Author's notes:

To SPCLjmm : (mischievious grin) You'll see, read!

Here we go!

This chap is shorter than the previous one, but I hope you'll like it anyway. The shorter, the better - right? (sometimes). The next one might come back to usual length, though. So much to tell!

Music

'The Way I like it' | The Phantoms


TWO 'HAIL LUCIFER' IN ONE THRUST

10


It's round.

It's red.

And it fits in the palm of her hand.

Not exactly a fruit, even less a pomegranate from hell... but those were just details.

As long as it has the right shape, color, that it fits in her palm, Chloe can totally be entitled to a modern version of Persephone.

The stress ball rolls to her other hand, the right one welcoming its round form on the roll back, a perfectly straight line from limb to limb on her desk. From one point to another in space.

Earth and Hell are farther apart than this.

It's nothing like a straight line.

She stops the ball in her left hand, runs her fingers over it, its shapes warping slightly, made for this - to warp her worries. She puts the tip of her index finger on it, rubbing back and forth before adding the pressure of her middle finger. The ball, which has turned into rubbery ripples, rolls towards the keyboard, bounces on its keys, and then rolls back, submitted to her anxious grips again.

From one hand to the other, her gaze has changed course, it has followed the unexpected direction taken by this metaphorical pomegranate, focusing on the text on her screen.

...Zeus sent Hermes to convince Hades to release his illegitimate wife. Before releasing her, Hades placed a pomegranate seed in her mouth, knowing that its divine taste would force her to come back to him. In other versions of the myth, she might have been free if she hadn't eaten anything during her captivity in the Underworld. But, at the last moment, Hades gave her a pomegranate seed. In the end, a compromise was made and Persephone regained her freedom but had to live with Hades for a third of the year (or, according to some tales, half the year).

From the forefinger to the ring finger of the other hand, she starts to count.

Then, from the ring finger to the other middle finger, she counts the rest, quiet notes tapped against the rubbery fabric without her gaze drifting from anywhere other than these few sentences.

Two thirds of the year, 'earth' year.

Eight for four.

Or four for eight, like this other told version from another book?

Four.

Unfair score.

She takes a look at her calendar.

Maybe not?

The versions agree quite well on two periods, but quite not on their length of time. He had told her about mankind's flawed perception, many times - honestly, she could hardly contradict him or take offense before these variable details. Never a single version, single consequence, single action that had changed everything….

Yet, he was gone six months.

Six.

Not eight.

That was the other told number, the other parable about 'meeting halfway'.

That would have been more accurate. It is more accurate, more what she hopes for.

Six for six.

Added to this detail, there are the seeds eaten by the Queen of Hell; imprecise in some versions, specified at six in others. Sometimes only one, sometimes one more - but it's the number 'six' that comes up most often; for most versions.

Six.

They deserved this, didn't they? As much time together as apart.

Ask him.

That and others, old and new questions carried by his basic explanations. Her list of questions is as long as her arm. The biggest question is whether she had enough time to ask all of them or not, and maybe get an answer for each one.

The oldest question remains the most important.

A matter of time.

Dropping the ball in her open drawer, Chloe closes those browsers of human, perceptible indecision; her mind - like her screen - getting back to more professional concerns.

After three biographical paragraphs about the victim, her concerns take a U-turn, alerted by the empty chair at the other end of her desk. She knows how boring paperwork can be, but he couldn't avoid it forever - not that he tried to lately.

Not as exciting to keep her company now that they had cleared the air, is it?

After all, she had woken up alone this morning.

Chloe gently shakes her head, turning her attention back to her reading.

It shouldn't affect her that much. This is what she wanted, getting back to normal, getting answers - she controls her body, emotional responses about him, this, anything. Going back to her original self. She knows she hasn't forgotten how being herself now, neither has changed for the Devil.

She hasn't.

It's just... more. An improved version. Love 2.0.

Not seeing him around bright and early isn't dramatic; annoying, but not dramatic. Also slightly disappointing.

Because if she hasn't changed for him, things have changed between them; they needed to, to evolve into something better. Little by little. Not waking up alone on her couch, with the sun in her eyes and dry mouth; that would have been better.

A 'slight' better.

Better than the first version, too.

She can still picture him, like it was yesterday. But that was two weeks ago, the only time she had seen him stay on that couch for a whole day and night, waking up the next morning - the first time in months, six months. She wishes she could have seen his long eyelashes brushing his skin, without any bruises from Hell - the one they had endured from one space to another -, the quick movement under his closed eyelids and this deep breath before opening his eyes.

It would have been better, to finally know if he was breathing in as loudly each time. He had teased her about her 'Albanian' snores the first year - she doesn't, just inhales deeply through her mouth from time to time - and she'd have liked to return him the favour this last year.

That and many other little details.

He's the Devil, fine; but 'imperfect' Devil next to 'God's miracle'.

Rubbing her hands together, she thinks back to the same movement last night; in his hair. Perfect, damn representation of his perfection.

She smirks.

Almost perfect.

One hand, ideally two, is enough to find out the truth - unruly curls, hair details of something better between them.

"I want more; for you, for me."

Chloe lets out a sigh in front of her screen before rubbing her temples.

She'd just like half of the pomegranate.

Two equal parts.

She looks back to the chair, still empty - unequal parts to Lucifer's sustained presence. She'd spend enough time without him so that she wouldn't have to endure his absence already.

So, as pathetic as it might look - as much as she thought it so yesterday at the same time, same place - Chloe takes her phone out of her pocket, playing new silent notes; from one modern Persephone to her Hades.

C : Where r u?

Once the text has been sent, she turns the phone twice between her fingers, playing more notes afterwards.

C : Pb at Lux?

She is obviously pathetic one minute later, grasping the device with both hands as soon as she heard it vibrate on the desk.

L : Not at all, Detective.

L : Lab.

She frowns, reading the last word again before turning around.

Nothing at first, then Lucifer's imposing silhouette passes in front of the lab window. Leaving the phone and stress ball at her desk, she opens the door a minute later, as much puzzled from one place to another. "Lucifer?"

"Detective!" he welcomes her cheerfully. "Just the person we needed!"

"It's cheating if you get help!"

"The Devil doesn't cheat!" he exclaims, sounding offended.

"Who knows, hm?" Ella teasingly replies.

"I do, because I am the Devil."

The door wide open, Chloe hears Ella's sigh in the back of the lab. "How about you playing Adnachiel for once? He's not the cheating type... angel of truth and all that, without cheating!"

Chloe looks at the angel, subject to interpretation, almost choking after her colleague's friendly proposition - albeit sore loser, apparently - , her elbows on her desk, Lucifer's face and hers as close to her laptop as it can be.

Lucifer instantly sits up, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Turning to his partner, who's more intrigued than open-mouthed, he asks for her assistance; "You tell her, Detective! I'm done shouting myself hoarse about the truth!"

Ella rolls her eyes before she gets the chance to speak.

"Nah, 'no needs. Chloe is so into you - She'd say anything to please you, buddy. I guess that's love, uh? With a capital L!" She then notices Chloe's frown and adds with a smile, "A super cute capital L!"

"Who doesn't cheat, Miss Lopez," Lucifer insists.

Chloe opens and closes her mouth. "Lucifer?"

"Detective?"

Ella's smile widens like never before… the last hours. She crosses her hands beneath her chin, mouthing two words; 'super cute'. The red walking heart on her blue sweater tells her appraisal quite clearly.

Chloe is surprised that she hasn't yet printed 'Deckerstar' T-shirts for her and half the precinct.

If she's destined to be embarrassed at work….

Chloe looks away, to Lucifer. Her eyes linger on him much longer than necessary, losing their way through his hair - not a single curl, damn perfect hair style -, to his eyes, warm brown perdition. Then on his body, down from his black shirt and gray suit jacket to his belt and its iron buckle.

Cute?

Not the first word crossing her mind.

She waves towards the door. "I- How long have you been here?"

"Oh, just came around 9 AM," he says. "I didn't want to repeat yesterday's lateness so I left you to your throaty snores this morning to stop off at my place. Once there, I changed and arrived right on time to assist you."

Chloe sees Ella's expression change throughout his explanation. Avoiding meeting her gaze glinted with innuendo, she asks him; "But... I haven't seen you since I arrived."

"True. You were taking your time to show up; expected side effects from sleeping soundly in the Devil's arms, I guess…" Ella coughs, Lucifer staring at her for a brief moment before continuing; "So I made us some coffee, as some for Miss Lopez. Such an early-bird! Aren't you, darling?"

"Hmm," Ella coughs, her broad smile barely hidden beneath her closed fists.

"I didn't get that coffee," Chloe distinctly points out to him.

Lucifer studies the bottom of his own mug. "You didn't need it anymore, Detective. I saw you coming in with your Thermos; clever strategy by the way - this concoction is bloody undrinkable, with or without a generous amount of bourbon," he sighs as he puts the mug back on the table.

"So...you did see me coming in? An hour ago?" Chloe recaps, folding her arms, her fingers tapping a few annoying notes on them. "And you didn't join me?"

That's... This wasn't the 'better' she'd imagined.

It's far from whatever she'd imagined after last night.

Lucifer nods. "You were doing just fine without my help."

"Of course... because paperwork is secondary; no need to support me, got it."

He smirks.

"I would have gladly joined you, if you'd have another computer screen - to support you properly."

She squints, her mouth set in a hard line.

"Sure…" she mutters without taking her eyes off him, annoyed gray orbs that don't need much to blaze. "I should get one! Maybe Ella's, hm?"

Ella, quiet admirer of their conversation so far, sits up on her stool, shaking her head.

Lucifer scoffs at her last comment, not at all worried by her perceptible annoyance. "Uh-uh... jealous again, Detective?"

"Again?" Ella repeats, much too interested in Chloe's love life - although not caring about her possible jalousy.

She has no reason to care, though. Chloe is in no way jealous.

She's not.

Not jealous.

Chloe shakes her head while Lucifer turns his to Ella, also very interested by the reaction of the latter. "Oh, she didn't tell you about the first time? Our repeated private talks may have been confusing, for sure! Although the Detective had really nothing to fear from your side of the bargain. I've never been so bored in my life - just two fornications during confession!" His smirk turns into an inappropriate smile, "Two 'Hail Lucifer' in one thrust, so to speak - or cry."

Ella turns to Chloe, her eyebrows arching with Lucifer's explanations. Once he finishes, her smile has reached new heights, her eyebrows can't go higher on her forehead, really.

"Ooooh, since my first year here? Decker!" she exclaims, her hand placed above her true and painted heart. "You're flattering me!"

"Never doubt your assets, dear," Lucifer adds.

"I'm not jealous," Chloe rebels, rising heat in her cheeks.

Not jealous at all.

Lucifer, like Ella, stares at her skeptically. Leaving the debate at its starting point, Chloe points the laptop with her chin. "Anyway… I doubt that whatever's going on with this screen can be more exciting than a murder to solve."

"This isn't about the screen, Detective. But your..." gazing at Ella who has once again sat up, a protest on her open lips, Lucifer adds,"…'impartial' opinion could be helpful here."

Her arms crossed on her chest, Chloe glares at him. "Oh, so... now it's my turn to assist you?"

Lucifer nudges her colleague, his cheeks digged with dimples that are, if not 'cute', undoubtedly irresistible. "Isn't there a better partner in the world, Miss Lopez?"

Hearing him, Chloe's annoyed expression cracks open with a flicker of a smile. She rolls her eyes and shuts the door, Lucifer's 'absence-presence' already half-forgiven, her full forgiveness won with a simple look - brown heat brushing her face, lips and neckline - red cotton on blushing skin.

Like a pomegranate.

Like Persephone.

She joins Hades, who's caught up in a completely different debate with Ella.

"Look at its shape, Miss Lopez!" he says, pointing at the screen.

"Look at the bills, Lucifer," Ella answers him, pointing at the screen as well.

He shakes his head. "Come on, you can't base your arguments on their biased monetary valuation! This is my field of expertise, dear - I know what I'm saying."

With these words, he pulls the screen towards him.

Chloe walks around the table and looks over his shoulder at the black and white video - which is regularly paused by their impatient and immature fingering.

Two kids.

"What are we looking at?" she asks them, her chest pretty much pressed against her partner's back.

She smiles as his finger freezes over the keyboard.

"Our dear Miss Lopez deluding herself, obviously."

Chloe sighs.

"I was talking about the video, Lucifer."

"So was I, Detective."

"This is the last footage from the security cameras outside the Youth Center," Ella explains to her.

"I thought they were all out?" Chloe wonders.

"Not all of them, no. Well... yeah, but the one in the garage was still working the day before the murder. Not really helpful for our investigation, but—"

"But you're going to lose the bet," Lucifer finishes.

"What 'bet'?" Chloe asks then, definitely pressed against him to reach the keyboard.

The explanation gets lost in Lucifer's sudden silence. She breathes in, causing a slight rubbing against the back of his suit jacket. He exhales, all tensed muscles until the next breath. His back is as perfect as the rest; nothing that really surprises Chloe. Suits could enhance men, not pretend perfection.

She likes to feel him react to her closeness.

It's also intimidating.

Especially when her imagination goes beyond this suit, further beyond.

She clears her throat to dislodge these inappropriate thoughts, then pulls the computer towards her - and him -, using the mouse to read the video from the start.

The garage.

That's where the victim arrived the next day. They may discover some interesting things there. She watches the teenagers' imprecise silhouettes, crowded in a corner, not far from the camera; staff members parking their cars, leaving, others sitting on the hood.

Ella goes to the mat, encouraged by Lucifer's prolonged silence. "Dude… that's cocaine. I'll bet my life on it!"

"Don't be so dramatic; ten bucks will be plenty enough," Lucifer says very seriously. "For this modest sum, I assure you it's speed."

"But he gave him several hundred bucks! Cocaine!"

Lucifer snorts, waving his hand to dismiss her argument. "Come now, those kids can't afford that much, for obvious reasons. And let me remind you that I've far better sight than yours - these are five bucks, no more! Speed, Miss Lopez."

"Francis."

They both stare at Chloe.

"This psychoactive drug sounds new to me, Detective. Good stuff, I hope?"

She shakes her head, not taking her eyes off the screen. "It's not stuff, it's someone. Francis, it's the boy who was hanging around the crime scene yesterday."

It's him, for sure; the same black oversized sweater on his skinny chest, hair down to his shoulders. He's back to the camera, but his quick gestures look like this kid. In a hurry to leave, not to get caught. If he ever was, he wouldn't have had two days to gather his things and leave the place; classic and frequent sentence for drug use, reduced to immediate expulsion and a call to the police if he'd deal some. He looks more like a junky than some cautious drug dealer, anyway.

If he has withdrawal symptoms, everyone in the center should have noticed. Unfortunately, they had had to stop regular blood tests for past junkies for a year now - not enough money. They should have noticed this, though. It's so obvious.

She should have noticed, yesterday.

But she'd only focused on Lucifer and Dan's crappy behavior.

"It looks like 'hanging around' is his thing," Lucifer says. "And speed."

Ella sighs deeply and moves the mouse towards the pause button, stopped by Chloe shortly after; "Wait."

They watch the tandem bargaining a few bags of speed - or cocaine - between two cars, then a third person's shadow appears on the concrete floor, just to their left. The dealer, cautiously hooded, shoves Francis and disappears into the blind spot. Penelope Sanchez appears from the left side, shouting at Francis for the next five minutes.

"Well... Wouldn't that be our victim?" Lucifer sounds as surprised as she is right now.

"She went to the center the day before she was murdered…."

Chloe advances the video to ten minutes later, accelerating the altercation until Francis' departure, more agitated than before; Penelope stays between the cars for a moment before disappearing as well.

"Nobody saw her that day," Chloe says, pausing the video. "No one, if not him. She probably went home after that."

Ella sits up on her stool. "She looked pissed."

"Probably because he chose speed and not cocaine. Rich people have a trained eye for drugs." Saying this, Lucifer gives a victorious smile to her.

"The rules of the center are very strict regarding drug use," Chloe continues, walking away from Lucifer and Ella.

Folding her arms once again, her fingers mechanically play a few notes going with her thoughts. "Perhaps Penelope threatened to denounce him? And he panicked?"

As soon as she says it aloud, her theory sounds all the more improbable. It makes sense, but...

The murder.

The murder wasn't impulsive, nothing like murderous reaction from a teenager having withdrawal symptoms, who looks ready to flee at the slightest insistent gaze towards him.

Not to mention how much time has passed between their argument and the murder.

Francis is impulsive, unpredictable.

It doesn't fit.

"No, the murder is too precise in its execution. Can't be Francis…" she sighs.

"If I may, Detective…" Lucifer speaks. "This young man doesn't seem to be particularly audacious, given the location of this 'illegal' exchange. I don't see him risking additional bruises in East Los for something as hardly exhilarating as speed."

"So, your point?"

"So; why was he there in the first place? Near the crime scene, moreover?"

Good question.

She didn't even think to ask him yesterday morning.

Chloe chews on her bottom lip, her fingers tensing on her sleeves. She has let herself be led by her emotions, her worries spiraling in her mind; far, so far away from what she should really care about.

Whether she looks like Persephone or not, Chloe is a cop, dammit.

As she has just started a serious relationship with Lucifer, her partner, she can't afford to neglect her work. She hadn't done it with Dan, neither when she'd been with Marcus, as short as it has been.

A shiver raises along her spine.

Not the best comparison to speak in her favor, in favor of her professional instinct.

She's better than that.

She wants to be better than that.

"You're right," she says, nodding. "We should ask him."

"Chloe?"

She turns around, Dan waving at her, his other hand on the handle. He opens his mouth, his gaze going from his ex-wife to the Devil, sitting a bit further in the lab.

His fingers tense around the handle.

"What's up, Dan?" Ella greets him, both hands on her desk.

"One of the kids hasn't showed up yet. Wanna start with the next one instead?" he asks Chloe, tensing up in seconds.

"Who hasn't?"

"Francis Rivera."

"Isn't that 'coke-mical', Detective?" her partner sounds pleased about this, perfectly relaxed near Ella, to whom he shows his open palm with an arched eyebrow.

She shakes her head. " 'Not proving anything, buddy."

Lucifer sighs loudly as he lowers his hand, his forehead creased. He then turns to his partner. "Well, I suppose we'll have to find this 'speedy' sheep and bring him to you, then. The truth will stare you in the face, dear. I won't lose the bet, so help me Father!"

Dan lets out a mocking exclamation, to which Lucifer answers with a smile as polite as annoying. "Not that most people can stare it straight in the eye."

Not that some 'douche' can.

He's gonna say it.

Chloe warns him not to with a glare, taking a deep breath. "Okay! W-we're gonna... Lucifer?"

"Detective?"

She's doing her best not to smile, really. With a twitching mouth, she tilts her head towards the door. "Let's go."

"I live to assist you," he says reverently.

He hasn't joined her at the door yet that Ella mouths her two favorite words for the second time - "Super cute!"

And again, these aren't the ones coming to mind.

'Super Lucifer', instead.

It's so 'Lucifer'. And so far from what she's imagined after that night. But what has she imagined? The Devil standing at attention, ready to assist her day and night?

She hasn't changed for him, because of him - why should he?

Chloe watches him, listens distractedly to his comments in the tone of normality, of their usual partnership.

She was hoping for something better, but... wasn't that just it; a simple return to normal? Isn't this the best way to enjoy their time together? Like they would have acted, with or without these new mythological-angelic restrictions?

"Just... live for today?"

Or is that the worst way?

She could be Persephone, a miracle, the Queen; she's still Chloe Decker, eager for something 'better'. Her 'best'.

She doesn't want one, six or seven pips; she wants the whole damn fruit basket.


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