Author's notes:
(Thanks for your support on the last chapter, last year - naaaah, it hasn't been that long!) Thanks Boscorelli!
Lucifer's POV - I did it this time. I hope you'll like it as much as Chloe's POVs so far. Lots of introspection, doubts, misunderstanding… You know him, right?
Let's read this!
Music
Little for your lovin' (Electrifying mood) | Sonny Cleveland.
THE WORST OF REMAINING ETERNITY
6
Earth.
Hell.
The first sound of these words is harmonious, oddly close; like these two places can be geographically. It's not an easy task to map the grounds of Hell, to put your way out of there until reaching Earth. That being said, celestial roads aren't terrestrial - another harmonious sound but quite different from what Lucifer had experienced two weeks ago.
Two earthly weeks.
Earthly.
Earth.
He can still feel the brute - chaotic, one might say - forces of the different plans he passed by during his slow raising from the depths of the world. If he stretches his shoulder muscles, as his more angelic than devilish wings linked to them, the throbbing memory of his travel then comes to present time. Letting out a sigh that turns into a slight grunt of discomfort, Lucifer almost deplores his taste for tailor-made suits, they don't suit his sore surnatural muscles. He's not in a lot of pain, though - going back home is worth all of this, Chloe is, even if his wings take their time to heal properly.
He feels good, to be honest; better than he expected.
It appears there is only one step, one quick flap of wings from his unsettling deadness in Hell to him on Earth, bursting with life. Lucifer couldn't have hoped for better after Michael's feisty explanations along with those of His Father's Messenger. Gabriel had always been a servile orator but his dissonant behavior had been welcomed, especially after his other brother's vivid expression on the Devil's dying body. At least, that made one of them who didn't want to beat him up for pleasure, to subdue the 'Original Evil'. Sure, Lucifer never said no to a fight with Michael before. Regardless of his old habits, his situation has changed.
This place hasn't, though.
He comes closer to the window and moves the blinds to let some light inside. Light as much as darkness reinforce his feeling. There is a pleasurable steadfastness in it, on Earth in general. This is where the hellish-earthly consonance stops.
Earth isn't Hell. Their dissimilarity is a matter of details; the hold of time is just one example - its passing, like the thin stroke of light that is ascending the desk, moving from one picture to another, to the opposite edge. Time in Hell is too slow to let the light establish itself; it never tried to, stuck behind unchanging skies of ash.
Lucifer steps away from the window and walks around the desk, slowing his steps once he's behind the seat, his gaze caught by a particular picture. It isn't a big one, neither beautiful with its hues nor its composition. No, its particularity comes from a detail that piques his curiosity, he's puzzled even. He brushes Chloe's smile with his hand – a light, almost forced smile. It's the one she has when she has to deal with some unpleasant suspects or witnesses for whom she feels very little empathy. Although her expression seems for him, given how her gaze is on him while he talks with Linda. He can't tell what they were talking about when this picture was taken, obviously taken without his agreement. He would never have allowed it, not from this angle.
He would never have let Linda expose him this way, not looking his best at all; frowning, grimacing for some forgotten social annoyance. Where does this picture come from, anyway? Why would she want to show him so openly to others in her office? To patients, colleagues or friends? He doesn't see other pictures of her patients here, though.
What a disturbing detail of change.
Lucifer places the picture back to its place and turns another towards the shy sun rays coming through the blind. Another sign of change is the profuse material proofs of his therapist's all new motherhood. He'd never understand human parents, their compulsive needs to make a show of a newborn's presence in their life. Walls, pictures, short films going along with drool and awful cries… the media invasion is a bloody nuisance. Linda is no exception. She is human, after all. Also, he knows Amenadiel is fond of human education, even if his last doubts on the matter had nearly led Charlie to an early celestial raising. An early celestial 'depression' sounds more accurate. Lucifer is glad about this change. Celestial education and parental approval - which he didn't get very often himself - could be preferable to this human media display. Being scorned by your family, on the other hand… this compulsive lack of interest for each other, this obsession not to stray from God's lead, to marginalise him without remorse - Charlie can surely do his own path without that.
Lucifer takes a closer look at the picture.
His nephew doesn't look a day older. Of course, he is aware that oldness is a matter of closer death, of mortals. Mortal, Charlie Luc Martin - also named 'Canaan' after his dad's treason and human administrations - is only half of it. Lucifer shakes his head. His nickname isn't made for second place, it sounds bloody wrong. The word, mortal, sounds wrong as well. Angels aren't mortal. And still, angels bleed, they even procreate now. It is surprising to see how much the world has changed in the space of a few human years. Only the future would tell where this change would stop, where his nephew's immortality - his genetic divinity - would start.
Anyway, older or not, Lucifer expected something different. Charlie certainly has grown a bit, he doesn't look as frail as he was the last time his uncle had seen him. However, he doesn't seem able to speak yet. He makes odd noises sometimes, annoying and piercing sounds every time Lucifer starts to talk. He cries more noisily when his uncle stops talking completely. Consequently, Lucifer has been forced to shorten his visits and to find a quieter alternative for his reunion with his former therapist.
That's why he is here so early, looking for details, proofs of a real change between the moment he left and his return.
Six months spread between pictures, the rearrangement of the furnitures and the decoration for a single noisy human being. The Detective's spawn looks like a saint next to him. Beatrice must have changed a bit too, although her mother looks as gorgeous as always to him.
Lucifer closes his eyes. He thinks over yesterday, over what he did, what he can't help himself to do. Gabriel has explained to him; these side effects, what him, belonging body and soul to a human blessed by God, implies. With or without his brother's explanations, Lucifer had already understood that something was wrong with him. Since he had left Chloe on the balcony, since he had stopped touching her, to hear her voice, to see her… it had been like he had been 'dispoiled' of something. It hadn't just been a sensation, a feeling of loss, of grief or something alike.
No. It was different.
He had felt different; demons had felt it, as Hell had.
Lucifer had had to avoid more murder attempts than at the dawn of his reign. It had been a humdrum everyday life where neither the blood of his enemies, nor his slaves' or traitors' had been able to fill this void within him. First seen as a weakness, this change in him had then become a symbol of strength, fearful respect for the King of Hell. He didn't fear anyone, nor feel any pity, any rage that his opponents could have used against him. In that, the prophecy had looked complete.
Isn't that it, 'Evil'? No more feelings?
Evil had been released.
Lucifer has reached the middle of the office and the 'therapeutic' space where he hadn't sat for quite a while. His steps remind him of past ones, aimless, depressed, lifeless - between the dark cells of his kingdom.
His kingdom.
He passes his hand on the fabric of the couch.
His home.
The consonance stops there.
The feeling of emptiness had left him since the moment when Chloe had opened her door. Seeing her face again, her gaze that hadn't been able to meet his at first. But she had found him, it had been an unmatched explosion. He keeps bursting into flames; for a gaze, a word. He cares, feels again.
He feels so many things. Too many. But she helps him; Chloe helps him settle himself in reality, to care about details. Good manners in public, with the Douche, with people in general…. She helps, when she doesn't draw him further in this upheaval of sensations, when she's not the main one responsible for it. Does she do more good than hurt?
If she does, he doesn't bloody care.
She helps him 'live' again.
Life is a matter of humanity. Lucifer had lost sight of it, the Devil busied with other problems back then. Human principles and reactions; reactions - that's why he came here.
He can't lose sight of the most important.
Sitting down on the couch, Lucifer doesn't have to wait long before Linda passes the door and him. He waits for her to put her purse on the desk to report his presence. "I've known you to be more punctual, Doctor."
Linda turns so sharply that she drops her purse, its contents spreading all over the floor - a baby's bottle trundling to the Devil's feet.
"F—! Lucifer!"
"What's this, a therapy item of sorts?" he asks her curiously about the bottle, turning it in his hands.
"W- No, of course not. It's Charlie's."
Linda has trouble calming her breathing. Once she does, she kneels on the floor, picking up the contents of her purse with Lucifer's help, who is eager to get rid of his nephew's sticky drool. He never thinks he would regret touching a moist tip one day.
"Why did you bring this? Does he need therapy already?"
"My son's six months old, Lucifer, I doubt he's even able to express problems as complicated as my usual patients are," Linda answers annoyingly.
"I doubt he's able to express anything useful anyway."
"Why are you here, Lucifer?" she asks him as soon as she has picked up everything.
"Well, I understand that you were resuming work this morning. I thought…" he checks his watch. "I thought you'd start earlier, actually. I might have been mistaken about your schedule."
She shakes her head. "No, you're right. I was getting back today, but I- I shared a coffee with Chloe and we lost track of time."
Lucifer lifts his gaze when he hears the Detective's name.
"I can't say the same, Doctor. One more second and I could have sworn I was back in Hell! However, if this was about the Detective… I can hardly hold your lateness against you, I guess." He smiles, asking then, "Urgent matters, weren't they?"
For the second time in five minutes, Linda puts her purse on the desk. She turns to him, studying his expression carefully. She eventually pinches her lips, squinting a second later.
"You know, I have a common rule for girl and professional talks."
"Have you, now?" says Lucifer.
"No comment," she reveals, smiling at him.
Lucifer frowns, surprised that she doesn't want to answer him. The Detective had often been the main subject of their sessions, if not all the time. Thus, what she and Chloe have talked about shouldn't be a secret. Linda's smile grows larger by the second.
"Worried that she might have talked about you, aren't you?"
"I…."
"Did you try to talk directly at her about it?"
Lucifer shakes his head. He walks away from her, trying to keep his composure, to keep his feelings at bay. It seems an impossible task most of the time, but he manages to control now and then, thanks to Michael's words.
"Don't get too comfortable, Lucifer."
He clears his throat. "We don't really have time for that lately - as you might know, there's a killer on the run. That's why I'm here, I have a short window of time to resurrect my therapy before the Detective requires my help at the precinct."
Linda frowns as well, following Lucifer and stopping near the coffee table.
"To 'resurrect' your therapy, you say?" she repeats as he takes his place on the couch.
He nods.
"You were right, Doctor. Forgiveness, closure, draining all of these terrible thoughts about myself - it doesn't happen overnight. Everyone knows that I'm not the type to rush things, right? This sounds more like my Father, actually. He has been in a surprising rush to get my arse off my throne - just because I 'might' have died on the spot… Even my fall from Heaven hadn't been that rushed."
"Die? On the spot?" Linda repeats, sounding concerned. "You left that out the last time we saw each other."
"Well, I didn't see the point. As you can see, I am as good as new!"
Linda sits, claiming the start of professionalism. He missed this, as much as their talks - normal and inconsequential. There aren't many people to talk with in Hell, aside from yourself and that has never been a good sign. Unilateral talks lack spontaneity or unexpected turns for obvious reasons. Moreover, Lucifer isn't used to sharing his thoughts with his generals.
Hell isn't made for this.
Linda crosses her legs, still looking at him.
"But you do see the point now, as useless as it might be before. Which brings me back to my previous question - why didn't you talk about this at my place? You've been back two weeks and this is the first time I'm really hearing about your physical and psychological state."
She lifts her hands from her leg, then puts them back on her knee. "You haven't even asked for an appointment."
"No need for that, Doctor," says Lucifer. "I knew you'd be free as a bird at this hour. We have twenty minutes left before your next patient, which leaves us plenty of time to get back to our former doctor-patient relationship."
She gives him an odd look. "That sounds… rather creepy."
He puts aside her comment with a smile, " As about me being here now and not before… well, let's just say that I prefer our professional talks to others."
"Is that why you haven't tried 'lover' talks yet?" she asks him.
He stays quiet. Lover… It's been a while since he had some, first because none of his former lovers has been interesting enough to 'talk'. They never really cared about him either, just cared about a one-night stand with the Devil.
One-night stand.
There is no point to talking about this, is it?
As for the rest… well, he feels different with Chloe. Things go differently for him, not that he understands why so far. He didn't change his lifestyle for Eve. Maybe because she jumped into it headfirst. Anyway…
"May I ask about whom we're talking here? If you meant Eve, I haven't seen her si—" he explains himself.
Linda shakes her head. "I'm talking about Chloe, Lucifer."
He sits up, rubbing his hands on his pants.
"Oh, right. Right… Forgive my misunderstanding, Doctor. I thought we were talking about lovers, not about the Detective."
"So you don't see Chloe as your lover?"
"Well, I…." He breathes in. "The word 'lover' implies something more 'carnal' than what we've done lately. We're not lovers yet… not strictly speaking."
"What have you done so far?"
After he has leaned more comfortably against the back of the couch, Lucifer smiles at her. Its fabric and stiff conception doesn't help to get comfortable, however. Lucifer's sudden tension doesn't help either.
"You know what, Doctor."
She leans forward, persistent as ever, as he has feared she would be. As he has hoped her to be, in a way. It's him who has come to her, hasn't he? He did it to feel the inconsistency between Hell and Earth.
"I'd like to hear it from your mouth, actually."
"Eager for juicy details, are we?" he replies, tension turning his smile into a jolly mockery.
Linda waits quietly for his answer. She wouldn't give up now, would she?
Sighing, Lucifer looks away. "All right. Before I left, we… we expressed our feelings for each other. And since I've been back, we— I kissed her. Just once, that was yesterday. Well, it's the second time, if we take into account that night on my balcony."
Linda frowns, it lasts a second, before she comes back to a neutral, attentive expression.
"And… that's it? Why didn't you—" she looks for appropriate words. "—take the plunge? From what you've told us, Amenadiel and I, your return isn't meant to last, so… I mean, after all you've both been through, it'd be totally understandable that you'd want to take your relationship to the next level."
"As I told you, the Devil is not the type to rush things. Although you experienced it many times, didn't you?"
She coughs with embarrassment.
"I did. But you don't have that much 'time', do you? Also, you've been separated from each other for a very long time. I bet it's not the same in Hell than our time here…. Still, it's been six earthly months for Chloe." She shrugs. "How long has it been for you, Lucifer?"
He clenches his right fist on his tight. "Long enough, Doctor."
Sensing the subject as a sensitive one, she doesn't dig it further. She gives him a reassuring smile that relaxes the knuckles of his hand.
"Did you…" She hesitates. "Did you try to fill your carnal needs down there? You know, to 'divert' yourself?" This said, she lifts her hand, reassuring him about how fine it is even if it sounds bad. "Which is totally fine, Lucifer. Everyone can understand, as Chloe - I'm sure. As I said, it's been a while for both of you. You weren't even supposed t-to come back."
Her voice twitches on the last words. Lucifer stares at her, wondering if she has caught some infant disease from her child. Given how many baby's bottles she keeps in her purse these days, it might explain her odd intonation.
Besides her strange behavior, he thinks of what she has just said.
Diversions….
His last time in Hell has been long, 'long enough', for mixing up years, decades and longer periods of time together; so much so that he's still struggling to define the middle of his torment from the end. His tangled memories might be due to these side effects after his long, undoubtedly long, separation with the Detective. He has told her it was nothing serious, nor dangerous for her - still, he begins to have serious doubts about this.
Hard to sell something he doesn't believe in.
The more he thinks, the more his past emptiness comes to him as an answer. The thought must be wrong, he's not like this. Hell isn't Earth, but these diversions are the same from one plan to the other. It is 'wild', 'rough' - one might think for good reasons - but once again, this is a matter of details.
He smiles at his therapist, amused by her allusions which are surprisingly irrelevant.
"To divert myself… I guess it sounds like me, indeed. At least, it did," he answers, still smiling.
She sits up, intrigued. "So, you didn't…."
Instead of clear kinky words, Linda shrugs a bit. He guesses her movement as purposely suggestive, so much manner and awkwardness for a natural 'diverting' act. Lucifer laughs, shakes his head.
"I did not, indeed."
"Okay."
She nods. Again, puzzled and quiet. Again, awkward and polite. The silence doesn't last.
"Okay," Linda repeats, her brow deeply furrowed. "Why didn't you… ?"
Her hands move on her knee, her fingers stretched in and out for this implicit, fingering question. Having a great time to watch her try to stay professional, Lucifer arches an eyebrow and stays quiet. What would it be next? Charades, perhaps? His smile widens, his laughing deepens.
Aware that he won't help her, Linda puts her hands back on her knees, sighing her frustration. "Okay. Lucifer - you know exactly what I mean!"
"I'd like to hear it from your mouth, Doctor," he replies.
Shaking her head, she sighs once more.
"This isn't a game, Lucifer."
"Many would disagree, I would. Besides… weren't we talking about how I divert myself these days?" he insists with a broad grin.
"I know what you're doing."
"Waiting for a diverting denomination from you, perhaps?"
"You're trying to divert my attention."
He's quiet again, his smile fading a bit. "It seems like your favorite subject today."
"My subject for the day is your relationship with Chloe, Lucifer - why are you trying to avoid it? Do you have something to feel ashamed of? For what happened in Hell, maybe? I'm telling you, she will unde—"
He laughs at that, his hands joined with tension which slowly rises to his elbows. It can be heard in his voice already, but it doesn't control his thoughts yet. About thoughts, there's only one in his mind - there is nothing to be ashamed of.
Lucifer shuts her down. "Being ashamed implies bad actions. Badly or not, I can assure you I didn't act."
"Why is that?"
"I couldn't."
"Couldn't? Or… didn't want to, Lucifer?" hints her therapist.
He opens his mouth, convinced to have the answer as he is convinced that this is air filling his lungs. Doubts nevertheless replace confidence, then comes puzzlement. He… he doesn't….
Lucifer blinks several times, open mouth, tense hands from his sudden confusion.
"I-I…." His gaze meets Linda's. "I don't know."
Feeling the urge to move, Lucifer removes his hands from his pants and pushes against the uncomfortable couch beneath him. He shrugs, moving but not feeling relieved.
"I… Maybe… maybe both?" he finally says, unsure.
He can hear his doubts reverberating in his usually harmonious voice.
He knows what he wants, usually. He only cares about this, his wants. Consent… This is God's business. Consent is meaningless in carnal desire, it is a matter of desires - reciprocal ones, perfectly balanced between each other, filled to your heart's content. The Devil knows how desire works.
Now, however….
This is different, now. It is the same.
Wants and consent.
It's all the same.
He experienced it just yesterday before leaving Chloe. He has had second thoughts about what he could want, what she would allow him to show. What she wanted, what would have her consent… It's an obsession. Lucifer had always cared about her wants, what she might like or not, although never like this.
He nearly lost himself sometimes.
He feels lost.
"We should stop for now, Doctor. You next patient should be here in a second…." he says, about to sit up.
He needs some air, anything else than this couch, his therapist's gaze on him, than this dissonance playing him at his own game. He wanted to feel, put a distance between him and Hell, between him and this dissonance - he hadn't figured, back then, that it was a matter of physical details. It is in his mind, his feelings.
Lucifer is dissonant.
"I can stall it for a bit longer, don't worry." She looks at him, crossing his barriers. "Why do you react like this?"
"You really like the 'why' question, don't you?" Lucifer gets annoyed, jaw clenched. "This sounds bloody repetitive."
"Maybe it sounds this way because, deep down, you know the answer?" she inquires with a slight smile. "Why? Why keep your distance while your relationship is evolving in better ways? Why waste your time like this?"
Finally, another question comes. "Don't you find her attractive? Did it change?"
He stares at her like she has two heads instead of one. "Don't be preposterous, Doctor."
"I wouldn't be if you'd help me understand what's going on, Lucifer. Why are you holding back?"
"I am certainly not," he disagrees. "I kissed her! I couldn't hold back for a bloody second. I can hold back many things - surely, you know I can - but when it comes to her, I can't help myself o-of…."
"Of what?"
"Of wanting more!"
Lucifer's shoulders droop, following his head. He's feeling chaotic things, Chloe isn't even here with him.
Bloody Hell….
Is it how it looks like - overwhelming prepubescent romance?
He's the Devil, for G—
It's unworthy of him, of Chloe.
"It's perfectly normal to want more, Lucifer," Linda tries to reassure him, even if her words can't move his anxious gaze away from the floor.
"It's not."
"Why?"
"Because it's different, I feel different… can't say I like the feeling."
He hears her move, trying to find a more comfortable position on her seat. Lucifer rubs his face as he sits up, taking great care not to look Linda in the eye.
"Would you prefer to feel what you felt for Eve instead? What you felt for any other lovers of your life here?"
Lucifer takes a moment to think about it. What he'd felt for his lovers hadn't been much, perhaps… fondness? They hadn't talked much, it would have been difficult to feel much as well - just the movements of hips and the smell of sweat. He's not sure he's using the right term for what it really was back then. As each of these people has told to the Detective two years ago - it was just about sex.
Just sex.
But what about Eve?
It had been more between them, more than with his past lovers obviously, but less than he had first hoped. He had felt less than he ever felt near Chloe. Things couldn't have been different when, one like the other, they had stayed stuck in their past. Eve had only wanted to 'please' him, she had wanted her 'ex'. As for Lucifer, he had only cared about his 'Devil-side', how Chloe was seeing him.
Chloe.
At this point, everything inside him feels more whenever she is lurking around. Always more, in opposition to the gaping hole within him when he took back his place in Hell.
He rubs his fingers, shakes his head softly. "No."
His gaze meets Linda's once more. She nods, sympathetic.
"Change is a scary thing, Lucifer. It's all the more scary when you're about to take a significant step forward in your relationship with someone. You've told me how much you care for each other, you've accepted Chloe's feelings for you as she has with yours for her. This is a wonderful, significant step forward."
He makes a face. She notices.
"Wouldn't you say it's a good thing?"
"When did it ever be, Doctor?" he snarls. "In Hell? Between each of Dad's manipulations?"
He lets out a bitter exclamation. "I tried, I tried to see our situation as a chance, I told Chloe it was a chance for both of us - to be together, while I just feel cursed. We are, she and I. We're cursed, cursed to be together for the worst of remaining Eternity!"
Linda takes a deep breath, looking concerned by his speech. "Okay. I… guess we might see it that way. A very wrong way."
"Please, tell me how not to and I'll go through it! Chloe and I are linked to each other on the pretext that my feelings can literally control my body. I've doomed her to love me despite my nature, despite the fact that I must reign upon nightmarish hordes in exchange of fou—"
Lucifer stops, clenching his fists on his thighs, both his breathing and heartbeats getting faster with overwhelmed emotions. His Father can go fuck Himself, His Mother can burst in Hell, both for creating them like this; unable to live free, to experience all its sides. He could have been free not to come back, free to let Chloe live her human life, like before.
Like he'd never existed.
He doesn't exist. Who he is only exists near Chloe, there is no equivalent anywhere else. It only exists against her trembling lips, when he feels her skin against his, her smell, her eyes enslaving his other senses.
"She loves you, Lucifer. She chose to love you," says Linda.
"Does she?" he asks, desperate to believe her. "How can you be sure, Doctor?"
He shakes his head, squeezing his hands. He could have bruised his skin if he had been mortal.
"The prophecy, Uriel's proven correct patterns, Chloe being a miracle… I— I told her it was a pattern, a possible future but…" He sighs deeply. "But the more I think about all this, the more it seems meticulously planned from the beginning."
Michael didn't seem happy to replace him, but that doesn't mean His Father feels the same, after all. If God blessed the Detective's parents so that she would cross his path one day, so that she would change him like any other never managed to do, so that he would come to love her and have no control of it, so that he would give up his free will...
All this to subdue Lucifer to His will again?
God is a stubborn dick, to say the least.
"It's a possibility," she concedes. "God not being in charge of what's happening to you here is another. We talked about this before."
"Talk isn't proof," he grunts with a somber expression.
"And turning a possibility into some truth isn't… lying?"
"I also know it's a lie. The grand deception I've been telling myself of… since I can't remember."
"Maybe that He has nothing to do with this," she continues without giving him time to answer, neither to think. "Maybe that you really 'chose' this pattern with Chloe? Speaking of patterns, you know that life is unpredictable; you stopped an army of demons on Earth when Kinley's prophecy announced the opposite…."
"And yet here I am, Doctor." Lucifer lifts his arms mockingly, resigned. "Walking on Earth, far away from any demons, from this Evil to release yet!"
Linda tenses on her seat in a second.
"But you said they weren't a threat anymore, that Charlie was safe a-an…" Linda is worried, ready to jump from her seat and run to her son.
She squeezes her thigh, skirt and skin could turn as one in her grasp. She's staring at him, her expression torn apart by a feeling he can't stand to look further. Is this how a loving parent is supposed to react?
Chloe mentioned it once, but he never truly believed her.
Yet, Beatrice looks happy to him.
Because Chloe would stand against an army of demons without thinking twice, only to protect her, really? Linda seems ready to act so, right now.
"Is there a risk?" she asks him.
Of course, there is - he's no longer in charge. Michael's ways aren't his obviously, but their siblings would certainly help him more in the task than they ever did with Lucifer. If his deal with his Father turns nasty in the future. Apart from this, Lucifer knows that his brother isn't on his own down there, there is someone else - his most loyal weapon. She wouldn't let a single demon cross the doors of Hell, maybe their sliced guts if the worst came to worst.
She is Mazikeen's mother, after all.
Lucifer decides to keep these details to himself. He answers as close to the truth as he can be, he will not lie to her, to anyone.
"There's not much to fear with Michael in charge of Hell, but I'll be back quickly enough to ward off further risks. In the meantime, you know I'm here to watch over my nephew. Not just him." He smiles at her. "Also, I doubt that Maze or my brother would let anyone approach the little spawn since the last incident. Trust me, Doctor; Hell is in safe hands, trustful enough ones I'd say. I- Don't take my doubts at face value."
Then Lucifer frowns. Isn't it what he's been doing for a few minutes now?
His words help his therapist to relax, although they don't have the same effect on him. She has seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown, her trembling fingers nearly squeezing her nerves right through her skin.
She pinches her lips, pats her left hand on the right one, taking a deep breath.
"Okay. L-Let's stay focused on your problem, then. How about we try to see things from another angle? You're saying that God willingly pushed Chloe into your arms and vice versa?"
"Sounds like a good summary," Lucifer approves.
"And now, He'd force you to… keep your distance from her? Because that's what you're doing, for two weeks, right? And this, right after He'd manipulated you to come back on Earth? This sounds illogical."
Lucifer stops listening after her first supposition. "I do not keep my distances, I k—"
"—issed her, I got that," she ends for him, frowning.
She shrugs.
"We both know your sexual experience is inversely related to your self-discipline, Lucifer. It's just a kiss, just one compared with what you could have done together. What she might want to do with you?"
He quietly looks at her, beset with doubts.
Maybe.
Maybe that his Father isn't responsible, not more responsible than any other. It might be a 'chance', but what is it then? This… this irresistible impulse or self-control that never stops getting in the way of his wants?
His heart, his soul belongs to Chloe.
It is beyond a common declaration of love, beyond everything, even his understanding.
"You're choosing not to urge things, like Chloe," Linda continues, taking his quiet answer as an approval. "You can choose. And the origin of this choice explains why you feel flustered lately." She smiles. "Any ideas of what it might be?"
"Hold on, Doctor," Lucifer stops her by lifting his hand, his expression struck with realization. "You're saying that I can choose, that Chloe can as well…."
"I am."
"As a result, what's happening to us is all about our recent choices about this relationship. About the 'next step', am I right?"
She looks impressed. This isn't the first time he's thought in front of her, is it? He must have more common sense than her other patients.
"That's a great summary!" She sounds pleased. "So… What's your conclusion about this?"
Lucifer gets up, walking towards the window, coming back to the coffee table. His face lights up with each new step. He was right to ask for his therapist's help as soon as she has been available.
She is the most sensical human he ever met. Chloe's the first, of course.
"My conclusion is…."
She scrustinizes him with both hope and apprehension, slightly leaned forwards, towards him and his walk from one end of the table to the other. She raises her eyebrows. "Is… ?"
"That I'm—"
"That you're afr—?"
"—I'm able to change this!" Lucifer exclaims triumphantly. "I must help Chloe to make the right choice about me, about us."
Linda has pointed out the most important dissonance in their situation. It is a matter of details. Lucifer has no choice; he was born as a soldier, a servant, a slave in His Father's Plans, these possible patterns deeply linked to his immortality and the deep meaning of each of his past decisions - on a physical and psychological level.
But Chloe….
"Chloe is the only one who can change me, she's the origin of all these feelings. If I can convince her to change what she feels for me, I could free her from my grasp, I could go back to Hell and let her live her life!"
He rubs his chin.
"Or you could just… speak with her?" suggest Linda who has been quiet for a minute. "About what you feel?"
"Oh, but we will!"
Lucifer's smile widens as a plan starts to build in his mind. "We're going to have a 'lovers' talk, as you wisely suggested to me. I won't thank you enough for your help, Linda."
He looks at his watch, aware of how late he was. He shouldn't waste any more time if he wants to put his plan into action shortly. However, he needs to make a slight detour first. Chloe might not appreciate, but isn't it what he's looking for?
He takes his leave with a nod, already at her friend's - and therapist- door. "See you later. Say he— well, anything really, to Charlie for me. It's not like he'll answer any time soon."
Lucifer hears Linda sighing shortly after he passed the door of her office. "Not happening overnight at all…."
He doesn't waste more time to ask further explanations, his thoughts busy with the best manner to lead the Detective to the right choice, she must let him go, let him sound right until the End of Times.
He would be alone again.
He nevertheless prefers a lonely consonance than another dissonance against her lips.
