Celestial Ghosts

Week 4 (A Lucifer Earth Week)

~o~

Chloe watches Lucifer carelessly slap a glass down on the Penthouse bar, fill it with alcohol, then down the contents—all with hard-edged movements, none of which is helping the churning sensation in Chloe's gut, or the growing knot.

"Right, so this is the part where you chastise me for my behavior on the case. Let's get it over with, then, shall we?"

"I'm not going to chastise you."

"No?" Lucifer is striding toward the balcony door, refilled glass in hand. "Are you sure, because—"

"Stop." Chloe's quiet voice is in direct contrast to Lucifer's cavalier performance. He pauses, having reached the balcony door now, Chloe several paces behind due to his longer stride. "I know what you're doing."

His eyes flick in her direction, a look of genuine confusion.

"Why won't you talk to me?" It's nearly a whisper, the increased pitch at the end causing Lucifer's eyes to widen.

"…what…" he tries, "I don't understand. Talk…about what?"

"Everything. Anything." It's a little choked now, because Chloe feels like she might cry, which is bad. And good. Good because Lucifer notices, and therefore she has his attention now, his default aloofness slipping at her distress. He's turned toward her fully, eyes on her face.

"Aren't we past this, Lucifer?" Chloe asks, voice soft. "I know you. You think I can't see when you're hurting?"

And there it is; the ghost of something behind his eyes. He stares at her, traces of shock, as if he's buried himself so effectively he's forgotten what was there.

"This is what you do," Chloe continues, interlocking her fingers together to steady them, "Act out, trying to convince yourself you don't care. So what is it about this case? You knew the minute you saw the body that we were dealing with a copycat, and you knew every detail about the original killer. How?"

Lucifer blinks at her, and she can almost see his walls slamming back into place automatically. The aloof, dismissive Lucifer is back. "Lord of Hell here, darling," he reminds her. "You know, as in The Devil. Terror. Darkness. Damnation. The usual. Plenty of serial killers in Hell. Plenty of terrible things. Plenty of—"

"Stop," Chloe cuts in. "This is what I'm talking about, Lucifer. You and I…we've come a long way, but…" Chloe swallows, "whenever it comes to talking about Hell, or anything to do with your time there, you shut off. You…don't tell me anything, not really."

Lucifer throws up his hands. "Well why on earth would you want to hear anything about it? It's Hell. Why would anyone want to—"

"Because I see what it does to you!" Chloe blurts.

This silences him, his stunned expression morphing slowly.

"I see what it does to you," Chloe repeats, quieter now.

Chloe knows there's much about the celestial world she's yet to comprehend.

And yet, when Lucifer finally explains, with typical Lucifer aloofness—in a manner one might take to explain the latest upcoming weather report—that while in Hell, whenever a new damned soul enters, as the Lord of Hell, his mind is sent, by some kind of celestial means, an instant and very detailed recount of said soul's most heinous misdeeds, Chloe's not prepared.

While she's long known that as the devil Lucifer's had to absorb an unimaginable amount of humanities worst horrors, she's never imagined it quite like this.

Of course, it makes sense; Chloe's mind immediately aligns the pieces with an agonizing clarity.

Lucifer, being more of a delegator than a direct punisher—how else would one decide who deserves what punishment if not through knowing their sins?

"You don't get to decide who gets punished and how."

"That's exactly what I do."

Lucifer, more often than not, knowing the mind of their killer better than anyone else ever could.

"No one chooses to be a sin-eater, detective. No one wants to be custodian of the world's filth. Why would they? Absorbing the worst humanity has to offer, day in and day out. It changes you."

And finally: his new job in Hell.

His new job in Hell, a few weeks in to their new arrangement, after avoiding the topic except to tell her he's still working out the logistics, the challenge of finding souls to help. Finding souls to help—when dealing with the absolute worst of humanity, how else might one select which souls might be worthy of trying to save, if not through knowing their worst sins?

Even with all this, it's Lucifer's reaction to her reaction that just about does it for Chloe.

Because, his face is one of bewilderment and surprise when he sees the moisture filling her eyes, when she raises up onto her toes, tears on her cheeks, both of them standing out on Lucifer's Penthouse balcony now, and finds any part of his face she can reach with her lips—light kisses, with no words to be said at all; because there are none Chloe can find for this.

Lucifer's hand hovers a few inches from her, his question, the one that does the most damage, is slow and uncertain, "Does that not…repulse you?"

Chloe shakes her head, her tears hot against her cheeks, her hands going to his face, and if she could take back anything, anything at all that she's done wrong in her life, it would be the way she reacted when she first saw his face—she would take it back a thousand times over if she could. "Don't you see?" she says, voice catching, because, clearly he doesn't, and this is the most heartbreaking of all. "Don't you see I'm in awe of you? For all that darkness and horror and suffering, you are good and passionate and kind. Do you have any idea how incredible that is?"

Chloe sees many things pass across his face, behind his eyes; far too many to name.

"I was afraid. Afraid that you'd want me because you've only seen certain sides of me. That if you saw all of me…knew all of me, you would run away."

Chloe kisses his face, whispering, "I love you" repeatedly—until his hands finally lift to cradle her face, his lips pressing into hers, achingly tremulous and fragile at first; then growing deeper, more frantic; passion intermingled with centuries of torment.

Soon, clothes are peeled away and discarded.

Chloe gasps when he lifts her up onto the balcony railing, but the instinctive reaction of certain danger is gone as soon as it comes, because there's only him, kissing her—hard and deep; raw and uncontrolled in a manner she's never felt from him before. She feels it all. The torment. The self-hate. The suffering. The loneliness. Striped for her to see. Every broken, and beautiful piece.

In a striking burst of white, his wings are fanning out behind him, startling her momentarily, because, he's never done this before, never made love to her with his wings on full display, surrounding her in a glorious sea of white while the nighttime city lights stretch out far below.

It takes Chloe's breath away.

He holds nothing back, giving her all of him, reaching deeper than ever with each thrust, sending endless waves of intense pleasure cascading through her, and when he finally spills into her Chloe is taken by storm—heart, body, and soul.

There's something miraculous, something miraculous about this night.

They're both panting, clinging to each other as they recover. Lucifer's hand strokes up her back, and Chloe's arms are wrapped tight around his shoulders. Her eyes refocus, awestruck at the sight surrounding her.

Lucifer's wings are magnificent. Bright white, marked by a subtle but unquestionably otherworldly glow; an aura that's indescribable. Stunning. Chloe's seen them before, but not like this; there's something far more intimate here. Slowly, Chloe reaches out to touch, hearing Lucifer draw in a quick breath when her fingers are met with an impossible softness, one of the likes she's never felt before—because, she's never had the opportunity to touch before; Lucifer rarely displays them, and Chloe tries not to think what this means. Chloe thinks of how not so long ago he was tormented enough to mutilate himself, to cut off his wings not once but again and again, and the tragedy in this is fathomless.

"Chloe?" Lucifer is cupping her chin, the pad of his thumb moping up the new dampness on her cheek. "What…?"

Chloe shakes her head, her hand coming up to cover his as she turns her face into it to kiss his palm.

Lucifer cradles her face, his wings folding back and then disappearing all together. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

Chloe nods, her throat still choked as she leans up to kiss him, her arms slipping around him—where they stay for a long while, and the chill of the night air is offset by the heat of his body against hers.