A/N: an incredibly huge thanks to my truly wonderful beta reader, TempestJuvano, and thank you for the reviews - you will get answers to your questions soon. :)

Chapter 20 – Are you going to be okay?

Maze marched into the penthouse with newfound determination. It was still unbelievable to her, the relief she was basking in after a conversation with Linda. After the long talk they'd had at the therapist's apartment, Maze had finally begun to feel like she'd gotten her friend back. She knew now what she wanted, and that's what she was here to announce, to Lucifer: She was staying. Here, on Earth.

Maze thought she would tell Lucifer about her decision, and then simply leave after – but as she strode in, something felt wrong. Lucifer was nowhere to be seen, which wasn't necessarily unusual; what was strange was the eerily silent air. She pulled out her hell-forged blades and whipped them around her finger, stepping silently as she took stock of her surroundings, approaching the bedroom. She froze at the threshold of the bedroom, her vision landing on Lucifer.

"What the fuck?" Swearing loudly, she stepped to the side of the bed.

Her presence and the sudden noises startled Lucifer awake. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up. But a groan escaped him, as a jolt of pain ran through his body.

He was only in a tattered pair of trousers – and nothing else. The torn pieces of his attire were strewn all over the floor around his bed as if they'd been in an explosion. But the most devastating part of his current state was his wings, spread on the bed; Maze had seen them so often that she could tell that something was off about their position. There were dull brownish-red blotches on his wings, and as Lucifer awoke, they fluttered in a weak, frantic succession. Maze had rarely seen him this bad. He had gone pale, and the dusky circles around his eyes looked alarmingly dark.

"Maze?" Lucifer uttered when he was able to focus his gaze on her, trying to lean on his elbow. "You're early, Mazikeen… There's still – wait a – how did I get here?" he looked around uncertainly and winced as his headache began to intensify.

"Lucifer, what happened? You look horrible!" Maze said as she studied him from head to toe again. He tried to get up but failed, and he went back to leaning on his elbow. He took a look at his fluttering wings, stained with the blood –

"It's over." He remembered, slowly, last night, as it came back in a descending order. Holding Chloe close to his heart. Her face, as he swayed, his wings out in resplendent, bloody glory. Brian's eyes, as he directed the drones at them. The broken door. A body lying in the Detective's lap.

"What's over?" Maze got impatient, as she always did. She was more of a do-it-now-questions-later person.

"The case – she figured out who the murderer was," he answered, trying to keep his tone even. Lucifer then explained, haltingly, what had happened down in the basement. But when he got to the part when the drones cornered them, he trailed off. It was still a too painful memory.

A lump formed in Maze's throat as she listened to Lucifer. She had this ominous suspicion that something besides Lucifer's injuries went terribly wrong.

"Lucifer? What exactly happened?" she prodded.

"I didn't know what to do." His voice was a plea, and Maze just stared at him, not quite knowing what to say or how to react. She couldn't fathom how Lucifer, the Ruler of Hell, was reduced to an indecisive rambling… human-like, almost. But Lucifer continued, eventually.

"I – I asked her to close her eyes and pulled out my wings – I had to protect her, Maze." He had now given up the effort and was lying back onto the bed. He had trained his eyes on the ornate ceiling, avoiding Maze's eyes. He felt it was better to talk this way.

"We made it out – up the staircase – when she saw them."

"What happened then, Lucifer? How did she react?" asked Maze. She did her best to keep her composure, but her voice quivered a bit. She remembered Linda's initial reaction all too well.

Lucifer's mind was still a little foggy, but one memory chose to surface. The worst memory, really.

Chloe, trembling, her blue eyes arrested on his wings, filled with terror.

"She was terrified, of course." He tried to be matter-of-fact. "I assume the drones injected me with narcotics, and what with the Detective being right there, I passed out when we got out of the building. I'm – not so sure what happened afterwards, how did I get -" he trailed off. His eyes widened as a dreadful thought hit him.

"Chloe – Where is she!?" With a groan and a twist, he sat up. "What if the murderer – caught up with her?" he muttered as he stood up, shakily. He hadn't realised it, but most of the injuries on his body had already disappeared, and his wings were now held up at a proper angle – although the feathers were still mussed, and the deeper wounds weren't healed up yet.

"Hey, calm down, alright? She's fine." Maze moved over to block him.

"How would you know? Have you seen her?" Lucifer asked, half-mocking, half-expectant.

"I went to the precinct. I – uh – had some business there, so I popped in, and there was a guy, babbling about wings and angels and just – basically insane, except now I get it."

"Get what?"

"Dan told me Chloe brought the mad guy in as the murderer on your case. He said something about her taking the day off, and having to deal with the crazy," Maze rolled her eyes.

"So, she's alright?" Lucifer asked impatiently. "She's not–"

"As far as Dan knows, she's physically fine. You, on the other hand, need to wait a while so your wings can heal. You can't rush after her like this – you'll be vulnerable, and you'll scare everyone with the wings." Maze pointed out. She knew that Lucifer couldn't unfurl them until the more serious injuries healed properly.

"Well," Lucifer admitted defeat; Maze was surprised he didn't want to argue. He let himself fall back on the bed, hating the raw jolt of pain in his still-wounded wings.

"Guess the case is closed then," he said, after a pause. "Once my wings heal, we can finally hightail it out of here." He looked at her. "Although," he mused, "I am wondering how exactly Cain is going to explain his resurrection to her. She was…devastated last night." He remembered her grief and pain as if it were his own.

"Oh – you might not get to see that." Maze began, hesitantly. "Pierce is dead. For good."

"Yes, I know Maze, he got shot, and he died. But it takes time. He'll be back, and the Detective will be-" Happy, and together with him again. She truly must love him, the way she had refused to leave his dead body behind, thought Lucifer.

"No, Lucifer. He's truly gone. Like, forever." Maze explained with her own brand of eloquence.

"What?"

"His curse broke, apparently," Maze answered uneasily. Here comes the hard part, she thought, remembering her plan with Marcus, and she knew she had to come clean about it. She had talked about it with Linda, and they decided that it was her only possible option if she wanted to start with a clean sheet.

"But how?" Lucifer was puzzled. For eons there had been no cure to that curse.

"I think I know."

Maze took a deep breath and strolled to the bar. After a few minutes, she came back to the room with two tumblers and a full bottle of whisky. Lucifer waited patiently for her, sitting up numbly on the edge of the bed. Maze sat beside him, carefully avoiding his feathers.

"Lucifer, there is something I have to tell you. It's not easy, but I will tell you everything," she started and glanced at him briefly before she poured a generous amount of amber liquid into one of the tumblers and swigged it before Lucifer could blink. Then she poured some whisky again, into both tumblers this time, and handed one to Lucifer.

"I was really pissed when you made it clear that you wouldn't take me back to Hell."

"Well, that's nothing new." Lucifer took a cautious sip from his drink. He looked at her thoughtfully, "But what has this got to do with Pierce?"

Maze took a pause before continuing, trying to put it all into words that might make it easy – to say and to hear.

"I would have done anything to go back, Lucifer. The price didn't matter. Pierce found me, after we had that argument. He told me he had a plan. And if I helped him, he would help me go home."

She glanced up at Lucifer: his face had a confused and somewhat shocked expression, but he didn't speak. So, Maze continued.

"Pierce had a theory about you and your – uh – mortality around Chloe." The words came out with a flow now, and Maze had begun to understand just why Linda had insisted on confessing. No matter what Lucifer's reaction, the weight that Maze had been carrying around was starting to lighten.

"He thought perhaps because she had feelings for you – real, strong feelings – you were rendered mortal around her. He decided to take advantage of that. So, he planned to date her, make her fall in love with him. Then when his mark vanished, he would be truly vulnerable, and–"

This was the real worse part of their deal, and Maze had a twinge of doubt about telling Lucifer. But the words still kept coming.

"That's where I came in. I was supposed to kill him and pin the murder on you. Your life here would have been ruined, and you would have been forced to leave Earth. When you'd go to Hell, I would be able to go with you."

Maze kept going, holding back the urge to look at Lucifer.

"When I found out at the precinct that he'd been shot, I went to the mortuary where they'd taken his body. It's been more than 12 hours now – and he's still dead, his mark gone."

Before she could look up though, she heard a loud crack. She whipped up to the sound, to see the shattered pieces of the glass tumbler on the ground, and Lucifer's fist shaking.

"Why?" His voice shook, with anger and disbelief. "Why on earth are you telling me this, now, Mazikeen?"

"Because I changed my mind." This time, she looked him right into the eyes because she wanted him to believe her. "When you came to my apartment yesterday and told me you'd bring me back, I should have been glad. But I wasn't." She bit her lower lip and looked around pointedly. "Because I realized, Lucifer, that Earth is my home now."

"Is it now? How convenient for you – you had your earth-shattering realization after the wheels were already in motion, messing up everything, everything, with that nasty piece of work – who, coincidentally, got what he wanted!"

Lucifer was standing, dried blood and mud raining down from his wings. The dishevelled appendages blazed for a moment, but the light of healing dimmed almost immediately, leaving just some painful throbbing behind. The weight of everything – memories and chances gone – crashed down on him suddenly, and he stumbled wearily to the bar.

He slowly grabbed a new glass and a bottle, pouring himself another drink and drank it avidly. When he finished, he repeated the procedure. His body was starting to feel up to his best self, but inside... He knew it was all gone. His life. His friends. Any reason to stay on Earth.

Maze wanted to say something, anything – that it wasn't convenient for her that he lost the Detective's love, that although she had again betrayed him, she was sorry for that – but the words didn't come this time. She lingered in the doorway, trying desperately to guess what to do.

The loud 'ding' of the elevator, signalling a new guest in the penthouse, put an end to her misery. The doors parted, and Amenadiel strolled in with two paper bags in his hands. He stopped when he noticed his brother at the bar and Maze at the doorway.

"Brother! You're awake!" he said with an ear-to-ear smile. "I had begun to worry."

"Amenadiel? What are you doing here?" Lucifer asked, the glass tumbler in his hand still held tight.

Amenadiel took stock of the room, noticing the tension, but he chose to ignore it for now. "I suppose you don't remember last night?" he asked, hoping Lucifer might be spared of the pain in knowing that Chloe had seen his wings.

"Oh no, brother. I do remember. Well, mostly. But what I don't remember, is how I got here. The last thing I know was passing out in front of the Detective. I don't suppose she carried me here?" He looked up at his brother.

"No, she didn't. She called me." Amenadiel said.

"The Detective called you." Lucifer was incredulous.

Amenadiel nodded and walked up to the bar. He sat beside Lucifer, setting the bags on the counter. "She called me, and told me you were injured, and…that your wings were – out. I was the one who brought you here yesterday, and I tried to put your wings right as I could. The worst was over when you were out of Chloe's vicinity – the bleeding stopped, and your bones and muscles started to heal. I took the little machines that were stuck in the wings. I'd been here with you for a while, but you remained unconscious, so I decided to get some food for when you'd wake up." He pointed to the bags.

Lucifer poured another drink and took a large swig. He knew he couldn't get drunk, but the repetitive motion somehow calmed his nerves.

"Well, that's very thoughtful, brother. I can really use a last meal before I return."

"What are you talking about, Lucy?"

"You can't be serious!"

Amenadiel and Maze both spoke at the same time, with equal parts confusion on Amenadiel's part, and vehemence on Maze's.

They both stopped and stared at Lucifer. It was Maze who elaborated first.

"Didn't you hear what I said? Pierce is dead! You don't have to see him with Decker! Isn't this what you wanted?" she asked, her voice risen, and her mind flabbergasted.

"You don't understand Maze! The fact that Pierce died is even worse!" Lucifer spat.

His eyes were red-rimmed, and he struggled to hold back his emotions. "It means that…" his voice wavered, and he couldn't finish the sentence. It meant that Pierce's plan had worked. The Detective had fallen in love with him. And now that she'd seen Lucifer's real nature – she must be terrified of him, even disgusted.

"Would someone please tell me what's happening?" asked Amenadiel.

"I'll catch you up – I have to talk to you anyway," she said, walking towards him with determination.

"Marvellous." Lucifer's sarcasm was evident. "Feel free to raid the bar downstairs." He gestured towards the elevator. "But if you'll excuse me, I'd rather be alone, than with someone who managed to disintegrate my life so easily."

Maze almost rolled her eyes at his drama, but the guilt of his accusation being true was enough to stop her from saying anything. Amenadiel, confused but well-meaning, continued to look at Lucifer with worry.

When they didn't move, Lucifer sighed exasperatedly. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked with mock politeness.

"Are you going to be okay, Lucy?" asked Amenadiel gently, ignoring his tone, as he always did.

Lucifer looked at his now empty glass and started to play with the rim. "Only time will tell," he said honestly and flashed a weak smile at him. The older angel nodded and turned to the elevator.

Maze, on the other hand, stepped closer to him. "Lucifer, I… You have to know that I'm sorry. For everything."

Lucifer scrutinized her for a long moment. Maze was hot-tempered, gruff, and fierce, and she often made rash decisions that she regretted later. As angry he had been with her, he only saw a part of himself in her that got into trouble because of his decisions. After all that had happened, he could hardly blame all of his life's wreckage on her. Especially when all Maze had wanted to do was go home because she felt like she didn't belong here – something he was about to do too. In that way, they were both the same, he thought. And so, he looked at her again, seeing an old friend. A friend who had her fair share of suffering lately.

"I know, Maze. I hope you will find your happiness here," he told her sincerely.

Maze let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. Then she nodded and followed Amenadiel.

After the doors of the elevator closed, silence settled over the penthouse.

Lucifer looked around with sorrow in his eyes. So, this is how it ends. He stood up slowly and rolled his shoulders to tuck his wings away, but the bloody appendages didn't budge. He groaned and cursed inwardly. They were still numb and the dried blood on the feathers probably didn't help either.

Perhaps a long, hot shower before going back to the hot fiery bowels of Hell would help. Maybe that could ease the soreness in his wings and other limbs. Then, he'd have a last meal, put on his best outfit, and cover his furniture.

In a few hours, he would be ready to leave.