesting my presence."
"I missed you!" she lisps through the gaps in her teeth, just barely tall enough to rest her chin gleefully on top of his door, her mischievous brown eyes twinkling up at him. "Did you miss me?"
"Er," he offers, at a loss for words. The truth is, he had missed her. Not as much as he'd missed the Detective, of course, but he had been… surprised at how stung he had been when the Detective had told him she wasn't comfortable with him being around her offspring. And even more surprised at how relieved he had been when the Detective had changed her mind—after finally believing him about who he is. Fortunately, Trixie doesn't wait long enough for him to formulate an answer.
"C'mon, Mom's making Grampa's special sandwiches, and you like 'em best when they're hot, right?"
"Yes, of course, Urchin," he agrees, making no move to open the door with her standing so closely. He looks anxiously at the elderly neighbor, still gawking at the lanky man shrinking away from the human child who had been shouting the name of the devil. "Erm, why don't you pop on inside and warn your mother I'm here, yeah?"
"Luciferrrrr," Trixie's grin widens, and he's unnervingly reminded of Mazikeen, "You know I'm going to hug you. You might as well just get it over with."
"I'll bring you an entire double-chocolate fudge cake next time I visit if you skip the hug," he offers, but her grin only widens and she shakes her head, tiny braids swaying with the movement.
"Nope. It's been too long since I've seen you. The hug is gonna happen." He frowns. The child has gotten better at bargaining. He senses Mazikeen's influence there as well. "C'mon, the sandwiches are gonna get cold!"
With a deep sigh, he reaches to unlock the door. Trixie yanks it open and he just manages to snatch the key from the ignition as he allows her to pull him from the car and wrap herself tightly around his waist. He stands there in surrender for a long moment with a long-suffering expression on his face, and finally the watchful neighbor allows herself a smile and a small headshake and continues on her way as Lucifer dutifully pats Trixie's head and murmurs, "Yes, Urchin, I missed you too."
He's trying to convince the child to let him go so they can go have dinner when he hears a faint, familiar chuckle. He looks up, dark eyes narrowed, to find the Detective in her wide-open doorway, leaning against the frame with her blue-green eyes sparkling as she watches her partner's unsuccessful negotiation with her tenaciously affectionate eight-year-old daughter.
"You guys comin' in for dinner, or not?"
"I'll need you to call off your offspring, Detective," Lucifer begs, slowly shuffling in her direction, dragging the giggling child along in his wake.
"She's eight, and you're Satan," Chloe points out, laughing. "Pick her up and come inside!"
"I can't just pick your offspring up!" He protests violently, "I've no idea where she's been, or what she's been into!"
"Trix," Chloe rolls her eyes, laughing harder, "Let Lucifer go so we can eat."
Trixie complies… mostly. She releases his waist, but immediately latches onto his hand and drags him toward the apartment.
"Must we touch, Urchin?" He asks desperately, "Your mother said you only desired my presence."
"I missed you," she replies peevishly, as though this explains her need to clutch his hand as though she's dangling over a mountainside and it's the fraying rope that's keeping her from falling. "I'll let go of you if I can sit next to you at dinner."
"At a distance of eight inches or more from my person?" the Devil prods warily, aware that Mazikeen has been instructing the child in the art of deals.
"Fiiiiine," she groans, but she grins as though proud of him for adding the stipulation. To honor her part, she drops his hand and precedes him into the apartment.
He pauses at the door and regards Chloe cautiously, unpleasant memories from his last visit rearing their ugly heads. She looks up at him with regret in her eyes, and he tilts his head in confusion.
"I'm sorry, Lucifer," she apologizes again, "I was wrong about you being the Devil, and I should not have made that jab about your, uh, dad. It was out of line, and I never would have—"
"No apologies are necessary," he interrupts, "I knew that you would never believe me without proof, so I really had no reason to lose my temper as I did."
"Well, I was wrong about you being the Devil, but I still think you were wrong about being a monster," she asserts firmly. "Nothing will convince me of that."
"Remember what I said about watching what you say," he warns her gently, "You don't know everything about me yet."
"You already told me you don't want to be evil, Lucifer, and you don't lie."
"There have been many things I haven't wanted, Detective," his mouth twists bitterly, "But some of them have come to pass, regardless."
"Come inside," she sighs, gesturing for him to precede her, "let's have dinner."
The Urchin commandeers the conversation over dinner, filling Lucifer in on everything he's missed over the past several weeks. Chloe is surprised by how many details of Trixie's daily life at school he seems to be aware of, down to classmates' names and personalities. He asks specifically if certain ones are giving her any trouble, and Chloe makes a mental note to ask him for the stories behind those queries later. Finally, Trixie runs out of news to share, and Lucifer heaves an obvious sigh of relief… until Trixie asks,
"Why did you stay away so long?"
"Er," Lucifer stammers, scrambling for a reason that doesn't seem like he's blaming the child's mother for his absence, "My mother has been in town, and I've been a bit preoccupied trying to help her get back home."
"Your mom?" Trixie repeats, wonderstruck. "I didn't know you have a mom!"
"Trixie, of course he has a mom," Chloe chides, gently. "Everyone does, even if they don't live with them."
"Well, yeah, but Lucifer's different, he's the devil, and he only ever talks about his dad!" Trixie defends herself, and a laugh escapes Lucifer's lips against his will.
"So you believe me, then, Urchin?" He asks lightly, "That I'm the Devil?"
"You don't lie, right?" Lucifer nods solemnly, and Trixie makes a wide gesture with his hands that eloquently says 'Well, then?'. "Besides, Maze is a demon, so it just makes sense, since you were her boss for a long time."
Chloe's carefully blank face tells Lucifer that the Detective hasn't really had a chance to explore the realities of having a demon for a roommate, so he nods smoothly and replies to the child, "You and your mother have earned not only Mazikeen's loyalty, Spawn, but her friendship as well. She would never consider harming you, and would protect you to the best of her formidable ability."
"And she's teaching me to protect myself, too!" Trixie announces proudly, before leaning in and adding quietly, "I was really afraid after the man with the mustache tried to hurt us, but then you came and helped Mommy beat him, and now Maze is teaching me ways to get away from someone."
"She's an excellent teacher, Urchin," Lucifer tells her gently, "She's taught me more than a few moves over the millennia."
"She says you taught her some, too!" Trixie bounces in her seat excitedly, then her eyes widen dramatically, "But I wasn't supposed to tell you she said that. Oops."
Chloe cracks a smile at that, and she and Lucifer exchange an amused look. "Not to worry, offspring, your secret is safe with me. I trained for eons in the Silver City, it's expected that we would be able to teach each other new things."
Chloe tries to imagine her unpredictable partner undergoing formal weapons training, and finds that she can't. She's never even seen him wield a weapon, aside from the few times he's toyed with a gun… but never in an actual situation. He always relies on words, or his hands and strength.
"It seems like your nightmares have gotten better since you started working with Maze, too, sweetie," Chloe adds carefully. Trixie hasn't wanted to discuss the nightmares that plagued after Malcolm and the hangar, but Chloe hasn't awakened to Trixie's distressed cries for a while now.
"They are better," the girl nods seriously, "I'm not afraid anymore, not now that I know what to do."
"It's okay to be afraid, Monkey," Chloe leans across the table, waiting until her daughter meets her eyes. "You don't have to hide it from me, if you are."
"I'm not, Mommy," she grins up at her, and Chloe believes her. "Maze says it's okay too, because you can use it to make yourself move if you freeze up."
"That's very true," Lucifer agrees sagely, and Chloe looks at him, startled. "Fear is a great motivator. I've a brother that wields it as a weapon."
Another bullet point gets added to Chloe's incredibly long list of things she wants to ask Lucifer about.
"How many brothers do you have?" Trixie asks keenly. The corner of Chloe's mouth quirks. Her daughter has always wanted a sibling.
"Many," Lucifer answers drily, "Sisters, too. I'm not sure they've ever performed a proper count. I'm sure my father would say something like 'exactly as many as were needed'. Or perhaps one more than was necessary…" His eyes look off into the distance, his thoughts obviously traveling down darker paths.
"Hey," Chloe leans forward and rests her hand over his on the table, bringing him out of his internal reverie, "You are necessary, Lucifer. We need you, okay?"
His eyes drift down to her hand on his and a slow smile crosses his face, but his eyes are heavy with something that she can't quite read. Trixie darts in and throws her arms around him a reassuring hug. He stiffens under her ministrations and sighs dramatically.
"You're violating our agreement, Urchin," he groans dramatically, "Eight inches, remember?"
"That was during dinner," she chirps back smugly, "and we're done eating."
"Detective, you need to get a handle on the subjects in which you're allowing Mazikeen to instruct your offspring."
"Fighting techniques are okay, but negotiation isn't?" Chloe rolls her eyes and stands to clear the table. "Trix, bathtime, then maybe we can watch something short before you have to be in bed."
Her daughter reluctantly releases the Devil, who immediately scoots away and straightens his clothing—undoubtedly checking for stickiness.
"Will you still be here when I'm done, Lucifer?"
"I don't know, Spawn," he answers honestly, "your mother has to provide the details of a new case to me, but I've no idea how long that will take."
"I'm sure he'll be here long enough to say goodnight, Monkey, but you need to get started now, okay?"
The girl shuffles off to her bedroom to collect her pajamas, then off to the bathroom to begin her nightly routine. Lucifer watches her go with a confused look on his face. Chloe sets the dishes in the sink and Lucifer removes his jacket, rolling up his sleeves to assist as he crosses the room to stand next to her.
"So, what's this case about, Detective?" he asks, suddenly all business. "What poor sod has been deprived of his earthly life?"
She watches him from the corner of her eye as she relates the details of their current case; an orderly at a psychiatric hospital had been bludgeoned to death with one of the heavy wooden game boards.
"Ooooh, a psychiatric hospital! I do love the mentally ill," Lucifer adds as an aside, chuckling, as he rinses and dries the dishes she hands him, "really, who wouldn't be amused by someone who thinks they're Elvis, or Napoleon, or Wesley Snipes?"
"Well, you'll probably have a lot to talk about with the patient that found the body, he thinks he's God," Chloe reveals, and Lucifer's head snaps up from drying a plate to narrow his eyes at her. "I'm not joking, I promise. Apparently a couple months ago he suddenly donated all his money to charity, changed his name and everything, his name now is God Johnson."
"Well," he drawls the word sarcastically, "I would quite like to have a word with the Almighty, yes."
"We're waiting for approval to set up an interview, since he's a psychiatric patient, we need special permissions to talk to him." She turns to him, cautioning, "We're probably going to be monitored, so please don't—"
"Not to worry, Detective, I've no intention of attacking a mentally ill human," he assures her easily, "But I will happily tell him a few things about the being he's chosen to impersonate."
The approval comes through the next afternoon, and Lucifer gleefully joins her for the interview.
"Well hello, God," Lucifer announces when they're allowed in the visitation room. They're greeted by a man with piercing blue eyes, perhaps in his mid-to-late fifties, with short unruly brown hair and a beard with a few threads of silver in it.
"Hello, my son," 'God' greets him mildly, before his clear blue eyes find Chloe and crinkle in a gentle smile, "Detective."
Lucifer stops short, then laughs. "Right, yes, I suppose that would be the standard way to greet your children," he sneers, "Nice touch."
"What can I do for you?" God asks obligingly, and Chloe starts to speak, but Lucifer neatly steps forward, between her and the man claiming to be his father.
"Well, it's what I can do for you that's exciting," he says eagerly, eyes glittering, "See, I can reveal the truth about the Supreme Being you've chosen to impersonate."
"Mr. Johnson—"
"I bet you wanted to be God because He's benevolent, all-powerful, yada yada," he barrels on, blithely ignoring her, "But in actual fact, He's a dick."
"Mr. Johnson, we understand that you found the body in the recreation room yesterday morning?"
"Poor Mr. Toby," Johnson's eyes darken with sadness, "I tried to save him, but I was too late. He was already gone." He turns back to Lucifer, meeting his eyes evenly. "Look, son, if you want to be angry with Me, you just go right on ahead. I can be anything you need Me to be."
"Right, enough of this idle chit-chat," Lucifer growls, losing patience, he focuses his deep brown eyes on Johnson's pale blue ones. "Time to tell us what the charade's really about. What do you desire? Hmm? To avoid a vengeful ex-wife? Years of back taxes? What's your game?"
Chloe watches with her breath catching in her throat. This is the first time she's seen Lucifer work his mojo since she's realized that he isn't actually human.
"Is this a staring contest?" Johnson asks excitedly, unphased by Lucifer's mojo, " 'Cause, you know, I'm pretty good at those."
"How is this possible?" Lucifer flickers his gaze to Chloe, bewildered, before the light of realization ignites in his eyes, "Oh, right, yes, I bet you're on some really amazing drugs, aren't you? If so, share-zies."
"Can we get back to business, please?" Chloe steps forward, between Lucifer and Johnson, "Mr. Johnson, when did you find the body?"
"I'm not sure what time I found him, young lady, but I came into the rec room just after I finished breakfast. He was laying there, with so much blood all around him... I tried to bring him back, but she stopped me, and took me away—"
"You tried to bring him back?" Chloe asks, puzzled, "You performed CPR?"
"No, he was beyond that," Johnson shakes his head, "I can heal, given a little time, but a nurse came in and they moved me into another room, and I didn't have time to fix it."
"So you didn't attack him, you tried to help him?" Chloe asks, to be sure.
"I would never harm a human, Detective," he says earnestly, "your partner knows that."
"My partner knows—?"
"Oh, never mind, Detective," Lucifer says exasperatedly, "We're clearly done with this fraud, anyway. He has no valuable information."
"Yeah, I think we're good here," she admits, sighing. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Johnson."
"Of course, Detective, anything I can do to help catch whoever hurt Mr. Toby," the warm blue eyes smile down at her again, and she finds herself returning it. He turns back to Lucifer and his eyes warm further, "It was real good seeing you, Samael."
Samael? Chloe wonders idly, but Lucifer stops dead, his face paling.
"What did you say?" he gasps, appalled. "Dad?"
"Samael?" Chloe looks between the two men in confusion.
"How do you know that name?" Lucifer hisses vehemently, stepping aggressively toward Johnson, "I didn't even introduce myself to you as 'Lucifer'!"
"It's the name I gave you, son, of course I know who you are," Johnson's wide blue eyes are guileless.
"It really is you," Lucifer breathes incredulously, "You son of a bitch…"
He lunges toward the shorter man, but Chloe steps between them and he won't go through her. Fortunately, the orderly opens the door to the visitation room then to let them out, and Chloe ushers her protesting partner out of the psychiatric hospital before he can get himself committed for attacking God.
They go to interview the hospital administrator the next day, and Lucifer, after promising to behave to the Detective's standards, charms his way into working through the staff and patients, sussing out their desires one soul at a time. Chloe peels off to speak with one of the doctors that Lucifer had already questioned, and Lucifer goes to have another chat with God.
"I'll give you one chance to apologize," he growls quietly, keeping a wary eye on the other occupants of the room.
"Apologize? You're the one that tried to punch me." Johnson chuckles, "Tell you what I can do: I can forgive you."
"Taking the high ground, are we?" Lucifer laughs bitterly, "Magnificent. Well, I may have tried to strike the latest blow, but that is only in response to the litany of offenses that you, dear old Dad, have bestowed upon me."
"So you believe me? Good," Johnson's crystal blue eyes meet Lucifer's angry brown ones, "Tell me, just what is it you think I've done?"
"Oh, we're going there, are we?" Acrimony swells in his chest until he feels he might burst, he's had so much that he's wanted to say to his father, and he's never had the chance, but now he's standing right in front of him. It may be his only chance. "Right, let's see. Um, casting me into Hell for eternity because You haven't got the balls to get Your own cowardly hands dirty. Manipulating me with the detective, giving me the illusion of control. You are a... patronizing, sinister, helicopter parent!"
"So you think you have no free will," Johnson sums up evenly, and Lucifer's temper frays further.
"Every bad thing that's happened throughout eternity is Your doing, not mine!" Lucifer accuses furiously, leaning into the other man's space, but being careful not to draw attention. "It's all part of 'God's Plan.' I want an apology... nay. Nay, I demand penance. You must atone for what you've done." Lucifer's eyes flicker red, and the other man's brow wrinkles in concern.
"Now, that's not the Samael I remember," He begins uneasily, stretching a hand toward His son.
No," Lucifer interrupts fiercely, stepping back and lifting a protesting hand, "No, Dad, this is who you made me when you cast me away! Now apologize!" The last words are spoken in a deep growl that definitely does not sound human.
"Excuse me," a nurse approaches them smiling, "Mr. Johnson, it's time for your meds, come with me, now."
Johnson looks back at Lucifer worriedly over His shoulder, but goes willingly with the nurse while Lucifer grumbles at being thwarted. The Detective is still speaking with that doctor, so he works his way around the room. After about an hour, he gravitates down a deserted hallway to speak to the nurses that had taken his father away.
"So what did you think of God Johnson?" she chuckles, "He's definitely one of our weirder ones, what did he tell you?"
Lucifer shrugs, eyeing her medicine cups interestedly. "You needn't worry, we'll find out who's responsible, we always do."
"You want one?" she laughs, offering him a cup with a mixture of tablets in it, and Lucifer coos happily, taking the offered cup in a single mouthful. They chat for a little while longer, before Lucifer asks his question, and she answers, as they all do, with uninhibited honesty. "I… I want to make my mother pay for manipulating and controlling me my entire life. I pumped her full of drugs and drove her crazy, then changed my name and came to work here so I could torture her!"
"Oh, really?" Lucifer croons delightedly, "Well, as much as I can sympathize about wanting to punish the manipulative parent, I'm afraid I can't condone murder. What about the poor orderly? What was his crime?"
"He found out what I was doing, was going to turn me in! I couldn't let him do that," she explains dreamily, "I had to stop him, but then 'God' came and found him before I could hide the body…"
"Hmmm, interesting confession," Lucifer swallows, his throat suddenly feeling a bit thick, his tongue not quite cooperating properly. "Ooh, these drugs are something, aren't they? 'Cause I can't feel my tongue…"
Oh, bollocks, the Detective is here… what a time to figure out she has an effect on my drug tolerance…
"Wait, what did you just do to me?" the nurse breathes, horrified. "I didn't…"
Lucifer turns to go find the Detective, fighting his suddenly uncoordinated feet, and the nurse grabs a nearby bedpan and slams it over his head. All he can think as he hits the floor is, I hope Mazikeen never finds out about this.