She meets Decker at the intersection just before one of the local container ports. "Our guy is here?" She asks, peering at the labyrinth of cargo containers stacked on top of one another. This late in the day the port is empty, with only the sound of waves and gulls hanging in the air. "How are we going to find him?"
Decker's eyes are eager, his body practically trembling with adrenaline. He reminds her of a bloodhound on the scent. "Gabby pegged his signal coming from over there." He points to the right. "She couldn't get any closer than that. We're going to have to go in carefully." He takes his gun out of the holster on his belt.
She does the same. "You go first. I'll watch your back."
He gives her a quick, grateful smile, and together they make their way through the maze of containers. She listens hard for any sound, any movement that might give them an idea of where Clive might be.
Why on earth, she thinks to herself, would Clive come here of all places? He couldn't go back home but surely he had contacted Vinny when he left the precinct.
Decker turns the corner just ahead, Joy following close behind. The containers are piled high around them, making her a tad claustrophobic.
Decker angles his head to glance back at her with a bemused expression. "Why here?" He echoes her earlier question, almost as if talking to himself. "What's so important that he had to come to the docks?"
Before she can respond, they hear the sharp crack of a gunshot. Decker takes off, Joy not far behind. Her heart is hammering. She only hopes they aren't too late-
She almost collides into Decker as he halts abruptly just around the corner. Todd Fleming is standing a few feet in front of them, gun pointed at his father's chest.
"Easy, Todd. Easy." Decker says. He keeps his gun trained on the kid, but his voice is low, soothing. "Let's not do anything foolish, now."
Joy shifts so she is on Decker's right, her own gun raised. Todd's eyes are wide in his face, darting back and forth between the two of them. He's pale, shaking, and Joy feels a quick tug of pity. He looks so young and terrified.
"Todd, put the gun down, now." Like her partner, Joy keeps her voice calm, so as not to startle the kid into doing something he might regret. "It's all right."
"You said you needed a confession to put him away, right?" Todd asks, his voice high with anxiety. "Well, he's going to confess now. Aren't you?" He pushes the gun closer to Clive's face.
For his part, Clive simply looks resigned. His attention is focused, not on the gun only a few inches from his nose, but on his son. "Yeah. Yeah, it was me. I killed Haley."
"There, you see?" Todd glances at them frantically. "He did it. It was his fault, like it always is."
A muscle jumps in Decker's jaw. "I heard him, Todd. But it's a lie, isn't it? You killed Haley."
"What?" Todd's breathing is coming out in shallow, harsh gasps. "No, I tried to warn her! He's a bad guy, he'll always be-"
"People can change, Todd." Decker reminds the younger man gently. "It may take a long time, but it does happen." His gaze flicks over to Joy, a message she understands. He'll keep the kid talking while she subtly moves into a better position. "I know it probably wasn't easy growing up with your dad."
Todd lets out a high shriek of laughter. "Easy? Of course it was easy. He was never around!" He jabs the gun in Clive's face, and Joy and Decker's hands jerk on their own guns.
But the kid is too busy berating his father. "Every time I thought you had it together, you messed it up." He tells Clive in a trembling voice. "You kept telling me that you'd change, that you would become a better person, but you never did. You never cared about me."
"That's not true." Joy has no idea how Clive manages to sound calm with a gun pointed right between his eyes, but he does. "You're my son. I love you. That's why I didn't call you when I got out of prison this time. I'd been a screw-up for most of your life. I thought you would be better off without me."
"But you called Haley." Todd grinds out. "You called her the day you got out. I didn't even know you had been released until Mom told me a few days ago. She wouldn't tell me where you were, that's why-"
"That's why you went and talked to Haley." Decker finishes for him. "You wanted to know where your dad was."
"And to warn her." Todd snaps back. "But she wouldn't listen to me." He turns back to Clive. "She kept saying you changed, that she was going to help you...as if she had any idea. She's not your kid. She didn't have a clue. She said I should be proud of you for trying so hard." Todd lets out caustic bark of laughter. "I should be proud of you. Like a few weeks of being a decent human being makes up for the years that you missed out on because you are more interested in being a thief than a father."
"You're angry." Decker surmises. "But not because Haley didn't believe you, but because your dad was willing to change for her, and not for you."
Joy eyes her partner. She knows he's playing up his sympathy to keep the kid from shooting Clive, but she doesn't think it's entirely feigned.
"He wasn't there for you when you needed him. That's why you killed Haley in that alley, and why you planted a knife with your father's fingerprints. You wanted to punish him for being a crappy father."
Todd's eyes are bright with malice. "She kept yammering on and on about how good he had been, how he was coming in early, working late shifts...like that makes up for abandoning me for most of my childhood. I was so sick of it. I convinced her to go out to the alley with me, just to talk. On the way out of the kitchen, I grabbed one of the knives from the counter."
"And killed her." Decker continues, his eyes never leaving Todd's face. Joy shifts over a little more. She's almost right behind the kid-a few more steps and she can shoot Todd without causing a fatality.
"She died pretty quick." Todd is telling her partner with relish. Joy feels a wave of revulsion sweep over her. "It was then that I had the idea of blaming it on my dad." He shoots his father a venomous look. "I snuck back into the kitchen and grabbed a similar knife, using a towel to keep it from getting my fingerprints. I stabbed her a few more times, just to make it more confusing. I left that knife at the scene. I hid the one I used here on my way home." Todd turns back to his father. "I knew that you would be blamed for her murder, and that the evidence would put you away for good, this time. I thought," Todd's voice cracks. "It would be enough so I wouldn't ever have to see you again."
Decker shakes his head. "Todd, I get it. My dad hasn't always been there for me, either. It sucks, to feel like you've been abandoned." His voice wavers a little. "But even if he deserves to be punished for it, was it really worth taking your cousin's life?"
"I didn't have a choice!"
"Yes, you did." Decker tells the kid firmly. "We all have choices, Todd. Believe me. You chose to kill your cousin. You chose to pin it on your father. And you chose to track him down with a gun, to force a false confession out of him." He sighs, as if Todd has somehow disappointed him. "Those are a lot of bad choices, Todd. But you can make one good one. Put the gun down, now." He motions to the gun in Todd's hand. "Put it down, and we'll go back to the station and clear this thing up."
For a minute, Joy thinks that Todd is going to do what Decker says. He stares at Decker, dazed, the gun drifting slowly to the ground. Joy relaxes her grip on her own gun a fraction. Perhaps they will all get out of this-
Todd yanks the gun back up with a speed she didn't expect him to have. Only instead of pointing it at his father, he's pointed it at Decker.
As the kid pulls the trigger, Joy doesn't think, just reacts. There's a blinding bolt of pain in her chest, right above her heart, as she jumps in front of Decker. She barely hears Decker's panicked shout as she falls to the ground, her vision blurring.
More gunshots. A cry of pain. A terrified scream.
Joy lays on the ground, focusing on breathing through the pain. Her vision has gone dark, but not so dark that she can't see Decker's white face above hers.
"Joy? Joy, stay with me." He commands.
She's not sure she's going to be able to do that. The pain has spread from her shoulder, to her lungs, and it's getting harder and harder to stay awake.
"I...I don't want to die." She breathes.
Decker's blue-grey eyes bore into hers. "You're not going to die." He promises. "My father and I won't let you. No, Grandfather is just going to have to wait."
Decker turns his face away from her to talk to someone out of her line of vision. She gets one last, blinding jolt of pain before the darkness washes over her, and she passes out.
If Sam had the ability to slow time like his uncle, he would have used it the minute Joy got shot trying to protect him.
Fury he rarely experiences turns his vision red-and from the way Todd's eyes widen, he has a feeling that it is literal as well as figurative. It takes effort, but instead of shooting the kid in the heart he aims for the leg, and Todd falls to the ground with a cry of pain.
As far as Sam's concerned, the kid can cry all he wants. He's more worried about Joy. Immediately he crouches down next to her, using his radio to summon back-up and an ambulance.
"Joy? Joy, stay with me." He says breathlessly. He puts pressure on the wound on her chest. He has a small amount of medical training, courtesy of his Aunt Linda, who had gotten tired of being the only "doctor" in the family. He wings a quick prayer up to his Grandfather that Joy can make it long enough for the ambulance to get here.
He totally forgot about Clive.
There's a pain in his shoulder, and Sam lets out a vicious swear as the bullet buries itself in his upper arm. He glances up to see Clive pointing the gun at him.
"I can't let you put my son in jail." says the ex-thief thickly. "This is all my fault."
"No arguments here." Sam blinks up at the barrel of the gun.
"I was a lousy father. If I had been better...maybe Haley would still be alive." Clive sucks in a breath. "This...this is the one thing I can do to make things right." He points the gun right between Sam's eyes.
He pulls the trigger, but in a heartbeat, a man appears between Sam and Clive. The bullet doesn't seem to faze him as he grabs the gun from Clive's hand and uses it to smack the ex-con across the face.
Sam's father grabs Clive by the shirt and throws him, hard, into one of the containers. Clive's face drains of color, and Sam doesn't need to hear his scream to know his father has given him a peek at his Devil face.
His father gives Clive another hard push against the wall, knocking the other man out. He glances over at Todd, but Todd hasn't moved. He just holds his hurt leg, staring at Sam's father with utter horror.
Sam turns his attention back to Joy. Despite his confident words, he feels a thrill of terror when he notices the amount of blood, how pale and clammy her skin has become.
"How is she?" His father crouches next to him.
"Not good." He answers. "An ambulance is on the way, but I don't think they'll get here in time. They have to drive through this damn maze of containers." He inadvertently presses harder on her wound, and she whimpers. He shoots his father a look of pure panic.
His father's gaze has narrowed in on his arm. "You're hurt?"
Sam had barely noticed, but now that his father has mentioned it, he feels the white-hot blaze of pain in his right bicep. "It will heal soon enough."
Being half-angel had its advantages. He wasn't completely invulnerable, but he healed quicker than the average human. As long as he got the bullet out within the next hour or so, he would probably only have a bruise by later tonight.
"Do you feel well enough to fly?" His father asks in an undertone.
Sam rolls his shoulder experimentally, and winces. "I could probably do it, so long as it wasn't a long trip. What are you thinking?"
His father peers down at Joy, a strangely tender expression on his face. "Flying her to the hospital will be quicker than waiting for the ambulance."
Sam doesn't bother to think about it, just gathers Joy in his arms as gently as possible. "What about them?" He jerks his head towards the unconscious Clive and the currently sobbing Todd. "They need to be brought in, processed…and the knife Todd used to kill Haley is around here, somewhere."
His father waves a hand at him. "I'll deal with that and wait with them until the back-up you summoned gets here." His eyes flash as he looks over at Todd. "I'll make sure this one gets the proper punishment for his crime."
Figures that his father had shown up in time to hear Todd's confession.
Sam gets to his feet, clutching Joy in his arms. "Thanks, Dad." Then, on impulse, "I'll stop by the penthouse tonight. There's some things we need to talk about."
Worry-and a little guilt-dances across his father's face. "Yes, we do. But it can wait. Now, go." He makes a shooing motion.
Sam lets out a breath, allowing his wings to unfurl just as the last of the air leaves his lungs. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Todd's eyes widen in awe.
His wings are spectacular, he thinks with no small sense of vanity. Like his father's they are a brilliant white, though while his father's are white all over, Sam's are edged in black along the edges, like they had been outlined in charcoal.
But most importantly, they are a fast mode of transportation. He gives his father a quick nod before shooting off into the sky.
Joy wakes up to the sounds of beeping and the sterile smell of the hospital. When he sees her eyes open, Decker's mouth slowly curves into a smile.
"Well, look who's back."
Joy blinks, trying to gauge the amount of time she has been unconscious. "How long have I been out?" Her voice is raspy. It feels as if she hasn't had anything to drink for days.
Decker clicks his tongue against his teeth. "About three hours, give or take." He nods to the gauze pad wrapped over her chest. "You were lucky. The bullet didn't hit any major organs, so it didn't take long to stitch you up. You'll be out of here in no time." He studies her, an inscrutable expression on his face. "You jumped in front of a bullet for me."
"Of course I did." She says matter-of-factly. "You're my partner."
Appreciation mixed with bemusement fills his blue-grey eyes.
She carefully pushes herself into a sitting position, hissing through her teeth. She might be on pain relievers, but it is damn hard to tell. Decker helpfully hands her a plastic cup filled with water and she gulps it down.
When it no longer feels like her mouth is filled with cotton, she asks, "What about Todd, and Clive?"
"Both in custody. I already got a call from my sister saying that Todd confessed to Haley's murder. He'll get to enjoy plenty of father-son bonding time with Clive in prison."
She looks at him blankly. "I thought Clive didn't kill Haley?"
"He didn't. But shooting a cop is still a felony." When she just looks at him blankly, he points to his right arm.
"Clive shot you?" She asks doubtfully. He looks just as fresh and healthy as he had this morning.
"Fast healing is one of the fringe benefits to being half an angel. Now that I've dug the bullet out, I won't have so much as a bruise tomorrow morning." He tells her, a little smugly.
She shakes her head. "You're just messing with me because I'm on morphine." She complains.
He grins. "Believe what you want." His expression turns serious. "Funny thing happened while you were passed out. I called the precinct to track down your emergency contacts. Turns out, you don't have any." He tilts his head. "When I called Charlie to ask why the hell that was, he told me what happened to your parents. Why didn't you say anything?"
"I don't like to talk about it." She shrugs and immediately regrets the action.
"I get that, but I wish you had told me. I wouldn't have dreamed of dragging you into all my family drama, had I known." He leans forward and folds his arms over the bed rails. "I'm sorry."
She studies him for a long moment. Most people, when they hear about her parents, say they're sorry, as an automatic response. Something to fill the awkward silence after learning the truth. Few know what it's like to lose one parent, let alone two.
But she suspects that Decker understands the feeling better than most.
Her mouth tilts up in a smile.
"It's all right. In a weird way, I liked being dragged into your family drama." She ducks her head. "That's probably why I went looking for your dad after the two of you fought."
He looks surprised. "You did?"
"I didn't mean to intrude." she rushes on before he can say anything else. "Whatever the problem is, it's between you and your dad. But you both seemed pretty miserable, so I thought maybe if I talked to him, he might at least come around long enough to help us with the case." She snorts. "I don't think I made much of a difference."
Decker smiles. "Oh, I think you made quite an impression." He leans back in his chair, eyes dancing. She's not sure what's so funny. "Well, drama or no, it seems you are now an honorary member of the family. I have been no less than commanded to invite you to dinner at my Aunt Linda's Sunday night-if you're feeling up to it." He adds quickly, his gaze flicking to her shoulder.
Joy, touched that they would include her in a traditional family event, gives him a brilliant smile. "Really? I'd love to."
His smile is affectionate. "I got you something." He reaches down to grab a bag next to his chair. "As a thank you." He tosses the bag on the bed.
Ridiculously pleased, she untangles the hardcover book and reads the title out loud. "The Divine Justice Series." Puzzled, she reads the back cover. "Angel Oriel and her demon friend Zagan travel to Deadwood, South Dakota and find themselves embroiled in a murder." She glances up at Decker. "No way this is real."
"Oh, it is" Sam replies, a little too gleefully. "Part of a series, as a matter of fact. They're some of my favorite reads."
"Because it was written by a family member?" She points to the main character depicted on the cover who, she thinks privately, is rather scantily clad for an angel.
"No, and as far as I know my father doesn't even have a sister named Oriel. There is a demon named Zagan, but I'm pretty sure he can't read, so that's probably just a coincidence." Decker taps the book. "Most of the Heaven and Hell stuff is wildly inaccurate, and the mysteries are pretty easy to solve once you know the formula."
"Then why read them?" She asks, turning the book over in her hands.
"Because," His expression fills with mischievous delight, "they drive my father crazy."
"Why?"
"In the books the Devil is depicted as this ex-angel who was sent to Earth by God to weed out the unrighteous. The character follows all of God's orders like a well-trained soldier and it makes my father furious to be so badly misrepresented." Decker snickers.
Her mouth twitches in an effort not to smile. "Do you read them just to annoy your dad?"
"Well, there's lots of violence and sex scenes in them, too." He admits. He leans back in his chair. "I used to hide copies around the penthouse whenever Dad annoyed me." Decker's eyes twinkle at the memory. "Under the couch cushions, behind the bar, anyplace he'd stumble onto them accidentally. I even hid one inside his piano. Drove him mad."
Joy grins. "He never figured out it was you?"
Decker holds up a finger. "Ah, there's the tricky part." He says cheerfully. "I never lie to my father, so I had to enlist outside help. I would give them the book and the hiding spot, and they would plant it. That way, when my father finally came across the book, I could say," He makes an expression that he probably thinks is innocent, "'I never hid the book there, Father'. And it would be the truth. Usually it was Maze, or my uncle Amenadiel-Charlie's father, you'll meet him Sunday-who hid the book." He grins at her proudly. "I even got my mother to hide a copy one time."
Joy studies her partner. There is something different about him. It occurs to her that she hasn't seen this version of him yet-fun-loving, mischievous, a bit of a troublemaker.
He seems lighter, somehow. She has a feeling that because of his mother's death and his father's subsequent disappearance he's had too much grief to deal with. He couldn't allow himself a chance to relax and have fun.
She wonders if maybe that was why Lieutenant Martin made them partners-maybe he hoped that she could alleviate some of that burden.
She squirms a little, not sure how to feel about that.
"Well, thanks for the book, Decker." She says, putting it to one side. She's a little curious to read it, if only to see why Lucifer of all people finds it so objectionable.
Decker gives her an exasperated look. "I should think, after what we went through today, we're on a first name basis now. Call me Sam."
"Well, then I guess you can call me Joy." She says. "You don't have to stay, you know. I'll be alright by myself."
"Oh, you're not going to be on your own tonight." He tells her. "I texted Gabby when it looked when you were waking up. She's already on her way here. Trix says she's also going to stop by with Bella, and Charlie will probably stop in…"
"Seriously?" After so many years on her own, the idea of that many people coming to check on her is a bit overwhelming.
Sam's smile turns significantly eviler. "Wishing you were still unconscious, aren't you?"
She huffs out a laugh. "You're an ass."
"Thank you."
Sam lands nimbly on the balcony of his father's penthouse. The sun went down a few hours ago, so he's grateful for the soft light spilling out the windows, giving him just enough illumination to move around without bumping into the furniture or miniature palms that decorate the space.
After tucking his wings away, he heads inside, stripping off his leather jacket. He's glad he didn't remove it at the hospital-his shirt sleeve is caked with blood from where he had been shot. Nobody except maybe Charlie would have understood that the wound itself had healed about ten minutes after he yanked the bullet out with a pair of long tweezers he had borrowed while the nurses were occupied elsewhere.
His father is tinkering with something behind the bar. "How's the detec-your partner, doing?" He asks as he turns around.
Sam notes the hasty amendment, but doesn't comment on it. To his father, there was only one "Detective" and it would always be Sam's mother.
"She's fine." He says, accepting the glass of scotch his father offers him. "When I left, Charlie had just arrived to walk her through the paperwork, so at least we know she'll get a good night's sleep." He makes a face. It's no secret that he finds most paperwork boring.
His father's gaze flickers over Sam's shirtsleeve. "And your arm?"
Sam rolls his shoulder experimentally and winces. It aches like a bad bruise. "Not too bad. I should be fine by tomorrow morning." He sighs as he fingers the bloodstain. "I should have had Clive arrested just for ruining a perfectly good shirt. I'll grab a spare one from my duffle in a minute."
His father didn't throw quite as many lavish parties as he had before he settled down with Sam's mother and started a family, but Sam always keeps a bag with fresh clothes tucked away under the desk in his father's office, just in case.
His father nods absently. "Good. That's good." He puts his own glass, untouched, down on the bar. "About earlier…"
Sam tilts his head. Today has been especially long, in his opinion. "Which earlier? Earlier this morning or this afternoon?"
"Our...discussion at the precinct."
"You mean our fight?"
"Yes, that." His father lets out a slow breath. "I'm sure I've told you plenty of times just how much resentment I have for my own father…"
Sam just takes another sip of scotch, waiting patiently. He has heard many variations of his father and grandfather's falling out over the years.
"Resentment that stems from the fact that at no point as he ever once apologized to me for...well, anything." His father turns the black and silver ring on his finger idly. "This has caused quite a separation between the two of us, one that I don't think can ever be fully repaired." His father's gaze focuses on Sam. "I don't want that to happen between you and me."
"Dad-"
"No, listen." His father holds up a commanding hand. "It was wrong, the way I acted when your mother...died." Hearing his father say the actual words gives him a jolt, but Sam remains silent. "I left because I didn't trust myself not to turn back into the person I was before. The...monster I turned myself into. I thought you would be better off without me. It didn't occur to me that you might feel abandoned." His father's voice is bitter. "For what it is worth, I'm sorry. You have every right to be angry with me."
Sam sighs wearily. "Dad, I wasn't angry because you left. I was angry because you didn't even tell me you were going." He can't help the frustration that flares again at the memory. "I would have understood if you needed to leave. I know how much Mom meant to you. But you didn't even leave me a bloody note."
"And I should have." His father agrees. "But I was afraid that if I told you why I was going, you would try to talk me out of it." His father ducks his head. "I shouldn't have gotten so upset about your visit to Heaven. You were right-you don't need my permission to see your own mother. I suppose I'm just jealous. You can see her whenever you want. I can't, and probably won't ever again." His father's sincere tone is dampened by misery as he remembers just how long that will be. He carefully doesn't look at Sam. "Is she...happy, up there?"
Sam hesitates. He knows this is dangerous ground. "She's not unhappy. I mean, she gets to be with her dad, remember." Sam's maternal grandfather, John Decker, had been killed long before Sam was born, when his mother was still a child actress. He's one of the first people Sam goes to see on his rare visits to the Silver City. "And Nana, too." Sam's maternal grandmother had died only a couple of years before her daughter did. "But it's not like she doesn't miss you. She loves you. Being in Heaven doesn't change that, any more than it did back when she was on Earth and you were in Hell."
Sam sets down his glass. Now is as good a time as any to come clean. "Look, Dad, the truth is I didn't go up to Heaven to visit Mom." He takes a deep breath. "I went there to talk to Grandfather."
His father stares at him, the glass in his hand raised halfway to his mouth.
"He talked to you?" He asks, a strange note is his voice.
"I took Charlie with me. We figured He would be more likely to listen to both of us. I mean, we are His only legitimate grandsons." Sam watches his father carefully. "He and I made a deal. For the next fifty years, if you can continue to help humanity-by punishing evil the right way-then Grandfather is willing to rescind your banishment from Heaven." Sam leans towards his father. "You can be with Mom. For the rest of eternity, if that's what you want."
Sam is not entirely sure his father is breathing. "What?" He croaks.
"That's why I went to talk to Mom. That's why she suggested bringing you back to working at the L.A.P.D. I mean, just look at what you did today. You kept me and Joy from being killed, and helped take down a father-son murder team. You fought on the side of good, Dad. You helped get justice for that poor girl. Surely that's better than letting yourself waste away up here." Sam gestures to the penthouse.
"My father would never make that deal."
"He already did." Sam takes another sip from his glass. "That's the other reason I brought Charlie with me. He witnessed the deal and agreed to make sure both parties honored the terms. We agreed that you can still throw the occasional party, run Lux on the side, if you want to. Consulting with the police just gives you the opportunity to be your best self-like when you and Mom were partners." Sam smiles at his father proudly.
His father does not smile back. "And what, exactly, are the terms of the agreement?" He asks slowly. "What does He get out of all this?"
Sam doesn't meet his father's eyes. "There hasn't been a ruler for Hell since you retired permanently." His father retired to Earth for good about two years before Sam was born. "In exchange for you returning to Heaven, I agreed to rule Hell in your stead."
His father slams his glass down on the bar. "No. Absolutely not." He stalks around the bar, though where he's headed Sam cannot fathom. Possibly to the balcony to berate Sam's grandfather out in the open.
Sam grabs his father's arm before he can do something stupid. "Dad, listen to me." He says hurriedly. "Yes, the demons have been well-contained for the past couple of decades, but only because they know that you're on here on Earth. They fear your wrath too much to risk coming back here. But once you're back in Heaven, they'll might try to wreak havoc on Earth again. Somebody needs to rule them. And it's not like I'm leaving now. I still got fifty years to get my business in order. I'll have lived a whole human lifetime before it's time for me to go. But instead of going to the Silver City after I die, I'll rule Hell."
His father spins around. "I never wanted that for you."
"I know. That's why I volunteered."
His father sputters. "You volunteered?" He gapes at Sam in disbelief. "Do you have any idea what it's like to run Hell?"
Sam smiles a little. "I figure fifty years gives you plenty of time to teach me how." He softens his voice. "This isn't like when you were sent to rule Hell, Dad. This was my choice."
"But why would you do that?" His father asks desperately. "This isn't a simple career change, son. This is ruling Hell."
Sam nods. "I know what I'm getting into. I didn't make this decision lightly, Dad." He tucks his hands in his pockets. "You think I don't see how hard you try? I know you've always wanted to be a better father to me than Grandfather was to you. I get it. I mean, this was the first time in my life that He talked to me directly." Sam smiles ruefully. "Which made me realize that's why you always needed to be involved in every part of my life, no matter how much it drove me crazy. You felt like Grandfather was never there for you, so you did everything you could to show that you would be there for me."
Sam takes a breath, meets his father's gaze. "You and Mom raised me to believe that I always have a choice. That no matter what, I control my own fate. It's because of that, because you supported me, believed in me for my entire life, that led to my decision to take over Hell. You fought hard to make sure I never had to go through what you did; all the self-doubt, rejection, and bitterness. It didn't seem fair to me that you overcame all of that just to spend the rest of eternity alone and miserable." Sam gives his father a hesitant smile. "I love you, Dad, and Mom too. I want you both to be happy. If me ruling Hell after I die is what it takes, then that is what I'll do."
One moment his father is staring at him, the next he has Sam in a bone-crushing hug. Sam is so startled that it takes him a minute before he returns it.
He can't help but bury his face in his father's shoulder, tears pricking his eyes.
They stay that way for several minutes before finally breaking apart, his father cupping the back of Sam's head in a caress.
"It always amazes me," He says with a wry smile, his eyes tear-bright. "How I can be pissed off and proud of you at the same time."
Sam lets out a wet chuckle. His father has never been shy in letting Sam know he was proud, but it was almost always said in conjunction with how Sam had irritated him first.
"Like father, like son, right?" He grins as he follows his father back to the bar. "After all, you chose to return to Hell after the demons tried to kidnap Charlie." That had been one of his favorite stories growing up.
His father pours them both another drink, bourbon this time. "Yes, but I hated every second of it. I never would have chosen that life for you."
"This isn't the same, Dad. This is a choice, not a punishment." Sam takes the glass his father holds out. "Perhaps I'll mix things up when I take over." He swirls the bourbon in his glass. "You know, rearrange the furniture. A splash of paint would do wonders for the feng shui." He gives his father a wicked smile.
He doesn't mention the other part of his plan, about how he wants to see if it's possible to redeem the souls of the damned. He knows that humans are dragged down to Hell by their own guilt. Perhaps, like his father, they just need guidance on how to start forgiving themselves for their crimes.
His father still looks a bit worried. "And what happens when you get tired of ruling?" He demands. "Eternity is a long time."
"You would know, being literally older than dirt." He returns impudently. Teasing his dad about his age has always been one of Sam's favorite pastimes. "I'll be allowed to visit Earth, or Heaven, on occasion. And Charlie has offered to fill in for me a few times a year so I can have some well-deserved time off. And you're always welcome to come visit. Just because you're being allowed back into Heaven doesn't mean you can't take a day trip down to Hell." He pretends to think about it. "But, you know, call first."
For the first time in hours, his father smiles. He holds up his glass, and Sam clinks his own against it in a toast.
"Do you have plans for tonight?" His father asks after they both finish off their drinks. "I was going to go downstairs and make sure Maze hasn't run Lux into the ground in my absence."
Sam thinks of the pile of paperwork that is most assuredly on his desk by now, along with a furious note from Charlie demanding he file his reports on the Fleming case.
But after a year of feeling alone, abandoned, he has no problem pushing all that aside until tomorrow morning.
"No, no plans." Sam eagerly jumps up from his seat. "Just let me get a clean shirt out of my bag. Give me two minutes."
He hears his father laugh quietly behind him as he bolts out of the room.
Joy checks the slip of paper in her hand and determines that this is the correct address. She hurries up the pretty, flower-lined walkway to the front door, her fingers playing nervous arpeggios in the air.
It has been a week since they arrested Clive and Todd Fleming, a week since she got shot. Her shoulder still aches a little, but not so bad that she can't go back to work on Monday. She's looking forward to it. Being forced to spend several days home alone convalescing, even with Gabby dropping in almost every day to check on her, was starting to wear on her nerves. Although Lucifer's offer to let her play on his piano had cheered her up a bit in that regard.
She had spent an hour in the penthouse yesterday, listening to Lucifer rattle on about all the great musicians he had "taught" over the centuries as they sat together at the piano, jumping from classical pieces to rock to the occasional pop ballad. Underneath the eccentric, somewhat overbearing exterior there was genuine kindness in Lucifer, and she had been more than happy to accept his invitation to come over and play the piano with him again.
She raps at the door, nervously shifting from foot to foot. Gabby had talked a little bit about the family dinner when she came to visit, but not enough to tell Joy exactly what to expect.
The door opens, and Joy blinks up at the tall, black man who stands in front of her. There is enough similarity between him and Lieutenant Martin that she thinks this must be Sam's uncle, Amenadiel.
"You must be Joy." He says. He has a deep, friendly voice and already Joy feels herself relaxing, her fingers finally coming to rest at her side. "I've heard a lot about you. Come in."
Joy returns his smile gratefully and steps into the tastefully decorated house. The inside is large, airy, and open. While not as lavish as Lucifer's penthouse, there's a comfortable, lived in quality that reminds Joy of her childhood home. The inside is simply bursting with the sounds of conversations, arguments, and laughter, and Joy is a little stunned by the amount of people who have crammed themselves into one place.
Sprawled on the couch are Maze and Eve, the former's legs draped over her girlfriend's lap. Eve glances in Joy's direction and gives her a big smile and waves. Joy waves back. She found that she liked the sweet, buoyant Eve.
The jury was still out on Maze.
"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Amenadiel, Charlie's father." Amenadiel shakes her hand. "My son speaks very highly of you."
Joy shakes her head. "Oh, well, I don't know if he should. I mean, the first day on the job I got shot!" She laughs self-consciously.
"You got shot protecting your partner." Amenadiel corrects her gently. "That kind of selflessness is rare. My nephew is lucky to have you working with him."
Joy, reminded why she is here, cranes her neck to find Sam. She spots him at the dining room table with the Lieutenant, Trixie, and Bella, playing cards in their hands and a pile of cash in the middle of the table. Sam is happier than she's ever seen him. He has an easy smile on his face, and his bickering with the Lieutenant is more good-natured here than it had been at the precinct. She notices that like the rest of the group, the Lieutenant has forgone his stiff work attire in favor of a nice pair of jeans and a polo shirt. Sam, meanwhile, is almost unnaturally attractive in pale-grey button-down shirt and tan slacks. She wonders with some amusement if her partner has ever dressed casually for anything.
Joy leans towards Amenadiel. "Are they playing poker?" she murmurs. "With a ten-year-old?"
Amenadiel's teeth flash in a grin. "Don't underestimate that girl. She's already won three hands out of five. At this rate, Sam and Charlie are going to be funding her college tuition."
Joy bites back a grin when she sees Bella triumphantly lay her cards down on the table, and Sam and the Lieutenant groan. Trixie laughs.
"Come on, come inside and meet everyone." Amenadiel encourages, nudging her further into the room. He points to the petite woman currently pulling out a stack of plates from one of the cupboards. "This is my wife, Linda. Charlie's mother."
Joy hides her surprise. If she had been asked to picture the Lieutenant's mother, this fair-haired woman would not have been it. Not that she isn't lovely, with her blonde hair only just starting to fade and a round, pleasant face. She isn't much taller than Joy, meaning she's a full head shorter than Amenadiel and the Lieutenant.
Then the woman pushes her glasses up her nose and gives Joy a smile that is identical to her son's.
"It's so nice to meet you, Joy." She comes around the counter to shake Joy's hand. "Sam and Charlie have told us a lot about you. I'm so glad you could make it."
Joy smiles back. "Thank you for inviting me. I know this is typically a family thing…"
"Don't be silly." Linda waves her hand. "Sam's mom, Chloe, was a good friend of mine. I know she would have wanted us to invite you." Joy notes the sadness that clouds the woman's expression for a moment. "I'm just glad you were feeling well enough to join us." Linda gestures to Joy's shoulder, still bandaged.
"Well, it was either this or spend another day eating soup out of a can and watching bad T.V." Joy grins.
Linda's smile remains sympathetic, but her tone switches to professional. "How are you doing, otherwise? No nightmares, no PTSD symptoms like anxiety?" Linda peers closely at Joy's face. "Remember, those are all understandable reactions to trauma."
Joy remembers belatedly that Sam's aunt is a therapist. "No, none of that. I'm really ok." She tilts her head. "I'm not going to be billed for this, am I?"
Linda laughs softly. "No. But if you ever need to talk, I'm available." Something about the way she says this makes Joy think that the Lieutenant or Sam told the doctor about her past. She would be upset, but Linda's empathetic demeanor and the genuine concern in her face have done a lot to ease Joy's nerves.
"Joy!" Gabby comes bouncing from out of the kitchen, dragging a woman who looks like a mature version of herself behind her. "I'm so glad you're here. I wanted to introduce you to my mom. Mami, this is one I told you about."
Joy grunts in surprise as the woman immediately enfolds her in a hug, taking care not to squeeze Joy too hard. "It's great to finally meet you, Joy." She leans back to give Joy a bright, generous smile. Like with Sam and the Lieutenant, it's easy to tell which parent Gabby favors. "I'm Ella."
"Ah, yeah, nice to meet you too." Joy says, a little dazed by the exuberant welcome. "I see where Gabby gets her enthusiasm from."
"Yeah, she takes after me, all right." Ella says, running a motherly hand over Gabby's hair. Joy feels a brief pang at the gesture. "But honestly, I've been looking forward to meeting you all week. Gabby's told us all about you."
"I can't imagine how she has the time, seeing as she visits me almost every day." Joy aims a teasing glance at the other woman. One of the best things from this whole experience, she thinks with affection, is meeting Gabby, who has quickly become a close friend. "She's taken such good care of me."
Ella slings an arm around her daughter. "That's what she's good at."
Gabby beams.
There's a ding from the kitchen, and Ella's head spins around. "Those would be the tamales." She winks at Joy. "I hope you're hungry, because we got quite the spread on the way." She gives her daughter one more hug and hurries back into the kitchen.
"That reminds me, Joy, do you want something to-Samael John Decker, put that flask away right now." Joy starts with surprise when Linda's hospitable tone abruptly changes to stern mid-sentence.
She whips her head around to see Sam quickly returning a black flask to his pants pocket.
"What else was I supposed to bet with?" He complains. "The little monster has taken all of my money." Bella giggles as her mother, who had been leaning back in her chair to talk with Maze, lurches forward to punch Sam in his shoulder.
The Lieutenant catches Joy's eye and shakes his head, but she can see a smile forming on his mouth. Like Sam, he's more relaxed here than he is at the precinct, though he has not shed the air of responsibility quite as easily as Sam.
Sam spots her and brightens. "I fold." He tells the group. He jumps up from the table and nudges Gabby. "Gabby, tag in. Try to win me some of my money back."
"It's your own fault for teaching her poker in the first place." When Sam just looks at her, she sighs dramatically. "Fine, I'll go save you...again." Her eyes dancing behind her glasses, she whirls around to join the game. The Lieutenant throws an arm over her shoulder as she starts to shuffle the deck.
"Only one more hand." Linda calls out. "Dinner is almost ready. And you-" She points to Sam firmly. "Behave yourself."
"Yes, Auntie." He says meekly.
With a shake of her head, Linda heads back into the kitchen to gather plates and silverware, Amenadiel right behind her.
Joy smiles at her partner. "Do you get in trouble at every family gathering?" She asks in a low voice.
"You call that trouble?" His smile is all charm. "Trust me, you haven't seen real trouble yet. You are looking exceptionally lovely today." He scrutinizes her outfit. She hadn't been sure how much to dress up, so she compromised with a pale green blouse and her fanciest pair of black jeans. She's left her hair down so it falls in soft waves to her shoulders. "You would never guess that you were shot a few days ago."
"Slick." She says dryly. "Maybe next time you should ask if it hurt when I fell from Heaven."
"Why would I ask that?" He's genuinely confused. "Do you know how difficult it is to get in and out of Heaven? You would have to be almost supernaturally clumsy to just fall out of that place."
Joy laughs. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously good-looking." He corrects her with a smug tilt of his head. "I heard you and my father spent some time together the other day." He looks at her expectantly.
"Yeah, we did. It was strangely fun." It had been, she thinks to herself. But also…
"I hid the book under the chair cushions, like you asked."
Sam's eyes are bright with laughter. "Did he see you?" He'd been delighted when she agreed to help him with the prank.
"No, I did it while he was getting a drink." It had been hard to keep a straight face, after she'd done it.
"Excellent. You are as clever as you are beautiful, Joy." He beams at her.
She smiles. After a week she's used to his charisma. "Thanks. Just don't expect me to jump in front of a bullet for you in all our cases."
Sam's flirtatious attitude disappears, and his eyes light up. "Does this mean you want to continue being partners?" He asks hopefully.
She can tell that this has been worrying him. "Well, I'm not just going to give up now." She says. Distantly, she hears a knock at the door behind her. Amenadiel walks past them, looking curious. "I wanted to work in a department where I can make a difference. And I thought we made a pretty good team."
"We did, didn't we?" He says, pleased.
Joy is faintly aware of the door being opened and Amenadiel talking to someone. "Yeah, we did. Me, you...and your dad." She adds dryly. Sam lets out a soft laugh. "Unless he's really going back into retirement." She knows that father and son have worked out their issues, but Lucifer hadn't given her indication that he wanted to continue consulting, and she can tell by the way Sam's brow furrows that he isn't sure either.
"I don't know. He hasn't said anything since I mentioned it, so probably-" Sam's eyes drift to a spot behind her shoulder and widen. "Dad?"
Joy whirls around and sure enough, there is Lucifer standing in the entryway next to Amenadiel. He's dressed impeccably as always, this time in a camel-colored three-piece suit, hands in his pockets. The entire room, so full of noise a moment ago, has gone silent as everyone turns to witness his arrival.
Joy has to fight to keep her mouth from falling open. Yesterday when she had been at the penthouse, she had mentioned being invited to the family dinner as a guest, but Lucifer had abruptly changed the subject. She never would have imagined he would actually show up, and from the expressions on everyone else's face, this is a surprise for all of them.
Lucifer raises his eyebrows. "Well, you can hardly call this a party if I'm not here, can you?" He's trying to sound haughty, but there's an odd note of vulnerability is his voice, as if he isn't quite certain of his welcome. "Though from the distinct lack of alcohol, I don't believe you could call this much of a party anyway."
"Lucifer!" Linda sounds both pleased and shocked by his sudden appearance. She abandons her task of setting the table and hurries over. "We weren't expecting you." A slow smile lights up her features. "You're just in time, we were just going to serve dinner. And there's wine." Joy hears Sam's aunt murmur to Lucifer as she pulls him further inside.
"That's it?" Lucifer mutters, but he doesn't sound too upset by it. Amenadiel claps his brother lightly on the shoulder, still hovering next to the door as if to make sure Lucifer doesn't try and bolt.
Joy turns around to see Sam blinking rapidly, trying to fight back strong emotions. The conversations in the room pick back up again as Lucifer follows Linda further into the house, brushing a hand over his son's shoulder as he passes by him.
She waits until Lucifer is far enough away so that he can't hear them, and leans closer to Sam. "I think we may have our answer."
"Yeah. Yeah, I think we do." Sam gives her a brilliant smile. "It looks like the Devil is finally going back to work."