A/N: Y'all blew up my inbox, so I delivered! Thank you for your continued patience. Life gets in the way of a lot of things, including my hobbies. Warning: there's a time jump now, just a couple of months. Flashback dialogue in this chapter is taken from Lucifer episode 4x02 and does not belong to me. Did I look up maps of the Vatican while writing this chapter? Yes. Did I also rewatch Lucifer 4x02 and pull up the script just for old time's sake? Also yes. Please enjoy! XOXOX
Devil in the Details
The Devil, may in fact, have a weakness.
That weakness, one may ask? IKEA furniture.
"No no no you're doing it all wrong. This part needs to go left," Lucifer complained with a sigh, turning the directions around as if she could read Swedish. His fingers twitched as Izzy tried for a fifth time to connect two pieces that had no business going together at all. "Miss Lightwood, if I may - "
"If you 'Miss Lightwood' me one more time, this is going through your skull," Izzy snapped, brandishing the wooden slat as she would one of her knives.
"Alright, alright! Message received loud and clear." Lucifer backed off, his hands raised in surrender. "No need to get stabby."
The message was not received well enough, Izzy thought bitterly as Lucifer paced behind her.
"Why don't you get a drink?" Izzy suggested, needing him away. She wouldn't be able to focus with him breathing down her neck, and thankfully he took her up on her suggestion.
Izzy bit down on her bottom lip, focusing on making this damned contraption. She'd been building what was supposed to be a crib for the better part of three hours and was just about ready to give up. This was what she got for not wanting to spring for anything expensive. Lucifer had offered, had even suggested they go to some high end shops in SoHo or Dubai, but Izzy refused. Just because she was living in Lucifer's good graces didn't mean she wanted to take advantage.
All Izzy's life, she'd worked hard for what she wanted. If she wanted to give her baby the comforts she never got to enjoy herself, then she'd build them with her own two hands. Even if it killed her. Even if she didn't speak Swedish and would likely break this set to bits in frustration and have to buy a whole new one.
The plank got cast aside for a metal rod and a few screws, when suddenly the shift in materials brought clarity. Izzy could actually see how these things went together, and it was nothing like the instructions. She threw them aside and followed her gut, just like she should have done from the start.
She was finishing up tightening the last screw when Lucifer walked back in the room, drink in hand.
"And voila!" Izzy stepped back and beamed at her handiwork. "It's finally done!"
Pride wasn't the right word, but it was close to the squeezing sensation in her chest as she looked at the corner of the master bedroom they now called a nursery. The crib had been the last project to piece together, going with the changing table along the wall and the rocking chair in the corner. It kinda clashed with the black leather bachelor pad vibe of the rest of the house, but Lucifer didn't seem to mind. They both agreed the baby should stay in their room, and so the white wood would have to clash. As much black as Izzy wore, it simply wasn't a color she wanted for her baby. At least, not yet.
"Well, color me impressed," the Devil crooned, his grin large over the rim of his glass. "And here I thought we'd have to set our baby girl down in a pile of sticks."
Izzy rolled her eyes.
"Oh!" she gasped, running to the closet. "Almost forgot."
Izzy grabbed a few command strips as well and stuck the small frame to the wall right above the crib. Another thing to clash with the decor, but it was perfect.
Clary had been experimenting with her artwork: a form of impressionism that used dots and streaks of ambiguous color to depict images from her memory. So far she'd only made a few pieces, but this one was special. Since Izzy hadn't had a baby shower - for obvious reasons - Clary had still found a way to get Izzy a gift. This particular memory was of their dinner at the Hunter's Moon back when the whole family was gathered and happy. Before everything went so badly. Even though they were just blurs of color, Izzy knew she was looking at the dinner table and could pick out where each member was sitting.
"So that you can keep a piece of us with you, always," Clary had said weeks ago as she passed the painting over to a very tearful Izzy.
Now, looking at the painting made Izzy just as sad as she was grateful, reminded of everything she could have had.
Lucifer stepped behind her and squeezed her shoulders. Immediately, tension started to bleed from her sore muscles.
"And how are we feeling?" he asked, his voice a gentle purr in her ear.
"Like a bowling ball is crushing my insides," she grumbled, melting into his touch. She tipped her head back and gave Lucifer a tired smile, eyes fluttering shut. "Much better, thank you."
"I know it gets lonely for you, cooped up inside the penthouse all day, but I do want you to have a pleasant experience. They say that pregnancy and childbirth is a magical time in a young woman's life."
"I wouldn't call it magical, but ever since coming here it hasn't been half bad."
Not that the bar was very high. She'd spent the first third of her pregnancy in hiding and the second third as a lab rat in prison. Spending the last third in a luxury penthouse protected by a the Devil with a platinum AmEx was quite the jump from rags to riches.
The truth was, the last couple months had been a dream. A girl could get used to being doted upon. Having everything she wanted at her fingertips. Not having to worry about hiding a belly or watching her back for demons (other than Maze who still liked to give her jump scares in order her "keep her sharp"). Getting to eat as many meals she wanted in a day without feeling guilty.
Of course, she missed her family. The weekly video chats with Alec and Magnus weren't enough. She needed to hug her brother, have him in her arms and smell his familiar metal and cedar wood smell. She wanted more than just the occasional text with Jace or portal visit with Clary, but that was just her being greedy. Everyone was still under surveillance, locked in the Institute by her mother's orders. Izzy had to take what she could get or risk everyone's safety.
Lucifer, thank the Angel, had been an angel himself about the whole thing. Despite the grumbles and half-hearted protests, he let Izzy have run of the place. Anything and everything Izzy wanted, he bent over backwards to get. He even let Clary stay the night on the couch once when it got too late to travel back to New York without raising alarm. Izzy was starting to think the whole 'bad guy' act was just that: an act. Underneath it all, Lucifer was actually a softie.
Case and point: he was still massaging her shoulders, letting her lean her whole pregnancy weight against him as he dug into a particularly tight knot on her left shoulder blade.
"I think we should go out."
Izzy's eyes snapped open.
"What were we just saying about staying inside for my safety?"
"Come now, Miss Lightwood. I think we've earned a little retreat. There's one month, maybe less until our lives are permanently changed by dirty diapers and late night bottles. Besides, with me by your side no one would dare make a move against us," Lucifer needled gently, his expression going from playful to somber. "I hate to see you so restless, and there's only so much entertainment and comfort money can buy before you realize that you've effectively trapped the mother of your child in another cage. I don't want you to feel trapped."
Izzy took a step back and took Lucifer's hands in hers. As always, she was stunned by the sheer difference in size, a single palm nearly consuming both of hers.
"Lucifer, listen to me," she said, her no-nonsense voice coming out to play. "This place is the furthest thing from a prison. Would I like to take a walk down the street and get a coffee with Clary or go to the movies with Simon or visit that new kickboxing studio in Queens with Jace and Alec? Sure I would. But this won't be forever, and I'm perfectly content. You don't have to worry."
"Fine, I'm not worried. I'm simply spoiling the mother of my soon-to-be child. So please, let me take you out," he insisted, like a dog with a bone. "Nothing too grand. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just dinner. Maybe some of that ice cream from the shop by the pier you love so much."
Izzy frowned, but she felt her resolve weakening. "You don't play fair, Morningstar."
"Since when has fair ever gotten anyone anywhere?" he said smugly having gotten his way. "Not to fear, I will handle everything."
"Good, because I'm in no state to plan anything. That furniture took the last of my energy," Izzy groaned, rolling her sore hips. Everything hurt these days, and no amount of massages would change the weight that strained on her back constantly.
"Should I draw you a bath?"
"I would love you forever," she groaned, not recognizing the words for what they were until she looked back and realized Lucifer was staring at her rather strangely. "What?"
"Nothing, nothing at all," he recovered quickly. "Would you like the lavender scented salts or the rose?"
"Lavender, please."
"It'll be ready for you shortly," Lucifer said, disappearing into the bathroom.
That was...weird. Izzy thought, rubbing her stomach idly as the baby flipped and kicked inside, almost as agitated as her mommy. Was dinner going to be even weirder?
... - ...
Two months in Italy and Chloe still woke up startled, unaware of where she was or how she got there.
Night terrors, her therapist said after their first telehealth session. Brought on by intense stress or the memory of trauma.
Chloe hadn't told her therapist exactly why she'd been having these night terrors. She'd let the matronly older woman eye her with sympathy and assume that it was due to her job. Chasing down criminals, being shot at - being shot at all - takes a toll on a soul after a while. The therapist didn't question Chloe's vague answers, accepting them at face value. There was no digging into her partner, no digging into the fallout of terrible things seen through cameras, no mention of vivid red eyes and burned flesh and wings.
Those things were best reserved for her terrors, those three a.m bursts of adrenaline and fear.
Breathe, Chloe forced herself to repeat like a mantra. You're alive. You're safe. Breathe.
At three in the morning, chest heaving and body covered in sweat, she remembered she wasn't in L.A. She was in Rome. She'd come with Trixie; the only way she'd fall asleep at all was knowing her daughter was in the same place, just a room away. Safe.
At three in the morning, she would remember why she made the trek half way across the world.
So, at nine in the morning every morning - once Trixie was settled at the summer camp Chloe'd enrolled her in and she'd sent the mandatory daily text to Dan - she took the bus to the Vatican and started her research.
It was habit, routine even. Chloe thrived in those. She didn't like surprises, didn't like it when things were out of the ordinary. She'd spent the first week in Rome seeing the sights with Trixie, and every day after that in this pattern. It was comforting, something to hold onto when the rest of the world was spiraling out of control.
The attendants in the Vatican were used to her face, recognizing and greeting her with a smile. They let her through the staff lines, her special access badge allowing her to bypass tourists wrapped around the perimeter of the city. A few of said tourists even looked at her with envy, wondering what was so special about this specific American that let her into all the restricted places.
Truth be told, there was nothing about her that was special. It was all about who she knew.
Father Kinnley had found her in her early days, frantically searching through the limited volumes of the apostolic library. It had been hell to get a research pass, especially since Chloe had not been a scholar but a detective, but something about her must have swayed those in charge because they granted her admittance, shocked by her dedication to studying from library opening to close. No one said anything about the books stacked around her, nor their topic: satanic history. Surely many people came through these halls asking for something just as ridiculous, thinking to prank such an important religious institution, but they let Chloe have her fill. They took her seriously.
And then, a hand on her shoulder startled her.
She jumped out of her seat, thinking that one of the horribly grotesque pictures from the religious texts had come to life, only to be faced with a kindly older man with a grey beard and intelligent eyes.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said serenely, with a chuckle. "I didn't mean to startle you."
Chloe stared at him, shocked and unsure of why he was there.
"I'm Father Kinnley," he introduced, making no move to get closer. "Someone said you might need some help with research?"
Research. Of course.
"Yes," Chloe breathed out a laugh of relief. "Did you hear some crazy lady was asking about the Devil?"
Father Kinnley smiled. "I don't...I don't think you're crazy at all. In fact, I think we should talk."
He took her into the garden outside the library, the sun setting on the horizon. The library was closing, and soon she would have to go, but no one shoed her out. Father Kinnley's presence was power, and though there were others milling about, no one stopped to intrude upon their private conversation.
"I work for a division of the Church called the International Association of Exorcists. We deal with demonic possession, people who believe that they have encountered the Devil or to be the Devil," he explained, as if such things were ordinary. And, perhaps they were for him, But for Chloe, this was all new. Her head spun. "We know about Lucifer Morningstar, Miss Decker. We've been aware of him for about seven years. At first we thought he was just a benign eccentric, but the more we watched him, the more terrifyingly authentic he became. And since you've traveled all this way to research him, I assume that you agree."
They came to a stop in front of an archway. One way led a path to the outside world. Chloe could take her research pass and throw it in the trash, walk away and leave the Devil to the professionals who clearly were miles ahead of her. The other way led deeper into this world, perhaps with no way back to normalcy.
"I don't know what to think."
"I realize that this must be extremely difficult for you," Father Kinnley said in sympathy. "I want you to know that I'm here to help."
"How?" Chloe asked, desperate. "How can you help me?"
To that, he had no answer. Hope deflated in her chest, gone just as quick as it came.
"That's what I thought."
Father Kinnley did take a step forward, his gaze never leaving Chloe's.
"But there is something you can do."
Curious, Chloe listened as he outlined his plan. From then on, she was committed to helping him succeed.
Today, she met Father Kinnley in the cloisters outside the gardens. It was more private here, way from the prying eyes of the public. She couldn't help the thrill that went down her spine as she was permitted access to such private places. Thought Father Kinnley did not act alone and the Church was aware of his dealings, Chloe couldn't help but feel like she was a spy in her favorite action series. The clandestine nature of this plan, the intensity of it all, set her nerves buzzing.
"You look well today, Chloe," Father Kinnley said with a smile as he approached her, regarding her with his special brand of sharp-eyed warmth.
"I feel well."
For the first time in two months, Chloe knew she was telling the truth. There were no nightmares last night, no red eyes haunting her or visions of torment and destruction. She didn't wake up screaming, clutching her chest with the urge to claw her skin everywhere the Devil had touched her. No need to walk into Trixie's room and watch her daughter breathe, peaceful in her ignorance.
"Good, I'm glad to hear it," Father Kinnley hummed.
They turned a corner, their footsteps echoing off the cloister walls. It was so beautiful here. Too beautiful for conversations about the Devil. At first, Chloe was looking for an escape, and then for answers. Finding a priest who specialized in demonology was an added bonus. Getting to conduct her research alongside him was a privilege.
Arming herself for what was to come next, now that was the current project.
"You've done good work here, Chloe," Father Kinnley praised as they reached the library. They were to split here as they always did: the priest to his prayer and Chloe to her studies. Knowledge was the best weapon she had against the Devil. The more she knew, the better.
"Job's not done yet."
"No, it's not." He looked out into the garden, the sun shining along the greenery. Such a peaceful place for such dark topics. "We have almost everything we need to complete our plans. Once we have the final tools, you can return to Los Angeles with peace of mind and spirit."
"I'm looking forward to putting this all behind me."
"As am I, Miss Decker. And the world will thank you for it." Father Kinnley's smile was triumphant. He placed his hands on Chloe's shoulders. "Now, go and get some rest. You work too hard here, and you deserve to enjoy your life."
Chloe didn't know if she believed him. She also didn't know if she could trust herself to spend a day amongst normal civilians and pretend like everything was normal. Like her entire world view hadn't shifted. Nothing was the same. Those people didn't know what was at risk. They lived their lives in ignorance. What a luxury.
Father Kinnley parted ways with a smile, off to some important meeting or other task. He was a busy man with more responsibilities than the ramblings of a mad woman. Not that Chloe thought of herself as mad. Not since that first day. But it was still a thought that crossed her mind every now and again when she talked to a cousin or cab driver or a cashier at the corner store where Trixie liked to buy her gelato.
Still, Chloe knew a dismissal when she heard one. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to get some fresh air, see a little bit of sun outside the stained glass walls of the Vatican library.
She was just under the arch - the same one where Father Kinnley proposed his grand plan - when a voice called out.
"He's a fraud, you know."
Chloe turned around.
The only other person in sight was a woman dressed in black. She sat on a nearby bench, her legs crossed at the ankled and her dress moving with the breeze. . A veil thinly covered her face, her hair done up in an elaborate bun. She was beautiful, nearly unapproachably so, which was why it was surprising that she was was speaking to Chloe.
"Excuse me?"
"Forgive me for intruding, but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," she said, her voice elegant and light. She lifted her veil, are her face, too, was full of dark, elegant angles. Dark eyes latched onto hers, pleading. "Too many lost souls go looking for absolution in men like that."
"Father Kinnley?" Chloe looked over her shoulder. The priest was gone, but there was nothing off about him. Not a single alarm bell flared when Chloe spoke to him. Not that she could trust her instincts. They had betrayed her before, led her right into the arms of the Devil himself. "He's a priest. He's been nothing but helpful and kind to me."
"What good are priests compared to Devil?" the woman hissed, and Chloe's blood ran cold. "Men like him, they see women like us and think we're hysterical, that we can't trust what we've seen with our own two eyes. They offer us sanctuary, absolution, but it's all a lie. He doesn't know what he's doing. None of them do."
Chloe couldn't help it. She moved closer until she was sat on the bench next to the woman, urgent in her need to forge this connection.
"You...you've met the Devil?"
"Yes, and he was...terrifying. Red eyes and terrible, scarred skin. Like fire and damnation." The woman's voice echoed in Chloe's ears, her perfect description matching the nightmare that popped up every time she closed her eyes. "I came here for help from men just like your Father Kinnley, but they weren't any use. They laughed at me, called me crazy."
"But Father Kinnley's different. He believes me, and he has a plan - "
"A vial of special fluid and a ritual to bind him, right? It won't work. Trust me, I've tried." The woman's smile was small and sad and...patronizing. As if she were already saying 'I told you so'. "All these men have is mortal instruments, but the Devil is nothing close to a mere mortal."
He wasn't. He really wasn't.
And wasn't that the most terrifying part? The way he snuck into her life, insidious, pretending to be a harmless human club owner? The way he pranced circles around her on crime scenes and flaunted all his illegal acts and weaseled his way down into her heart, next to her friends, next to her child -
"Then...what can I - what can we do? Because I can't..." Chloe's breath lodged itself in her throat, choking the words. "I can't live like this, knowing he's out there, that he-he's - "
"I know, my dear. I know, " the woman tutted, opening her arms for Chloe to fall into.
Chloe didn't know what came over her; it was inappropriate to embrace a stranger, but she let herself accept the comfort. Let this woman wrap her thin arms around Chloe's shaking form and share her warmth. The woman was so, so warm. Like a heated blanket. Chloe hadn't felt such comfort in an embrace since she was a child in her mother's arms.
"I'm so alone," she whispered, scared as a child, regressed as she gave into the fear she tried and failed to beat down.
"But you're not. You have me now." The woman leaned her cheek against the crown of Chloe's head. Her voice was soft and sweet and sure. "And it just so happens that I know exactly what to do."