Chapter 11
Pierce turns the ring over and over in his thick fingers, watching the light from the window play off the diamond setting. The idea of growing old with Chloe has set his heart aflame. He's done nothing but look for death for so long that looking forward to life—with someone he loves, no less!—feels like a strange and exciting new world. He watches the refracted light and tries to decide how best to plan the proposal.
She hadn't reacted well to his confession yesterday, and even worse to the apology attempt with the flowers, and now today she's called off sick, though at least Espinoza's concern lends verisimilitude to that claim. He'd obviously hurt her quite badly when he'd cut off her own admission of love… and he's not sure how to fix it, but he sure as hell isn't going to give up. Proposing while she's angry with him is probably a bad idea, though… He tucks the ring into the pocket of his flannel overshirt, resting his palm over it for a moment before turning his attention outside his office. The attorney that had followed him yesterday on the motorcycle is loitering by Chloe's desk.
Interesting.
"Can I help you, Ms. Richards?" he calls from his doorway, and the woman turns to face him a little too quickly.
"I was looking for Lucifer. Or Detective Decker," she adds quickly.
"Decker's out sick today, and Lucifer doesn't show up when she's not here." Pierce remarks snidely. "Was it something pressing?"
"No, just a question about Mazikeen Smith's arrest paperwork."
"Mazikeen was cleared of suspicion," Pierce tilts his head, "that paperwork should have been cleared already."
"Yes, of course," she stammers, "just a little snag. I'll just wait for her to clear it up. Thanks."
He watches her stride away with narrowed eyes. Following him after a clandestine pickup, now asking after Lucifer. He hasn't lived this long without developing a sense for when things aren't adding up. He pulls out his other phone and makes a call.
"I need a tail," he mutters quietly. "Charlotte Richards. I want to know what she's up to."
"Truth be told, I find you repulsive. Like, on a chemical level."
"You saved a human life, Luci. And not for any selfish reasons. No, you did it simply because you cared about that detective. Your time here on Earth is affecting you, dear brother. You're changing."
"I think you did come to Los Angeles looking for something. But I also think you've stopped. Because maybe you've found it."
Sitting at his piano with a priest playing Mess Around, and enjoying every moment of this new, happy feeling... of having a friend.
Staggering desperately through a hospital corridor with his shirt hanging open, turning into a room where Amenadiel defensively stands off with security officers and medical staff. He places a weak hand on his shoulder and heaves a sigh of relief, his brother returning the gesture and supporting his unsteady weight.
"Happy birthday, Lucifer." The whisper is warm in his ear as her arms slide around his neck in a friendly embrace that he isn't sure how to return.
Slowly leaning in toward the Detective as she mirrors him, food set aside and forgotten, his gaze locked with hers and wanting nothing more than to feel those soft lips against his as the elevator chimes faintly in the near distance.
Stabbing Uriel—again, and again, and again—the blade sliding neatly between ribs, blood slicking his hands until the same blond woman that had kissed him by his piano comes and pulls him away, insisting that it isn't real. "But look—look what I've done!"
The tiny black-haired woman again, this time energetically acting out a crime scene with his assistance in what appears to be a yoga studio involving lots of stabbing as Detective Decker glares at the pair of them.
"This isn't your fault. It's mine. I am to blame for all of this. Ever since... ever since I returned, I've been... I've been manipulating you. Stoking your anger against your Father in hopes of using you against Him. But... ...but I've just made things worse. I pushed you and that human closer, knowing it would crush you when you learned the truth. And now look at us. Stuck in this prison while Chloe is dying."
"Meet Candy Morningstar. My wife."
Lucifer wakes slowly, his head swimming with new memories, but distantly aware of a pleasantly soft, warm body draped partially across his. Physically, he feels absolutely wonderful, and if it weren't for the uncomfortably hard surface beneath him, he'd be eager for another round of whatever they'd been doing before. He peels his eyes open, surprised to find himself on his bathroom floor.
Hmm. Unexpected. He takes a moment to assess. Nearly nude, except for his briefs. Briefs? Right… Amenadiel's clothing. His hand gingerly touches his abdomen and he looks down in surprise, finding the skin whole and unblemished, the surface smeared with dried, blackened blood. The aches in his arm, ribs, and head have all completely subsided, much to his relief. Definite points for the divine healing method over the Hell method. The Hell method often kept him weak and retching for days afterward. He moves to get up and is reminded of the body cuddled into him. He glances down at blonde hair, with the roots just starting to show brown.
"Detective Decker?" he rasps quietly, but she only snuggles closer. He carefully slips out from under her and struggles to his feet, suddenly realizing how very thirsty he is. He gazes down at the woman, and bends to gently lift her and transfer her to the bed. The floor is far too cold and hard for her comfort.
He settles her under the covers and moves to the bar to pour himself a drink, enjoying his new freedom from pain—odd that after only a day he'd gotten so used to the presence of it. He downs his first three fingers eagerly, then pours himself three more, taking it with him back to the bath.
Azrael's feather. He muses. Azrael had been nearby as he lay gravely wounded. Had he been so close to death? Was the feather an accidental leaving?
"I lost my favorite big brother, you dope."
"First, Dad puts the Detective here, and now you're trying to manipulate me with Miss Lopez. Why does everyone think I need help meeting women?"
"Relax. I didn't do it for you, I did it for her. Well… both of you, I guess. See… since I couldn't really be with her, and I couldn't be with you, I thought… at least two of my favorite people could be together."
"And that's the only reason you're here…" he murmurs, nodding to himself as he finishes the memory dialogue.
Of course Azrael would help without seeming to help. This way she can still maintain plausible deniability. He chuckles wryly to himself.
"Thanks, sis," he whispers. He turns to survey the light carnage left behind from Detective Decker's attempt at nursing care. He clears away the soiled wound packing and sets Amenadiel's sad excuse for clothing aside for cleaning later. He runs a hand through his hair and grimaces at the sticky residue of blood, ash and grime he can still feel there.
Shower. Now. Once under the spray he peruses the new memories that had surfaced during his divinity-induced nap. He tries and fails to make sense of the amalgamation of random recollections. He puzzles over considering a priest of all people a friend; at the disparity of Detective Decker finding him repulsive, then embracing him warmly, then moving in for a kiss. He feels again the ghost of her lips on his at the beach, and wonders just how twisted their path has truly been. He's utterly flummoxed at the idea of introducing anyone as his wife, and he's not currently wearing a ring, so what had happened there? Divorce? Death? Had he loved her? The blond woman again… That had been his Mum, he had no doubt, so she must be Charlotte Richards. Well, that certainly explains why I ran from her kissing me… he considers with a shudder. Then he recognizes the situation that she'd pulled him from – a Hell Loop. His Hell Loop. His own anguished voice rings in his mind: "He was my brother!"
I've killed Uriel. His strength leaves him as the memory surfaces with the soul-crushing grief, and he falls heavily to his knees under the cascading water. Despite the heat of it, he suddenly feels as though it's icewater. What could possibly have driven him to such an extreme? I couldn't even bring myself to harm Michael when he was snapping my wings and casting me into Hell… what possible reason could exist that I would be willing to put a blade through Uriel's heart? What kind of monster have I become, that I would even consider such an atrocity?
He doesn't know, can't even begin to fathom what situation could call for such a dire resolution. He huddles in his shower, knees drawn up to his chest and heaving dry sobs under the steaming water until exhaustion forces him to focus on merely pulling in shuddering breath after breath. If I have a Hell Loop, that means I must have died at some point. How did that happen? Was it when I asked Dad to protect Detective Decker? Has Amenadiel forgiven me? Does he even know? Clearly Mum did. Eventually he gathers the willpower to stagger to his feet, fumbling to turn the water off. He braces against the wall as he towels off clumsily, and weaves his way to his closet for some sleepwear after he recalls that Detective Decker is asleep in his bed. A memory of her voice surfaces, "Okay, look, let me make myself perfectly clear. I will never, ever, ever sleep with you. Never."
Well, that's a pretty clear indicator of weather I would be welcome to share the bed with her, he considers miserably as he manages to step into his silk pyjamas. Ah well, I can make it to the couch.
He grabs a blanket from the linen closet as he passes and does just manage to reach the couch before he collapses, the meager warmth of the blanket doing nothing to soothe the icy ball of guilt in his chest.
How many more horrors have I wrought in my missing time? How many have I yet to discover?
Chloe opens her eyes to late afternoon sunlight slanting in through the gaps in the thick black curtains that line the wall of windows in Lucifer's bedroom. A vision of that horrible wound surfaces in her mind, and the glowing feather… she sits up frantically, looking around for him. The other side of the bed shows no signs of occupation and she bolts to the bathroom, only to find it completely clean and empty.
Did I dream about that feather? She stands stock still, trying to decide, and hears a faint whimpering from the other room. Slowly, she moves in the direction of the sound and finds her partner sound asleep on the couch, weakly thrashing in the grip of an apparent nightmare. She rounds the end and perches on the short side of the L-shaped couch near his head, tentatively reaching out to smooth his hair from his forehead.
"Please," he begs quietly, "Brother, please. She... she has Chloe."
His voice catches on her name and causes her stomach to flip unexpectedly. It's so rare for him to use her name… Her fingers gently stroke his forehead and he settles minutely as she wonders what's happening in his mind. Should I wake him? If he's remembering, should I let him sleep?
"I'm sorry, Mum," he's muttering now, but at least he's no longer thrashing. "But I'm afraid that this ends now. You've hurt so many people, Mum. It has to stop… You used me. Used Chloe… I'm not leaving, Mum! Going home? That's not starting over, that's... that's going backwards. And that's not good for anyone."
Chloe jolts as she recognizes her own words to him last year during the Chet Ruiz case. Going home… was his mom trying to get him to go to Hell? Or Heaven?
"So it's time for you to move forward, Mum. Even if it means I'll never see you again. You know that if we go back to Heaven, then there will be a war. And in war, there are always casualties." His voice is so thick with emotion and sleep she can barely understand the words as they pour forth. "I know. So, please, let there be light." He sighs these words as he curls into a ball around himself, his face pressing forward into her hip as dry sobs wrack his trembling frame.
"Lucifer," she murmurs quietly, unable to watch his suffering any longer. "Lucifer, hey. C'mon, wake up." Her hand moves in long, soothing strokes up and down his back and shoulders. He calms under her ministrations, slowly uncurling from his huddled coil. "There you go. It's okay."
"Shoot me!" he cries suddenly, his voice so full of anguish that her blood runs cold. "Well, go on, then! What are you waiting for?"
Oh God, no. She recognizes this. This is the sniper case. "Lucifer!" she grips his shoulder now, shaking gently. His keening cuts off suddenly and he stiffens next to her as his eyes fly open. "It's okay, Lucifer, you're safe."
"You don't know a thing about who I am, Detective," he murmurs, still trapped in the no-man's-land between waking and sleeping, "or what I've done."
"I would," she murmurs back, threading her fingers gently into his hair, "if you'd just tell me."
His eye rolls drowsily up to focus on her, and she sees the moment awareness floods into him.
"Eavesdropping again, Detective Decker?" he asks dryly, lifting his head and moving to sit up. She lets him put some distance between them before she answers.
"I wasn't sure if waking you would help, or hurt," she admits. "Were they nightmares, or memories?"
"Who says they can't be both?" he scoffs. "Most of the time I suppose they're both. These… though I don't recognize them… feel like memories."
"For the memories you've recovered… do they feel like they're really yours, or does it… I dunno, does it just feel like a movie you're seeing in your head?" She watches him earnestly, anxious to hear his answer.
"I'm… not sure. I do feel some things, but most of what I've gotten so far is so disconnected, so… without context that it's nearly impossible to figure out where they fit or what else was happening at the time. I wish…" he trails off, watching her carefully. "I wish I could explain them to myself, rather than just guess."
"I wish I could help," she offers with a sigh. "But I'm pretty new to the celestial inside circle, so I probably don't have the answers you're looking for. I'm happy to give you any answers I do have, though."
"Do you… do you happen to know anything about Uriel?" he asks hesitantly.
"I'm sorry, I don't," she shakes her head regretfully, "You haven't talked to me about him before, at least not by name."
He nods, unsurprised. "I suspected as much."
"Is that one of your brothers?"
"He was," Lucifer replies, his voice small. "I… I killed him, Detective… but I've no idea why. What… even during my rebellion I was careful never to harm one of my siblings. What kind of a monster have I become?" He looks at her with red-rimmed eyes, hair untamed, and grief etched so deeply in his expression that he truly looks ancient in this moment. Instinctively, she reaches out to that pain, catching his hand in hers.
"I don't know what happened, Lucifer," she whispers, dipping her head to catch his averted gaze "But I know that you're not someone that would kill without good reason. I think Amenadiel would be able to tell you what happened, if you ask him."
"I don't…" his eyes slide shut, closing himself off. He tries to pull away but she laces her fingers through his, refusing to let go. "Detective…"
"Did you have any other questions?" she prods gently, "Until you're ready to ask Amenadiel about Uriel?"
"I have so many," he sighs. "that I don't even know where to begin."
"That's okay," an idea occurs to her, and she sits up a little straighter, causing him to look at her curiously. "If you don't want to ask Amenadiel—maybe you can talk to Linda!"
"Linda… Dr. Martin?" he hesitates, placing the name. "The woman that came to the hospital with my brother. That's right, he said that she's my therapist… yes, if I've told her anything at all, she could be a massive help! Detective, you're brilliant!"
"You tell me that a lot," she teases, happy to see the light of hope back in his expression.
"Well, then you know it's true, because I don't lie," he grins at her and the expression is so much like the Lucifer that she knows that she doesn't even think, but launches herself at him in a full-on Trixie-style hug. He wriggles awkwardly for a moment before patting her shoulders carefully. "Er… this reminds me—do you have an offspring? Perhaps with your ex, the douche?"
She laughs into his shoulder, trying to work up the resolve to let him go. "Yes. This kind of hug is more her thing, I'm sorry." She manages to pull back, noticing a flicker of relief, but also something that looks like regret in his eyes as she places a little distance between them once more. "You remember her?"
"A little?" He offers. "Small, dark hair. Very… er… clingy."
"That's Trixie."
"You gave your spawn a hooker's name?" He looks at her incredulously and she snorts at him.
"Her name is Beatrice, but Trixie is a perfectly normal name for a little girl, Lucifer," she rolls her eyes at his scoff. "You never call her by her name anyway."
"Beatrice is a perfectly acceptable name, why on earth would you diminish it to Trixie?" he says the nickname the same way one might say 'chlamydia' and Chloe stifles her giggle.
"Beatrice was her paternal grandmother. It was just easier to call her Trixie."
"Terrible decision," he points out ruthlessly, but Chloe ignores him.
"It seems like you're remembering lots of things, even if the puzzle hasn't all come together yet. That's got to be a good thing, Lucifer."
"Does it?" he asks quietly. "I find myself wondering about so much… Our relationship, for example, baffles me. You told me how we met, and that we were friends before all this happened, and… had perhaps been on our way to something more—but then I have memories that have surfaced that… Detective Decker… I seem to recall introducing you to… a wife?"
A wash of bubblegum pink passes across Chloe's vision and she feels as though she's been punched in the gut at the sudden reminder of Candy. Of course he remembers Candy, she thinks to herself bitterly.
"… simply can't fathom it, frankly, and I was hoping you might be able to provide more details." He's saying as she tears herself out of her sour reverie. "I'm not one to take vows lightly, Detective, and I'm not wearing a ring. Did she die? I… I'm still not certain I'm even capable of love, but… did I love her?"
"Lucifer…" Chloe squeezes her eyes closed, willing back the tears that are still so close to the surface whenever she thinks about his leaving, his returning married. "It's… not something we've talked about, so I don't have first-hand knowledge, but… Ella told me a very little about it, if it will help."
"My apologies, Detective Decker," he says stiffly, and the addition of her last name gives her another left hook to the gut. "I… wasn't thinking, this may be a sore topic for you."
"No, no, it's… it's okay." She begins to tell him what little Ella had revealed, about him leaving because he'd believed they were being manipulated by his father, meeting Candy after she robbed him blind and them coming to an agreement to help one another.
He's leaning casually against a limo in the parking lot across from Lux as Candy wheels her carry-on suitcase up to him, smiling. "Well, the Oscar goes to Candy Morningstar."
"You think they bought it?"
"Yes, my mother doesn't know what hit her." He feels a surge of satisfaction in his chest at managing to get a lead on what her plans had been. "So, thank you. For helping me peek inside that scheming head of hers."
"Well, it's the least I could do. After what you did for me in Vegas? You saved my life. Pretty sure I'm gonna owe you for the rest of it." She hisses in a breath and he chuckles.
"Let's call it even, shall we?" He gives her both rings to cover the divorce paperwork and hands her luggage over to the driver to load into the boot of the limo before moving to open the door for her. She starts to step in, then turns back to him.
"Lucifer," she hesitates, "I get why you had me con your family. But what is going on with you and Detective Decker?" He huffs a laugh, taken aback at her forthrightness. "It's none of my business, but... I wouldn't screw that one up."
He sighs as she steps into the limo and he closes the door gently behind her before looking up at his home.
"I'm trying not to," he murmurs as he blinks back to himself, breathing hard.
"You okay?" Her blue-green eyes are watching him carefully.
"Yes, yes fine, Detective," he smiles. "You've just helped me remember, that's all."
"You… remember Candy?" her tone is flat, and he instinctively knows that means trouble. He takes a chance and reaches out to take her hand in his. She doesn't pull away.
"A bit," he elaborates. "I'd been worried because… the… the recovered memories I have of you are all so… intense is probably the best term for them, Detective—there's so much emotion in them that I can scarcely make out what's what. Then, when I remembered her, there was nothing, and… I couldn't understand why. If I felt… what I felt for you, how on earth could I even consider…?" He shakes his head, stroking her thumb with his. "But it makes more sense now. I needed to do something to throw my mother as far off track as possible—she'd been manipulating both of us, and if my father had his hands in as well… something needed to be done, not only to find out what Mum was up to, but to protect you from their machinations. I… I think it hurt you, though, and… and for that I am truly sorry, Chloe."
Her eyes snap up to meet his as her given name falls from his lips, sounding for more familiar than it should, as scarcely as he utters it.
"When I helped her into the limo to send her back to Vegas, she told me not to screw up what I had with you…" his dark eyes search hers intently. "But… I find myself afraid that I failed spectacularly at that task."
The lift chimes and they pull back as Amenadiel enters the flat, Charlotte in tow.
"Luci, we have a problem," his brother's concerned voice rolls through the room. "Charlotte's being followed."
Chapter 12
"Followed?" Chloe asks, at the same time Lucifer growls,
"Cain!" He springs up from his seat, pacing in his red and black silk pyjamas. Amenadiel's eyes linger on him, surprised at his ease of movement.
"Luci, you seem far more recovered than I expected. Have you already been to Hell for your cure?"
"No, as it turns out I didn't need to," Lucifer answers distractedly, "I was apparently worse off last night than I thought—Azrael must have been lingering nearby, she lost a feather and Detective Decker found it stuck in a dried puddle of my blood when she came here today."
"Azrael was here?" Amenadiel's face lightens by several shades. "Luci, for that you must have been—"
"Yes, I'm well aware of what our sister's task is, brother," Lucifer waves off his concern in favor of their current dilemma. "Charlotte, are you quite all right? What happened?"
"I'm not afraid of him, Lucifer," the attorney's eyes are alight with the challenge before her, Chloe knows that look well. "But I'm going to have trouble finding anything on him if I'm being watched. I… may have gotten a little overzealous tailing him after we spotted him meeting with a fence."
"So he spotted you, and now he's suspicious…"
"He also caught me at Chloe's desk earlier today and when he asked me, I said I was looking for you… which seemed to make it worse," she admits, looking down in embarrassment. "I got a little glimpse of him through his office walls while I was standing there, though, and he had something very small and shiny in his hands. It was throwing off little sparkles of light, like a ring."
"He must suspect that you're looking into him if he's having you followed," Chloe considers, and Lucifer turns to her. "Which means there must be something he thinks you can find."
Lucifer watches her turn over the puzzle in her mind, wondering if this is what drew him into working with her in the first place—was it the thrill of the hunt and punishment, or the fascination of watching this woman use her considerable intellect and notable instincts to solve these crimes?
"Or perhaps he just needs to know what you suspect him of, and who else is involved so he knows who he needs to take out," Lucifer chimes in. Chloe stares up at him, eyes wide. "He's been around for a very long time, Detective, silencing the opposition is not a new idea."
"No, it's… I know it's not. I'm just still… trying to wrap my brain around 'Pierce is Cain is the Sinnerman', and how deep the web of a literal immortal crime boss must go."
"Yes…" Lucifer hisses quietly, "we already know the LAPD is no stranger to corruption, it's hard to say how many of the officers there are on the Sinnerman's payroll. Did you lead the tail here, brother?"
"Of course not," the elder angel's tone is tight with affront at the suggestion. "Charlotte lost him before she came to me."
"And you're certain there was only the one?" Lucifer turns to her, and she grins at him. The sharklike expression reminds him of his Mum, and he's swept into a memory from this very room of a bloodied and disheveled Goddess arriving on his doorstep.
"Well, say something. Aren't you glad to see me? I apologize for my human form, but... at least this one has supreme hindquarters."
"You're lying."
"No. They're quite sturdy. Feel it."
"I wasn't referring, nor will I ever refer, to your butt, Mother." He chokes on a laugh as he has another ridiculous vision of hauling a dancing Goddess off one of his tables at Lux and carefully shielding himself from that very same feature being entirely too near his face. Mum-in-a-disturbingly-hot-body, indeed.
"I was taught to identify tails by the very paranoid Russian mob, Lucifer, I'm absolutely sure."
"Excellent," he shakes his head briskly, trying to clear it of the past pushing itself forward to try to mingle with the present. "Right, you're off the case, Charlotte. I won't have you getting tangled in this mess as well. Once Cain sees that you're not poking around him, you should be perfectly safe."
"What?" Charlotte's eyebrows pop up in surprise, and she crosses the room to stand in his path. "No! Lucifer, I want to help!"
"Charlotte," He reaches out and braces her shoulders with his hands, squeezing gently. "I know you want to clear your ledger, and I understand and support that—of course I do!—But darling, in order to balance yourself, you'll need to be here to do so. Getting yourself killed going after a former immortal like Cain won't get you into Heaven if you haven't cleared your guilt yet, hm?"
"How will I know when it's enough, Lucifer?" she asks quietly and he sighs, pulling her into an embrace that somehow feels right. "I don't… I can't go back there."
He murmurs quietly into her hair for a moment and Chloe tries desperately to convince herself that she's not jealous of their closeness, of the things he's obviously been able to remember about Charlotte that apparently make sense. Why are his memories tied to me all discombobulated?
"You're doing everything you can, Charlotte," Lucifer says clearly as he gently pushes her away with a supportive shake. "And you're doing a marvelous job, but I want you to drop this investigation. Go… spend some time with Daniel and Beatrice."
"Dan?" Charlotte asks innocently, but Chloe knows she's not imagining the faint flush gracing the woman's cheeks.
"Oh, don't play coy with me darling, you think I haven't noticed the two of you dancing around each other?" he grins at her cheekily before continuing. "Besides, he's suitably boring enough that your tail won't have anything to report on, and Cain will undoubtedly circle back to me again."
"But—"
"Charlotte," he interrupts her, and now his expression and tone are completely serious, his usual charming manner absent. "You know better than most how unwise it is to waste time. Drop this case. Go to Daniel. Tellhim how you feel. Don't waste another moment, darling, life is too short, and… it can all change in an instant." His eyes flicker to Chloe and away immediately, and if she hadn't been watching him so closely she would have missed the longing expression in them entirely.
"Look, if you think that I wouldn't forgive you for your mistakes or your flaws, if you think that I don't know who you really are by now, you're wrong."
"You and me, it's not happening. You have to accept, Lucifer, that we are very different people with very different priorities."
"You deserve someone worthy of you and that isn't me."
"That's not what I've been saying, Lucifer."
"I know. It's what I'm saying."
"You're stalling because you've realized how complicated your relationship is."
"Mother, I swear, if you hurt her, I will rip—"
"Well, looks like your brother was right."
"Just promise me that you won't touch her."
"Will you promise me, Charlotte?" he asks quietly, blinking hard as he tries not to lose himself in the confusing rush of memories. "That you'll drop this, and focus on living to absolve yourself instead?"
"Okay," she whispers, and he presses a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Thank you darling," he steps back, straightening his shoulders. "Amenadiel will see you back home. Once your tail finds you again, go to Daniel."
"Brother, how—"
"Physically I'm perfectly fine," Lucifer cuts him off, ushering the pair of them to the lift. "Azrael's feather was quite the lucky break. I'm not quite all together in the present yet, but it's coming back in bits and pieces. I'm going to try to speak to Linda if I can find my phone—"
"I put it on your charger this morning," Chloe calls across the room, and he casts her a grateful glance.
"—and see if she can help me fit together the pieces I've got into something that makes any sort of sense. I'm going to suggest that you drop this case as well, brother." Amenadiel protests, but Lucifer keeps speaking, "You're human now, or as good as. You're at just as much risk as Charlotte, and I shouldn't have involved you. Now that I'm all healed up, Cain is no threat to me, so I have time to figure out how to handle him. It will be far easier if he's not looking suspiciously over his shoulder more than usual."
"Don't underestimate him, Luci," Amenadiel warns as Lucifer gently pushes them through the doors and presses the button for the parking garage. "He may be mortal now, but he knows Chloe makes you vulnerable!" Lucifer waves him off as the doors close, then allows himself to sag against the bar in exhaustion.
"All healed up, hm?" A moment later a supportive hand rests softly on his back. He'd nearly forgotten she was there in his fog of fatigue.
"Divine healing is draining," he admits reluctantly. "Amenadiel slept for 2 days after his wound was healed, and mine was far older, and larger."
"Older?" Chloe repeats, puzzled. "It was only yesterday?"
"Yesterday here," he corrects, and she shakes her head, not understanding. He pulls himself to his feet, heading for his phone. "Time moves differently there. Maze was dragging me around Hell for months with that blade in my gut. I don't know exactly how long, but even an infernal wound doesn't go nuclear like that right away. If I'd managed to scrape together the antidote in Hell, it would have taken centuries to heal there."
"You remember what happened, then?" Chloe trails after him, ready to offer support to her wavering partner if he needs it.
"She wanted to go home, I thought the easiest way to let her see that it was a mistake was to give her what she wanted. I took her, but… she decided that wasn't enough." He hisses in frustration as he pulls his device from its cord. "I… thought she was upset because she'd decided she didn't want to stay there after all, I stepped closer, started to tell her she could come back immediately, and… she stabbed me. She said life here was making me soft, that she wanted to protect me, and that after I healed up I would see she was right. After she stabbed me, she clubbed me over the head and against the stone floor."
"Lucifer—"
"She wasn't wrong, Detective Decker," he chokes out, turning to face her. "The old me would never have allowed emotion to cloud my judgement."
"Emotions don't make you soft, Lucifer," she steps into his space, looking up at him. "They make you stronger."
"Not in Hell," he murmurs. "In Hell, emotions are a handicap that one cannot afford if one wishes to survive."
"You're not in Hell anymore," she points out carefully, and he gazes back at her.
"Mazikeen is," he reminds her shortly as he turns away, striding quickly back to the couch, where he collapses bonelessly. "She's in Hell, she's emotionally compromised, and she's injured. It's been decades there by now—possibly centuries. If she survived her injury…"
"She's gonna be pissed," Chloe supplies, and he nods grimly.
"I told her I would go back for her in an Earth week." Chloe settles next to him, tucking one leg under her so she can turn to face him more fully as they converse. "I won't go back on my word. But… I don't know if I should allow her the option of returning here to betray me yet again."
"Lucifer…" her hands wring anxiously in her lap. "What if you go back and it's a trap? What if you get hurt again, and can't make it back?"
"I'll be on my guard," he assures her bitterly. "I've forgiven Mazikeen many times of late, but… I'm afraid those days are past now."
Chloe nods sadly, wanting very badly to lean into his shoulder the way she had on her couch just a couple days ago… but that had been a different Lucifer, a different circumstance entirely. He finds Linda's contact and dials it, pressing the device to his ear as she continues wringing her hands in her lap.
"Doctor Martin?" his lilting voice fills the air and she closes her eyes, wondering how long before she has her Lucifer back. She starts to move away, to give him some privacy but his hand snakes out and catches hers. Her eyes snap open and find his, that longing expression begging without words for her to stay beside him. She nods and he relaxes back into the couch. After a moment she carefully leans in, resting against him, and though he tenses at first, he relaxes under her as he continues to speak with his therapist.
She prepares dinner and they eat while he talks with Linda. He drops off to sleep on the couch beside her not long after hanging up the phone, after securing an appointment for tomorrow to further discuss slotting together his piecemeal memories. His warmth infuses her as she leans against him, her fingers lightly tracing over his stomach where the infernal wound had been.
If I hadn't found that feather… if I hadn't held onto it… if he hadn't seen it glowing… would he still be here?
She hadn't missed the allusion to his sister—the angel of death—being present last night, nor Amenadiel's concern at what that meant. If the angel of death was close enough to them to deposit a feather… then Lucifer had nearly died. She'd come too close to losing him… she wraps her arm snugly around his waist, letting his warmth and the soft susurration of his breathing provide the proof she needs that he is indeed still here with her… even if he isn't quite back to himself yet.
She tries to resign herself to the possibility that he may never regain all his memories, may never remember her the same way as before—but something—everything—within her rebels against the very thought. The way he looks at her hasn't changed. The depths of his dark eyes still teem with unnamed emotions when they fix on her; the longing she glimpsed earlier when he was speaking to Charlotte of wasted time, the silent request for her presence as he was speaking to Linda. Her Lucifer is still there, drowning without his memories to keep him afloat on the storm-tossed sea of uncertainty. She presses close to her partner and gives her attention to trying to untangle the current mess of thoughts and emotions whirling in her head.
Okay, Decker. What's the immediate plan?
They've got nearly a week before they need to really worry about Maze, so she sets that issue to the wayside for now. Cain is the truly immediate concern, aside from getting Lucifer's memories back, which unfortunately isn't something she can do anything to help with.
So, Cain. What does she know about him? He collects rocks (Murder trophies?), he's a criminal mastermind with thousands of years of experience, he's convinced himself that he's in love with her, and he's going to be targeting Lucifer once he decides Charlotte isn't a threat. She's disgusted at how little she actually knows about him—they'd been dating, casually yes, but still dating for weeks!
What will his next move be? He's obviously trying to get back in her good graces, if the flowers are anything to go by. He's possessive. He's going to assume that she'll take him back, and he'll want to 'secure' her as soon as possible. Oh, God, Charlotte said he had a ring in his office. All right, that is definitely not an option. How do I keep him away from me without detonating a bomb here? He's persistent enough that letting him down gently probably isn't going to work. If he thinks she harbors any feelings for him at all, he's only going to redouble his efforts at winning her back. She considers asking Dan to keep Trixie until this all blows over… but then she'd have to fill him in on nearly everything that's happening, and she still doesn't trust him fully after Palmetto. She doesn't think he's one of the crooked cops on Cain's payroll, but she reluctantly decides that she can't rule it out. She also can't even imagine trying to convince Dan that Pierce is the Sinnerman without any proof whatsoever. Keeping Trixie away from any more danger is paramount, even if she has to ask Lucifer to send Dan and Trixie on an extended all-expenses paid trip to Disney World to get them out from underfoot. She'll pay him back somehow.
She nuzzles her cheek into Lucifer's chest and his arm tightens unconsciously around her shoulders, tucking her closer. She smiles at the warm rush of contentment that rolls through her. If this were her Lucifer, she might consider enlisting him to partner up in a fake relationship to keep Cain off her back until they can figure out how to deal with him.
'Fake relationship', sure Decker. The voice in her head sounds like Maze, but it speaks truth. You're just aching for a chance to be with him without having to put yourself on the line again. Look at you, you're snuggled in the devil's arms and you're both utterly content. What about that is 'fake'?
She can't argue, but she also can't consider it a viable plan, not with Lucifer missing so much of their history, and certainly not with his vulnerability around her. She can't put him in the crosshairs just to make her life slightly easier while they deal with this shitshow.
What still needs to be addressed? This list is far too long to even consider right now. She's sleepy, and ridiculously warm and comfortable. She has a lot that she needs to hash out with Lucifer, but… it needs to be with her Lucifer. And he's not present at the moment. She moves her left hand to press under her cheek, over the gentle beat of his heart and her fingers brush an irregular lump under his collar. Curious, she pulls aside the neck of his shirt and finds herself staring at her pendant. She hadn't seen him wearing it earlier, when she'd been pulling the packing from his stab wound…
"Amenadiel said you wanted me to keep it safe," he murmurs quietly, chuckling as she startles against him. "My apologies, Detective, you seemed very deep in thought and I didn't wish to disturb you."
"It's okay, I know you're exhausted, and so am I," she admits, covering her mouth as a wide yawn suddenly overtakes her. "I should… head home."
"Shouldn't we discuss the plan for tomorrow?" he prods carefully, "You're not still intending to go with the story about me running off to Vegas again? Because I highly doubt that Cain will believe I would leave you while knowing about his designs on you."
"Have you remembered anything about him?"
"He puts onion skins down the garbage disposal." He says drowsily.
"He… okay…"
"I'm sorry Detective, all I've got is a memory of arguing about onion skins being compost. Not helpful, I'm aware."
"It's about as helpful as what I had… That he collects rocks that are probably murder trophies and likes key lime pie."
"Well aren't we quite the observant pair, the Detective and the Devil," he laughs, and she loves the way it rumbles through his chest against her cheek.
"Lucifer, what are we going to do?" she sighs, and he echoes it.
"Let me draw his ire, Detective," he suggests suddenly. "You said I was of the opinion before, that he was going to come after me anyway, and you also told me that he already suspects I am standing in the way of his winning your affections. Let me… appear to try to win you from him."
"Lucifer, I'm not going to lead him on by—"
"No, of course not, I would never suggest you put yourself in danger that way!" he's quick to assure her. "You can be as accepting, antagonistic or as apathetic as you wish. All I shall need to do is return any gesture that he makes toward you with my own. If he's anything like his father, he'll be too wrapped up in winning you to truly pay attention to you, which will hopefully buy us some time."
"Time to what?" Chloe grits out, her frustration at his willingness to throw himself into danger boiling over.
"I don't really know," he admits, "Time to find something we can use to arrest him? Time to arrange a slow death by alcohol poisoning? My apologies, Detective, planning isn't my strong point, but I'm very good at providing distractions so that others can plan."
"I don't like putting you in the crosshairs." It's too close to her rejected fake relationship idea for her comfort.
"Darling, you can't put me in the crosshairs if Cain already has," he points out candidly, and she growls into his shirt. "Do you have a better idea?"
"No," she grumbles reluctantly.
"Brilliant!" he exclaims, and she's suddenly anxiously aware that she's essentially agreed to let Lucifer 'court' her in full view of the precinct. "We'll start tomorrow then, shall we? I have an excellent start in mind, if you'd care to hear it? A beginning salvo, if you will."
"Let's hear it," she groans, settling her head back on his chest.
"Stay here tonight, and we'll go into the office together in the morning," she starts to protest, but he continues quickly, "Cain thinks you were ill today, and it will look like I took care of you."
"And what will you say when he asks you about it?" she asks sharply, "You can't lie."
"I won't need to," he replies delightedly. "I'll simply say we were talking and you passed out. I put you to bed and spent the rest of the day with you to make sure all was well. All completely true, just missing the context."
"Hmm," she considers it carefully, and really can't find an issue aside from putting him in harm's way… which, as he pointed out, he's already in, anyway. "Okay, but mostly because I'm too tired to argue right now. We're going to have to get up early. I need to go home and change before I go into work."
He heaves a playful sigh and pulls himself to his feet, offering her a hand to help her up. "I'm sure you can find something to sleep in from my closet, Detective, I'll just—hang on… you've raided my closet before, haven't you?" His eyes light with humor and relief as his fingers go to the pendant around his neck. "When I gave you this, I found you here, asleep in my bed, wearing one of my shirts!"
"I never told you that I heard your little confession," she admits, smiling shyly up at him as she takes his hand and he pulls her to her feet. "I never did get to ask you why you had to suddenly go to Vegas on my birthday."
"The moment I remember, I'll be sure to tell you," he assures her with a wry twist of his lips. "You really do have a talent for eavesdropping, don't you? No wonder your offspring is so skilled!"
"You remember that?" She grins at him, recalling that she still hasn't had a chance to have that talk with Trixie.
"Only that it's something she does, not any specifics," he rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands.
"Still disconnected, hm?" she starts to move toward his closet and he turns to go.
"That seems to be the recurring theme, yes," he sighs, retreating to the living room to make up the couch. "Hopefully Doctor Martin can help me place some of them tomorrow."
He realizes he's still wearing the pendant as he's about to spread the blanket over himself and decides he'd better give it back to her now, before he loses track of it in the morning.
He reaches the doorway as she's emerging from the closet in one of his white dress shirts, and his eyes gleam with appreciation as they sweep over the exposed length of her legs. "My apologies, Detective, I should have announced my entry… I wanted to make sure you got this back." He taps the pendant resting on his chest. "It might look odd if anyone noticed I was wearing it tomorrow."
"Lucifer, it's your bedroom," she laughs, her stomach fluttering at the heat in his gaze.
"Yes, but tonight it's yours," he reminds her, lowering his head as he fumbles with the catch on the necklace, so he misses the flash of confusion on her face.
"Oh," she sits on the side of the bed with the rumpled covers and turns her back to him, "would you?"
He hesitates before approaching her, looping the thin chain loosely around the base of her neck, his long fingers causing goosebumps as they barely graze the skin while engaging the fastener. He pulls back and clears his throat softly.
"There you are then," he murmurs, "sleep well, Detective."
"You're not really going to sleep on your couch, are you?" she asks incredulously. "Lucifer, we're both adults, your bed is enormous, and we've shared a bed before—just a few days ago, in fact."
"I, ah…"
"I'm sure you don't remember, but we have," she shakes her head and laughs, a little sadly. "I trust you not to be inappropriate, Lucifer, come sleep in here where you'll be more comfortable."
"As you desire, Detective Decker," he acquiesces, "though I do have a recollection of you claiming Hell would freeze over before you would sleep with me."
"That was a long time ago, Lucifer," she giggles, "I barely knew you then, and you were constantly trying to get me into bed."
"I barely know you now," he replies, and a sad little frown crosses his face before it's wiped away by a mischievous smirk, "but it sounds as though I've at least succeeded in getting you into bed, even it is only for sleeping."
"Just stay on your side," she laughs and he chuckles along with her as they settle in to sleep.
Amenadiel drives Charlotte back to her apartment, and she immediately spies her tail loitering outside her building. Her jaw sets, and she shoots a glance at the former angel sitting beside her as they pull into the parking garage.
"Do you really think Pierce is going to just drop this if I lay low for a few days?" She hands him her card to swipe them in to park.
"I really don't know, Charlotte," he admits hesitantly as he pulls through the entry, carefully navigating the sharp turns in the dimly lit structure. "Lucifer seems very sure that he'll be willing to drop you and go after him instead."
"With an organization the size of this one, he can certainly do both… indefinitely," Charlotte points out ruthlessly. "I know Lucifer wants to keep us both safe, but… doesn't it seem like he's a little out of his depth with this, his memory loss, and dealing with Chloe knowing the truth?"
"What are you suggesting?"
"We need to get inside his head, figure out what his next moves are going to be, maybe even change the direction he'll take," she muses, fingers tapping idly on the door handle. "You're both former immortals… you've got a unique insight into him—maybe we can weaponize his fears, insecurities?"
"Charlotte, you promised Lucifer that—"
"—that I would focus on living to absolve myself," she nods, expression set. "If Cain is tailing me, I've got a target on my back, Amenadiel. I trust Lucifer with… with my soul, but he needs our help with this."
Amenadiel nods slowly, considering. I owe him this. He pulls the car into a parking space and shuts off the engine. "You're right, Charlotte. Let's see what we can come up with."