Chapter 15
"Did you have any more questions for me, Detective?" He asks after a while. His voice is soft, muffled by her shoulder, and Chloe realizes how tightly she's holding him to her… as though she can protect him from all the trauma he's suffered by keeping him close and folding herself around him like a living suit of armor.
She smooths his hair with her fingers, noting how much thicker its grown over the course of the day. The curls are more evident, and it's clear that he must spend a great deal of time taming them into his signature sleek look. He brushes his cheek against her shoulder and sighs, but he seems to need their contact as much as she does right now, as he doesn't try to pull away.
"I do still have loads of questions," she admits, "but we don't have to answer everything tonight. It's not like I'm never going to see you again, you know?"
He huffs a small chuckle, and without thinking she drops a light kiss into his curls before she straightens up self-consciously. She notices his hands shaking as he pulls them away from her waist and sits back in his chair. He looks exhausted.
"Is there anything you want me to know? Something you've wanted to tell me, but couldn't? Just… I don't want to bring up anything else upsetting tonight."
"I could… Well, I suppose I could tell you about my sister. Azrael, you know. I'm sorry I didn't introduce you, Detective, but… well, she's the Angel of Death, and I'd be most comfortable if you weren't on a first name basis with her for quite some time."
"You're okay talking about your relationship with her?" she looks down into his eyes, looking closely for signs of strain. He surprises her with a real smile.
"She was my favorite little sister, before my fall. A bit of an odd duck, but we got on famously since I wasn't really your typical angel, either." His eyes are far away, but he seems like the memories he's seeing are happy ones, so she nods and sits back in her chair.
"Okay," she lifts a glass of water to her lips and takes a long drink, grimacing as she flexes the too-tight skin of her arm. Lucifer pulls two tablets from his pocket and sets them on her napkin, looking pointedly at her.
"They're yours. Take them. Will you need to change your bandages later?"
"Not yet." She doesn't ask him why he's keeping her pain meds in his pocket, just rolls her eyes. "They're supposed to be changed daily. I can do it in the morning, before the trial so they're fresh to go out in public. Let's just… talk about Azrael."
"Well, I used to call her Rae-Rae, and she liked to talk to me about everything," she watches his eyes sparkle with happy memories as he speaks, and she loses herself to his tales.
He bundles her into his bed later with a tender smile gracing his lips. Her fingers weakly grip the red satin lapel of his robe as he pulls away, chuckling as he gently disentangles himself. She grumbles and buries her cheek against his silk pillowcase, the tiny frown line between her brows smoothing away as she slips deeper into sleep.
He'd watched her slump over the table as the pain meds and the stresses of the day had taken their toll on her, sapping her consciousness into exhausted sleep. He hears his new phone chirp an alert from the other room and scowls, tossing a final glance over his shoulder as he exits his bedroom.
Focused on reaching his phone, he's caught a bit off guard by the flash of walnut-colored feathers out on the balcony. He turns exasperatedly to his bubbly sister, who waves cheerfully at him as he mutters to himself about some sort of celestial record for sibling visits in a week.
He slips through the glass door, closing it securely behind him and making a shushing gesture before she can speak.
"I've got company, Gabriel, so please keep your voice down," he murmurs, shooting her a warning look as her smile widens. "I didn't expect to see you back so soon."
"Well, I have good news, and bad news… but they're also kind of the same."
"That is quite literally impossible."
Gabriel's dark eyes swirl with empathy. "I'm sorry, Lucifer, I delivered your message to Dad, but he said I didn't need to deliver a response."
"And this is the bad news, or the good news?" He growls, annoyed.
"Well, it's the bad news. But, since the bad news is that there is no news… that's also good news! See? No news is good news! It's both! And… kind of neither?"
"That makes even less sense than your usual drivel, Gabriel," Lucifer sighs, scrubbing his palm across his face. "I appreciate you letting me know not to expect a response. At least it's not like it's a bloody surprise that he's ignoring the issue. Thank you for passing the message for Azrael stop by, as well. It was a relief to get that blade out of Mum's sphere of influence"
"Oh, she already made it!" Gabriel's face lights up. "Good! She wasn't sure when she would have a long enough break. Glad she could stop by, she seemed… a little nervous about it."
"Yes, well, funny how awkward it can be to reclaim a mislaid soul-destroying weapon from a sibling you haven't spoken to in eons," he snaps testily. "Oh! And speaking of soul-destroying— did you happen to see my doppelganger when you were delivering your messages, by any chance?"
"No, I haven't seen Michael for a while," Gabriel tilts her head, curiously. "Definitely not since I heard from you. Why?"
Lucifer narrows his eyes, scrutinizing his talkative sister. He can't sense a lie, though, and he releases a tense sigh. It's not as though this is the first time Michael has seemed to know about things that he shouldn't. "I… just don't want him mucking about in my business down here on Earth."
"Hm," Gabriel narrows her own eyes suspiciously. "I know you're not lying, but you're also not telling me everything, Lucifer."
"What on Earth makes you think that you've earned the right to hear everything, Gabby?"
"Okay, first of all, ouch, that stings." Her expression clouds, but Lucifer knows better than to trust a visual reading of this particular sibling. She's too practiced at covering what she's really thinking. "Secondly, I did just deliver two important messages from you to their intended targets without mentioning either one to anyone, so…"
"Yes, you've done your duty admirably well, Gabriel," he manages not to roll his eyes, but he thinks he may have sprained something in the effort. "Unfortunately, that does not win you an invite into the inner circle and access to all my thoughts and feelings, Sis."
Her face falls a little, her tightly curled hair bobbing slightly as she nods, as though to herself. "Okay, I get it, gotta earn the trust. Makes total sense, bro. Oh!" She perks up excitedly, "I can tell you that Dad sent for Michael after I gave Him your message, though! Said He had a job for him, so Mike's probably gonna be too busy to stir up anything down here for a little while, anyway."
Dad sent for Michael when he got my message… is that why Michael was down here sniffing around? Did Dad send him after Mum, or did he come on his own? If he's after Mum, why did he come here and waste time trying to plant doubts in the Detective about me?
He hums lightly as thoughts and suspicions whirl through his mind, but his expression remains politely interested. "Well, that's good to know. Thanks for that bit of intel, Gabriel. I'd invite you to stay for a chat, but I don't want to wake my guest, and I'm afraid I'm still a bit tired from Mum trying to blow me up. Can we catch up another time?"
"Mom blew you up?" Gabriel leans forward, her jaw dropping in shock. "Is that why your hair is so fluffy? I need this story!"
"Later, Gabriel, please?" His plea pulls her up short, and she notices the faint shadows under his eyes. "My hair is not fluffy, and I'll be happy to tell you the entire story of Mum's visit, once her visit is over."
"Right!" Gabriel claps her hands once in excitement, wincing when Lucifer shushes her again. "Sorry! Right, don't wake the human, got it. Okay, but I'm holding you to that promise to tell me all about Mom's visit!"
"Deal," Lucifer agrees hurriedly, glancing back into the flat. "Thank you again for the non-answer from Dad, Gabriel. I expect you'll be seeing Mum and Amenadiel when I drop them off at the gates, then."
"Wait, you were serious about that?"
"Dad slapped my wings back on," Lucifer shrugs sullenly, eyes dull with fatigue, "it has to be something He's planned for. I've warned him."
"Wow," Gabriel sighs, shaking her head a little. "Okay, well, I've, uh… gotta go. Chat soon, okay?"
She doesn't bother to wait for a reply, and he knows she's off to spread the news that Lucifer is planning to deposit Amenadiel and their Mother on Heaven's doorstep within the week. A predatory grin creeps across his lips.
If they're so concerned, let someone else come up with a plan.
When Perry Smith stands before the courtroom the next morning, pale, sweaty, and trembling and confesses to his long, long list of crimes—many of which he hadn't even been charged for… Chloe somehow isn't surprised. She feels a faint wash of vindication that her father's killer is no longer running free, but it doesn't bring her father back. That emptiness will always be there, a gaping hole in her heart that no amount of justice – even demon-assisted—will fill.
She had overslept this morning, and hadn't had a chance to change her bandages because she'd had to struggle into fresh clothing and dart out the elevator doors. She hadn't even seen Lucifer before she'd left.
Honestly, she doesn't even remember falling asleep, but she does remember starting to nod a little while she and Lucifer had been talking on the balcony. She wonders what he's been up to this morning, wishing hard that he'd been able to be here beside her for this.
They stand with everyone else in the courtroom as the jury and judge leave the room, and Chloe finds that she doesn't want to wait to see what happens next. She glances at her mother, dabbing at the tear tracks on her face.
"Let's get out of here, Mom." Chloe's voice sounds exhausted, even to her, and her bandages feel too stiff and tight again.
Penelope's gaze snaps up to meet her daughter's. "I thought you'd want to stay."
"I… thought I would want that too," she shakes her head. "But he's already pled guilty now. He admitted it. I don't think that hearing the jury read the sentencing will change how I feel now."
"I think you're right, honey," Penelope's mouth stretches into a watery smile as they file into the corridor with the rest of the spectators. "You came rushing in here today like your tail was on fire, you probably haven't even had breakfast yet, have you? Let's go get you some bru—"
"Chloe!" Dan's voice echoes down the hall, jostling people aside as he makes his way to them. "Penny! I heard!"
"You got here fast, Dan," Chloe grins, and Dan returns it a little breathlessly.
"I was already here, just waiting, in case… you know, you needed anything. How are you feeling, Chlo'?"
"Good enough to call off her security detail, apparently," Penelope sniffs, still miffed about Dan's shoddy attempt at notifying her when Chloe's car had been blown up.
"Mom, I'm perfectly capable—"
"I've got news on you on that front too," Dan pipes up eagerly, and immediately two icy blue gazes fix intently on him. He shuffles a little under their regard, but continues gamely on. "We finally managed to find a link between the bomber and Perry. I doubt it's enough to convict, but with everything he just confessed to, it probably won't be necessary. He's going away for a good long time. Ramey seemed pretty sure it was Perry's doing, so that means you should be fine to ditch your detail."
"Good," Chloe murmurs quietly as the trio spills out into the late-morning Los Angeles crowds. She doesn't even feel bad, letting the suspicion for the car bombing fall on the man. She wonders briefly again how worried she should be about being placed on the Goddess of all Creation's hit list, but reminds herself firmly that she trusts Lucifer's assessment that his mother won't go after her again. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she turns to her mother. "Is Trixie ready to come home tonight?"
"She's definitely ready to see you," her smile is warm. "You know, I could have come to stay at the apartment with both of you. She's been worried about you, and she keeps asking about Lucifer, too."
"I missed her, too," her voice chokes up a little, wanting nothing more than to fold her little girl into a hug in that moment. Then her bandages twinge again, and she sighs. "I'll need some help changing my bandages again, Mom, I didn't get a chance to this morning. Can you help?"
"Oh, pumpkin…" Penelope turns a pained expression toward her, and Chloe sighs internally as she remembers exactly how squeamish her mother is.
"Right. I forgot, Mom, don't worry about it—I'm good. I just remembered the bandages were coming off today anyway. Taking them off is the easy part, it's the re-wrapping them that was hard." Penelope tries to argue that she can manage, but Chloe laughs it off. If push comes to shove, she can see if Lucifer will help again, or Ella. She pulls her phone from her pocket and ignores the flutter in her stomach as she sends a quick message, wondering if he's gotten his replacement yet. She can't contain her smile when she gets an immediate response.
Are you reconnected to the future yet?
New phone, sorry, who is this?
Kidding, Detective.
But really, I do have my new phone now.
She rolls her eyes with a fond sigh, glancing briefly at her mother and Dan, who are a few steps ahead of her, talking quietly.
Do you mind helping with my bandages one more time?
If it means I get to see you without a shirt again, absolutely.
Will you be at Lux in an hour? I've got to get Trixie from school later.
At your convenience, Detective.
"Chloe?" She glances up from her phone to find her ex and her mother staring at her. "Aren't we going to brunch?"
"Oh. Uh, no, I'm not hungry, I just ordered an Uber." She waves her phone to make her point, surreptitiously making her white lie a truth by queueing an Uber to take her to Lux. "I just want to get home and get rid of these bandages."
"Oh, of course you do!" Penny comes in for a landing with a gentle hug, successfully avoiding her daughter's most painful spots. She steps back, her hands gently holding Chloe's as she looks back at the courthouse. "Are you sure you don't want to stay? Or want some help taking the bandages off?"
"I can handle the bandages," Chloe promises earnestly, before growling, "I've wasted enough time on that man. I'm not going to willingly waste any more of my life just to hear his punishment. He's not worth it."
"You're right, sweetie," Penny sniffs, brushing her nose with the tissue she'd used on her tears earlier. "Your dad would agree with that attitude."
"Do you want me to stay for the wrap-up, Chlo'?" Dan offers, but she gratefully waves his offer away.
"He's taken up way too much of our attention already, Dan," she sighs. It's in the judge's hands now, and us hanging around here isn't going to change a single thing about it. Let's just… get back to our lives, hm?" He gives her a tight smile, and a gentle hug that she returns. "Thanks for being here, Dan, it means a lot."
"Well, I… especially since Lucifer couldn't, I wanted somebody to be here for both of you." His face flushes with embarrassment at her sincere thanks, and even more deeply when Penelope leans forward and brushes a kiss to his cheek with another thank you. He scurries back off to his car, leaving Penelope and Chloe standing on the sidewalk.
"Have you heard an update on Lucifer?" Penny asks, lifting an eyebrow. "I still need to thank him."
"He's doing really well," Chloe says honestly, "better every day. I'm hoping to be able to chat with him a little bit later."
"Do you know what treatments he's receiving? How heavily medicated is he?"
"I don't really know," she offers. "They said at the hospital when we were sharing a room that he has a really fast metabolism, so they had to dose him pretty high just for them to have an effect, but I don't know about now. But he's seemed like himself when I've been able to talk with him."
"Well, it will certainly set Trixie's mind at ease if she can talk with him, too." Penny pulls her keys from her purse and rattles them in her hand as she worriedly eyes her daughter. "You're sure you're okay to handle her? She's been worried sick about you… and I don't know if seeing the bandages, or what's underneath them will be worse for her."
"What's underneath really isn't much worse than a really bad sunburn," Chloe assures her, and Penny lifts a doubting eyebrow. "Honestly, the bandages are mostly because the skin is still pretty sensitive, and the blisters haven't all popped yet, but there were only a few left the last time I wrapped them up, so hopefully those are gone now and I can be done… or at least scale them back to where they're not so intimidating. Are you okay with… everything?"
"Honey, we never would have gotten this far if not for you and your team. The fact that you not only figure out who took your father from us, but that he confessed in front of a jury today? I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight." A proud gleam shines in Penelope's blue eyes, and Chloe smiles grimly. "You'll let me know if you need anything?"
"Of course, Mom," Chloe rolls her eyes. She won't. But what her mother doesn't know won't drive Chloe crazy. She glances at the car pulling up to the curb. "This is my ride. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"
"Be careful, sweetie, I love you," Penny gives her another careful hug and Chloe verifies the driver's name before she gets in the car, calling a hurried 'I love you' back over her shoulder as she closes the door and fastens her seat belt.
Lucifer had wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed next to his Detective and succumb to unconsciousness again when he'd re-entered the Penthouse, but the insistent buzzing of his phone indicated that someone else had other plans.
He glares at the tiny rectangle of metal and glass for a moment before he picks it up and swipes it open to find multiple notifications from his brother. He groans, considering simply turning the device off and crawling into bed anyway… but he knows if he does, they'll simply turn up uninvited.
He gazes longingly at the comfortable partially-occupied expanse of his bed as he moves to his closet to dress, stifling a smile at Chloe's snores starting to reverberate within the room.
By the time he arrives at his mother's apartment, it's nearing four o'clock, and he's starting to feel the strain of keeping up the pretense of being awake and aware. Fortunately she's developed a fixation on high quality coffee, so he helps himself to several cups as she fusses and waits for Amenadiel to arrive.
"Mum, I'm not hearing anything so far as to why this is suddenly an emergency," he grumbles after his third, exceptionally tiny mug. Amenadiel has finally arrived, and her petulant tone is starting to give him a headache. He hadn't previously been aware that he was even capable of getting those. "I'm still not fully healed, and I was really looking forward to getting some real sleep tonight. Now you've shot that right to Hell by calling this bloody emergency family meeting, so I'd appreciate it if you could just get to the point!"
"It's imperative that I—that we – get back home!" Her voice breaks as she whirls to face her sons passionately. She's been pacing restlessly, running her long fingers obsessively over one of her wrists since Amenadiel had arrived half an hour ago. "You need to light your sister's blade and get us home, Lucifer, and you need to do it now."
"Little snag there, Mum," Lucifer coughs awkwardly. He'd hoped to keep this little tidbit to himself for a bit longer. "Azrael dropped by earlier this evening and took her blade back. I don't have it anymore."
"You don't… she what?" Charlotte's voice is rapidly reaching banshee levels of shrieking and Lucifer sighs inwardly, casting an imploring glance at his elder brother.
"How did Azrael know you had the blade, Luci?"
"I sent her a Message."
"You spoke with Gabriel, too?" The Goddess forgets her anger briefly in her eagerness to hear more about her children. "Do they know I'm here? Are they going to come see me?"
"Azrael's busy, Mum, and you know how tetchy she gets about taking sides," Lucifer scoffs. "She hadn't even popped in to have a drink with me until this evening, and she's literally in and out of Hell all the time."
"What about Gabriel?" Charlotte's wide blue eyes bore hopefully into his dark ones, the hope in them snuffed like a candle as he slowly shakes his head.
"She knows you're here," he admits slowly, watching Amenadiel flinch out of the corner of his eye. "I did ask her if she'd be willing to ferry you to the Silver City herself, but… well. You know how things are with Dad."
"You would think that my children would at least be willing to hear me out!" she hisses venomously, eyes narrowing into slits now as her brows draw together in fury. "You would think—"
"Right, Mum, I'm sure any number of your children would be willing to stick their wings out for you, because the last time one of us went up against Dad you were right there for support, weren't you? You stepped right in and spoke up and… how did that go?" Lucifer pauses and pretends to remember something. "Oh, yes, I remember! You bloody well talked Him into sending me to Hell!"
"To save you!" She fires back instantly. Amenadiel stands, his gaze moving back and forth between his mother and younger brother as though he's watching a tennis match. "I told you that! Your Father wanted to destroy you, but I couldn't bear that!"
"It would have been better if He had!" Lucifer snarls, the raw anguish and fury finally breaking through the wall he'd erected around it and exploding forth in a howling bellow that sounds as though it was carved from his chest with a sword of fire. "It would have been kinder to end me where I stood than to cast me away like so much rubbish, to suffer alone in the dark! Such kind, loving parents I had!" He laughs, and it rumbles brokenly within him without a trace of humor.
"Luci, Mom didn't mean—"
"I think I know quite well what Mum meant, brother," Lucifer turns on the former angel before him, who stands calmly in the face of his brother's rage. "She hasn't seen it, you know—the face that I have borne since my Fall. Do you think I should show her? Hm?" The Devil before them is manic now, unable to keep still. Exhaustion warring with wrath and caffeine in an unstable balance keeping him on just this side of falling over.
He spins to face his mother, eyes glittering blackly with dark satisfaction as he considers his options here.
"Lucifer, of course I see you," despite the reassuring words, the Goddess is watching him warily, as though she's never seen him before—and perhaps that's true. Certainly not as he is now. Not as he chooses to be in this moment.
He closes his eyes and calls his other face forth. Not his 'true' face, no… that will always be the one he was created with, but this face—this ravaged, flayed façade he can show or hide at will—sometimes it feels like the only truth that will ever be. It reflects him, the Monster that he knows lives deep in his heart, kept drugged and caged and ignored until it once again frees itself and delights in the carnage and pain it leaves in its wake when it manifests.
Her breath shudders, and a small part of him quails at the sound, at the knowledge that yet another being finds him horrible, no doubt gaping at the horror now made real in front of her. He steels himself and opens his eyes, letting the Hellfire burn bright within them and taking vicious pleasure in watching the blood drain from his mother's face as she beholds his Devil face for the very first time.
"This is what you sentenced me to, Mother, when you convinced your Husband to cast me into Hell," he growls, allowing the deeper tones to resonate in his chest as it does when he's cowing demons. He moves closer as he speaks, and she takes an unsteady step back, utterly speechless for the first time in all of history. "An eternity of Hellfire brimming just below the surface, flowing through my veins and just waiting to erupt to the surface."
"Luci, please." Amenadiel murmurs beseechingly.
He stops, suddenly immeasurably wearied by the fear he sees writ large upon his mother's face. A blink later and his face is back to normal, dark eyes burning with pain rather than flames, but no less intense for the lack. The Goddess looks up at her son, her lip trembling but unable to speak, and he nods once. An acceptance of what he had already known.
"So you'll forgive me, Mum, if I'm sorely lacking any empathy for you because your children don't seem to want to pop in to say hello." Silence stretches heavily over the three of them, filling the room like noxious smoke. "You needn't worry about getting home, I have a plan for that. You've less than a week left on the Earthly plane before you and your eldest son are back where you belong and out of my singed hair. I suggest you spend your time considering your approach once you're there, because I have no interest in being anything other than your bloody mode of transport."
"Lucifer," she whispers brokenly. He pauses with his hand on the door knob, his head low. He waits for her to speak further, but no other words will pass her lips until, "my Lightbringer."
"Not anymore, Mother," his shoulders draw into themselves, but he doesn't turn back to face them. "Not for a very, very long time."
He's gone the instant after that, the door swinging gently closed behind him, leaving his mother and brother staring at one another in stunned silence.
"Amenadiel," she croaks, long after Lucifer's footsteps have faded into the distance. "Is he truly so deeply damaged? Have I broken him?"
"He's stronger than that, Mom," Amenadiel reassures her, but his face reflects his doubt. "He might be the strongest of all of us."
At least… I hope he is. For his sake.
Chapter 16
Lucifer doesn't return to Lux immediately, instead driving the Corvette into the surrounding hills to take in the approaching sunrise from one of his properties. He makes it just as pale fingers of dawn start trailing the sky, leaving pale swathes of peach, pink, and blue. He stands on his balcony, gripping the railing tightly enough to place almost-imperceptible dents in the cool metal beneath his fingers.
He glares up at the glorious colors of the sunrise, chewing his tongue against yet another tirade against his father.
Maybe He's bored with His creation, and He released Mum to destroy it. Maybe assigning me to… do whatever it is He wanted me to do is just a little sideshow for Him to enjoy before she brings the curtain crashing down on the stage.
"I'm not surprised that You ignored my message," he says quietly to the empty space before him. "I truly didn't expect anything from You, but… Dad, I wanted to make sure I'd exhausted all resources before I made this decision. I don't want to be responsible for the deaths of anyone else. I didn't want to… to do what I did to Uriel. But neither could I allow him to destroy Mum. Or Maze. Or… or her." He steels himself and sets his jaw, glaring up into the rising sun just peeking over the mountains to the East, preparing to set his terms. "I will not allow her to come to harm for any of Your machinations. You know that I mean it. If Your inaction places her in danger, then I will act. Even if it destroys me. She is worth far more than that. Infinitely more than me. So do what You will, but know that I will protect her, no matter the cost."
The sun continues to rise, brightening the wide California sky and blissfully unaware of the solemn vow that its creator had just flung into its fiery heart.
Once the chill of the morning has faded, the Devil nods silently, confirming the necessity of his planned actions to himself.
The world needs Chloe Decker. Mum's a danger to her, not to mention the rest of humanity. The only solution is to remove Mum from Earth. She doesn't deserve to be stuck back in Hell, even if I could manage to get her there, so the only other option is Heaven. What happens afterward… well. If the victors of the aftermath decide to come after me, they're welcome to what they find, so long as they don't endanger the Detective in the process.
"You knew about this, Amenadiel?" The Goddess whirls and pins her eldest son with an icy glare. "Is your Father aware?"
"Father hasn't spoken to me about Lucifer since he told me to keep an eye on him," Amenadiel shakes his head, his eyes pinching uncomfortably at the corners. "He's omniscient, Mom, He has to know. I don't like thinking about it."
"What would do that," she murmurs to herself, huddling into the low white couch in her living room. "What could do that to my Morning Star?"
"Hell," Amenadiel supplies quietly, reflecting on the horror he'd felt the first time he had been subjected to Lucifer's face. No longer his brother, Samael, but Lucifer. Samael had been indolent, charming, affable, with a wicked sense of humor and a smile that made one want to please him. Lucifer had been a stranger. "Something there, or perhaps his fall—I just don't know, and I doubt he does either. He… uses it as a weapon."
"Well, I can certainly see why," the Goddess scoffs, still fiddling with the loose bracelet around her wrist, "it's hideous. Suitable for cowing demons and wayward human souls, but certainly not something he'll want to bring out once we're in the Silver City."
"He seems pretty sure that he's staying here, Mom," Amenadiel points out diffidently, "I really don't think he intends to stay after he… does whatever it is he's going to do to get us home."
"I can't believe he returned the blade to Azrael!" She huffs, her shock slowly segueing back into her default setting of anger and entitlement. "We told him that we needed it! And now we have to wait a week before we can go back home?"
"Mom, why are you in such a hurry to get home?" he asks, Lucifer's pointed question from before suddenly occurring to him. "Why did you call us here in the middle of the night like this? Has something happened?"
"Of course not," she laughs, and her son knows better than to comment on the slightly hysterical note to it. His dark eyes watch her fingers anxiously fidgeting with the wide bangle on her wrist. "Your brother just wouldn't answer his phone at a reasonable hour, and once he finally got back to me, I didn't want to wait to get our planning started."
Amenadiel's methodical mind plods into action, trying to piece together the fractured puzzle of his mother's words and actions and wishing desperately that he could speak to his father.
In the Stroke and Brain Injury unit of Kindred Hospital in Los Angeles, the body that had once contained one Earl Johnson opens his crystal blue eyes and smiles as the faded ceiling comes into focus.
This greatly surprises the doctors and staff there, as his brain activity readings had been virtually nonexistent for weeks after a massive stroke had resulted in his admittance and care. He watches their flurry of activity with every indication of interest and understanding, following requests and orders though he doesn't speak.
A hurried phone call to Earl's young trophy wife has her bustling into the ward with some drying flakes of the hurriedly-removed facial treatment she'd been receiving drifting in her wake.
"Earl!" She cries, overacted tones of relief ringing in her too-loud simpering tone, "Baby, we thought you'd left us for good!"
"Hello, Angela, my beautiful child," Earl's tone rings with a warm depth that hadn't been there before, and everyone nearby turns toward it in an unconscious response to the indefinable something held within it. "I'm afraid you're right, he has departed for his eternal reward. I'm sure you'll recover in due time in your knowledge that he loved you very much, even though he knew you were mostly interested in his fortune."
Her green eyes widen in shock briefly before smoothing back into a gentler, caring façade. "They said on the phone you might be a little confused. That's okay baby, we'll get you taken care of."
"I don't doubt that you will," he drawls, relaxing back into the thin pillows of his hospital bed, content to wait out the inevitable conclusion that will place him precisely where he needs to be.
Lucifer receives Chloe's text and immediately orders lunch for them, knowing she was unlikely to have stopped for breakfast before attending the closing of the trial this morning. He's fairly certain that Mazikeen wouldn't have failed in putting the fear of Hell into the deputy warden, but just in case, he orders delivery from the Detective's favorite burger place, placing the settings on the little table on the sitting room next to the tall windows just as the elevator chimes and announces her arrival.
"Detective!" He greets her with his customary cheer, and her answering smile lights her face.
"Hey, Lucifer," She seems relieved to find him there, despite his assurance that he would be. "Where were you this morning?"
"Wee hours celestial planning session with Mum and Amenadiel," his lip curls in annoyance, and he changes the subject. "I've got a lunch delivery on the way. Do you want to address your bandages now, or after you eat?"
She grimaces down at the stiff bandages, debating. "Do you mind doing it now? I want to see how much we can scale back the wrappings, since I'm getting Trixie after school and I don't want her to worry too much."
"Ah yes, of course, we can't have the Urchin concerned about your wounds," he gestures toward the bathroom allowing her to precede him. "Will we need to soak them again to get them off?"
"I don't think so," she muses. "It's only been a day this time, and there's nowhere near as many blisters left as there were…"
He stops in the bedroom, and she looks back at him with a puzzled expression. "I'll give you some time to prepare, Detective. Let me know when you're ready and I'll be in."
She disappears into the bathroom, and he hears the soft rustle of fabric over cotton as she removes her shirt followed by the quiet thwack of a towel being snapped out of its folded state.
"Did you take your pain medication this morning, Detective?" He calls quietly, and he can hear her chuckle in response.
"No, I woke up late and bolted out of here the moment I'd changed clothes," she admits, opening the door with the towel wrapped tightly around her torso, bandaged arms crossed loosely over her chest. "So you can be assured that if I kiss you, it's not because I'm under the influence of any substances. Now please come help me out of these bandages?"
"That's so close to the perfect sentence, Detective," he leers, but the innuendo is lost to his tentative approach. "But I am as ever at your service."
She settles onto the lid of the toilet, holding her arms carefully away from her body so he can start unwrapping them. He works in silence for a moment before asking nonchalantly how the trial had progressed that morning.
"Funny thing, he appeared to have an attack of conscience overnight—he confessed to all charges," she watches him carefully through lowered lashes, noticing the flash of satisfaction in his expressive eyes. "I didn't stay for the closing after that."
"Whyever not?" His puzzled gaze meets hers briefly before he turns his attention resolutely back to her soiled bandages. "I would have thought nothing could pry you away from seeing justice upheld."
"I was going to stay," she admits easily, "but I realized that… now that he's caught, now that he's confessed… it doesn't change much of anything. Another criminal is behind bars, and will stay there, and I feel a little better for that. But Lucifer, it's not going to bring my Dad back. It's not going to undo any of the other horrible things he's done or had done. He wouldn't have avoided justice forever, either, would he? I mean…"
Lucifer is silent for a long moment, feigning more concentration than the unwrapping really warrants until Chloe reaches out a hand to cover his, effectively stilling it. He doesn't meet her gaze.
"No, Detective, you are correct. All guilty souls get their due punishments in time. My father certainly made sure of that."
"Your father?" Chloe asks gently, surprised at the bitterness in his tone.
"Mm." Lucifer's lips thin, and he gently tugs his hand out from under hers, continuing to remove the swathes of cotton. "It's His system, not mine. I have nothing to do with which souls wind up where and neither does He, it's all down to which ones feel guilty enough to be dragged down."
"Are you… saying that if someone does horrible things but doesn't feel bad about it, they can go to Heaven?" Chloe gasps, appalled.
"No, of course not," he scoffs, his face contorting in distaste. "Dad's got screens in place for just that sort of thing. Those souls are the only ones whose doors are locked, though."
Chloe considers this for a moment, letting Lucifer continue to work in silence. "The doors in Hell aren't locked? I assume you mean, like… cell doors?"
"In a… manner of speaking," he replies haltingly, smiling at Chloe's sigh of relief as her left arm is finally completely freed of the restrictive wrapping. She glances down at it, pleased to see only a few of the smaller blisters remaining intact. "We'll let that air while I unwrap the other, shall we?"
"Please," she agrees fervently, and they both chuckle. "Thank you for helping me."
"Of course, darling, you wouldn't be in this situation if not for me, changing your dressings is the very least I could do." Chloe opens her mouth to argue, but he bulls ahead, interrupting her. "Are you certain that Hell's inner workings is what you wanted to discuss today? It's not as though you'll ever need to concern yourself about it, after all."
"I thought you said you didn't have anything to do with who goes where?" The question is sharper than she intends, and she feels his fingers falter against the bandages of her right wrist.
"I don't, Detective," he takes a steadying breath, but she can feel a slight tremor in his touch, "but it doesn't take my father to tell me that you are one of the rare truly good souls that He created. You don't belong anywhere other than the Silver City once your time here is done."
She sucks in a steadying breath of her own, reminding herself that Right. Eternal afterlife is a thing, and you're discussing the available options with the King of the destination with a negative-five-star Yelp review. "You can't know that, though, can you? I mean… just by like, looking or something?"
"I certainly don't have a divining rod to determine souls' final destinations," he sounds a little offended, but his fingers remain gentle as they continue deftly unwinding. "But I know you Detective, and you're far too good to do anything that would allow guilt to truly weigh on your soul."
He swallows hard, and she watches in fascination as his throat bobs with the movement. It's far too easy for her to follow where his thoughts have gone. She catches his fingers in hers again, squeezing tightly until his gaze meets hers curiously. "I've had to kill to protect others, too, Lucifer. I know how that weighs on you. You were there—remember?"
"Yes, I've found it rather difficult to forget the deranged detective that kidnapped your Spawn, then tried to kill you both," he shakes his head, redirecting his gaze back to her bandages and muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, "bloody Amenadiel and his plotting."
"Amenadiel? What—" Her brows wrinkle in confusion, and she wonders if she misheard him. "Lucifer, Malcolm shot you that night."
"He did, yes," he doesn't offer an explanation, but his tone doesn't indicate that the topic is unwelcome.
"I… thought he'd killed you, and I was so afraid, but… you were fine." She looks up at him, eyes wide. "You were absolutely covered in blood, though… and later Amenadiel told me that you were wearing a vest, and bloodpacks."
Lucifer snorts, a wry smile contorting his lips. "I'm actually still a bit surprised he was clever enough to come up with that cover story. It must have strained his poor underdeveloped brain to do so."
"Lucifer," Chloe's not about to let him redirect the course her thoughts are taking. "You weren't wearing a vest. And you're vulnerable around me. How… how did you survive that? The blood pool I took that sample from was enormous."
"Well, I… didn't," he offers quietly, still not meeting her gaze. "Survive, that is."
"Okay, I'm gonna need a little more explanation than that. Are you… like some kind of devil zombie, then?" Her breathing is speeding up and yet she still feels short of air. She can feel the warmth of him next to her… if he were dead (or undead?), surely he wouldn't feel so alive?
"I'm not a bloody zombie," he does manage to roll his eyes and throw an exasperated glare briefly her way while still avoiding her eyes. "Those were never really a thing anyway, only a few rogue demons having some fun until I tracked them down and ensured that would never happen again."
"You—demons—what?" She sputters, before redirecting herself to the original question. "You—no—if you're vulnerable around me, and you didn't survive, then… how are you here? Is death… different for you?"
"I suppose you could say that, in that when I die, my soul only has one destination option. I'm banned from Heaven, you see, so when I die, I go straight back to Hell."
"But you... you're here." Her hand squeezes his more firmly, as though to reassure herself of that observation.
"I am," he murmurs, smiling down at her fingers twining through his much longer ones. "I made a deal with my father as I lay there feeling the chill of death spreading through my limbs. I offered Him my service in exchange for—" he hesitates, clears his throat awkwardly. "Well, it doesn't matter. The point is, He accepted the deal, and apparently decided I was more use to Him here than back in Hell without my body."
"That's what you were yelling about, on the balcony," the memory of his furious tirade at the sky rushes to the forefront of her mind. "You said you offered to do anything He asked—to—Lucifer!" His name falls from her lips in a gasp and she looks up at him with a new clarity.
"Yes, all right, you've caught me out," he admits with a heavy sigh. "Heard quite a bit of my little one-sided conversation with the old man, didn't you? I didn't want to leave you there with your crackpot co-worker stalking you and your offspring, so I offered Dad a blank check in order to keep you safe from harm. It seemed the best choice at the time."
She wants to thank him for saving her, for saving Trixie. To hug him and never let go. To slap him for putting himself in danger in the first place. Maybe even kill him for never making sure she knew about the sacrifices he'd made for her. Multiple times, apparently.
But her arms are still sore, and the remaining bandage is trailing awkwardly half-unwrapped, and her emotions seem to be stuck in a ball that's suddenly taking up far too much room in her throat, making breathing normally disturbingly difficult. She squeezes his fingers again and releases him, allowing him to go back to unraveling the cotton batting as she wrestles with coming to terms with this new information—evidence of just how much the Devil has done for her.
They turn to the topic at hand—how to adjust the wraps to cover only the spots that still need protection—and Lucifer retreats to his bar the moment he secures the last one with bandage tape. Chloe tends to the healing cuts along her legs, then cleans up the supplies before following him.
She finds him on his balcony, looking out over the city below, glaringly bright in the midday sun. He stubs out his cigarette as she rests her wrapped elbows on the railing next to him, letting her arm brush lightly against his. She feels the warmth of his gaze on her before she lifts her eyes to meet it.
"Lucifer, I…" she hesitates, unsure how to find the words that have been eluding her since she discovered he'd been telling her the naked truth their entire relationship… whatever that is. "I don't know what this is," she gestures vaguely between the two of them before resting her hand on his forearm, "And now I know that you've died to keep me safe, and had to kill as well, and… I don't even know exactly what we are."
She takes a deep breath, her blue eyes boring into his mahogany ones. In the bright midday light she can see striations of black within the irises, reminding her of the dark veins in a monarch's wing. No hint of the flaming embers she knows he can call at will. "I know that you are the best partner I've ever had. You're my best friend, and… we've had a few really intense, um, moments lately where I really think we're starting to develop into something more?" It comes out as a question and he blinks slowly, a sad smile slowly spreading, darkening his eyes further.
"Detective," his large hand covers hers on his arm lightly as his gentle gaze holds hers. "As much as I might want more with you, surely you must realize that a relationship would never work between us?"
"Wh—really?" She's taken completely aback. Certainly, he'd been maintaining distance since she'd started to believe him, but that night at the restaurant, he'd really seemed to want to move forward… "But you said at dinner the other night—"
"Yes, well, I've realized that you," he pauses and sighs, his eyes sliding shut in the closest thing to defeat that Chloe has ever seen on his face, "you deserve someone worthy of you, darling, and that is most decidedly not me. If I can keep my family from involving you in any more of their plots, I would… I would be honored simply to continue working by your side, if you would have me."
"Lucifer, if I've given you the impression that you're not good enough, or—" she stops, laughing incredulously that she's trying to convince Lucifer, the Devil, the self-proclaimed God's gift to women—and men—that she considers him good enough to… to what, exactly? Be part of her life, be her boyfriend? How on Earth would that work?
A frustrated noise escapes her, because she needs time to think and she hasn't had a moment to do that since before her car was blown up by the Goddess of all Freaking Creation. And now she's trying to convince the Devil that she wants to be in a relationship with him? Does he even have the slightest idea what that involves?
That sad smile is still on his face, and she knows that he doesn't. How could he? Isolated from his family for literally only God knows how long, from humanity for nearly as long. Their lives are so different—polar opposites, really—and yet they resonate together so very deeply. She felt it, even back when she thought she couldn't stand him. Kindred spirits, searching for something. It drew them together then, and continues to do so now.
Were we searching for each other? She mentally scoffs at herself. Great, Decker, next thing you know you're going to be consulting tarot readers and Ouija boards.
"That's not what I've been saying, Lucifer," she finally sighs, exhausted and unable to articulate any of her other chaotic thoughts right now.
"I know. It's what I'm saying. You..." he considers for a moment, his eyes searching hers for some answer. She doesn't know what he finds, but after a brief pause he continues, "You deserve someone better because you, Detective, are selfless to a nauseating degree. You always put your daughter first, even though the ungrateful urchin does nothing to contribute to the rent."
That surprises a laugh out of her. Lucifer considering Trixie in any capacity always warms her somewhere deep inside and his acknowledgement that he knows that she puts her daughter first doesn't fail to do so now. He chuckles lightly with her and turns to face her more fully, taking her hand between his.
"You deserve someone worthy of that grace. Someone who knows that every crime scene breaks your heart, even though you'd never admit it. Someone who actually appreciates your impossibly boring middle name. Jane." He lifts a teasing eyebrow and she laughs again, because he's taunted her relentlessly about it meaning 'gift from God' since he found out. "More importantly, Detective, you deserve someone as good as you... because... well, you're special and I'm... I'm not worth it."
The last few words are infused with a melancholy finality that tugs her even closer to him. She steps further into his space, tilting her head back to keep her gaze locked on his. He doesn't retreat, merely looks down at her with that soft sadness in his bearing that shreds her heart to pieces. She takes a deep breath, her chest expanding and brushing against his.
"You're wrong," she whispers to his chin, as though it's a secret just between them. She brushes her lips against his softly, releasing his hands to slide up his chest and rest where his neck meets his shoulders. He doesn't pull away, but neither does he respond, holding himself still as stone but for his eyes fluttering closed and a shaky sigh caressing her cheek. She pulls away just enough to tiptoe up and murmur in his ear, "You are precious to me, Lucifer Morningstar, and I refuse to let you try to convince me otherwise."
"Detective," the protest is faint, his eyes still closed as he basks in her proximity. She can feel him trembling against her with the effort to remain still, so she lets her lips trail a warm path across his new stubble back to his mouth, where she presses another soft kiss. This time he responds, inexorably bending his head to accommodate their height difference, providing an angle to allow her to deepen the kiss as he melts against her.
He feels right. Tasting faintly of his recent cigarette and whiskey, the warmth of his kiss envelops her, sending shivers of heat throughout her entire body. Tentative hands grasp lightly at her waist and she lifts her arms to carefully wrap them over his shoulders, drawing him down into a real embrace. A blissful moment where nothing exists but the two of them wraps and holds them in gentle hands.
She feels the instant he comes back to himself, the sharp mental slap he administers to remind him of his argument. He pulls back, resting his forehead lightly against hers with a slight smile and a heavy sigh. "Always so stubborn, Detective. I don't want to be a source of danger for you."
She breathes him in as she buries her face in his chest, the distinctive scent of his cologne, now faded enough that she can appreciate the pleasant complexities of his own underlying scent. He allows his chin to rest briefly in her hair, his scruff lightly catching in her hair before his broad hands release their hold and he steps back to open a space between them.
She feels cold with the sudden absence of his touch, even with the midday California sun beating down on them. She looks back up at him, determination blazing in her eyes.
"I've never asked you for a guarantee of my safety, Lucifer," she asserts fearlessly. "I've never asked you for anything other than your support. You've gone above and beyond in that, and I know you can't truthfully tell me that just working together would be enough for you to be happy."
"It… is far better than many alternatives I had considered," he admits reluctantly. But the fact remains that, regardless of my desires, or even yours in this instance, darling, for now a wait-and-see approach is our only option."
"And why is that?" She crosses her arms, noticing that the new bandages allow that gesture much more comfortably than the old ones had. He avoids her gaze, looking back out over the city as he considers his answer. She watches him, bracing herself and trying to come up with rebuttals for whatever argument he gathers.
The elevator chimes in the distance and he calls to the delivery person to leave the food on the counter. He says nothing until the doors have closed and they're alone again, with only the breeze between them.
"Because," he responds finally, a frustrated sound escaping his lips, "the action I'll be taking to ensure that you—and the rest of the planet—are safe from Mum's plotting might well result in my complete destruction."