Walking into his club, where the dim lights and empty space enveloped him, Lucifer breathed a sigh of relief. His earthly home embraced him with the smell of stale cigarette smoke, floor cleaner, and rich mahogany. He smiled, taking the snapback off his head and throwing it, Frisbee-style, across the room with an exclamation of joy. The hat landed with a soft whoosh in front of the bar.
"Wonderful," he murmured gleefully to himself as his eyes greedily drank in the space he had missed so much. The alcohol behind the counter, singing to him temptingly; the flickering lights, inviting him to stay; the dark reflection of his excited face in the stunning black piano that sat empty and waiting. He traipsed down the stairs in his bare feet, feeling the carpet beneath his toes. It felt lush and familiar, before transforming into the cool and welcoming hard surface that began at the foot of the stairs. Sitting down gently at the piano, his fingers absently traced the ivory keys. They began to play while his mind savored the moment. Catching up a few seconds later, Lucifer realized what he was playing as Aretha Franklin's "Think" poured out of the piano. He smiled, closing his eyes and savoring the music as he played. Oh, how he missed his pianos.
A minute or two later, he stopped, shouting, "That was fun!" to the space. Having Lux to himself just felt so good. Next, he sauntered over to the bar, sliding over the counter in one smooth vault like he once saw on The Dukes of Hazzard (back when he was trying to break up with Eve, he had a great time watching that show). He came to a stop right in front of the whiskey. Excellent. Grabbing no less than three bottles of the finest whiskey the bar had stocked, he twisted the lid of the first and inhaled the sharp, bitter scent before taking a long swig. Ah, yes. Alcohol was so, so much better here. Leaving the lid laying haphazardly onto the floor, he maneuvered back around the bar (walking this time), arms full of liquor, and proceeded to waltz back up the stairs to his elevator, humming 'Think' as he did so. This distraction was very worth coming back to earth, and he wasn't going to waste one precious moment.
In the elevator, he set down the bottles of liquor and stripped the t-shirt off, exposing his skin to the cool, air-conditioned temperature of the interior space. He would obviously need to address his dreadful clothing situation later, but for now, wearing only the jeans would work for him. He sighed contentedly, drinking more whiskey from the open bottle.
This was all a nice distraction from the problem at hand, and Lucifer was quite beginning to enjoy himself. For a few moments, he had been able to forget the problems with Michael and let his siblings take care of the situation as they had promised to do. He was sure Linda would say something positive about this self-care routing: instead of reminding himself of his early failures, he was focusing on what he could control: his own fun! He smiled smugly to himself at the thought.
He was just finishing his drink – the entire first bottle – when the elevator slowed and stopped, sounding its ding of arrival. He grinned, anticipating the familiar surroundings welcoming him as the elevator doors opened. Then there was a sharp sound, like something cutting through air, and then sheathing noise, which he heard at precisely the same moment his arm erupted in pain. A half second later, there was a cluttering of metal as something fell onto the floor of his penthouse.
Lucifer stared in surprise, grin falling as he looked, confused, from the source of the pain in his arm (a standard human knife handle protruded from his bicep) to the shocked faces of Maze and Linda. Maze straightened up quickly and Linda stared, open-mouthed, not noticing the knife she had been wielding defensively now laying uselessly on the floor.
"I – what?" he asked confusedly, before he realized he had dropped the empty whiskey bottle (which shattered all over the floor) and was stumbling forward, out of the elevator. His feet unceremoniously caught both full whiskey bottles, knocking them over, and his next step produced another sharp pain as he realized he'd stepped on glass shards. This was all happening through the sudden muddled mind he was doing his best to work through. The floor pitched in front of him in a very puzzling way – which way was up?
"Lucifer!" Maze exclaimed, eyes wide in surprise as she lunged forward and caught him before he pitched onto the floor altogether. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you in Hell?"
"We thought you were Michael," Linda added on, voice breathless as she stared at the two. Maze helped him over to the couch, and Lucifer groaned at the movement. His arm felt like it was on fire.
"Maze, Linda, as wonderful as it is to see you two, what the bloody hell are you doing here?" he asked through gritted teeth, reaching with his right hand to grab the hilt of the knife. Just that small movement of the knife seared pain through him. Maze stepped back.
"Hiding from Michael," she snapped her reply. "Amenadiel told us to leave the house while he confronted him. Lucifer," her voice dipped lower and she looked around nervously. "Michael is here. In LA. You can't be here. You know what happened last time."
Lucifer laughed as he let out a breath and yanked the knife out with all his strength. It was tough to do, twisted up in his muscle, and he felt every agonizing nerve scream in agony as he removed it. The laugh turned into a half-shriek. Linda became mobile again and ran forward, taking off her shrug and pressing it against his now-bleeding wound.
"That's precisely why I'm here," he spat through the pain. "Michael is going after the detective, and I couldn't just –"
He stopped, realizing the very wrong thing that was happening.
"Maze…" he asked slowly. "Is the detective here?"
Maze shook her head. "No, why?" she asked, eyes on the wound. Then her eyes widened too. "She's supposed to be at the precinct, Lucifer, she shouldn't be here."
"…then why am I injured?" he wondered, leaning his head back on his smooth Italian leather sofa, trying to relish in the feeling of familiarity through the waves of nauseating pain. He'd had worse, for sure. Curse his vulnerability for not teaching him to get used to such a sensation.
"I'll call her," Linda said quickly, standing up. "Maze, I want you to tie this tight around his arm."
Maze didn't answer but nodded, and Lucifer closed his eyes. He couldn't face Chloe. He knew he wasn't strong enough to face her and then return to Hell once more. The entire point of his sneaking back to earth was so he could help remove her from danger but remain none the wiser about his temporary return. He felt Maze take over as the shrug pressed tightly against his arm. His fingers felt tingly from blood loss and his cut circulation. What a curious feeling.
"Lucifer, are you okay?" Maze asked softly as Linda ran to the next room. "I'm sorry. I'm just happy I didn't use my demon knives."
"Me too," he replied through gritted teeth. "I'll be fine, Maze. But you need to listen – I can't talk to the detective. I can't face her. Not if I'm to return to Hell."
Maze said nothing, but he felt a comforting hand squeeze his shoulder where it didn't hurt.
With his eyes closed, Lucifer took stock of his surroundings. He could feel the slight breeze from the balcony, a bit warm for his taste but not hot enough to complain just yet. He could hear the soft, shallow breathing of his nephew on the other side of the room. He could hear snippets of Linda's conversation from where she had stepped into his bedroom to call Chloe. He sighed and tried to ignore the pain that shot up his arm. There was no avoiding it now. She was going to know he was back. But he still didn't think he could see her. Maybe now was the time to reply to one of her notes? Or at least her offspring's? He wasn't sure this was the best course of action.
"So what are we going to do about Michael?" Maze asked, voice all business. Lucifer sighed again and opened his eyes, lifting his head to look at her.
"Well, seeing as how I'm indisposed and in desperate need of a glass of something bitter and warm, as well as perhaps some ibuprofen, I really don't think I can 'do' anything about Michael at the moment."
"Well, not alone," Maze said thoughtfully. "But you have a lot of friends, Lucifer. You have a lot of people that can help."
Lucifer huffed. "I was rather hoping you'd take my point about needing a drink and some medicine, but if that's the way you want to go." He shrugged. Internally, the thought of facing his brother after all this time absolutely terrified him. That terror he kept buried down seemed to making his pain worse. Of course, he was tensing up. He tried to relax.
"Maze, please be a dear and get me something for the pain," he asked again, putting on his nicest smile and manners. Maze rolled her eyes but retreated to the bathroom as he wished. Lucifer worked on sitting up, then remembered his feet, too, had been pierced; he was reminded in the most painful way. He hissed and lifted his right foot off the ground, dreading looking down but remaining unsurprised by the bloody footprint that revealed itself from where his foot had been a moment before.
"Best grab some tweezers too," he called out to Maze. He heard an audible annoyed grunt from her, which was acknowledgement enough. Gingerly he lifted his foot to rest on his opposite knee. Across the room, baby Charlie made a coughing sound.
"Oh, it's not so bad," Lucifer replied, as if Charlie had just reacted to his foot. "I've certainly had worse. It just shouldn't be happening now."
"Definitely not."
Maze tossed two objects at him and he reached up automatically to grab them, hissing again when he tried to lift his arm. This made Maze's lips purse into a smirk.
"Oh yes, I suppose this is amusing to you," he scoffed, twisting off the cap and pouring out a handful of pills. She shrugged.
"You're such a wuss," she declared. "Listen, Lucifer. No matter where Chloe is now, if you stay near her, you're vulnerable. You already knew that. And I know that means you need to stay away from her, but if it keeps you alive, I'm down for it."
"I know," he replied dejectedly after washing his aspirin down with whiskey. "It's just a lot…harder than I thought it would be."
Maze snorted.
"Harder," she repeated with a laugh. "Nice one."
Lucifer ignored that comment and got to work removing glass shards from his foot, hissing in pain each time he got another piece out. Maze wordlessly handed him a blood-red towel to soak up the red liquid pouring out of his foot.
Linda returned a moment later, phone falling to her side as she flung herself with a hefty sigh into one of the chairs opposite Lucifer. He had just finished getting the last of the glass out, and was now carefully making another tourniquet out of the towel. His foot stung still, but not nearly as badly as his arm hurt. Maze remained standing next to him, arms crossed. As he set his foot back down and wiped his hands on his jeans, Lucifer silently admired the skin-tight outfit she had chosen today; excellent for her assets and practical for her day job.
"Okay, a lot is happening, and it's not good," Linda said quickly. "Chloe told me they just left the station, your sibling Azrael is helping them, and Ella knows everything. She's coming too. What do you want us to do?"
Ella Lopez knew the truth? This surprised him for a moment. Then he realized if Azrael was there, that would help explain a lot. At least this brought somebody else onto their team. Miss Lopez was nothing if not bright and an asset to any team. There was still another problem, though.
The detective was still too far away to be affecting him like this. He supposed he wasn't surprised; it was probably another manipulation by his father to test him. He was getting tired of nothing staying the same about him. It was mentally and emotionally exhausting.
"I need to get away," he said. "Something is wrong with me and I don't know what, but I can't face her right now." He looked at Linda, pleading with her with his eyes. She nodded in understanding, face a cross between pity and frustration.
"I don't know how much you can avoid the situation, Lucifer, you're bleeding everywhere," she gestured. He looked around and groaned. His leather sofa, covered in blood. Maze snorted at his reaction and he glared at her. She rolled her eyes.
"Look," she said. "We had this spot because there's only two ways in and out. That way we could have the high ground. If Chloe is here too, then we should all be safe."
He nodded.
"I need to change into more appropriate clothing," he announced as he tried to stand up. The towel took the brunt of the force his body put on his foot, but it still hurt. He winced. "And then I'm going to leave before they get here."
"Where will you go, Lucifer?" Linda questioned. Her eyes were wide and kept darting back to Charlie. Lucifer sighed, holding the tied shrug-turned-tourniquet to himself. He took a deep breath, fighting against the dizziness that threatened to overpower him.
"I don't know, but I'll figure it out," he said. "Tell Azrael – tell her to take care of Chloe," he said, turning away.
"Maybe you should go back to Hell," Linda said.
Lucifer shrugged, knowing to himself that Hell was the last place he ever wanted to go back to. No, he would wait till everything blew over and then go back. It was the only logical thing to do in this situation…right? He walked gingerly over to the stairs, and up them to his closet in the corner. His suits sat, untouched, each with a small layer of dust. He picked one out at random, doing his best to get changed without jostling his arm.
Soft voices conversing wafted in the summer LA air over to him as he finished changing. He could tell they were both nervous. He didn't have the heart to admit to them he was, too. Grabbing a pair of his best shoes (he would have to put those on later when his foot felt better), he wandered out in his socks and suit, feeling a lot better. He smiled politely and with a quick shrug coaxed his wings out. This would have to do for now.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay and strategize together?" Linda asked, her voice betraying her emotion.
"Oh Linda, sad to see me go? I appreciate your friendship," Lucifer admitted to her. "There just aren't any Dr. Linda Martins in Hell. Not that I haven't tried to find another 'you.'"
"Another me?" she echoed. He grinned, shaking his head. Maybe someday he'd get the chance to tell her. Maybe. And then he realized where he needed to go – somewhere he could talk to somebody. It was that simple.
Without another word he was gone, leaving behind an atmosphere of nerves and anticipation for what was to come.
