A/N: Sorry for such a long delay in getting this update to you! I hope you'll enjoy it.
Chapter 3: Don't You Know That, Detective?
The sour smell of mildew stung Lucifer's nostrils as he shifted on the dusty wooden slats beneath him. They creaked loudly under his weight, and Chloe shot him an alarmed look through wide eyes.
"Shhh," she hissed. As if he needed the reminder.
The child in his arms squirmed, probably getting snot and grime all over his suit. For once, he couldn't be bothered to care.
"Be still," he whispered as he tightened his arms around the child. His eyes caught on the dull yellow star stitched onto the child's shirt, the word Jude scrawled through the center.
The atrocities humans committed against one another had long ceased to surprise him. He'd been around long enough to know it was their way. He couldn't understand why his Father loved them so; why He wanted Lucifer to love them just as much. They were flawed, and cruel, and ruthless.
And yet, as his gaze returned to Chloe who gently cradled the sleeping baby to her chest, he was reminded that there were humans like her who were so pure of heart, good to the very core of their being. His Father's love for Chloe…that was something he could understand.
A loud knock sounded at the front door of the house they hid in. Chloe's eyes locked with his, fear scratched into every feature on her face. He could read her thoughts; this would be a close call.
He had felt terror this intense only a few other times in his long life. The terror he felt, though, wasn't for himself. He was the Devil. No, he feared for Chloe and the two innocent children nestled in each of their arms.
Soft footsteps crossed the room below, followed by the squeak of hinges as the front door opened.
"We have orders to search the premises," a deep, booming voice announced, confident and smug.
Lucifer could hear the thump, thump, thump of Chloe's heart as it pounded, could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickened.
Muffled conversation, footsteps, and doors opening and closing down below filled the still air of the attic around them as he and Chloe dared not make a sound. Even the child in his arms, sensing their fear, had gone completely still.
A door slammed loudly, and Chloe tore her gaze from Lucifer's to look down at the baby in her arms—the baby whose large brown eyes had startled open at the sudden sound.
The infant's face screwed up in displeasure, its tiny mouth opening wide.
Chloe's panicked eyes met his as she moved to clasp her hand over the babe's mouth, but it was too late.
The infant's piercing wail shattered the protective silence surrounding them,
and Lucifer bolted upright in bed, gasping desperately.
His pulse raced inside his bare chest, now covered in a sheen of sticky sweat.
It was just a dream. You're in LA, he reminded himself, doing his best to shake the nightmare from his mind. Chloe is safe in her apartment across town.
Climbing out of bed, he slipped on his robe and inhaled deeply through his nose. He released each breath slowly, just as Dr. Linda had taught him, as he made his way onto the balcony. The cool night air, his stars above, and the quiet of the city still sleeping below helped return him to the present.
He'd had nightmares like that quite often when he'd first resurfaced, before he'd met this version of Chloe. Back then, he'd often give in to the urge to check on her, driving to the small house she'd shared with Dan when Trixie was only a toddler. He'd park across the street, waiting for her to wake and open the curtains in her living room, just so he could glimpse her once for the irrational fear to abate from his chest.
He felt the same urge to check on her now, but he wouldn't.
Instead, he lit up a cigarette and waited for the sun to rise.
"The Detective knows!"
Linda looked up over the top of her glasses and loosed an impatient sigh. "Lucifer," she began sternly, glancing at the clock on the wall, "we don't have a session today. My first client will be here in twenty minutes."
"But she knows, Doctor!" Lucifer repeated.
Over the years, Linda had become an expert at gauging Lucifer's moods; she was able recognize when he was simply being overly dramatic.
Her brow furrowed as she scrutinized him. His appearance lacked its usual care; his rumpled suit had been thrown on messily, the top few buttons left undone. His hair was unkempt and free of product, the stubble on his cheeks and chin untrimmed, and dark circles underlined the clear distress in his eyes.
He was truly distraught.
Linda was confused, though. During their last few sessions, they had discussed at length Chloe's reaction to learning the truth about him. "What does Chloe know?"
"Her reincarnation," he specified, resigned. "She knows."
"Oh." Surprised and more than just a little curious, Linda gestured to the sofa. As she sat across from him, she asked, "How did she find out? Did you tell her?"
Lucifer had been candid with her about Chloe's tendency to reincarnate from the very start of their sessions together, just as he had been about the fact that he was the Devil. Of course, back then, she'd believed all of that celestial talk to be nothing more than an elaborate metaphor.
Reaching into one of his inner jacket pockets, he produced a picture. "Whilst away on her holiday in Rome, she came across a photograph of me from the 1930s. She also happened to be in the photograph."
Linda's eyes widened as he held the picture out to her, her brows lifting to wrinkle her forehead. "Wow," she breathed, taking the photo from him. "Well, I imagine that must have been quite a shock for her."
"Yes, I imagine so," he agreed. "She showed me the photograph; asked if it was her."
His demeanor had gone from distressed to calm in the few minutes he'd been in her office. It gave her a sense of satisfaction to be able to provide a safe space for him to work through his celestial-sized problems, to be someone who truly understood where he was coming from—as much as any human could understand.
"I'm guessing she didn't take it well." Linda smiled sympathetically as she handed the photograph back to him. He slipped it back into the pocket of his jacket.
"Quite right, Doctor. And just when it seemed as though she had begun to come around to the idea of me being, well, me."
"She'd started to come around to the idea of you being the Devil?"
He nodded. "Last night, I made her dinner and...we talked." He managed a small smile at the memory. "It was nice."
"That's great, Lucifer! That's a huge step for Chloe." Linda knew just how jarring it was to become a celestial insider. She could empathize with how Chloe must be feeling; she'd had to overcome her own fear when Lucifer had revealed himself to her.
"I suppose," he admitted, thoughtfully.
"If she's coming around to you being the Devil, then she'll come around to the reincarnation stuff, too. Give her some time."
"I just- I had hoped to tell her on my own terms; I wanted to prepare her for it. The same way I wanted to prepare her to see my devil face. I wanted to make sure everything went smoothly this time." Lucifer's eyes shifted upward to the ceiling. "Funny that, how none of it went according to plan."
Linda hummed, casting a quick glance at her clock. "This time? So, you've told her before?"
Over the course of their sessions, they'd spent surprisingly little time discussing the circumstances of Chloe's reincarnation and his relationship with her in her past lives. Linda had always been curious, but their sessions typically focused on Lucifer's past traumas and how they had affected his perception of himself and his relationships with others—Chloe included—in the present. Other than his very first visit to earth, she knew that this was the longest he'd remained on earth for any single period of time. And she knew that this was the first time he was truly allowing himself to explore the feelings he had for Chloe, feelings that had developed over many lifetimes.
"She never believes me when I tell her that I'm the Devil, so I've never even tried to tell her about the reincarnation," he admitted. "She only believes that I'm the Devil when she sees my wings or my devil face, both of which have happened a few times over the years. Her reaction always varies."
"Interesting," Linda murmured, and she realized she was slipping out of her therapist persona and into the curious academic she'd always be at heart.
"The last time she saw my face," he paused, frowning, "she was terrified. I wanted to make sure it never happened that way again. Obviously, I failed."
A knock sounded at her office door, and Linda glanced at the clock. It was nine a.m. and time for her first session.
"Give her time, Lucifer. Give her some space to process this new information about herself. Let her know that you'll be there for her when she's ready to talk. Have faith that she'll work through it."
"Faith?" he repeated, mouth curling up in distaste as he stood from the couch.
"Faith in her."
A few days later, Chloe called him with a new case.
The crime scene was the set of a reality TV show called The Cabin. Lucifer, unsurprisingly, had never seen it, but Ella seemed enthusiastic about it.
He listened—rather patiently, he thought proudly—as the forensic scientist first gushed about the show and then moved on to telling them what she had ascertained about the murder.
He listened, but he didn't actually hear a word of what she said. His mind was too busy whirling with ideas for all the ways he could show the Detective just how supportive and patient he could be.
As the executive producer, Maury Novak, led Ella away to the hundreds of hours of unaired footage she'd have to sift through, Lucifer turned to Chloe and breathed out a relieved sigh.
"Right, I'm glad that's over with," he said. The smile he sent her was small and tentative.
They hadn't talked since she'd left the penthouse days earlier, but she had been the one to call him about working this case together. Linda would have told him it was a good sign.
Chloe nodded absentmindedly as she continued her sweep of the crime scene.
"Detective," he said, attempting to draw her attention.
"Huh?" she replied, distracted, as she bent to examine the body.
Even though she'd called him to work the case with her, she seemed distant. Was she still angry with him for not telling her about the reincarnation?
If he'd tried to tell her, she would have just brushed him off. She'd never have believed him. And the truth was, he was scared of how she'd react.
But, now that she knew, he wanted to tell her all about her reincarnation. He wanted to be supportive and help her process. He wanted them to figure it out together, as partners.
And he couldn't understand why she didn't seem to want the same.
"I was wondering—that is, if you're free—would you like to come by the penthouse this evening? We could order in and talk about your reincarnation?"
"Lucifer," she hissed, shooting him a reprimanding glare. She didn't like it when he spoke of celestial matters so flippantly and out in the open. At that moment, however, they were completely alone, so he didn't know what he'd done to warrant such a look. "I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it yet."
His smile fell. "Oh."
"Yeah."
Nodding, he accepted the rejection. "Of course, Detective. I hope you know that I am here for you whenever you are ready. I'll answer all of your questions to the best of my ability." He paused, and then continued soft and sincere, "I want to tell you everything I know."
Chloe worried her lip between her teeth as she considered his words. "I need to focus on the case for now-"
"Of course."
"but maybe…" she continued, "once we've solved the case, we can talk."
His brow lifted at her unexpected concession. They were the best crime-solving duo in Los Angeles. Surely, it wouldn't be long before they had the culprit in custody.
"Right," he said, schooling his expression into one of calm indifference. "After the case."
"Maybe," she reiterated. "I don't know if I'll be ready, but…I want to be."
Her small, optimistic smile ignited flames of hope inside of him.
The possibility of finally, for the first time ever, getting to share with Chloe all the many ways they'd been partners throughout history perhaps made him a tad too over-eager, and maybe he rushed the case in his haste to solve it.
Chloe's frustration with him became clear when she yanked him aside after he'd made a baseless accusation that Maury Novak was the killer.
"You really do only care about yourself, don't you?" she said, her words snuffing out the flames of hope that had flared to life inside him earlier.
Her assertion stung. He didn't care about himself, not really, but he did care about her…more than anyone or anything else in his eons of existence. It hurt that she couldn't see that.
"Well, if that's what you think, Detective, maybe I should give you some space."
He wandered the set, letting his thoughts drift. Was this the reason his Father kept returning her to earth—to him? Just to break his heart over and over again? As if Hell wasn't punishment enough.
The cabin was quiet and surprisingly serene; the cast was off filming the axing ceremony. He made his way inside, thankful for the quiet space to gather his thoughts and wrangle his emotions.
He wasn't sure exactly why she'd called him selfish; was it in reference to his devilish nature or to the fact that he'd kept her reincarnation from her? Regardless, he knew she needed more time to process—he was beginning to loathe that word.
But just how much time would she need?
Had it been foolish to think things could be different this time around? Could Chloe ever truly accept him? He was the Devil, and she'd always been too good for him.
As his mind spiraled hopelessly downward, something landed on the floor nearby, drawing his attention. He stared at the small metal object in the center of the cabin floor uncomprehendingly.
Suddenly, the entire cabin went up in a roaring blaze of flames and smoke. His ears rang with the sound of the explosion as he turned and headed for the door.
Somehow, amidst the chaos, he wondered if the Detective was close enough to make him vulnerable. Would he really mind it if she was? If she couldn't accept him, life on earth would only be another kind of Hell. If he died, he'd go to back to the infernal plane, and in a couple thousand years Hell-time, Chloe would be back, and he'd get another chance.
The notion was fleeting. As he walked through the fire, feeling the heat but not the burn, immense relief washed over him.
He didn't want to go back to Hell. He didn't want to start over with a different version of Chloe. He wanted this Chloe.
He patted out the flames that licked to life on the arm of his suit, the foreign sting of burning skin alerting him to the Detective's proximity.
She rushed towards him, her footsteps somehow echoing louder than the ringing in his ears.
"I wouldn't go in there, Detective. It's hotter than-" She flung her arms around his shoulders, her body colliding with his. "Oh."
"Lucifer," she whispered into his neck.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, and she squeezed him a little tighter in response. He savored it, the way she felt in his arms.
"It blew up," she said when she finally pulled away. "I saw it. I-I was so scared, but you…you walked right through." He could see the way her mind puzzled, trying to make sense of how he was unhurt as she looked him over, checking for injuries. "You're fine. You're completely fine."
He nearly smiled at how—even while knowing the truth about him—she still had a difficult time grasping the concept of immortality. "Well, it's one of the perks of living in a fiery pit of despair most of my life."
Nodding, a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips. It was only barely noticeable, but Lucifer saw it. The way she'd hugged him, her obvious relief at his safety, that smile—how could he not feel the flame of hope flicker to life once more?
The back and forth was exhausting, but he'd take it if it meant the chance to work things out with her.
He knew Linda was right; she needed time and space. He made a promise to himself that he'd be patient. He'd let her come to him.
Kylie ran over to them, and he watched as Chloe tore her eyes from his and did what she did best—closed the case.
At home, Chloe rummaged around in the cabinets underneath her sink. She found a bottle of lavender-scented bubble bath that she was fairly certain she'd bought before Trixie was born. It was still three quarters of the way full, an indisputable reminder of how rare it was for her to make time for herself.
Given that Trixie was with Dan, and that she'd been dealt enough revelations recently to last her a lifetime (or a few lifetimes, in her case), she felt as though she deserved a bit of relaxation and pampering. Drawing herself a bath, she squeezed a heaping amount of the bubble bath into the hot water streaming from the faucet, and moved into her bedroom to strip, tossing her clothes into the hamper as she waited for the tub to fill.
As she slid into the scorching hot water, skin reddening instantaneously, she released a huge sigh of contentment.
The heat from the water soothed her achy muscles, loosening them as she sank further into the suds. Her head rolled back onto the lip of the tub and she let her eyes close, feeling the stress from the past few weeks fade away.
She knew Lucifer had wanted to talk tonight; he claimed he wanted to tell her everything he knew about the circumstances of her reincarnation, and she believed him.
Though he'd kept something so integral to her very existence a secret, he had been right when he said she never would have believed him if he had told her. She couldn't really be mad at him for that.
Her angry reaction when she'd confronted him about the picture had been something of a defense mechanism—she hadn't been ready to deal with that kind of knowledge yet. The shock of hearing Lucifer confirm that she'd lived before had made her feel an all-consuming sense of dread and anxiety that she'd never felt before. The idea seemed incomprehensible, and her mind had lashed out at him.
In truth, she wanted to talk to him about it. The past few days, she'd kept her distance to try to process everything on her own, but she missed him.
She almost had to laugh at how quintessentially them it was that right as they were on the cusp of becoming something more to each other, fate—or maybe it was God—threw a curveball at them, some new obstacle they had to overcome.
She was over it.
When the cabin had blown up earlier that evening, the panic and despair she'd felt when she thought she'd lost him for good had overwhelmed her. But then he'd walked through the fire without even a scratch to show for it. And for the first time, his celestial constitution seemed like a blessing.
Being a celestial insider, having all of that knowledge…it would take some getting used to. But she thought it might be easier if she let Lucifer in. He was the only person who could answer her questions; the only other person who could even come close to understanding what she was going through.
Her phone chimed, and she reached for it, hoping that it was him. Maybe they could still have that talk tonight.
But it was Ella instead. Call me immediately.
She stood, water and suds sliding down the contours of her body. She knew from experience what a text like that meant. Wrapping a towel around herself, she pressed the button to dial Ella. She held the phone to her ear with one hand, pulling the drain free with the other.
"Hey," Chloe greeted when Ella answered.
She pulled the clothes she'd been wearing earlier out of the hamper as Ella cut right to the chase. "So final autopsy report just came back. Tool marks on Melinda's skull aren't consistent with a rock or anything like it. Something with a right angle hit her head."
"Maybe she hit the pier when Kylie pushed her," Chloe suggested, trapping the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she yanked her jeans on.
"But, three times? I mean, we're not sure what it is, but it's gotta be something square, something rectangular, like maybe a brick."
Square or rectangular? Chloe sifted through her memories of the crime scene and the set of The Cabin.
"I think I have an idea of who it is. If I'm right, Kylie's not the killer, but I'll call you from the car, okay?"
She hung up, quickly finished dressing, and then dialed Lucifer.
When Chloe arrived at The Cabin, she headed straight to the building where the recording equipment was stored.
"Hi," she said, announcing her presence as she knocked loudly on the doorframe. It was late and she had hoped no one would be there. It seemed to be on brand with her luck lately that her primary suspect was the only other person around. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have a search warrant to look at your camera equipment."
"I thought you guys already arrested someone for Melinda's murder," the cameraman said.
"Mmhmm, yep," she confirmed, very aware of his movements even as she faced away from him to examine the equipment. "Some new information has come to light, however." She bent down, and, endeavoring to keep him talking so she could track him by his voice, asked, "So you're a cameraman, was it?"
"Yeah."
"How long have you been working on the show?"
"Oh, since season one. All twenty-seven seasons."
"All twenty-seven? Wow, that's a long time." She reached for a heavy, rectangular piece of equipment. Her gut told her that this was the murder weapon. "And, uh, who else had access to this equipment?"
She heard him take a few steps toward her. Adrenaline spiked through her veins, keeping her on high alert.
"I'm in charge of it, but I guess anyone could get access if they tried," he replied.
"Yeah?" She spun quickly, her hand automatically going for the gun at her hip.
Her suspect stood with an axe reared back, poised to hurl at her if she made even one wrong move.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he threatened.
Slowly, she raised her arms out to her sides, palms out to indicate that she was not a threat.
"Okay, listen," she started, voice calm, her training as a detective kicking in. Where was her back-up? Where was Lucifer? Mentally, she scolded herself for walking into this situation alone. "It's alright, I just want to talk. I want to get your side of things."
"Yeah?" he asked, his voice wavering. He was nervous; she could tell. He readjusted his grip on the axe as a drop of sweat trickled down his forehead and over the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah." Keep him talking. Build a rapport. "So I assume that it was you who had the alliance with Melinda?"
"Yeah, since day one. You know why she was America's sweetheart? Because I made her look that way. I even stole that stupid Teflon Totem for her. She was gonna win because of me. We were supposed to split the money. She promised."
"And then she betrayed you."
"Melinda bailed on me for Kylie, that stupid bitch. But then they got in this big fight and, you know, I thought maybe…maybe me and Melinda were back on you know?" Chloe nodded understandingly. Keep him calm. Be empathetic. "But then when I asked her about it that night… No."
"Must've been really frustrating," she sympathized.
"Do you know how many years I spent watching these morons win piles of money sitting on their stupid asses, eating coconuts, while I busted mine 24/7?" Her heart beat fast as she watched him work himself up, more and more. He was getting too emotional. She tensed, her eyes trained on him. "All they do is bitch about how hungry they are. I'm sick of it."
And then suddenly, he swung his arm back. On instinct, she drew her weapon.
Everything happened so quickly. She heard Lucifer cry out, "Detective! No!"; saw her partner's body blur past her as he leapt in front of her; felt the way her stomach dropped at the sickening sound of metal striking wood as the axe hit its mark and she fired off a shot.
Back-up was quick to restrain the cameraman, and the moment things were clear, she rushed over to Lucifer.
"Lucifer, oh my god."
"Oh, well there's an oxymoron," he joked stiffly, unmoving. The axe had him pinned to the wall through the fabric of his jacket.
Carefully, Chloe reached forward and lifted his jacket away. He hissed, blood oozing from a small gash in his arm.
"It grazed your arm. You're…you're bleeding," she observed, but the statement came out more like a question. She jerked the axe from where it was lodged, freeing him.
"I'm fine. Just a graze like you said," he replied, brushing off her concern.
Her brows knit as her eyes darted between his face and the wound in his arm. "But…I don't understand. How is it that earlier today you walked away from a giant fiery explosion without a scratch, but right now, you're bleeding? You were shot in the hand last week… You almost died when Malcolm shot you in the gut."
As snapshots of memories flashed through her mind, she tried to puzzle the incongruous bits and pieces together in a way that would make them fit.
"I mean, I shot you," she continued, pausing to swallow down the guilt she still felt about that. Trying to understand, she asked, "How is it that sometimes you don't get hurt, and then other times you do? What's the difference?"
His eyes softened as he looked down at her. "You are, Detective." It took a moment for his words to sink in, but when they did, her eyes filled with tears. The way he looked at her was raw and transparent, mesmerizing. "I don't fully understand why, but...I'm only vulnerable when I'm close to you."
She was the one thing that made him vulnerable?
And suddenly, realization coiled like a snake in her gut. The Devil must go back to Hell, Father Kinley had said. And the only person who can send him there is you.
Experimentally, she lifted the axe and held it to his chest.
"So…if I pushed this into your chest, it would kill you?" she whispered, her own chest heaving under the weight of his confession.
"Yes."
Her lip trembled. "Because I'm close to you?"
"Yes."
"But you jumped in front of it anyway?" The enormity of the gesture was not lost on her. The Devil himself put his immortal life in danger to protect her.
"Yes," he answered without any hesitation. "And I would do it again and again." His jaw trembled, and his glassy eyes held hers captive as he asked, "Don't you know that, Detective?"
A tear slid down her cheek, because she did know that. His words struck a chord somewhere so deep within her; there was no doubt in her mind that he spoke the truth. She wondered how many times he'd saved her in each of the lives she'd lived, how many times he'd risked his life for hers.
She loved him, and the feeling surged through her, nearly overwhelming in its intensity. She made him vulnerable, and yet he chose to remain by her side—across lifetimes, even.
She had so many questions, but the ones that truly mattered had already been answered.
The axe fell to the floor with a soft thunk, and her hands reached for his face. Tracing the line of his jaw, she lifted herself onto her toes and gently touched her lips to his.
"Detective?" he murmured, his voice but a whisper as she pulled away from him.
It was then that she noticed the thin line of blood from where she'd held the axe to his skin. He'd trusted her and she'd hurt him. And not just with the axe, but with the way she'd reacted to seeing his devil face weeks ago.
"Oh, Lucifer, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she said, pressing her finger gently to the wound.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his awestruck gaze never once leaving her face. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but he gently brushed them away, her eyelids fluttering at his tender touch.
The intimate moment ended abruptly as the paramedics rushed into the cabin, and Lucifer was dragged over to an ambulance to have his cuts taken care of.
Chloe let him be tended to as she finished up with her own duties. Once everything had been dealt with, she made her way over to him, perched in the back of an ambulance looking no worse for wear.
"Hey," she said with a shy smile, her eyes darting over his exposed chest. She lifted her hand to touch the bandage now wrapped around his bicep. "All taken care of?"
"Mm hmm. Joshua took excellent care of me," he told her, sending the EMT a flirtatious wink. The man blushed, embarrassed by Lucifer's attention.
Chloe bit her lip to hide her amused smile.
"You're good to go, man," Joshua said.
Lucifer nodded his thanks and pulled his shirt back on. He turned to Chloe.
"So-"
"I-"
They spoke at the same time, breaking off to chuckle a little at their nervousness.
Chloe cleared her throat. "I was going to say that if you're free, I think I'm ready to talk."
They drove their respective cars back to Lux. It was no surprise, given the way each of them drove, that Lucifer beat her there. When the elevator doors opened on the penthouse level, he was already waiting for her behind the bar.
"Wine or scotch, darling?"
"A glass of wine would be nice," she replied. She sent him a small, grateful smile.
She felt both nervous and excited at the same time, anticipation building in her belly. While she generally preferred to remain sober for important conversations like the one they were about to have, she hoped some alcohol would help settle her nerves.
He poured some wine for the both of them, extending her glass out to her. Their fingers brushed as she took it from him, and her cheeks warmed under his dark gaze. "Thank you, Lucifer."
They made their way over to his sofa, sitting at opposite ends with plenty of space between them. Chloe angled her body toward his, pulling one leg up underneath her as she took a sip of wine. The rich, fruity flavor of the Pinot Noir he'd chosen for them tasted pleasant on her tongue and she hummed in appreciation.
He sipped his own wine, his eyes on her. "Whenever you're ready, Detective. I know this must be a lot for you to wrap your head around."
"It is," she confirmed with a small nod.
He stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, his hand resting near her face. As she gathered her thoughts, her eyes traced from his hand up his arm, catching on the small tear in the fabric over his bicep. Gingerly, she reached out and ran her fingers over it.
"Does it hurt?" she whispered.
"Just a little," he answered honestly. "It will heal quickly, though."
"You can only get hurt when I'm near you? If I was closer to the cabin when it exploded, you could have…?" she trailed off, not able to finish the thought aloud.
"I could have died," he confirmed.
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "Why do you stay with me? Is that why I'm here? Is that why I come back? To hurt you?"
Her chin wobbled, and she had to bite down hard on her lip to keep from releasing a sob.
"I don't know why you come back, but I don't think that's the reason," he reassured, lifting his hand from the back of the sofa and bringing it to her face. His thumb brushed at the lone tear that had escaped down her cheek. She leaned into his touch, taking comfort from his soft caress. "I wasn't always vulnerable around you; it seems to be a more recent development."
"Recent?" she asked. His hand dropped back onto the sofa.
"I don't know when it started exactly. I was vulnerable in your last life, I just didn't know at the time my vulnerability was linked to your proximity. And in this one, I wasn't vulnerable at first—remember, Jimmy Barnes? I don't fully understand what triggers it. I have my theories, but that's all they are—theories. I'm sorry I can't offer you a better explanation."
She nodded, attempting to rein in her emotions. She'd expected Lucifer to have all the answers to her questions, but it sounded as though there was a lot even he didn't know. He'd told her as much when she'd first confronted him about the photograph, but she hadn't truly understood until that moment.
Even with the photographic evidence of her past lives, she found it hard to banish her disbelief. The fact that she'd lived so many lives before this one—it still didn't seem real. Without any memories of them, she wondered if it ever would.
One day, when she knew everything Lucifer knew, she'd ask him about his theories. For now, she sifted through the mental list of questions she'd begun to compile and decided to start out small, hopefully with a question he could answer. "How many lives have I lived?"
His eyes rolled upward as he considered. "You know, I'm not sure. I'd have to count them. I'd guess around twenty or so?"
"Twenty?" she parroted, eyes wide and still a little shiny. "That seems like so many! And we knew each other in all of them?"
"Well yes, although I suppose it's possible you lived others while I was in Hell," he mused solemnly, "in which case we never would have met. Whenever I was topside though, we always became friends. Always partners in some way."
She liked the idea of that—she and Lucifer, partners in every lifetime. It was comforting to know that they always found their way back to one another.
"Am I always..." she searched for the words, "me?"
He smiled softly, his eyes fixed on hers. "Yes. Clever, curious, selfless, kind. Beautiful, inside and out."
Heat warmed her cheeks. His words and the intense way he gazed at her as though he were seeing right through her made her stomach twist in that warm, pleasant way. The connection she felt to him, the pull…it seemed as though it went as deep as her soul.
And the way that he looked at her—she thought maybe he felt it too.
She averted her eyes from his and finished off her wine. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Do other people get reincarnated, too?"
"As far as I know, it's just you."
Her brow furrowed. "Why me? Why do I come back?" She'd never felt special, she'd always been average. Plain-Jane Chloe Decker. "I know you said you don't know, but have you ever tried to find out?"
"When I'm not here on earth with you, I'm in Hell. There are no answers to be found there, and it's not as though my siblings ever come to call upon me for a visit."
And for the first time it hit her—the implications that went along with who he was. She'd been so focused on what him being the Devil meant for her that she hadn't even thought of what it meant for him. He'd spent most of his life—eons, an incomprehensible amount of time to her—alone in the most terrible place humans could imagine. A place meant for torture. The thought of him alone there made her stomach hurt. Not even his siblings visited him while he was there. Not even Amenadiel.
Setting her empty wine glass on the coffee table in front of her, she slid across the smooth leather of the sofa and curled into his side.
"I'm so sorry you were alone there, Lucifer. I'm so sorry none of your siblings thought to visit you."
Lucifer tentatively wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she felt his chest expand and then deflate underneath her cheek as he sighed, hopefully content.
"Even if they did, I'm not sure how much they'd know about your reincarnation. Amenadiel wasn't much help, but I did find out he's the one who lays the blessings upon your parents in each of your lives."
She played with one of the buttons on his shirt, spinning it between her fingers. "Do you remember the first time we ever met?" she asked.
"Of course I do."
"Will you tell me about it?" she requested, tipping her head back slightly to see his face.
"Well, oddly enough," he began, a far-away look in his eyes as he reminisced, "we first met in Rome. I'd been hearing word of a miracle, the son of God, my half-brother, so I decided to pop up to earth to meet him…"
A/N: next chapter, we time travel to Rome in the year 37AD!
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