The next morning, Lucifer awoke to find the space next to him in bed empty and cold. It was to be expected. He had fulfilled her desires, and then she'd left.

The best night of my life.

How he had come to hate those words. For them, it meant nothing. And worse still, for him it meant nothing now as well. To his shame, he could barely remember what the woman he'd taken to his bed last night looked like, never mind what her name was. Had he even asked? Until recently, he'd known every name and every face of his many lovers, masks aside.

With a heavy heart, he shifted across the bed, reaching over to the nearby table to retrieve his phone. The screen was empty. He thought he'd heard it go off earlier, but he must have been mistaken. Dreaming perhaps.

Rolling onto his back again, he stared at the ceiling. He had barely any memories of the previous evening, but what he hadn't forgotten was the feel of her. Over him, under him, wrapped all around him. It wasn't often he desired a repeat performance with a sexual partner, although he always accommodated those who wanted one with him, but for her he believed he would make an exception. Still, nothing to be done about that now.

After a shower, he began to prepare for another day with the Detective. She'd started speaking to him more recently, even if it was always about whatever case they were working on at the time. He'd decided that perhaps that was the key. The harder he work at being the perfect consultant, the more she would actually consult with him. And the more she did that… well, surely that would be a step towards getting her to talk to him about other things.

On occasion it felt like she forgot the distance between them, just for a second. At crime scenes he tried to hold back from interfering too much, but he'd still been very much himself. It would be a lie to be anything but. His antics earned him the occasional admonishing glance, or even better, a coveted eye roll. Those were the things he held on to, the things that kept him coming back, even if she did suddenly become 'busy' as soon as she realised what she'd done.

Right then. Being the perfect consultant must surely begin with looking perfect, something he was more than practiced at achieving. He dressed even more meticulously than normal, not a button out of place, not a wrinkle to be seen. It took longer than usual, but she was worth it.

Once he finally finished taming his annoyingly unruly curls, he checked himself over in the mirror. Perfection indeed. It was possible of course that she wouldn't even notice. But sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her glance at him. There were times her gaze might even linger for a moment. It was another sign that perhaps she wasn't quite so indifferent to him as she appeared.

Before leaving the bathroom, he allowed his eyes to flare, watching as the flames danced back at him. It was a reminder that he would never be quite as perfect on the inside as he was on the outside. There was a monster within him, a fact the Detective was all too aware of now. He remained determined to prove himself to her though, to show her that he was still the man she'd thought he was. Smiling at his reflection as his eyes faded back to their normal brown, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, today would be that day.

It wasn't.

Shortly after arriving at the precinct he spotted the Detective, but he no longer greeted her as exuberantly as he used to. A few too many mornings of seeing her flinch at his words had been more than enough to make him never want to see her react to him that way again. Instead, he simply gave her a nod of acknowledgement when he saw her, but this morning that was met with a glare.

He wracked his brain, trying to come up with anything he might have done to incur her wrath since yesterday. There was nothing though, not that he could think of. Confused, he headed over to what the department dared to call a coffee machine and poured two cups, something that would have been perfectly normal for him not so long ago. Realising his mistake, he decided he may as well offer her the drink anyway. Hopefully it would alleviate some of her anger over whatever mistake he had so obviously made.

It didn't.

The Detective was at her desk talking to Miss Lopez, and he caught the tail end of what she was saying as he approached. "And he didn't even reply!" Any other time he would have asked who they were talking about, however he was supposed to be on his best behaviour today, and that didn't seem a very consult-y thing to do.

"Coffee, Detective?" he asked, reaching out to hand her the cup. Her reaction was not what he'd hoped for, her face turning to stone before she marched away from him. Placing the drink on her desk, he lost all faith in the idea that today would be any different. If anything, things seemed to be worse.

He'd forgotten Ella was still standing there. She went to move towards him but stopped, the scalding hot coffee he currently held between them proving to be successful hug prevention. Something he would have to remember in future. Instead, she patted him on the arm. "Don't worry buddy, she'll come around." Glancing in the direction of her friend who was currently taking out her ire on a filing cabinet, she turned back towards Lucifer with a grimace. "Eventually."

He sighed as he looked down at one of his favourite humans, optimistic as ever, before giving her a small smile. "I can only hope you are right, Miss Lopez."

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. The team attended another crime scene, and rather than keeping his distance, this time he actually attempted to be helpful. He joined in the search for evidence, interviewed witnesses, even remembered some forensic information Miss Lopez had told him previously that she had yet to think of.

In the end, it was one of his observations that lead to the case being solved. Unable to resist the thrill of the chase as always, he assisted in the arrest, easily tracking and rendering their quarry unconscious before any of the other officers could get hurt. One officer in particular.

Just as he was about to congratulate the Detective on a job well done, she looked up at him from the floor, having just finished handcuffing their culprit and reading him his rights. "Thanks, Lucifer," she said. "You can go now."

His heart swelled at the merest hint of recognition that he'd been of use to her today. Feeling braver than he had in a while, he decided to push forward with his agenda. "I thought..."

She stood up, passing the soon to be jailbird off to a uni, clearly paying very little attention to what he was saying. "I thought I might accompany you back to the station," he said, swallowing nervously. "To help with the paperwork." In the middle of dusting off her trousers, the Detective paused, examining him with incredulity.

"You want to help with paperwork. You." He nodded, fiddling with his cufflinks. Time seemed to slow as he waited for her response. Finally, she nodded in return. "Okay. I'll meet you there then," she said, before heading over to her vehicle.

Which was probably a good thing, because he couldn't keep the grin off his face. He practically leapt into the corvette, but decided against breaking every speed limit in his excitement. Instead he chose to drive the long way around back to the precinct, thereby ensuring the Detective would be ready for him upon his arrival.

When he entered the station however, it became apparent that was far from the case. He was about to make his way down the stairs when he heard the sound of the Detective admonishing Daniel from below. He ground to a halt, not wanting to be next in the firing line.

"Seriously, Dan, again?!"

"What choice did I have Chlo? The sitter bailed, you won't let Maze watch her anymore for some reason…"

"You know why."

"No, I really don't. Yes, she hurt her. But she apologised. And Trixie misses her!"

"I've told you before. I don't want to talk about it."

"Then give me a break, will you? I know you don't like having her here, but I didn't have a choice!"

There was a pause. Lucifer leaned over the balcony, trying to see what was happening. Unfortunately, they must have been directly beneath him, for he couldn't see either of them.

"I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm going through a lot at the moment."

Another pause. He held his breath, waiting to see if the Detective would elaborate. Instead, the next voice he heard was Daniel's, attempting to comfort her.

"Don't worry about it. We'll figure something out. I'll hire another sitter."

"Wait a second, the sitter didn't just cancel, she quit?"

"Yeah. There was something odd about it too. Pretty sure Trixie hasn't been terrorising her lately…?"

"Not since I had a talk with her, no."

The conversation tailed off then. He watched as Daniel headed over to the break room while the Detective walked back to her work station. His elation at the thought of working with her again had him practically bouncing down the stairs towards her. Hell, he'd have slid down the bannister if he wasn't at risk of ruining his suit. As he neared her desk however, he grew unsure as to how to proceed. Was it worth risking his previous way of greeting her? He didn't want to jeopardize the good will he'd garnered today.

The decision was made for him however when he heard a familiar cry of his own.

"LUCIFER!" came a high pitched squeal from the direction of the vending machine that could only be the spawn. Closing his eyes, he braced for the inevitable impact of a small human wrapped around his legs.

Only, it never came.

When he opened his eyes again, his entire body froze at the sight before him. The spawn had indeed rounded the corner, but she was stopped from coming any closer by the hand that had grabbed hers. Her mother's hand. The hand of his detective.

Pain lanced through him, the likes of which he would never have even imagined he could feel over being prevented from contact with her progeny. His mind raced.

She didn't trust him with her child. She'd kept Maze away because she was a demon, but she knew him, she knew him and he would never hurt Beatrice, not in a million years. But she thought he would. She didn't trust him.

She didn't trust him.

He stared for what couldn't have been more than a few seconds before his feet finally got the message and he fled. There was a shout of "Lucifer, wait!" from behind him, but he couldn't stop, couldn't stay, couldn't stand feeling that sort of pain again. As soon he reached a corridor without any officers, he was gone.

Almost every single half decent bar on route received his patronage as he made his way back to Lux. He drained them of their finest, and then of their worst. When he reached his club the doors had not long been open, but the small group of early arrivals had already taken to the dance floor. And among them, was the somewhat blurry silhouette of the woman he'd encountered last night.

His intoxicated mind revelled at the prospect of another evening with this enchanting creature, burying all thoughts of what had happened deep down inside where they belonged.

It was time to hunt, not for a sinner, but for someone to sin with.

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, moving to the rhythm as he melded his body against hers, his lips drawn irresistibly to the curve of her neck. She leaned back against him, whispering, "Hello lover," before turning in his arms. He was struck again by how familiar she was, but when she kissed him, she chased all thoughts of that from his mind.

He grinned against her mouth, her wickedly clever tongue depositing some of her delightful little pills inside his own. He swallowed them eagerly, not caring what they were. The only important thing was that they kicked in almost immediately, harder than usual even, something he very much approved of. As long as she kept them coming, he was game.

Because the more he consumed, the easier it was to pretend. To pretend that today hadn't happened. To pretend that everything was okay, that they were okay. Humans call the Devil a deceiver, but tonight his only wish was to deceive himself.

One night where he could believe that the woman in front of him had blonde hair inside of brown, blue eyes instead of hazel. That Chloe was here, in his arms as held her tightly, kissed her softly. If he closed his eyes it almost seemed real, even down to the way he felt when she was near him, as if his soul had become lighter somehow. He smiled in the special way he reserved only for her, and opened his eyes.

And then she was gone. Instead there was only a woman who wasn't her, who could never be her. A flawless example of humanity yes, but he was no fool. She meant nothing more to him than the alcohol or the drugs; just another distraction from the torture that his life on Earth had become, far worse than anything Hell had to offer.

At the beginning, he'd thought that seeing the Detective every day would ease the pain, but it had only made things harder. For him and for her apparently. The night they kissed, he had allowed himself to believe that she believed, just for a moment. That she finally saw him for who he was, but chose to accept him anyway.

He'd been a fool.

To her, he was still the man who spoke in metaphors. She hadn't known the reality of what she was saying, but he'd still trusted in her words nonetheless. It shouldn't have been a surprise that she ran away. The Detective was good, truly good, in a way he would never be.

Of course she didn't want to be with him.

It was a truth he'd finally accepted. He would never have the one he wanted, so he would take the ones who wanted him. Including the woman in his arms.

Everything else faded into the background as their bodies entwined together. There was only sensation; the feel of her skin on his, the curves of her body so perfect under his hands. The time for his set came and went, for there was no need to create music when he could see it swirling in the air around him. She was there to supply him with what he needed, and he would do anything to remain in that state of euphoria he so badly craved.

Once again her body arched into his as they moved to the rhythm, and finally his self-control snapped. One minute they were on the dance floor, and the next they were in the penthouse.

She let her dress fall to the floor the instant they landed, as though clothes were just a burden she was glad to be free of. Her body was breathtaking. With her there he didn't care that he'd just disappeared in a crowd full of people, didn't notice that she didn't seem to care either. In that moment, his desire for her was all consuming.

The rest of the night passed in flashes. The living room, the bedroom, the bathroom. There wasn't a place in the apartment he didn't take her in. Even his closet failed to escape their fervour. When he wasn't inside her, they were drinking, talking, partaking. It was only as dawn approached that she rose from her position on the bed between his legs, intent on leaving again. He'd been lain with his head thrown back, overtaken by mindless pleasure, but as she started to move away he tugged her back towards him.

"Stay. Please."

And so she did.

...

"I hurt him today."

Although she'd entered the office more than ten minutes ago, it had taken Chloe until now to decide how to begin. Linda had sat there patiently, waiting for her to start talking.

"Oh?"

She was still so angry at herself. It hadn't even crossed her mind about how he would perceive her actions.

"Trixie, she tried to run to him. And I, and I…"

"You stopped her," Linda said, finishing her sentence for her.

Chloe nodded. She kept seeing the look on his face, over and over. The devastation in his eyes… she'd caused that.

"In our last session, you said you weren't scared of Lucifer. Has that changed? Do you feel you need to protect your daughter from him?"

She shook her head. "No. Neither of those things."

Getting up from the sofa, she began to pace back and forth across the room.

"I keep thinking. About all the things he's said. All the things he's done. And then, I thought about the way he acts."

Linda remained silent, giving Chloe the space to continue.

"He's always hated it when Trixie touches him. And not just in a 'keep your sticky hands off my suit' kind of way either. I mean, he literally flinches when she hugs him. He's never really like hugs in general, but with her… it's different."

She stopped, focusing her gaze outside of the window.

"And I started to wonder. Maybe it wasn't just that he doesn't like children? That maybe there was more to it?"

"Like what?"

Chloe looked back at her friend. "Shouldn't you already know? You're his thera-"

She stopped herself, closing her eyes as she sighed. "I'm sorry. I know you can't talk about that. It's just frustrating sometimes, not knowing anything for certain."

"It must be."

Chloe stared out of the window again. How Lucifer, who had the attention span of a child at the best of times, put up with therapy she had no idea. Her experience so far had done nothing but drive her crazy. She'd hoped that Linda would treat her like more of a friend than a client, but that hadn't been the case at all.

"It's just, I'm working on my own assumptions here. There's so much I don't know. I thought that maybe because he's the..." she paused, "because he is who he is, perhaps Trixie hugging him was painful for him somehow?" Sitting back on sofa again, she crossed her arms over her stomach. "I shouldn't have done it. I just didn't think."

"You still can't bring yourself to say it, can you?"

She couldn't. Not to me. Despite everything, that remained true. Sometimes, she'd look at him and that red creature would be all she could see, but it just… didn't fit. It wasn't him.

Shaking her head slightly, she stayed silent.

"In our last session you said it was easier just to think of him as your partner. Is that because you don't see him as the Devil, or you don't want to see him as the Devil?"

"Both. I think?" Chloe paused, trying to find the best way to describe it. "It's like Lucifer and…" She swallowed heavily, forcing herself to say the words this time. "...the Devil, they're two completely separate things. I can't put them together in my mind."

"But they're not separate Chloe. They're one and the same."

"I know that. Logically, I know that. But it's just like the rest of this mess. It doesn't feel real."

Linda tapped her pen on the notepad she held a few times, deep in thought. "Do you mind if we try something?" she asked. Chloe looked at her warily before nodding, and Linda put both the pad and the pen on the floor. "Okay. I want you to close your eyes."

Sitting up straight and resting her hands on the sofa, Chloe took a deep breath before following Linda's instructions. She really hoped this wasn't going to turn out to be some kind of hypnosis mumbo jumbo.

"I know we've talked about this, about what happened that day, but I want you to visualise yourself back there. Can you picture what you saw? Can you see his face?"

Chloe shuddered at the memory. It was a face she sometimes saw in her dreams, the ones where she would wake up screaming. She nodded again, but barely.

"Now, try to see Lucifer's face there instead."

Immediately she stiffened. No. She didn't want to do that.

"I know it's hard. But you need to see him for who he is. Our work here won't help you if you can't."

She couldn't. She wouldn't.

"You don't understand," she said, opening her eyes, "He's not the Devil. It's not who he is. I just don't see him that way. I can't."

"You can, and he is, Chloe. He's as much the Devil, as you and I are human."

Linda sighed.

"Let's try something else."

Reluctantly, Chloe shut her eyes again.

"Don't look at Lucifer this time. Focus on another part of the room."

The irrational part of her still wanted to argue, to insist it couldn't be Lucifer standing there. She chose to ignore it though, searching for something else to concentrate on that wasn't… him.

The feathers? No, that was a mystery she wasn't quite ready to try to solve, even if she did have her suspicions about their origins. The body on the floor? Best not to look at that either. Marcus was another issue they had barely touched on in her sessions.

She decided on the columns to the side, even if they were riddled with bullets that Ella had yet to fully explain.

"You said he spoke to you. Can you hear him?"

"Yes," she whispered, already not liking where the doctor was going with this.

"Is it Lucifer?"

Detective? It had been so very strange to hear his voice come from those lips. Like everything else, it just seemed wrong, two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that didn't quite go together.

Linda appeared to take her silence as a confirmation. "I want you to try and look at him. Not at his face," she said quickly, as Chloe began to protest, "but at him. His chest perhaps."

Before she could stop it, her mind's eye wandered to the man stood in front of her, taking note of the many bullet holes in his shirt.

His body was heartbreakingly familiar.

"What do you see?" Linda's voice was gentle, but firm.

Chloe was breathing faster now, huge gulps of air that did nothing to help calm her. Her answer was practically a sob. "He's wearing Lucifer's suit."

One hand flew to her mouth, as if she never should have let the words slip out.

"I'd like you to look at his eyes now. Just his eyes. Nothing else."

That she could do. Those eyes weren't his. She knew that. They weren't that deep, dark brown that she swore she could see his very soul in sometimes. She'd seen those eyes filled with joy, with pain, with desire, and… concern.

She felt her heart stop.

Concern. Because despite that endless, terrifying fire held within those eyes, there was worry in there as well. Worry for her.

And she recognised it.

Her body began to shake as she started to take in the rest of the picture her mind had painted. A horrifying vision of a man, pitted and scarred, a burn victim that had never been allowed to recover. That face of nightmares, with skin the colour of blood. And underneath it all… was Lucifer.

Her Lucifer. He was the Devil. And the Devil was him.

How she ended up on the floor she had no idea. When awareness of her surroundings began to return, she found Linda beside her, rubbing comforting circles on her back. "It's okay, Chloe, it's going to be okay," she was saying, over and over again.

Was it? She didn't know. All she knew at that moment is that she was filled with an overwhelming urge to see him. To explain what had happened today, and to ease some of that pain in his eyes. That same pain she'd just relived, as he realised what she'd seen.

"He didn't know," she whispered.

"Chloe?" Linda's hand stopped it's circular motion, and Chloe turned towards her.

"He didn't know… what he looked like," she tried to explain.

Linda nodded solemnly. "Ah. Yes. That make sense."

She waited, but became clear the doctor wasn't going to elaborate. Rising to her feet, she gathered her things, pausing only to offer some clarification to her friend before she rushed out of the door.

"I think… I think I need to see him," she said. Linda smiled at her, pleased.

"That's good. I think that's a good decision, Chloe."

She only hoped she was right.

…

It was still early by the time she got to the club. The queue outside had yet to form, which was actually a welcome relief, to be able to walk up to the doors for once without the usual dirty looks as she, the person least dressed for the occasion, jumped the line. Not recognising the bouncer, she went to flash her badge as she approached, but before she could he gave her a nod and opened the door.

Chloe Decker's photo was still firmly on the VIP guest list, it seemed.

She hadn't taken the time to change, not wanting to give Lucifer the wrong impression. Not that she was entirely sure what impression she was trying to give. But, she thought with a heavy heart, teasing aside, he'd never minded what she wore anyway. For someone for whom appearances were so important, he was one of the few people she'd come across who could look past all that.

Right from the beginning, he'd always seen her, the real her, underneath.

As soon as she stepped into the darkness she was hit with the familiar wall of heat and sound that was Lux. The music was there, but the crowd wasn't, with only a dozen or so people milling around the seating areas and the bar, and a few more already on the dance floor. She didn't expect Lucifer to be down here yet. He tended to wait until he had an audience, his piano set often signalling the start of the evening.

Gathering her courage, she started to walk towards the elevator, but stopped as something on the dancefloor caught her eye.

Lucifer.

As usual, he was in the middle of it all. She leaned against the balcony as she'd done a thousand times before, prepared to watch the Devil in his element as he moved around the room in an elaborate dance, that wove between potential partners for the evening and those seeking favours.

Tonight though, something was different. There was no exchanges, no deals to be made. Men and women alike went unnoticed, despite their obvious attempts to attract the Devil's attention. But it was pointless.

Because for him, it appeared, there was only one woman in the room tonight.

Chloe had never seen anything like her before. Her beauty outshone all around her, and Lucifer seemed spellbound. She watched as she wound herself around him, and he let her, his hands delving into her long brown hair. Something twisted in her chest when the woman kissed him. He held her tightly to him, and as they turned…

Her heart broke.

For there was Lucifer, holding on to someone else, and smiling…

Smiling the way he only ever did for her.

She turned away. She had to, she had no other choice.

She couldn't bear to watch any longer.

Pushing her way past the increasing number of patrons making their way inside, she stumbled out into the cool night air, tears stinging her eyes.

You're overreacting, she told herself. She's just like all the others, nobody special, gone again in the morning. She's not you.

And yet, she kept seeing that smile. The smile that was supposed to be hers.

She was too late.

Part of her wanted to go back inside. To pull him from that woman's arms, to demand he talk to her. But she had no right. She'd lost that right weeks ago.

No, all she could do now was leave.

Leave, and leave behind any hope that they could get past this.

Any hope that one day… they might get back to where they were.

And so she did.