A/N: Mum still hasn't made her entrance—Lucifer gets paranoid while waiting. He confesses to Chloe about the circumstances of his death and his deal with Dad. His frustration flares as he tries to convince her that he really is the devil. She still isn't buying it—is he beginning to wear her down?

Lucifer becomes ill and only gets worse as the day continues on. This chapter is pretty light hearted—fun with the devil—at his expense. The next few will be on the heavy angst side. Thank you for following the story—I'd love some feedback if you should feel so inclined…

Chapter 8: Even The Devil Can Get Weary

Confession

Awaiting this moment for over twenty-five hundred years, Asherah has obsessed over it, pondered it, ruminated over it, wrestled with it, stewed on it, analyzed it, fixated on it, reflected on it and seethed over it —now, she's ready to savor it. The goddess is in no hurry to show up. Besides, she finds Lucifer's terrified anticipation of her imminent arrival—absolutely delicious.

Lucifer leans against the entranceway to Lux, cigarette in hand. A light breeze pushes the drifting smoke away out toward the street while the already burgeoning L.A. traffic hums by. He finds an early morning smoke most enjoyable, especially when he is able to warm himself in the sun—but not today. He feels out of sorts, his hands tremble, the scars on his back ache more than normal, and he's feeling a bit of a chill coming on.

Fretting like a man awaiting to be hung—his fate sealed, the devil takes an extended drag on his cigarette—like it was his last. Shutting his eyes, he exhales the smoke in a long slow stream, quelling the butterflies in his stomach.

Come on, pull yourself together, the detective will be here any minute. I can't let her see me all out of sorts like this… A good juicy case would be just the thing to get my mind off of Mum…

Detective Chloe Decker pulls up to find her partner leaning against the club door entrance, smoking a cigarette—just like any other day. Snuffing out the butt with his foot, Lucifer strolls over to the car.

Narrowed green eyes fix on the impeccably dressed, long, lean figure sauntering over to the passenger side. Chloe peers at him over the steering wheel, following his smoothly confident gait. Humph, how does he come back from being shot in the gut, bleeding out and dying—and still look that great? God, I'm pissed at him! Ugh, sometimes his Luciferness drives me nuts.

"flashing that wickedly charming smile of his, as he plunks himself into the car, Lucifer greets Chloe with a bright, "good morning detective."

Cranky doesn't begin to describe Chloe's mood this morning, and it was only seven thirty.

Releasing an exasperated huff, she keeps her eyes focused straight ahead. A short "hi," would have to suffice as a greeting. Stepping hard on the gas, she abruptly hangs a u-turn in front of Lux, jerking Lucifer around in the passenger seat in the process…A small smirk forms on her tired face.

"Detective!" He calls out as he tries not to fall out of the door. "I'd better fasten my seatbelt, looks like it's going to be a rough ride to the station"—he teases.

Chloe does not laugh back—she is not in the mood. She looks totally exhausted. Dressed in an old sweatshirt over leggings, she'd barely slapped mascara on her eyes, or bothered with lipstick, her hair scrunched into a messy pony tail.

Sensing that she was still out of sorts from yesterday's events, Lucifer, leans over towards her, placing his hand on her arm, he stares at her intently, giving her an up and down once over, he declares, without taking his eyes off her; "my, my but don't you look absolutely charming this morning," with that stupid sexy grin of his.

This time, she laughs, "you are such an ass. You know."

"Yes, yes, I am well aware that I am." Thankful that he's lightened the heavy mood. "It's good to hear you have a laugh."

Chloe lets out a long sigh, "Lucifer, I killed a man yesterday. I know Malcolm was a total scumbag, and that he had robbed, killed and kidnapped. I know that he would have killed us all in a heartbeat. I shot him in self-defense; he was coming for me, for my daughter—and for you. I had to end him. It was a justified shooting, but it doesn't mean I feel good about it."

"Well, detective, I am not sad that our former colleague will be burning in hell for all eternity. He finally got his due, if you ask me." Looking away from Chloe, Lucifer could feel his eyes flashing red with anger.

"Yeah, well, speaking of hell, get ready for your first experience with LAPD bureaucracy and be ready for Internal Affairs to put us through the wringer today. I for one am not looking forward to the experience."

"This is the second time A.I. will be interviewing me for having shot Malcolm."

"And it will be the last," Lucifer offers hopefully.

They both fall silent, retreating back into their thoughts.

Chloe, decides to break the silence. In an ever so matter-of-factly tone, she brings up the event of Lucifer's death, "so, did you recover from being shot dead yesterday?"

"Excuse me? Detective." Lucifer feigns shock, "I'm not dead, I'm right here," he smiles—his eyes mischievously twinkling.

Chloe sharpens her glare as she turns her head to look at him. "It's not funny Lucifer, I saw him shoot you. I saw you fall to the ground and die in a pool of your own blood."

Avoiding her darkening mien, his soft brown eyes downcast, Lucifer gave her a sheepish look, "I told you last night detective—I got better."

"Come on Lucifer, I saw you with my own eyes. You don't come back from being shot in the gut at point blank range."

"Detective, if I were to tell you the whole truth, you wouldn't believe me. Father knows, you haven't yet…"

"Humor me," she snaps back.

He shifts in the car seat to face her full on, "OK, but this is rather embarrassing…"

"I'm all ears—have at it…" she smiles sweetly at him.

"Right then…" drawing in a sharp breath, Lucifer confesses:

"When I realized that I was about to come to a sticky end, I prayed to my Father and I asked him for a favor. (he fails to tell her that his dying wish was for his Father to save and protect her) I told him I would be the son he always wanted me to be, go where he wanted me to go, and do what he wanted me to do. Then I died, and went back down to hell. I wasn't down there very long, before I saw what my Father had wanted me to see. My mother's cell was empty: she'd escaped from hell. The next thing I know, I'm back on the hanger floor filling my lungs with a big gulp of air. And, well, you know the rest."

To Lucifer's shock, Chloe doesn't immediately laugh or scoff at him.

"So let me see here, ah, your mother escaped from hell…and your Father brought you back—to do what?"

"Well, to bring her back to hell of course." He grins

"Oh, uh, huh…but Lucifer, you told me that you never had a mother…so does that mean that you lied to me?"

"No, I didn't lie to you, but I didn't tell you the whole truth either, he says softly. It's a very long story, that I'm afraid I can't tell you until you accept me for who I really am."

Huffing loudly to herself, Chloe looks her passenger straight in the eye, "Nice, try, but I still don't believe you are the devil."

"OK, here we go again," getting visibly agitated, Lucifer starts to lose his patience. "Detective, please pull the car over right now."

Chloe finds it hard to keep her eyes on the road, Lucifer clearly rattles her, "What? No. Are you kidding me?"

Lucifer feels his face flush as his temperature rises, eyes black with frustration, he snaps back, "No—I most certainly am not. Now please: just pull the car over." He growls.

Chloe makes a sharp turn onto a back alley and stops the car. "Ok, what's going on with you," she demands.

Glaring over at this maddeningly exasperating woman, Lucifer tries his best not to flash her with his burning red devil eyes. "I'll show you what's going on with me," He pulls his shirt up from his pants and nimbly unbuttons it.

Eyes wide with shock, she goggles on as her partner hastily peals his shirt open, "Lucifer!" Chloe yells over at him.

But before she can utter another word, he nearly pulls his shirt off so she can see his stomach. Exposing his smooth torso to Chloe, he wants her to look at him. He wants her to see that he has no physical scars from yesterday's events. He yearns for her to see him for who he really is.

Lucifer is so frustrated, that he can barely control himself, his eyes turning feral, glisten with emotion, his breath ragged, "there, look!" he shouts— "there's nothing there!" Grabbing her hand, he places it right over where he was shot dead the day before. "Do you feel anything detective?"

His elegant hand, feverish to the touch from his own innate heat, quivers as he clutches her petite hand under his.

Stunned by the feeling, he gasps, releasing her. He'd never held her hand before…

Chloe had never seen Lucifer be so raw—he was actually frightening.

Lucifer was still freaked-out by the fact that he'd died yesterday. An ancient immortal being such as himself, experienced being violently snuffed out at the hands of a deranged mortal. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he had died on the floor of that hangar. It was an ordeal that he would never forget.

Realizing that he was scaring the detective, Lucifer softens his expression, letting out a long sigh, he releases his pent-up frustration. The last thing he wanted to do was to frighten her.

"No Lucifer, I don't see anything and I don't feel anything," she blurts out. Chloe was looking up at him now, with gaping eyes and mouth, she gasps, "I, I can't do this today…" She starts to break down and cry, "I almost lost you yesterday. I know you aren't normal, but I'm just not ready to admit that you actually are the devil. There I said it, I'm just not ready."

Her tears pierce Lucifer to his core, pulling her into him, hugging her tightly, he whispers, "Chloe, I am so very, very sorry. I almost lost you yesterday as well." Pressing her head against his chest, he can't help but breathe in the scent of her hair—it smells of verbena and pomegranates. He imagines losing himself in her honey colored mane.

Chloe hears Lucifer's heart beating quickly, time seems to stop between the rising and falling of his chest as he breathes ever so calmly, his bare skin feels soft, welcoming and very, very warm. He smells delicious like the subtle earthy aroma of fallen pine needles and cologne. Hmm, I could get used to this, tearing herself away—before she can't.

Smiling again, she offers, "Ok, truce?"

"Truce," her partner agreed, as he buttoned his shirt back up.

Both remained quiet for the rest of the ride to the police station.

It Begins…

Once at the station, Lucifer and the Detective parted ways going into separate interview sessions. As Lucifer sat and waited outside of the room, he began to feel physically uncomfortable. He felt cold and his back started to ache again. Granted, he'd certainly gone through a tremendous amount of pain and exertion the day before. Getting shot, dying, going to hell, and coming back to earth might do that to a guy—even to him. Yet, this felt different, like he was actually getting sick.

Muttering under his breath, "What? The devil doesn't get sick." He dismisses the feeling.

As the interview droned on, Lucifer was getting colder and colder—uncomfortably colder. His interview had finished before that of the Detectives' so he parked himself in a chair across from her desk.

Today, he wasn't his usual devilishly loquacious self. He wasn't flirting with all of the other policewomen in the room, nor was he joking around. Sitting quietly, he seemed pensive.

Chilled to the bone, he'd started shivering.

What's happening to me? I despise being cold.

When Chloe came back to her desk after her interview, she shot a concerned look over at her partner, who now looked decidedly withered. His usual debonair demeanor had drained from him. Even more troubling, Lucifer seemed withdrawn. Chloe's gut feeling was that man sitting across from her was plainly not looking well at all. And, he was—silent; a sure sign that something serious was going on with him.

"Lucifer, are you OK?" she snapped.

Barely looking up, he answered tightly, "I'm fine".

"What? No you are not," Chloe said with concern. In the next instant, she was over by his side feeling his forehead, face and hands, which were all cold as ice.

Lucifer, now feeling as pathetic as he looked, still attempted a rather wicked smile, "Ooh detective, I didn't know you cared…would you like to feel where else I might be hot or cold?" He purred.

Shooting over one of her trademark "I'm going to smack you looks" Chloe felt conflicted. She didn't know whether to kiss him or kick him. Over the last few months, and especially after he had just saved Trixie and herself from certain death, she knew she was developing real feelings for this impossible man—devil—whatever he was.

A sick feeling began to manifest itself in Lucifer's stomach, something he'd never experienced before—nausea.

What is this unpleasant sensation coming over me? Why am I feeling so uncomfortably clammy right now?

Another round of the shivers racks Lucifer again, leaving him glassy-eyed and ghostly pale. Suddenly he leaps out of the chair, eyes widened with fear, his mouth filling with saliva; he clutches his hands to his stomach.

"Detective, what's happening to me? I have the most unpleasant taste in my mouth and I feel like my stomach is turning inside out. It's getting worse by the second!"

"Lucifer, it sounds like you are about to puke—here, let's get you to the bathroom. Cover your mouth!"

Guiding him to the men's room, the detective pushes him in and shuts the door.

Behind the bathroom door a muffled plaint is heard: "But, but, wait—detective, I don't know what to do, I've never 'puked' before. I don't understand what's happening to me—please help me."

"Is there anyone else in there?"

"No, it's just me—please hurry…"

Chloe pulls the desk Sargent into action as a temporary lookout to guard the bathroom door and follows Lucifer into the men's room.

Lucifer, standing up against the wall, looks green around the gills, his forehead feels hot and sweaty and he's shivering with the chills—again.

"What do I do now? Detective…"

"Unbelievable! Lucifer, do you expect me to buy that you've never puked in your whole life? Are you—shitting me?"

The effect is instantaneous. Lucifer is sincerely terrified about what is happening to him. He starts backing away from Chloe like he is going to make a run for it. But she grabs his arm and shoves him into a stall before he can escape.

"Lucifer, just try to relax and let whatever is going to come up from your stomach, and out of your mouth, and possibly through your nose too, go into the toilet."

Several minutes tick by—nothing happens.

"Ahh, Lucifer, are you OK in there?"

No response comes from the stall, just a mangled whimper.

Pulling the stall door open, Chloe finds Lucifer with his back to the wall hyperventilating.

"Stop that, you're going to make yourself pass out! Oh, you are such a big baby."

Turning to face her, Lucifer looks thoroughly petrified. His black eyes are wide as a child's. He feels like his guts are going to come up through his mouth. Shutting his eyes tightly, he tries to will away the awful feeling in his stomach. Sharp cramps come over him, causing him to double over in pain.

Starting to feel sorry for her peculiar partner, she attempts to allay his anxiety by speaking to him in a soft motherly voice, "Relax Lucifer, you'll be fine." Chloe rubs his back and shoulders to try and calm him.

His head drops down and his shoulders heave—Lucifer finally lets himself puke.

"That was the most disgusting thing I've ever experienced in this body—I hope that it never happens to me again."

Quietly giggling at his strangeness, she pushes him up against the sink, while she draws some cold water. "Here, drink this, it will make you feel better." Chloe gently wipes his flushed face with a wet paper towel.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, oddly, I do. Thank you detective," he smiled.

As Chloe turned to leave the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of Lucifer smiling at her in the mirror. Was he looking at her with tenderness and affection? Was she seeing things? She could not un-see that look—it melted her heart.

"Listen Lucifer, I think your diagnosis is pretty simple—you have come down with the flu. Let me take you home so you can get some rest."

"Yes, detective, I would agree. I'm suddenly feeling quite unwell. if I can sleep this off, I'll be fine. It's nothing really, I'm just quite spent at the moment. Even the devil gets weary from time to time."

Once seated in the car, Lucifer starts to shiver, his breathing labors; he feels like a wrung out rag—he is exhausted.

Chloe, observing that he was moving with difficulty as he approached the car, senses that Lucifer is getting sicker by the moment. She tries to make him more comfortable by wrapping him up to his neck with a blanket she'd pulled from the trunk. Trying to get him home as fast as she can, she hopes for the best.

After a short while, she could hear his breathing normalizing. Glancing over at him from behind the steering wheel, she was heartened to see that he'd calmed down. His eyes were closed and he seemed to have dozed off. He looked like a tuckered out little boy.

The ride back to Lux was uncharacteristically quiet, but not uncomfortably so. It seemed almost peaceful in the car between the two of them.

Wait? Uh maybe he's too quiet? As she turned to check him out, to her utter amazement, she caught her partner gazing over at her with his deep brown eyes; holding her in that same expression that she'd seen from him in the precinct's men's room. Where was the smirk? Or, the leering smile? Who is this guy? Where's my partner? Even if she wasn't sure of what to make of it, like it or not, she knew that she was starting to feel the same way about him.

Lucifer knew she'd caught him staring, but instead of looking away, he held her glance and allowed a big smile to stretch across his face.

Oh, my God! Chloe screamed inside, what is he doing to me? She was glad they were pulling up to his club because her heart was melting and so was her resistance.

Regaining her composure, she asked, "are you sure you will be OK?"

"Yes, yes, yes, just let me rest for a few hours and I'll be back to my good old cheeky self." Against her better judgement, she let him out of the car.

Standing on the sidewalk, a wan smile settles onto Lucifer's tired face, waving goodbye to Chloe, he mouths, "thank you."

As the car rejoins the pulsating red brake light snake ribboning through L.A. traffic, Lucifer turns toward Lux's entry and stumbles.

Seeing two entrance doors, where there should only be one, the now lightheaded devil thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. Wait? Is Asherah causing me to feel like this? Is she somehow manipulating my mind? Why is everything spinning?

Feeling more and more unnerved, his heart races—he begins to hyperventilate again.

What's wrong with me? It feels like someone has grabbed my stomach into a ball and is squeezing it for all its worth.

Where is the damn door? Why does it keep on shifting? Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Wait, there's the door frame." Plying himself to the door jamb for support, Lucifer, now panting from exertion, is over-come by another wave of nausea."

I've never 'puked' in my entire existence, and this marks the second time today that I… "Oh, bloody hell!" he cries, as he clamps his hand down hard over his mouth.

Making a dash for the nearest restroom, Lucifer runs into the first one he sees. The one that is crammed with early shift workers, mostly in their underwear or in various stages of undress, makeup and hair styling; where the reek of cigarettes and pot permeates, while gossip and laughter animate the tiny, windowless—employee—ladies room.

Maze, about to walk out of the door, is surprised by Lucifer pushing his way in. "What the hell—Lucifer?" the demon shrieks as she's nearly knocked over by her rushing master.

Rippling through the squeals, screams and snickers of the other occupants, their boss dives into the nearest open stall and grosses everyone out with the sounds of him heaving up bile while coughing and gagging over the toilet.

Maze quickly empties the staff from the restroom and opens the stall door to find a mussed up Lucifer, sitting next to the toilet with his back propped up against the wall. He is as white as a sheet.

The devil's eyes half shut, cast a sideways glinting red glare at the demon; in a barely audible wavering voice, he orders: "this never happened. You are to be sworn to silence."

"Sure whatever you say—boss," she cajoled while offering her hand to help him up.

Standing at the sink splashing cold water on his face while trying to straighten out his disheveled clothing and tousled hair, the embarrassed king of hell huffs, "I'm never going to live this one down, am I?"

Enjoying a good laugh at her master's expense, the demon's eyes twinkled wickedly, "No, you sure won't."

Seriously, Lucifer, what in hell's name is wrong with you?

"I don't know, Maze, I've never felt as seriously ill as I've experienced today. I have this nagging feeling that my mother is behind it, but I can't be sure. Perhaps it's my nerves that are causing me to feel this way—I've been feeling out of sorts since very early this morning."

"Why don't you just go upstairs and try to relax before you work yourself up into a frenzy over something you have absolutely no control over…"

Avoiding the demon's glare, Lucifer stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror; his black as jet eyes betrayed the fear that haunted him—he looked a mess.

He couldn't admit to Maze that he was afraid to relax, afraid to lie down and most of all—afraid to fall asleep, lest his mother choose the moment to attack him.

"Earth to Lucifer, are you listening to me?" Maze chides, "Now get your devil's ass out of here and go upstairs."

"That's handsome devil's ass to you, besides I've always thought you rather liked my ass."

"Shut up and go upstairs—now!"

"Mm, you little dominatrix, I love when you command me to do your bidding."

Lucifer had to admit that Maze was right, lurching into the elevator, he steadied himself on the grab bars—his malaise wasn't letting up.

Perhaps some time at the piano might calm me, along with a few lines of shots. Yes, that sounds like a plan…

Entering the ruins of what had once been his home, Lucifer had forgotten how trashed it really was. Shining daylight was much less forgiving on the mess than the dark obscurity of night. Sighing heavily, he tries to ignore his surroundings.

Trudging over the crushed glass to his leather couch, the dead-tired devil sinks down into its butter soft comfort, slipping into slumber, he whispers a parting shot to Asherah:

"OK Mum, come and have at me…"