As Lucifer reckoned it, Hell was… well, Hell. It mostly looked after itself, by this point. Its denizens had grown to learn that Lucifer, while not to be crossed, would not go out of his way to make their lives miserable without cause.
Lucifer himself, that was another matter altogether. He was perfectly capable of exquisite misery, generally masked by gaiety. Since Will, his last few trips to Earth had tended to go somewhat sour. That didn't stop him from taking them with increasing frequency, though. It wasn't that humanity had changed slowly before, but now it seemed as if his father's creations were moving at breakneck speed, trying to accomplish something remarkable in their short, little lives. So he visited as often as he could manage, and tried not to mess things up too much in the process.
Amenadiel had stopped trying to give him tasks, as he had refused enough of them, but Lucifer suspected his brother of choosing some destinations with their father's will in mind. He tried not to focus on what he might be doing inadvertently.
Oscar… Oscar had been an utter delight. Lucifer had actually lost track of how much time they had spent together, and Amenadiel's call for him to return to Hell had been profoundly unwelcome. More so had been the news of what had become of Oscar, which Lucifer suspected had been brought about by what Lucifer had helped Oscar see about himself.
What had it meant that Oscar had read Dante's Inferno in prison? Lucifer tried not to think too hard about that, really. But Oscar hadn't ended up in Hell; at least there was that.
A more recent trip had been some thirty-odd years ago. His attention had been caught by the fashion of the time, and then by the amazing vocal range of the singer in the band. He'd happened upon them while trying to hook himself up with some of the new, illicit substances that the humans had made. One thing he could say for his father's creations: they really were inventive when it came to finding ways to incapacitate themselves.
One thing had led to another; after all, the band had said, "Beelzebub has a Devil put aside for me." What else could Lucifer do but oblige? He knew a cue when he heard one.
So he'd gone back to Freddie's place, and everything had been lovely, with one small exception: the cats. He'd never had any particular feeling for them before, but their smell and their hair, and, most particularly, their habit of jumping and landing on a person right when one was at a particularly crucial moment all combined to instill in him a sudden, intense dislike of the creatures. He'd kept that to himself, though; Freddie had seemed quite fond of them, and Lucifer hadn't wanted anything to get in the way of their interlude.
But when Amenadiel had taken him and his lovely new white suit back to Hell, he'd made a private vow never to spend any extended time in the presence of those creatures. And then he'd gotten a lint roller.
When Amenadiel arrived in the year the humans called 2011, Lucifer was reminded that he hadn't actually gone topside in a while. Unfortunately, his brother's businesslike expression made it clear that a fun trip would not be forthcoming. "Lucifer, Father wants -"
"Look, when are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that I'm not going to act on our father's behalf?" Lucifer demanded. "Not intentionally, at least. Why don't you do whatever it is?"
Amenadiel sighed, and sank to a seat next to Lucifer. "I've already been involved in this matter, and Father thinks someone else should handle the rest." He reached into his robe and pulled out a photograph, which he extended toward Lucifer. "Just look at her."
"Why should I?" Lucifer replied, waving away the picture. "It's not like it matters what one human looks like. I've already seen and sampled a wide variety." Seeing his brother still holding out the picture, now looking a little disgusted, he added, "If he doesn't want you sticking your fingers in again, have him send someone else: Gabriel or Raphael or even Uriel."
Shaking his head, Amenadiel replied, "Uriel has another part to play in this, and Gabriel and Raphael are… unsuited to the task."
With a short, amused noise, Lucifer said, "Boring, you mean? Well, that's the lot of you, really."
"Yes," Amenadiel replied, his flat tone making it clear that he was agreeing in an attempt to get Lucifer to acquiesce. "We're boring and you are the most fascinating thing in our father's creation, which is why he wants you to do this." Lucifer just shook his head, and Amenadiel offered the picture once more. "Just look at her, okay?"
"Fine." Lucifer took the picture, though he spoke to Amenadiel before looking. "This isn't going to make a -" His gaze landed on the picture, and he studied it, his attention caught. The young woman was dressed as a police officer, her fair hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail. Her expression held strength, but he thought he could detect a certain sadness in her eyes. "- difference," he concluded, though even he heard the way his voice had gentled. "Who is she?"
Amenadiel had the grace not to smile. "Chloe Jane Decker. She's an officer of the law, as you can see."
Lucifer traced the edge of the photograph with his finger. "And what does our father want with her?" He finally tore his gaze away from the woman's eyes, and looked up at Amenadiel. "Not going to make a martyr of her, is he? I'll have no part of that."
Amenadiel shook his head. "No. Or his goal is to avoid that, at least. Officer Decker has need of protection."
Lucifer gestured at the picture. It was not, he told himself firmly, that he wanted to look at her again. He simply needed to make his next point to Amenadiel. "But she's armed, yes? They give police officers guns, badges, that sort of thing. Why would she need me to - no," he said then, as he realized. "He isn't asking what I think he's asking. Not of me."
Amenadiel briefly closed his eyes. "For some reason, yes, Father has decided that Officer Decker needs a guardian angel, and he has chosen you for that task."
"You're joking, right?" Lucifer got to his feet and paced restlessly across the chamber, though he kept the picture held lightly in one hand. "Amenadiel, I'm the Devil. I'm nobody's guardian angel."
"And yet you are Father's choice," Amenadiel replied, relentless. "And if you don't take up this task, he will not give it to another."
Lucifer stopped. He looked down at the picture once more, cradling it in the curve of his hand. Officer Chloe Jane Decker looked back up at him, as if daring him to take action. His voice low, he asked, "What will happen to her if I say no?"
Amenadiel got to his feet. Lucifer didn't turn, lost in his contemplation of the woman, but he heard his brother stop behind him. "If you refuse, then she dies."
Lucifer rounded on his brother, ignoring the way his heart surged at that news. "She's going to die anyway," he flared, clutching the picture closer. "They all do; you know that."
"But your presence will give her a longer life," Amenadiel replied. "And that will bring about good in the world."
Lucifer barked a short, humorless laugh. "My actions, bring about good? What's Father thinking?" He met his brother's gaze, asking, "What game is he playing at, brother? He's not trying to get me to return to the fold, is he? A quick trip to Earth to make something right, and all is forgiven?"
Amenadiel looked away. "Father, he doesn't forgive so easily," he said, choosing his words with obvious care. "But we're not talking about a quick trip, Lucifer."
Lucifer did not look at the photo. He curled his hand around it so that he couldn't see the officer and her challenging stare. "Of course not," Lucifer muttered, though even he wasn't sure to which of his brother's statements he was responding. "How long?"
Amenadiel's voice tightened. "Years," he replied. When Lucifer looked over, startled, he added, "A decade, maybe more."
"All spent keeping tabs on this one human?" Lucifer replied, shocked. "What's so special about her?"
For she was special, that much he knew. It wasn't just that his father's attention was focused on her; just from her picture, he felt something for this woman that he had never felt for anyone. He moved to sit on his couch, inhaling a long breath. It had been so long since he had experienced anything beyond the most superficial of emotions. Who was she, that just her picture could elicit so much from him.
It terrified him.
Amenadiel hesitated over his answer. "I can't tell you why she's special," he said finally.
Lucifer leaned back and regarded his brother, brows lifting. "Father's orders?" he asked. When Amenadiel nodded, he exhaled a short, bitter noise. "Well, that's no surprise, there."
"What are you going to do, Lucifer?" Amenadiel asked. "Are you going to let her die, or are you going to do as Father asks?"
Lucifer did not look at the picture. He would not. "Let her die. I'm nobody's guardian angel."
Was he imagining things, or did Amenadiel look relieved before his expression went impassive and he turned to leave. "That's your choice?"
"She's going to die anyway, Amenadiel," Lucifer replied, carefully putting the picture onto the couch beside him. "What difference does another few years make?"
Amenadiel inclined his head and turned to leave. "I'll tell Father."
Lucifer watched him go, and then turned to study the picture. He traced a finger along the image of her cheek, imagining his hand cupping her face just so. She looked back at him, and he felt his throat tighten. Could he let her die, because of his inaction?
She would die anyway, he knew. They all died, sooner or later. Amenhotep-no, Akhenaten, Theodora, Will, Oscar, even Freddie had gone to his grave. But Lucifer thought back on the time he'd had with each of them, and the others. He didn't regret it, even though they had all gone in the end. She would die, but there was the time between now and then, and… a decade, Amenadiel had said? He could do a lot in a decade. And there was something about this Chloe Decker that fascinated him. He could protect her, keep her safe, and find a way not to serve his father's purpose in the process. This time, he could make it work.
"Wait," he called. "I've changed my mind."
He could hear Amenadiel pause, hear the quiet word that could have been a curse. "You're sure?"
"Lucifer looked down at the picture. He turned back to Amenadiel and nodded. "Just let me get my suit."
Well, no. Not just that. There was someone he needed to consult.
"Are you kidding me?" Maze sent her knife to meet its target, a drawing of his mother, with unerring accuracy. "You're going back there to do what your father wants?"
"No," Lucifer explained, again. "It's a chance to stay up there for an extended period of time, Maze. And you know how Hell gets. So boring."
Maze shot him a sour look as she yanked her knife out of the target. "You're not fooling me, Lucifer. There's something else going on."
Lucifer smiled at her as he shook his head. "I can never pull one over on you," he agreed. "Fine, yes, there is." Maze folded her arms across her chest, clearly waiting, and Lucifer explained, "There's a woman."
Rolling her eyes, Maze asked, "Is that all? Go on, do her, and then come back here. You don't need to stay on Earth."
Shifting uncomfortably, Lucifer said, "It might be more than that, Maze. There's something about her…"
Maze threw the knife once more, and it landed with a solid thunk. "You've said that before," she replied, with a shrug. In obvious imitation of Lucifer, she drawled, "These humans, so fascinating."
"I don't sound like that," Lucifer replied, nettled. "And this one is different."
Maze made a short, derisive sound. "How do you know?"
"Amenadiel showed me her picture, and I… felt something." Lucifer grimaced, still not really comfortable with this depth of emotion.
"I'll bet you did," Maze replied, with a pointed glance below his belt.
"Not that. Okay, not just that." Lucifer let his hand drift to his breast pocket, where the picture waited. "She's different."
Maze sighed. "You're really doing this?" she asked. When Lucifer nodded, she pulled the knife from the target. "Fine. I'll pack."
Sitting up, Lucifer protested, "Maze, you don't have to. I'm sure I'll be fine up there."
Maze shook her head. "You said an extended trip," she said. "You've gotten into enough trouble on your own on the short ones. If you're going to be there for a while, I need to be there, too, to protect you."
"Maze, really," Lucifer began, but he saw that there would be no dissuading his demon. And he knew that her presence would make the trip easier. "Thank you," he said. Maze made a short sound of acknowledgement, and Lucifer went to pack his own belongings. He'd be able to get most of what he needed on Earth, but there were a few things, such as Will's manuscript, that he wanted to bring.
His beloved white suit, Lucifer had learned, was wildly out of fashion. That, of course, couldn't stand; with a frustrated Amenadiel in tow, Lucifer found a tailor, chatted amiably with the bird-like man who was leaving with his bespoke clothing, and obtained a suit of his own. Maze was able to clothe herself, and clearly approved of certain fashion changes among the humans. Lucifer even got Amenadiel some clothing, for his brother wanted to make sure that Lucifer actually did reach Chloe without making contact.
She wasn't supposed to see him, after all. Not yet. "You need time to establish your identity," Amenadiel said. "FInd a place to live, that sort of thing. Then you can meet her."
Lucifer wasn't sure. He could watch over her without interfering too overtly in her life. He still wasn't sure what his father had planned, but he knew he didn't want to be a part of it. And, really, guardian angels were supposed to be subtle.
Lucifer supposed he could try to be subtle. It would be something new. But he did want to see his charge, and that was how the three of them ended up at Rico's.
Lucifer adored the lights and the music, and Maze was clearly taken by the fight taking place in the ring below them.
"The one in the pink is going to win," she informed Lucifer, and he grinned down at her.
"We'll see," he said. But then he reached to catch the railing before him; it was as if a jolt of electricity had gone through him.
He didn't turn, but he knew. She was there. Chloe… no. He had to keep her at a distance, somehow. Officer Decker. He took in a deep breath, then managed a smile for Maze, whose raised-eyebrow look hinted at concern.
When Lucifer finally managed to turn, Officer Decker was leaving. He caught sight of her ponytail swinging as she moved down the steps; it was all he could do not to chase after her. Turning, he saw Amenadiel's look of inquiry and Maze's wry expression.
"Yeah," she said. "You've got this completely under control."
Lucifer turned back to watch Officer Decker disappear into the crowd, not bothering to reply.
Amenadiel left, off to tend Hell in Lucifer's absence; Lucifer didn't even bother to hide his gloating, but soon became too absorbed in establishing his own life to think about Amenadiel. He'd bought Rico's, unable to let go of the place where he had first seen Officer Decker. He obtained paperwork for himself and for Maze, though she maintained that she would never need such human items.
Lucifer watched, and he waited. He kept track of Officer Decker, and rejoiced in her accomplishment when she became Detective Decker. He averted a few disasters, not because he wanted to act in his father's interest, but because he simply couldn't help himself. He couldn't allow harm to come to the Detective, not when he could prevent it.
Maze watched his comings and goings with a certain antipathy, for she didn't see the point in Lucifer helping this one human. When he began to make deals with other humans, she seemed mollified, because he was, at least, getting something out of the bargain.
When Delilah ended up dead outside Lux, Lucifer did not anticipate that this would result in the Detective taking the case. He participated in cursory introductions, then retreated back inside, where he poured himself a drink with trembling hands and sat at his piano.
Not five minutes later, there she was, notebook in hand.
Chloe Jane Decker. He'd seen her countless times, of course, but this was the first time that she had seen him.
"Lucifer Morningstar," she said, as she wrote. "Is that a stage name or something?"
Lucifer looked up, and finally met her gaze. His hands lingered on the piano, playing a few chords; as if that could distract him. "God-given, I'm afraid."
Now that he had finally met her, how could he ever let her go?
