Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

¿¥¿  

Regret. A life full of regret. A life full of mistakes.   

Everything comes flashing right back in the eye of his mind, as he lies on his apparent ‘death bed’. He thinks of his decisions, his choices. So many of them wrong. So many of them unjust. All he thinks of is a way to reverse them. To make things right. If only it were that easy.   

If only he could do it.   

Guilt. A mind full of guilt. A chest heavy as lead.   

He thinks of his end. Not a very convenient end, according to him. His story has more. His end has more.   

As someone pointed out a long time ago,   

End is the beginning.   

Hopefully, his end would start a new beginning. A new story to tell. A new hero to see.   

His heart beats weakly – funny that most of the others call him heartless. He doesn’t have much time left, much story to tell. His family gathers round him, some of them are weeping and some of them stoic as ever, waiting for his final order. Foolish them, don’t they know how cryptic He always has been?  Yet, here they are, looking at his last state, his fragile, pale, broken mass of body lying gracelessly on the bed, struggling to take his last few breaths.   

And his nemesis? Himself.   

He lifts up an emaciated hand and one of his boys comes near, kneeling in front of him and bringing an ear to his mouth.   

This is it, then?   

His final order, huh?   

It’s a task to see clearly, when dots of black and blue grazes his vision, he can’t tell who is listening to him, he can’t make out their aura anymore. His energy reserves almost nil. So, he does what he can do the best, at the moment.   

He takes a deep, ragged breath – his last for sure – and whispers out the task he wants to be done.   

His last wish.   

The beginning to his end.   

The beginning of another story.   

In a broken, slurred voice, he breathes out, “Lu..ci-fer.”   

¿¥¿  

Consciousness is a heavy task. Who knew? It’s something that comes so easily to everyone, nobody ever gives it a thought. So many reflexes, so many muscles, tendons, senses working together and yet as simple as breathing.   

Breathing.   

That’s a chore too. Ever tried to breathe underwater? The feeling of water slowly and excruciatingly entering one’s lungs, the pressure building in the chest, pressing one down like a boulder and yet, no air to breathe.   

This feels like that.   

Only, there  is  air. But it doesn’t really matter that the air is flaring his lungs down, does it? Still, he breathes. He breathes like his last.   

His head is pounding so hard that it feels like it’s going to explode. If he were human, he would have prayed to ‘God Almighty’ for a savior. But he knows better.   

Where is he?   

He tamps down the inner struggle to focus on his senses. Eyes tightly clenched – for love’s sake, he  can’t  open them now – he feels the cold, damp tile beneath him. Its coldness feels good against his burning skin. The air around him stinks of divinity.   

Weird.   

But it’s not Heaven. The notion itself is laugh-worthy. Why would he be in Heaven all of a sudden? The last thing he remembers is... His mind draws a blank.   

That’s weird too because he never forgets.   

The situation would have been worrisome for him if he would not find it comical enough. He is lying on the floor, most likely naked in an unknown place filled with divinity while his mind is playing tricks on him.   

How the mighty has fallen!   

He doesn’t muster the energy to even snort at himself, the painful consciousness already loosening its clutches over him. Somewhere in his mind, he thinks he hears footsteps.   

And then some whispers.   

“He’s waking up.”   

Someone mumbles. He breathes out a laugh.   

“Are you sure, this is going to work? I can’t believe I am doing this.” Someone else says. It’s getting hard to differentiate, actually. Just like it’s hard to stay awake when the blissful blanket of oblivion is beckoning him, promising him of a painless destiny.   

He doesn’t hear the rest... only when he thinks he is far too gone, he hears them speaking again. At least, that’s what he thinks.   

“Don’t forget, we are doing this as our duty. It was his fault anyways;  we  are correcting  his  mistake.”   

Painless oblivion is much better.   

¿¥¿  

When he wakes up again, he doesn’t feel the cold, comforting tile beneath. Instead, it’s hot, rough and uncomfortable. Wherever he is, it isn’t the same place as before. The sharp, heated air whips against his skin. His entire body is aching, his back is another story. The bright light around him, pierces through his tightly shut eyelids, making the inner skin go red.   

He groans.   

“Oh, he is awake!” The voice mumbles again, a mixture of boredom and vindication in it. “It’s about time.”   

“What are we gunna do, Mike?”   

Mike, is it? He doesn’t recall the name. No one called Mike is included in his enemy list lately, that he is sure of.    

“We leave him here, of course.”   

He hears. Groans again.   

“What? Are you insane? Someone’s going to find him like this! Like this!”   

“No, they won’t”   

The footsteps move again, this time around him and then he is groped. He wants to snarl, to get up and fight for his remaining dignity, maybe flash his other face – a proof of the otherworldly punishment awaiting them, to do anything. But his body feels disconnected, as if his entire brain has short-circuited and then stuffed with wet cotton wool.   

His mind is combusting, cracking like an egg.   

It’s excruciating.   

Then, the agony multiplies, his back is on fire. He roars like the beast that he is, trying to scurry as far away as possible from the source of the pain, but someone is holding him down, pinning his limbs together and he can’t escape.  

Let me go, let me go, let me go!   

His mind chants.   

Letmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmego...!    

But he can’t voice it. His throat is so dry that it’s itching, his tongue feels like lead and he can’t protest.  He can’t protest!  A whimper escapes from his mouth, like a mewling.   

Sound of the bones crunching fill the air like a train whistle, his back arches as the dolor amplifies by thousands until his voice breaks and he can’t scream anymore.   

The only time he felt this amount of pain was the time he was cast out of Heaven, when his wings were broken and bound. He wishes death over this, but when had his wishes ever come true?  

As if on cue, something pushes into his shoulder blades, not that he can feel much in his intoxicated state of delirium. He pants weakly, whole body trembling as tears slides down the corners of his eyes.   

“ There, there. No need to shriek at this, like a baby. Don’t be pathetic.” A hand slaps his cheek softly as an assuring gesture but for him, it’s another torment. Another show of his weakness.   

Pathetic, indeed.   

He wants to open his eyes, look at the people responsible for his state, punish them. But it feels like a hard work right now. Instead, he focuses on his breathing, swallowing the rising bile down his throat. He will not vomit in front of them, will not give them – whoever they are – the satisfaction to see him like this.   

He will remember this voice – heavy and weighty. He will find them and he  will  punish them. He promises to himself.   

The sound of the footsteps now decreases. They are walking away from him, he realizes. Leaving him alone, broken in the middle of who-knows-where.   

He hears one of them speak again. If not for the celestial hearing, he wasn’t sure he could even hear them. “How long? We don’t have much time.”   

“A week or two at best.”   

“What?! It’s too long!”   

“We know how the mind works, Mike. I haven’t done anything like this before; I am not even sure it  will  work! Either way, we have to wait.”   

The soft sound of ruffling follows and then... silence.   

And there he lies, alone and helpless with a broken body.   

¿¥¿  

-Click – click – click-   

It can as well be a regular Tuesday for the entire precinct. Everybody going about their job; some of them really working hard to please the new lieutenant while others chatting their jolly asses off. The strong smell of afternoon coffee fills every breath taken. It’s soothing yet somehow very disturbing.   

-Click – click – click -   

Disturbing because by this time someone would have gotten Chloe a new cup of her preferred almond milk latte. Someone, who is tall, dark and slightly British. Someone who prefers to wear an ensemble three-piece suit even in the most dangerous situations. Someone whose absence is deafening, for the seventh consecutive day.   

- Click – click – click -   

Not that Chloe expected anything different from the man when he promised her to tell the whole truth – ‘ no more going backwards’ -  and the other things that make him so him, a week ago and disappeared the very next moment, but hope is a dangerous thing. It takes you higher and higher and when the fall ensues, it’s the most painful moment ever. Just like this time. When yet again for the second time, Lucifer Morningstar ghosted her, she lamented, threw a few curses at him but then, then she went to bed, hoped that she wouldn’t find white sheets in his apartment the next day.   

The next day, she didn’t find white sheets, true but she didn’t find him either. The lament soon flamed into a long buried but not forgotten rage and Chloe found herself waiting for the shoe to drop, even expecting a second wife on the verge of his impromptu visit to Utopia. By the end of the third day, her rage gradually molded to worry and then despair. Everyone else thought, Lucifer had gone to blow off some steam and it would be wrong to say she didn’t. Yet, somewhere in her gut, something seemed wrong.   

And then, Lucifer’s corvette was found from the parking lot of the Hospital. Apparently, it has been parked at the same spot for the last three days when he visited an injured Linda. Now with the missing pieces, turns out that her gut is never wrong.   

- Click – click – click-   

“You know stabbing the keyboard this hard won’t bring Lucifer back.”   

Dan’s concerned voice cuts through her reverie like a knife. He is not wrong, though. She really has been hard on her work these days, solving a double homicide  and  trying to keep track with the missing person’s department for any news of Lucifer in day and investigating his absence unofficially by night. All of these and still no sign of the civilian consultant.   

Chloe takes a deep breath, mentally counting sheep till 10 and tugging on her ponytail hard. “Yes, you may be right. But that doesn’t mean I will sit here and do nothing. I just... “she exhales, “I just need to find him.”   

She feels Dan’s pitying gaze on her but says nothing about it. She has been manic about Lucifer’s disappearance and it’s a literal miracle that nobody has turned her in yet. Still, the gnawing feeling of helplessness is constant, the fear of losing Lucifer chilled deep in her bones. Seconds tick by in a tense silence and just when she thinks it’s enough, Dan breaks the ice.   

“We brought Alex Rumph into custody. We need to interview him.”   

Good. A distraction.   

Nodding, she stands up and walks towards the interrogation room, not sparing a single glance at him.   

Alex Rumph is a short, blonde middle age man and the brother and brother-in-law of the deceased wife, Penny and husband Brandon Pant respectively. The said double homicide is the weirdest case Chloe has ever handled. While it is sure that the couple’s death wasn’t at all a natural one, the COD is mind boggling. And while Ella or any other forensic scientist failed to find any external injuries or poisonous traits in the bodies, according to autopsy, their hearts had been solidified and turned white. Like someone literally twisted the hearts in their hands like a wet kitchen towel until there’s not a single drop of blood left. Both of them, a similar death yet something that has forced the entire criminology department to wonder about. In their living days, the couple had been really amicable or so accounted by the neighbours and witnesses and till now the only real lead has been to Mr. Alex Rumph, currently sitting in front of Chloe in the interrogation room.   

“How was your relationship with Penny and Brandon?” Chloe asks her first question all the while looking for any signs of discomfort or nervousness in the man. Turns out, the man reeks of it.   

“Penny was my sister, Detective. Of course, our relationship was good! It wasn’t all sun and flowers but it was still better than most of the other families. After Penny’s marriage, our relationship became scarce to be honest,” Alex smiles ruefully, “Love marriage, after all. Even in such struggle, they both stuck together. And now they are....” he breaks off, unable to finish the thought.   

“What struggle?”   

“Monetary struggle of course. Brandon was drowning in debt from all over. I even offered to help them but Penny wouldn’t listen. Brandon was even beaten up by some goons for not being able to pay up. Don’t know the details much. Penny wouldn’t tell me.”   

Chloe nods, jotting the new information down in her notepad. “Where were you on Sunday night?”  

Alex gulps, color rushing to his cheeks. If earlier he seemed mildly uncomfortable, now the man has started flinching and fidgeting, eyeing the door as if he could just bolt out of there. After a long stretching – not to mention, nervous silence, he confesses.  “I was in Knights Inn, Downtown spending my night with beautiful Helena.”   

“Your girlfriend?”   

He shakes his head, wincing at the choice of words, “Umm... I paid her for... sex?”   

O... kay.   

Chloe clears her throat, uncomfortable with where the conversation has led to. “Right, uh... We need to corroborate your alibi with Helena. And, do not leave town until the investigation is over.”   

“Detective Decker,” the door swings open to reveal a rookie, yanking her attention towards it immediately. When Chloe looks at her with the silent question in her eyes, she says, “They have found Mr. Morningstar.”   

¿¥¿  

Desert View Hospital.   

Of all the places Chloe has expected to find Lucifer, this one didn’t even cross her wildest imagination. It’s an odd image to think of Lucifer and Hospital in the same scene. For some reason, the two never match. The notion seems abominable.   

Until now.   

Chloe presses the gas pedal harder, forcefully shoving the ever- increasing worry fluttering in her chest.  

 Compartmentalize. One of the perks of being a cop.   

She isn’t sure breaking all the speed limits to reach him falls under compartmentalizing. Not to mention, the misuse of siren in her police cruiser. Definitely not under the definition of a calm person. Any other situation and Chloe Decker would be the mother hen of speeding rules but now she can’t bring herself to care the least. Not after the dreaded phone call she has had about Lucifer.   

A man was found earlier in the morning lying in the middle of Death Valley unconscious and almost naked, curled up in a fetal position by one of the local truck drivers. The said driver was the one who brought him to the hospital under emergency ward. And right now, he has been kept in HDU where he is under heavy observation. From the I.D in his wallet – which miraculously was still there in his pant pocket – they could identify him as one Lucifer Morningstar. According to the local sheriff, the man is in critical condition. Thankfully, he has spared her the details of it on the phone because Chloe isn’t sure she could even bear to hear those. She knows the doctor would be not so merciful after all.   

Chloe has never seen the man with something as ordinary as a small cold and now knowing that he is hospitalized, she didn’t know it could hurt worse.   

How many days did he spend in the desert? In the cold? Alone?   

Did he eat at all in seven days? Did he suffer any serious injuries?   

Her eyes water; it’s hard to see the road when her vision is turning blurry. The steering wheel groans under the grip of her bloodless, white-knuckled fists, as the car speeds up even more.   

¿¥¿  

Hospitals. She hates hospitals.   

The whiteness of everything, the grim medicative smell all around, the rumbling of a pulling stretcher and the beeping of the machines. They all remind her of death. A sudden black shadow of grimness latching to her very soul, taunting the loss of her every loved one until she runs out of the threshold of this very Hell on Earth.   

With every visit, her hatred for hospitals burns deeper into her soul. She is sure this time won’t be any different. And she is right in her assumptions.   

The doctors haven’t been much merciful to Chloe’s fragile emotional composure when they so clinically informed her of their patient’s condition. According to them, Lucifer had suffered a brain swelling - ‘ Not to worry about that, it’s not much of a problem here’  they have said – third degree burns, severe dehydration and malnutrition, acute kidney failure, tremendously low blood pressure. It took her everything to not just give into this overwhelming urge of breaking down, as she listened to it. All of these days, he had been wandering in the desert alone, maybe desperately searching for a way home and where was she? How come her detective skills took so long to find her missing partner?   

“The patient is awake now. You can visit him but he is already very stressed, don’t tell him or do anything to increase it.” One of the nurses informs her an hour later before going back to her job and Chloe numbly walks into his room.   

Lucifer is indeed awake, but not in a way where he could just stand up and greet her ‘ detective! Fancy seeing you here!’  and she doesn’t know why she hoped it this way in the first place. After everything the doctors informed her, she should have been prepared herself to deal with sight in front of her. The man is lying naked on the bed, connected haplessly to an IV, the blanket draped over his waist, thankfully covering his manly areas. Cooling ice packs all over his sensitive, burnt skin. His hair is disheveled, stuff with all the sand stuck in it. But worst is his eyes, his expression. Deep black rings hug his red rimmed eyes as his stares at the window on the far corner of the wall with a frightening blankness. He is still. So very still. So unlike the Lucifer she knows. Her heart twists painfully as she blinks the gathering tears away.   

“Lucifer?” She walks closer to his bed, taking the nearest stool.   

When he turns his head towards her, his eyes are blank, not even a flicker of recognition in them and her heart shoots to her throat. But then, the cloudiness decreases and a shadow passes through his features. He recognizes her. “Detective.” He greets.   

“You gave us a fright, Lucifer. We were so worried for you!”   

“Yes, well.” He looks away. Chloe’s insides churn.   

“I am just so glad you are okay.” She surrenders herself to the increasing urge of carding her fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter closed and he makes a sound at the back of the throat which suspiciously resembles a purr. She smiles.   

When he opens his eyes again, his expression is cheeky, a sultry grin appearing on his face. “Now, now Detective. I can think of some better use of those fingers.”   

Any other day and Chloe would just roll her eyes or may even get pissed off. But not today. This cocky side of Lucifer is so relieving that it takes her breath away. If he is fine enough to make sexual jokes then surely everything is going to okay, right? Or maybe it’s just Lucifer trying to make her happy in his own ‘Luciferish’ way. Either way, she can’t help but laugh. The relief pouring into her like a bucket of water.   

“You ass.”  

“Mmm.. I have a good one.”   

She would have smacked his chest if his skin wasn’t so burnt and peeling. But she knows for sure that this Lucifer is better than any other man in her life.   

“Chloe?”   

The name resonates in the walls of her mind. “Hmm?”   

“Take me home. I don’t want to stay here.”   

“Lucifer, you are not in a state to leave Hospital. Let’s just get you slightly better and then we can go.” She tries, already knowing that she has lost the battle the moment he called her name instead of ‘Detective’.   

“ Please,  Take me home, Chloe.” He sighs.   

Now who can deny this request? She is pretty sure, she can’t.   

¿¥¿  

“You know you should have stayed there for a bit.” Chloe addresses to the resting form in her passenger seat as she drives as slow and smoothly as possible through the California State Route 190. Lucifer has his head rested against the window; his eyes closed as he pulls the extra blanket around him as tightly as possible. Thankfully, the hospital had been kind enough to let him leave in the hospital gown. Now that he is not naked – kind of - he is not shivering, that’s a relief. Chloe realizes this gesture is not because he is cold but he is trying to self soothe as much as he can from a situation he loathes.   

Her knuckles turn white as she grips the steering wheel tighter.   

The doctors have been very hesitant about discharging a patient who was in HDU a few moments ago. But Lucifer’s mojo did the trick by the end of the day and Chloe could finally take him home although not without signing the AMA waiver first, stating that any and all responsibility of the patient now rests on her shoulders and if anything is to happen, the Hospital by no means will be in charge of it. Chloe almost thought of dropping Lucifer’s discharge plans after reading the bond, an icy fear nudging her that Lucifer still needs treatment but his large, dark brown eyes full of pleading and hope made her sign the waiver indeed.   

Sometime between persuading the Doctors and signing the waiver, Chloe called Dan in the precinct, letting him know about Lucifer and asking him to contact Amenadiel and Maze, informing them of the same. She then phoned the new Lieutenant, Marcus Pierce, requesting a half day and explaining the situation to him. Pierce had been reluctant but thankfully granted her the request.   

And now, here they are. Driving back to Sunset Boulevard while Lucifer keeps nodding off for the third time after indefinite span of time.   

“Lucifer, no need to force yourself to stay awake. You can go to sleep; I will wake you up when we reach Lux.” She assures, glancing at his tired form empathetically.   

This catches his attention as Lucifer straightens up. A frown forms on his face as he looks at Chloe with a silent question in his eyes. One that she isn’t sure she understands. His fingers keep fidgeting with the dark onyx ring and he clutches the blanket tighter.   

“What?” She asks.   

He opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. He snaps it shut, shakes his head as if to visibly shove a thought out of his mind but that only increases his agitation. And then he looks at her with the same puzzled frown.   

“Lucifer, what is it? I can’t understand you until you talk to me.”   

He is struggling, she can see that. So, she waits. Prodding a distressed Lucifer can lead to disastrous effects. One she isn’t sure she can handle right now.   

“Apologies Detective but... Lux?”   

Right, yeah okay. Chloe barks out a laugh. “Yes, Lucifer, Lux. Where else would I take you?”   

“No, I mean... I mean the name sounds familiar but... I don’t recall it. What is this Lux?”   

Chill settles deep into her bones and she shudders at its coldness. She isn’t sure if Lucifer’s joking or... “Lucifer, not funny. This is no time for jokes.”   

She expects a half-laugh or a snort and then a Lucifer-style ‘ Kidding Detective!’  but nothing comes. The temperature inside the car has changed rapidly and in spite of it being one of the hottest days in LA, she feels an unimaginable cold. Like her body is freezing. Her fingers have grown numb. And she is terrified to look at Lucifer, to see in his face the same confusion she is feeling. So, she trains her gaze in the front, towards the road.   

“Lux... Is your home, Lucifer! One of the hottest nightclubs in LA, the penthouse level of which is your apartment? Come on, be serious, Lucifer!” She chastises but she knows too well that this isn’t some trick or joke he is making. This is the consequence of a severe blunder she has made by taking him home and discharging him from Hospital despite the doctor’s warning.   

What has she done?!   

Silence stretches like a rubber band and breaks.   

“I..” Lucifer’s voice comes out thick and choked. “I don’t remember.” He whispers.   

The single statement carrying so much fear, confusion and pain that it yanks her head towards him only to find the most heartbreaking expression on his face. The expression her nine-year old Trixie wears when she wakes up petrified from a nightmare.   

Pure and raw, child-like fear etched across his features as he scans his eyes across hers pleading for silent answers. The answers she doesn’t have with her.   

The car comes to a skidding halt at the side of the road. She can’t drive anymore. Not when her world is collapsing. Not when he is losing his own.   

A single word uttered with so much fear, insecurity and irrational hope wrenches her remaining sanity as tears roll down her cheeks like morning dew.   

“Detective?”   

-tbc-  

Chapter Text

¿¥¿  

Silence is deafening.  

 The small, enclosed space of the car is heavy with a tense silence that is encroaching Chloe’s remaining peace of mind like a poisonous kudzu. She is heavily inexperienced in handling a quiet Lucifer and every time an opportunity like this is placed in front of her, she knows that it can never be good.   

Lucifer is like an over-energetic human caffeine and his aura is infectious, cutting through all the fatigue and broodiness as smooth as butter. With him, she can forget her worries and let go – not that her job allows much of it – but what happens when this aura is surrounded by a shadow so thick that it can almost be touched?  

She doesn’t know how to reach out to him through this shadow, to pull him out of it. Not when she doesn’t know how  she  is coping with it.   

Memories, such precious memories and they are slipping from his grasp like loose sand. The more he tries to hold on to it, the faster it slips. He doesn’t know how to hold on to it. She doesn’t know how to make him hold on to it. Everything here appears to be the personification of Murphy’s law.   

The red and green lights of the city blur in her vision, just like every other thought and action as the discomfort and fear of mind melts into sweet release of tears and rolls down her cheeks. She doesn’t do anything to wipe them, her hands clutching the steering wheel so tight that it hurts. Her white, bloodless knuckles, finger joints protest in agony.   

But pain is good. Pain is what she needs.   

A distraction to put her mind off the fear that is whirling in her mind, threatening to swallow her whole. Fear of losing a friend, her best friend; fear of losing the man she... has grown quite attached to; fear of witnessing the change in his memories until a point comes when he is unable to call her ‘Detective’ or unable to look at her in a way that makes her feel like she is the most incredible person in the universe. Until the light of recognition in his eyes is snuffed out only to be replaced by the cloudiness of oblivion.   

But surely this has to be ephemeral?   

Nothing is actually going to happen like this, is it? It’s all just an exaggerated version of her fear that her mind is weaving in a way to torture her. None of that is real. Lucifer is one of the wealthiest men in the city and he has a shit load of money to treat himself,  if  it’s a problem.   

Because, it can be just stress, right?   

Lucifer is as tense as a marble statue beside her, clutching the blanket around him like his life depends on it. Tiny tremors rake through his body. His eyes are blank, muddy as he stares outside the window without taking a single thing in like he is physically present but mentally somewhere beyond her reach. His long eyelashes are clustered together with sand particles and wet, suppressed tears that Chloe never witnessed. He has been like that since he confessed that he couldn’t remember his abode.   

Not a single word. Not a single syllable.   

If she didn’t know better, she would have said that Lucifer has turned stone. And  this  is petrifying her. She hadn’t known how much she needed his little assurance of ‘ Detective, I am sure I will be fine! It’s nothing a that an R&R can’t cure.’  until the option is snatched away from her like a flimsy rug.   

She  needs  his assurance to protect her sanity. She  needs  it. But...   

How can a person who never lies provide her with a false consolation when he, himself is terrified of the sickening possibilities? And for what? For her selfish want of comfort? It will be a mockery of his personality.    

Her mind wanders to Linda. She would be able to do something about this, right? She is a therapist and she has surely dealt with brain trauma like this before? And surely, she will be able to help Lucifer from whatever he is going through, right?   

Linda is still recovering...  A small voice nags her in the back of her mind.   

Her throat hurts.   

The city traffic, the loud blaring of horns, the ‘ move it, you asshole’  from some angry drivers concocts into a distant dissonance as she mindlessly steers her car through the different lanes of the road, managing through traffic.   

The shrill ringtone of her phone breaks the ice.   

“Decker.” It’s a miracle that her voice comes out steadier than she expected, enough to fool the soul on the other end of the communication. Lucifer remains silent, uninterested and a hundred yards away.   

“ Chloe, is everything all right there? Where are you?”  Dan’s voice squeaks from the speaker, concerned and it takes all of her to not just succumb to her tears.   

No. Nothing is alright. She is not alright. Lucifer is not alright. But, “Yes, Dan. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.” The lie rankles.   

“ Where are you?”   

“ On my way to drop Lucifer to L-lux.” She gulps the choking emotions down her throat.   

‘The name sounds familiar but I am afraid I … I don’t recall.’  Chloe tamps down that thought of line. She can’t... she can’t go there now. Instead, she focuses on her conversation with Dan.   

‘ Right, okay. I.. How is Lucifer? Can I talk to him?”   

Chloe is about to protest; Lucifer is tired,  emotionally bankrupt and right now she isn’t sure he is even listening to their conve-  

“Daniel.” Lucifer rasps beside her. His head still turned away from her towards the window.   

‘ Hey man, I am just glad you are okay. Come back to work, soon, okay? We all are waiting for you.’   

Lucifer doesn’t reply. An awkwardness settles until Dan prods, ‘ Lucifer? You there?’  But he doesn’t acknowledge the other man at all, a hint of danger looming in him.   

“He is tired, Dan. Let him rest.” Chloe interrupts before things could go downhill.   

A faint noise of scuffle could be heard from the other end, some cursing followed by a muffled noise and then quietness. It’s evident that Dan has isolated himself into somewhere quiet. “ Right. Umm... So, I called to inform that Alex’s alibi checks out. He was spending the night with his,”  Dan clears his throat, “ with Helena in Knight Inn.”   

Chloe side-glances Lucifer, an irrational part of her expecting him to make his classic innuendo but he remains silent even after the low hanging fruit of opportunity. Her heart squeezes painfully. Dan is still speaking.   

“And I did some grunt work. Braedon had some pretty big debts, indeed and got into a fight about a week ago with some members of a gang called Asian Boyz. The fight happened in front of a medical shop downtown.”   

“ Asian Boyz? Aren’t they the crime syndicate who partnered with Los Xs?”   

“ Yep. They are lawyered up.”  

“ Right, so we need a warrant. Great job, Dan. Thank you so much!”   

“ No worries. I will see if we can get a warrant. Take care, Chlo.... and you too, Lucifer.”  The phone cuts off and silence commences again.   

Until,   

She pulls in her usual parking spot in the Hollywood Boulevard, just outside Lux. She looks at Lucifer and as predicted, he doesn’t understand that they have reached it yet.   

“Lucifer?” He turns his face towards her. “We are here.”   

For the briefest time, she sees a flicker of terror before it’s all well hidden under the mask of blankness. He nods wearily, craning his neck to get a better view of the building.   

The club is empty and Chloe considers it a gift horse; Lucifer may not be in his right mind but he wouldn’t have liked anyone else seeing him like this – as if being sick is a weakness for him.  

The said man, on the other hand, is ogling the club like a way that he is seeing it for the first time. His eyes, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, sweep every corner of the place. His face mirrors the roiling emotions she is feeling.  

 Maybe, he has truly forgotten the one place he considered his home. Maybe, his memories are vanishing truly. Chloe blinks away the gathering mist.   

“I know this place.”   

What... what did he... ?  

His tone has an underlying current of awe and wonder as he walks towards the elevator without prompting, swaying slightly on his feet. The blanket is wrapped securely around him, like a shawl.   

“I know this place.” He repeats as Chloe follows him.   

Raw, unadulterated hope flutters in her chest, competing with the erratic beating of her heart.  

 He remembers it. He remembers his home. Maybe it’s not that bad?   

Lucifer is still in his head when they ride up to the penthouse. The ride seems both too quick and eternally long. It’s weird, she knows. Her thoughts jumbling into an unmanageable knot with no end and no beginning. And while her thoughts seem to be a complicated mess, it’s the hope that truly fills her mind. The vague assurance that ‘everything is going to alright’ tingles and she wants to believe it.   

As soon as the elevator dings open, he sprints out of the entrance, looking around and taking in the place. He turns in slow circles as if to notice every corner of the penthouse. Then he walks to the balcony, then the bedroom and the bathroom. His movements graceless but fast enough. In spite of the muddy, dull appearance of his eyes, his focus remains vigilant and sharp as he takes in his surroundings.   

Chloe lurks close to the elevator, watching and giving him space, letting him take his time. Her head feels dizzy with tension and hope. She isn’t physically tired but the emotional roller-coaster she had been in the past few hours; it has left her exhausted. She could use a sleep right now and maybe hug a certain civilian consultant and bask in his warmth and affection – well, that might need to wait for sometimes. But she really wants to sleep for now. Although not before she knows Lucifer’s okay.   

Not before the hope she had downstairs crystallizes into a reality.   

Lucifer returns from the little tour with an unreadable expression and the darkest eyes she has ever seen on him. He makes a beeline towards the bar, pouring himself a glass of water – well, good for him to not choose whiskey in his already dehydrated condition – knocking it down in one go and repeating the same process twice.   

 He stays silent in the most terrifying way and Chloe can’t hate it more. There is a latent energy around him, a muffled calmness. An eeriness that reminds her of the calm before the storm.   

The hair in the back of her neck rises to attention.   

“Lucifer?”   

“I...” His gulp is audible, his gaze trained on the granite of the bar top. “I... know this place too.” he speaks slowly as if the words are forced out of him and it’s taking all of his efforts to do so. Her worries don’t abate, the hope freezes.   

Something is not right. She is missing something.   

“And it’s a good thing, right? You didn’t forget it!” Chloe hates the way her voice waivers with both anticipation and nervousness.   

Lucifer looks away.   

Something is not right.   

“It’s a good thing... right?” She asks again, this time her voice comes out smaller and more vulnerable. Truth is... she is terrified.   

“I mean... it’s like a muscle memory.” Lucifer exhales shakily. “I know everything about this place but... but I don’t remember it. I have no memories of this place, whatsoever. I can’t... I can’t remember it.”  His voice breaks in the last part.   

The ground drops beneath her. The hope shatters.   

She is not sure what happened next or how she ended up being wrapped around Lucifer, holding him like a lifeline. He holds her tightly, wrapping both of them in his blanket, protectively and she clings onto him. Lucifer strokes her hair soothingly but doesn’t speak, doesn’t comfort her. He can’t, she realizes. He can’t comfort her when he isn’t okay.   

And truth to be told, she feels rotten, too. It should be her comforting  him.  He is the one who is losing his memories and probably unsettled to his very core. But here he is, still having her back when she needs him the most.   

Like this, she can pretend nothing has happened; she is safe and he is safe too. They both are happy and protected in this cocoon of solace.   

Pretense. Pretense is a lie. A deceptive curtain that pains everyone witnessing it.   

And deception is something that Lucifer doesn’t do. He withdraws, leaving Chloe cold.   

“Are...” she swallows, “Will you be alright?” She knows the answer. But... anything to cut the tense silence that has befallen around them.   

“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully. She nods. That’s the best answer she can get from him, for now.   

“Linda. I am sure Linda can help you. Whatever this is, we will get help okay? And we will fix this, Lucifer.” She doesn’t know whether this little speech is for him or for herself but whatever little she can provide has to do it. He is not missing a part or chunk of his memories like other usual trauma patients. Having dealt with these kinds of situation in her job, she is acquainted with victims suffering from retrograde amnesia.   

Forgetting his own home – a constant in his life; this isn’t retrograde amnesia. And that petrifies her. She has to fix him.   

“I promise you, Lucifer. We will get through this.” Her voice rings hollow as she forces herself to look at him.   

Lucifer takes pity on her; he smiles, small and brittle but doesn’t say anything. Like he is more realistic than her, in this case. He doesn’t protest, though and she suspects this is more to make  her  feel better than himself. Because they both know, her consolation ran empty.   

“I will stay.” She offers. To hell with her job. They will have other days to investigate but she won’t leave her friend in this distress, alone. Lucifer seems to disagree on that part.   

“As much as I appreciate your company, detective, I think I need some time to... to think. To acclimate with my current situation. I might need some time alone and most likely a shower and shave. I am bloody filthy.”   

She nods. Wanting space is practical for him. The least she can do for him is to provide him what he needs, even if she dislikes the very notion of it.   

“Inform me if you need anything, okay?”   

Lucifer smiles at her, his eyes soften. “Yes, Chloe. Could you...”  

“Yes?”  

“I seem to have misplaced my phone. Could you contact Amenadiel and Maze and ask them to meet me later, here?” He requests, sheepishly.  

“Of course! I have already informed them of your... arrival.”   

“Right. Goodbye Detective.” He looks away and Chloe takes that as her cue to leave.   

“I will see you then. But please reach out to me, okay?”   

Silence ensues and the last thing she sees before the elevator door separates them is his head dropping between his shoulders. Her heart bleeds out.   

¿¥¿  

Chloe can already check most of the things in her checklist of the ‘worst things that can happen to someone’. Said ‘someone’ being Lucifer Morningstar.   

Lucifer is kidnapped and dumped in the desert, just after he left from the Hospital – check. Not that she knows everything about his kidnapping; she hasn’t asked him about the details yet – not when he is already so stressed. But she has to figure out who would have the motive to dump him in extremely rough and isolated terrain and not even take any of his belongings. Even if it was a kidnapping, there has been no ransom call or blackmail or nothing. It’s as if Lucifer was not the intended target here; he was kidnapped to create a distraction. But why? And if he is the so called ‘distraction’ what is their main plan? Most importantly, who is ‘they’?   

Lucifer is sick, terribly sunburnt, dehydrated, malnourished – check. God, she shouldn’t have left him alone in the penthouse when he looked like he was just one step away from keeling over and dying! But what else could she do if he was giving clear ‘STAY AWAY, STAY AWAY’ signal. She isn’t clingy.   

“ Chloe ?”   

Lucifer has a head trauma – check. And just because of his puppy eyes, she pulled him out of the hospital AMA while he clearly needed some treatment and MRI scan, at the least! Why did she have to agree to him?!   

‘ Hey, Chlo’?’   

She pushes the intrusive voice away.   

Lucifer is forgetting things and not just small, petty things but the big chunks of his life – check. This is the worst of all the problems because she doesn’t know what will happen if he keeps forgetting these chunks of his life. This dangerously looks like Alzheimer’s to her but then again, it’s a disease not a result of a head trauma and not to mention, the illness starts with minor things. A patient with Alzheimer’s won’t immediately forget his own house the first day. But... in Lucifer’s case, she knows one thing for sure. For man who takes pride in his ‘eidetic as well as photographic memory’ this is bad. Like really, really bad.   

As she thought before, Linda probably can help. Sure, the doctor is not taking any patients and not in any condition to hold a therapy session especially when she just got discharged but she can be there for Lucifer as a friend? Give her advice? Cause, it’s now or never. Linda is better adept in knowing the mental condition of someone and providing a solution for it.   

“ Chloe!”  Two snaps of fingers in front of the face yanks her back to reality from her spiraling thoughts. Chloe blinks a few times, taking note of her surroundings. Where is she? - Right, Ella’s lab.   

Said Ella is now standing right in front of her, in her person with crossed arms and raised eyebrows, looking at her with a ‘deer-in-headlight' expression. What did she miss?   

“You zoned out, Chloe!” Ella shakes her head as if to emphasize her point, with on-point Ella theatrics, “You never zone out!”   

“Uh... sorry? It’s just work has been crazy, you know?” Not technically a lie, because this double homicide is making her crazy too. Working with Lucifer over the years and channeling her inner Lucifer by speaking around the truths has been easier with passing days. But...  

It seems luck isn’t on her side today.   

Ella is unphased and unconvinced. “Nuh-uh. You are not giving me the work crap. We are all working on the same case, remember? Spill.”   

“No, it’s nothing..I-”   

One look at Ella and whatever Chloe is about to say dies in her throat. She sighs, “It’s Lucifer, alright? I am worried about him.”   

The lab-tech's expressions jump from stoic to sympathetic, “Bring it on, buddy.” There comes her bear-hug. After some squirming and internal groaning, she lets go and stands back. “I am worried about that dope too, you know. I mean he was rescued from a desert! Totes dehydrated and hangry, I guess. But you told all of us, he is doing better. You dropped him in the penthouse and I am sure he will take the medical treatment of his standard – the best. The dude’s crazy rich. That being said, I should go and meet him today. I missed him so much, you know?”   

“I am sure he will like that, Ella. But..” What if he forgets about Ella? No, he didn’t forget her or Daniel. Why would Ella be any different? And Chloe should definitely not let her fears get the best of her. “I will check with him tonight. So, you can visit him if everything’s alright, okay?”   

“Awww man, you are giving me totes Deckerstar vibes!”   

“Decker... star?”   

“You know, you surname ‘Decker’ and Morningstar’s ‘star’. Full on Gf mode! “   

“Alright, let’s drop it.” Her voice comes out high-pitched and she hopes to God that Ella doesn’t see her ears burning. "What were you saying you know before I zoned out?”   

“Oh yes. Did you meet the new lieutenant? Marcus Pierce? Oh boy, he has got some arms, huh. And I brought him some doughnuts too.... as a gift. You have got to meet him, Decker.”   

“Yeah, yeah, alright. I have talked to him this morning, asking for a half day. Enough about that, now, tell me about the case.”  

“Right, so far we have got nada, as I already said. No injection marks, no traces of poison or drugs in the blood, nothing to confirm that this might be a case of murder. It looks like a disease, honestly. Maybe something which science hasn’t yet discovered or maybe a mutant? Really man, this is making me nuts.  

So, as per the second report, both of their hearts have shrunk in size – which is probably natural given the blood has been drained out – and twisted in a strange way, causing death. But other than that, nothing. It looks a normal death in the most abnormal way. But apart from that, I can’t give you anything. Sorry, Chlo.”  

Well, that is a bust. Chloe had the nudging from the beginning that nothing would come out. If it’s a murder then this is  the  perfect crime. All her life, she has believed that ‘perfect crime’ doesn’t exist, it’s a myth. But looking at this, she can’t help but to accept that it might be the only case that can go unsolved by her. Not that she is giving up but...   

Even if it’s not a murder and a natural death like what Ella is saying, even then death like this? It’s near impossible.   

Nothing in her life makes sense anymore.   

¿¥¿  

Her wrist watch strikes seven-thirty in the evening when Chloe enters Lux. The club is as usual booming with people, dancing and drinking to their hearts’ content, oblivious to the ongoing brutality of death in the city or the current dilemma of its club owner.   

Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?   

She slithers through the human wave of sin and temptation crashing around her and makes a bee-line towards the elevator. Somehow, even without sweeping her gaze across the dance floor or the bar, she knows that the tall, dark and handsome man she is looking for is not downstairs – not that his medical condition would even allow him to come down, anyway.   

Jabbing at the elevator button she takes a sharp breath. A tinge of trepidation filling her veins. Now that he has gotten some rest, maybe he remembers it all?   

Just stop overthinking, Decker!   

The carriage drops her at the desired destination, the ding already announcing her presence to the otherwise silent penthouse. As she walks out of the elevator, she spots dozens of takeaway Styrofoam containers lying on the bar top, only one of them having traces of left overs – the others swept clean.   

Good. It looks like Lucifer has been ravenous enough to eat a food supply of a corporate business. The thought should give her some satisfaction.   

It doesn’t.   

How starved was he to eat so much food in one day?   

She knew that he has been malnourished but she hoped he wasn’t at least  starved to near death!   

Beside the containers lay one very crooked, leaf shaped knife – one of Maze’s, she realizes. What was the need of this knife? She doesn’t know, the only person able to answer the question would be its user. She forcefully drags her gaze away from the steel.    

The penthouse is dimmed, the only source of light being the dull illumination behind the bar and the crackling fire lamps from the balcony. She pads across the living room towards the stairs of his bedroom, uncertainty and the same hollow trepidation hammering in her heart.   

“Lucifer?”   

The name comes out as a whisper, fragile and brittle like it would break any moment if not handled with care. The penthouse remains silent.   

Only when she crosses the archway, towards the interior of the bedroom does she notice his sleeping form sprawled across the bed. His chest is bare, rising and falling gently from the regular breathing. The evidence of sun burns that he had in the morning are now gone, leaving behind unblemished, pale skin.   

Not possible, not possible, not possible!   

The tiniest voice shouts in the back of her mind which she forcefully tamps down. This one is going back to the mental box clearly labeled as ‘Mysteries of Lucifer Morningstar’. Instead, she focuses on the sight in front of her.   

The silk black blanket is covered till his navel, securely – that's a relief, because she doesn’t have any idea whether he is in his birthday suit or not. His hair is disheveled, small curls falling to his forehead, making him looked several years younger. Chloe bites down her fingers to resist the urge of carding her fingers through his hair for the second time that day. His face still shows signs of heavy exhaustion, the sunken eye bags, his hollow cheeks but he looks peaceful. The worry lines that normally crease his forehead when he is awake, like he has an ancient burden to bear on his shoulder all the time, are absent. He is snoring slightly, sometimes mumbling something incoherent under his breath before falling back to the restful sleep.   

Looking at him like this, she feels a sudden warmth spreading in her chest. He is  adorably  vulnerable here. Not that he would admit being ‘adorable’ anytime in his life but she could just freeze this moment forever in her memory and always come back to it in future.   

How would it feel to wake up beside him every morning? Enjoying his view before starting her day?   

Going way too far ahead! Stop that.   

Should she wake him up? He looks like he needs some rest. After everything that’s happened to him, he deserves some unhindered rest. She shouldn’t wake him up. She can visit him later. Now, she should leave him be.   

Lucifer’s breathing changes and Chloe freezes on the spot. His eyes flutter open as his glazed eyes lands on her. “I can practically  hear  your thoughts, Detective.” He mumbles, his voice wrapped in thick blanket of sleep. And oh boy, does she not find that sexy?   

Shut the hell up, Decker!   

“ Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.” She shifts foot to foot as she confesses quietly.   

Lucifer blinks a few times before his focus sharpens and he shifts on his elbows to sit up. Waving his hand, he dismisses her apology, “No need to apologize, Detective. I got my daily quota of nap.” He stifles a yawn.   

“Hmm... Clearly.” She eyes him incredulously.   

He looks like he can go for another eleven rounds of sleep right about now. The peace on his face a few moments ago disappears to be replaced by a deep weariness. He is not wearing his façade of cheery club owner. He is just Lucifer, who is tired and hurting. She isn’t used to seeing him like this. It stings her, more than she would like to admit.   

She never wants to see him like this.   

“How are you feeling?” It’s a stupid question, again. She is doing stupid things throughout the day yet...   

“Much better, actually.” The scratchy sound of the friction between his palms and stubble fills the air as he rubs his face, tiredly, betraying the ‘truth-but-not-quite' he just said.  “So... what brings you here, Detective?” He tries smiling but it’s fake and doesn’t sit right on his face. He settles for a grimace.   

Chloe can practically  feel  him pulling away from her, shutting himself down. This won’t do at all. “I came to check on you. I have been worried about you, Lucifer.”   

“Well, you saw me. All better!”  

“You still can’t remember this place?”   

He looks away.   

“That’s what I thought. Lucifer,” Her curiosity and the urge to find the kidnapper gets the better of her, “Do you remember what happened that day? The day when you got kidnapped?”  He hasn’t gotten any problem with remembering the things happened to him, surely, he must remember his kidnapping, right? That’s the least she can hope for.   

“I...” He is struggling, Chloe can see that. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps while his eyes glaze over, drowned in whatever memories flashing through his mind. His fingers tremble as he reaches for his cuffs only to realize that he isn’t wearing any; instead, he moves them to clutch the blanket protectively around his hips. “I... pain.”   

“Sorry?”   

When he looks at her, the deep anguish etched in his glassy eyes constricts her throat in a way that makes her breathe hard. Never has she seen him in such anguish. His tongue darts out to lick his lower lips like he is thirsty; her eyes shift to the water bottle in the bedside but Lucifer doesn’t even glance at it.   

“I remember pain. Lots of it.” He starts, refusing to look at her anymore. “Don’t get me wrong, I am quite used to the pain but this one felt like my brain is being incinerated inside out. I remember thirst; I remember being nauseous and vomiting. And my back...” A small whimper escapes his throat and Chloe’s blood goes cold. He shakes his head as if to visibly shut down that line of thought. Whatever happened to his back, it’s serious.   

“Wh-what... happened to your back?” She asked, her voice barely audible, in a hope that he won’t be able to hear it. She doesn’t want to hurt him further.   

Hope is a bitch. Because of course, he hears.   

“They are back.” He answers, although it’s more to himself than to her. “My wings... they are back.”   

Right, okay. She should call Linda, now.  Now.   

And then he locks his gaze with her. That child-like fear and insecurity rush like a hurricane to his somber expressions. “Why would He do this to me? Is this because of Mum?”   

This is bad. Very, very bad.  Bad!   

“ Is this my punishment for giving Mum her own universe, eh? Is that what you bloody want, you bastard?!” He is full-fledged shouting to the ceiling now and Chloe is rooted to her spot. “Because, I won’t be your servant anymore, do you listen to me? I cut them off once, I can cut them off again and again! You manipulative dick!”   

And he is talking about amputating his ‘wings’. Earlier, his delusions of being the Devil was somewhat tolerable; it gave him the spice of his personality – The consultant-club owner with devilish charisma – but now, he is spiraling out of control, introducing a new element to his delusions, his wings, which Chloe realizes is a metaphor for.... slavery?   

God, what had his family done to him? How cruel was his family?!   

Whatever is happening to him is  bad, on a catastrophic level!  But first things first. A distraction from this... wing thought. “Lucifer, Lucifer!”   

He stops his rant and looks at her.   

“What else do you remember? About the day? Like was it from the hospital premises that you got kidnapped? Anything?”   

He looks lost. Not the lost in thought look. He just looks lost. Like he has no idea what she is talking about.   

“Hospital... premises?”   

“We found your corvette in the parking lot of the hospital. We assumed that you never reached your car.”   

“No, no... I .. sorry what hospital?”   

For the second time in the day, color drains from her cheek. This is happening again. Like a loop, a fearful déjà vu that she never wants to see again. “The hospital where you went to visit Linda?”   

“Linda... is in the hospital?” The lost, confused look on his face is now mixed with a hint of terror. He really doesn’t remember? He has forgotten this too?   

“Lucifer, what do you remember from that day? The day before you got kidnapped?” She tries another tactic, her heart plummeting inside.   

He turns the question in his head for a while before, “As I said, Detective. I only remember feelings. I don’t recall anything about visiting the good doctor or even before that. I am... blank.” His face contorts into full-blown terror and then he quietly adds, “Which is odd because I never forget.”  

“Lucifer, I am calling Linda.  Now.”  She knows that the Doctor has just gotten discharged two days ago and she needs rest but Chloe can’t deal with this alone. Not when he needs a professional help.   

Not when his life is in question.   

Lucifer doesn’t protest or retorts, which she  knows  is a big thing; he just sits in the center of his bed with slumped shoulder and tired eyes staring at nothing. Gone is the confidence that makes him Lucifer Morningstar, and Chloe doesn’t know what hurts more: Him sitting there like a lost child or her not getting any solution. She walks out of the bedroom and to the balcony, out of Lucifer’s earshot, or she hopes.  

The phone rings twice before the therapists picks up on the other end. “ Hello, Chloe.”   

Relief pours like comforting rain. “Linda! Look, Lucifer needs your help. He was found today morning at the Desert Valley and the local sheriff took him to the hospital...” She narrates Linda everything’s that happened to him and his amnesia – which obviously is the major problem and his ‘wing delusion’. She listens quietly, not interrupting once. Only when she finishes, does Linda speak.  

“ This is... I don’t know what to say.”  She sounds stunned and not in a good way. Exactly how Chloe reacted this morning.   

“I don’t know what to do! Please... Please help him. He is...” Her voice breaks as the long-restrained tears finally jump off the cliff.   

“ Chloe, can you hand the phone over to Lucifer, assuming he is with you right now? I need to talk to him.”   

“ Right.”   

She approaches him, still in the same position she left him minutes ago. He startles when she touches his shoulder, “Sorry!” She is quick to say; Lucifer doesn’t respond. “Uhh... Linda wants to talk to you.”   

He extends his arm and Chloe hands over the phone before walking out to give them the required privacy. She makes a beeline towards his library, observing the thousands of hard bound books kept in order. Lucifer has always been a neat freak but arranging every book according to their tropes and alphabetical order, this is only Lucifer. She tries not to hear his conversation, not that he is speaking too loudly. But faint scoffs and angry repetitions reach her ears.  

“I don’t know Doctor! --- He is doing this, manipulating me like I am his Mr. Potato head! --- They have been completely useless, doctor! -- Didn’t you hear anything I just said, I can’t  remember!!!  “  

She hears before the words fade out. She makes herself busy studying the outer page of the... wait a minute,  original manuscript of Hamlet?!!!!   

Dude, what the hell?   

Before she can open the book, Lucifer appears from his bedroom and Chloe quickly places the book in its respective place.   

Now, looking at him wearing only a black boxer brief, she can see how lean he has grown over the week. Lean enough to trace the protruding ribs under his skin.   

I remember pain...I remember thirst.   

Was he tortured? Even the notion makes her shudder.   

“The doctor asked me to meet her tomorrow in her apartment.” He continues, handing over the phone to her before walking to his bar with stiff movements. “She is not taking any patients now but she will make an exception for me, she said.”   

“That’s... that’s good.”   

“Will you come? With me?” He asks out of the blue and the question hits her off guard. His back is to her, so she really can’t know what he is feeling or thinking at the moment.   

“Lucifer, I don’t know, it’s you and your therapist. I don’t want to break the confidentiality betwe-”  

“ Please?”   

Now who can deny  that?   

“ Okay... Okay, I will come with you.”   

Lucifer turns to give her a small smile of relief, his eyes screaming ‘Thank you’ and Chloe feels something lifting off her chest. His first genuine smile for the evening.   

¿¥¿  

Just outside the window, in the balcony of the Lux Penthouse sits an observant crow, looking at the Devil and the mortal with raw fascination.   

“Caw...Caw.”   

It tilts his head, grasping on more details.   

“ Come back, Zeues. Your work is done, there”  It hears in its brain. Its work is done.   

It spreads its wings and fly away.   

-tbc-  

Chapter Text

¿¥¿  

Mornings are supposed to be the most beautiful part of a day; an awakening magic that lingers with the first splendor of the golden sunlight, a sense of an old earth-spirit rekindled that seeks to knit together all that is good.   

Good.   

That’s what mornings supposed to bring. Goodness and positivity, a promise to make everything alright, a strength to assure that all hardships would pass soon. With every chirping of the risen birds, comes a renewed vigor and as the golden light of dawn sweeps the room, inspiration strikes.   

That’s how mornings are.   

The brightest of the day, the most serene yet also the most energetic. An enigma.   

Mornings have always been his favorite. For the very obvious reasons. Hell has no sunlight. It’s dark and cloudy and rains with ash. There are no days in Hell. Just an infinite darkness of damnation and sweet torture. Even the brightest of the angels, the Morningstar is snuffed out in the blanket of darkness, no longer a beacon of light.   

But that is Hell. It’s supposed to different on Earth. Mornings on Earth are supposed to be filled with his chirpiness, a joy to his every movement, a satisfaction in drinking the first coffee of the day. That’s how it always has been for the last six years.   

At least he hopes so. Because he can’t tell anymore. He can’t remember his mornings.   

Today’s morning, however is a pool of misery.   

Lucifer wakes up hopeless. Completely and utterly exhausted from the rollercoaster his mind has been riding since yesterday. The last night has been a battle as he fought relentlessly with the assaulting nightmares and terrors that hadn’t haunted him for a very, very long time. But now, it seems those triggers have been activated by an unknown force. Every detail of his Fall, every painful memory, the feeling of abandonment, helplessness and the sheer terror of lying alone in the Hell pit for millennia as nothing but a rotten, burnt mass of flesh, have gripped his throat and choked the life out of him for the entire night. Sleep was utopian and eventually he gave up even trying to sleep. Only near the dawn had he dozed off that too for less than an hour before the nightmares started again.   

He can’t remember how it felt to have a clear mind and head. The feeling has been snatched away from him. His mind is suffocated as if someone is crushing it ruthlessly. A strange heaviness settles around him, and he is tired. So very tired of fighting it. How can you fight your own mind? Trying to take control when you know you have none? An unknown force raping his mind, sitting on it just to torture him. It feels like his mind has been stuffed with wet cotton.  

 A throbbing pain fills his skull to the point that he can’t help but groan. He has never gotten hungover but is this how it feels? It doesn’t feel good at all.  

The pain intensifies.   

Lucifer clutches his head in a failed attempt to make it go away and falls back on the bed, immediately curling onto his side and whimpering.   

No! Please, make it stop!   

This doesn’t feel like a petty hangover, he is pretty sure humans can still function with those. On the other hand, he feels like dying. No scratch that, dying is better. Absolutely better than whatever is going on with him.   

The throbbing has now turned into a full-on hammering inside his skull, a jolt of electricity passing through his spine. It’s excruciating. It’s agony. This is torture!  

“Eurghhh!” He cries out, whimpers and pants. His body shudders with the impact; he is sweating now, his skin and face red with the effort of holding together. In the distance, he can hear faint sobs and belatedly realizes it’s him.   

He is sobbing, his eyes clenched shut with the mere intensity of the pain his brain is undergoing, tears dripping down the corners of his eyes without consent.   

Lucifer yanks at his hair; he is sure his jaw will break soon from the sheer force of his clenching, praying, begging for it to stop. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t stop and it only intensifies to the point that he can’t feel anymore. He is numb throughout, his mind blissfully blank.   

When the consciousness fades, it feels like a mercy.   

Lucifer wakes up with the ringing of his house phone, the shrill noise cutting through the otherwise silent penthouse. His mind is still far from okay but it will work. For now. His entire body is aching as if a truck has run over him, his scalp is stinging – probably from the yanking of hair he did earlier, and his jaw hurts.   

But it will work. He is alive and he can function, at least. Rubbing a groggy eye, he picks up the phone without checking the caller id.   

“ Lucifer? Is everything alright?”  The voice instantly soothes him. Even in the pain, warmth flares in his chest like a comforting balm and he grasps onto the feeling. He didn’t even realize how much he needed to hear this honey-laced voice until now.   

“ Lucifer? You there?”  Chloe asks again and this time raw concern laces her tone. A pang of guilt hits him square in his gut. She shouldn’t be worried about him. From what he remembers, she must be very busy and he shouldn’t make himself a burden. Yesterday, she was there with him late. He knows she has work and a daughter to care for; she shouldn’t have stayed so long with him. Eventually she did leave, though, leaving him alone to his misery.   

He is not blaming, though. He doesn’t have the right to blame when he doesn’t deserve it. Chloe is already doing a lot for him; she has even agreed to go visit the doctor with him. What more can he ask?   

 
“Hello? Lucifer?”  

He realizes he hasn’t replied to her yet and chokes out an answer, “I am here.” His voice sounds hoarse like a honking goose.   

Her sigh of relief can be heard from the other side. “ Hi.”  she greets, gently. “ I figured you needed rest, so I called you in the afternoon,”  Wait, its afternoon, already? He turns his head to look out of the window and indeed the sun is at its peak. How long was he out? “ Did you sleep okay last night?”   

He sucks in a breath. “It certainly could have been better.”   

“ Right, okay.”  She doesn’t sound convinced, a tinge of disappointment hints at her tone but she is, thankfully, lenient. “ I am now at work. But Linda called and said that she will meet us in about three hours, if that’s okay for you?”   

“ It is. Thank you for informing. I really should get a new bloody phone; Linda doesn’t know my house number.”   

“ Okay. I will meet you in two hours, then? I have got a new lead for the case I am working on. I am not tagging you for this one but when you will be fine enough to return, we can work together. Anyways, umm... I will finish it as soon as possible and then will drive straight to Lux.”   

A new...case. A lead. The words sound distant, haphazardly sticking into the newly jumbled mess of his mind without really registering anything but he affirms nonetheless. “I will be here in the penthouse.”   

There’s a pregnant pause. Many things wanting to be said but getting stuck in their throats, many thoughts forcefully tamped down and the awkwardness increases. Until,   

“ Right, okay. Got to go, Lucifer. I will meet you in a few. Bye.”   

The phone cuts off and he throws the damned object somewhere near the nightstand. It misses the target by a few miles and lands gracelessly on the floor with a muffled thump.   

He sways sideways as he reaches the bathroom, everything unknown to him. Like he knows this place but distant, unattached. This doesn’t feel like his home, just a place where he can crash when he is tired. The luxurious Italian marble, the Assyrian walls and the Egyptian cotton mattress – they all look a show. As if they are meant for seeing but not living.   

This has been his home for the past couple of years on Earth?   

So many memories should be attached to this building, the club downstairs. He remembers the feelings, the thrill and excitement but not more than that. How many memories has he been missing if he can’t even remember his home? What all had happened here?   

What is happening to him?   

Lucifer stands in front of the humongous wall mirror in his – not ‘his’ anymore – in the closet, taking in his appearance. He is lean and pale; traces of ribs protruding can be very well witnessed; his hair is a mess – it would take forever to detangle these curls. And his face. His face is red, blotched with tears and snot, his cheeks are hollow, tired red eyes sunken and dark circles hug them.   

He looks wrecked.  

With a roll of his shoulders, he unfurls his white but no-longer-luminous wings from his back, a horrible wet, crunching sound accompanying them, earning a painful grunt from him. The limbs look terrible, broken bloody feathers and sticky ichor spread all over them. Both the wings are most likely broken if not shattered completely. Red rivulets of blood flows from his back, tickling down his spine and soaking the boxers.   

The two large hands pinning him down to the ground as he struggles weakly against them, too exhausted and injured to put up a fight. The agonizing pain in his back amplifying as the other two hands push the limbs forcefully back to his wing sockets, ruthless enough to break it. His mind chanting ‘Let me go’ until his brain cracks and he lies there broken and incapacitated.   

Lucifer shakes his head vehemently as the thoughts accost his mind, the two limbs shuddering with the thought as if they have a mind of their own. He can’t remember anything of his kidnapping except the feelings, just like he told Chloe that last night.   

And even the feelings are... traumatizing at best and torture at worst.   

Some cretins have broken his wings, the most sacred part of an angel – no, not an angel, a celestial, even if the celestial is the Devil. The same cretins have kidnapped him and dumped him into the forest, most likely played some mind voodoo with him for which his memories are slipping away from him and he, for Dad’s sake can’t punish them  because he just can’t remember them! Not even their names!   

He pushes the thought for later. He can’t... he can’t deal with this right now. He looks at the wings again, their glow and the way they are stretching out from his back. Earlier, when he was a fledgling and naïve, he always puffed them and ruffled the feathers just to show them off. The Lightbringer’s wings – bright white, one of a kind. But that has been before everything went to Hell – quite literally, before his Fall.   

Now, they just feel so wrong.   

He doesn’t know why but he  hates  them. An urge to sever them from his body and burn them to ashes until not a single feather is in his sight. He freezes.  

Even thinking about self-mutilation is an anathema for an angel. Why does he feel like this? Lucifer remembers the feeling of anger, pain and misery and all of them associated with his wings.   

He can feel it in his bones that he has cut them off before. He has mutilated his wings before. It might be a gut feeling but it’s enough to chill his blood.   

He doesn’t remember cutting them off. He doesn’t remember getting them back.   

Your dad did that to you?  

Don’t. Please.  

A faint voice, sounding dangerously like Chloe lingers, piercing through the infinite layers of cloud in his mind. The words are... familiar. It feels like a déjà vu. Like a dream, out of his reach but stuck somewhere.    

Heat rushes to his eyes, a familiar frustrating burning prickles as a sob is ripped out of his throat echoing in the silence of the penthouse – a disturbing evidence of what everything is costing him. A fear like no other, sits on his chest, constricting it until he can’t breathe anymore.   

A celestial with a perfect memory, an immortal losing the most cherished memories of himself. Slowly and gradually, parts of his life, parts of  him  will be yanked out of his grip, ruthlessly until he would have nothing but his sorrow to grasp onto.   

He has already lost his home, his sanctuary, his wings.   

How long until he loses his friends? His Chloe? Himself?   

How long until there is absolutely nothing left for him anymore? How long until he just struggles in the dark, absolutely alone?   

Because just this morning, he has lost another part of himself. He has lost his job.   

Because he has no recollection of what exactly Chloe does or what  he  does for that matter.  He calls her ‘the Detective’ which means she must be a detective. But what about him? What does  he  do with her?   

¿¥¿  

Eventually Lucifer pulls himself up from the ground, glasses from the mirror shattered all around him, victim of his misplaced anger and hurt. His knuckles remain numb, unhurt.   

The shower takes him longer than expected, cleaning up the blood and gore, straightening the broken feathers; with clenched teeth and a boatload of determination and experience he sets the humerus bone of his right wing in place while repeating the same with his left one. The effort almost costing him his consciousness. With a shuddering breath, he collapses on the ground, the shower still running. Water and blood blending into pink ripples, flowing down the drain.   

Swallowing the bile down his throat, he crawls out of the water and with the support of the marbled sink, he manages to stand on his feet. About five minutes pass where he just breathes. When he feels better, he resumes with the rest of his activities. Shaving, styling his hair and wearing a simple Black Armani with white shirt, all the while without once looking at himself in the mirror. He knows he will break if he does. Because the man staring at him in the mirror would not be him. It would just be a simulacrum, a mockery of Lucifer Morningstar.   

He sips a glass of scotch at the bar – even the idea of eating something solid churns his stomach - when the elevator dings. Chloe walks out of it, looking beautiful as always. Her ponytail bounces as she approaches him warily, her expression guarded but the way she is clutching her leather jacket tightly betrays her demeanor. She is anxious.   

The moment her eyes land on his face though, she freezes for a moment. He bloody well predicted it. He must look a fright now, nothing like the Lucifer she used to know – which he thankfully remembers. Instead, his face is pale from the blood loss, skin sallow and eyes red and puffy from the crying debacle earlier. His back is hurting now that she is here and he grips the bar top harder to keep himself upright.   

He feels about thousand miles away from smiling but for her sake, tries to paste a smile but it feels so  wrong.  She seems to get that too because her lips set in a thin line. An awkward silence settles which neither of them know how to break. So, he focuses on his breathing. Probably for a good cause because he feels so weak. Eventually though,   

“Hey, we don’t have to go if you aren’t feeling okay. You shouldn’t push yourself, Lucifer.” She suggests quietly. Fingers twitch in her side, as if she wants to reach out to him. He wants that too. He wants nothing but to hold her right now, hear her say that everything’s gonna be okay, just.... be with her. Because she is the only one who makes sense in this elaborate hurt-game that his bastard father is weaving. The only one he can trust and probably the only one who can understand him. She may not believe him, but she surely  knows  him. She is the only one he needs right now. Not Linda, not Amenadiel, certainly not Maze but her.   

She doesn’t reach out and he doesn’t ask.   

“I am...”  Lie. Complete lie. Lucifer Morningstar doesn’t lie. “ I want to go, Detective-” the endearment feels foreign now that he doesn’t remember her job - “Please. I just... I just want to make sense of all these things.”   

She nods, understanding clear in her eyes. “Okay. Do you...” Her eyes sweep over him, “uh, do you need a minute? Are you okay?”   

He settles for a grimace, “I don’t need a minute. I am unhurt.” Technically.   

He hopes she won’t push much and she doesn’t. “Right. Come on, then. I drove here, but if you want to take your corvette then-”  

“I am perfectly fine in riding your car, Detective. Lead the way.”  Apprehension is thinly veiled on her face and he doesn’t say that the car doesn’t hold a value to him like before. The car he doesn’t recall anymore. They don’t talk in the elevator.   

The car ride too passes in silence, neither of them turning on the radio or breaking the ice. A cold tenseness surrounding both of them.   

Something that never did happen before. Or he hopes, there is really no way for him to be sure.   

¿¥¿  

Honestly, Lucifer doesn’t know whether he actually visited Linda’s apartment before but as far as he remembers - which he must add that it’s not trustworthy at all – he has never been here. Whatever vague memories he has of their sessions, it’s always in her office. No, Lucifer’s gut screams that he hasn’t been here.   

The door is opened by a middle-aged woman, who Lucifer has never seen before and both of them are directed to the first room to the right of the kitchen, most probably Linda’s bedroom. The apartment is small but cozy with an uncanny homeliness that he hasn’t felt in... well, he doesn’t remember now, does he? Right in front of the main door, there is a staircase which leads them to the living cum dining room. The kitchen is to the opposite wall right of which lies the bedroom, their apparent destination.   

Walking in to the room is a... hair-rising experience for Lucifer. When Chloe informed him earlier that the doctor wasn’t taking patients cause she is ill, he never in his dreams imagined that  this  is what she meant. Said doctor is sitting on her bed, her back supported by the headrest. But what leads to him gasping out loud is her apparent paleness and exhaustion. Linda is sallow and pale, thinner, much thinner than he remembers and dark circles hug her eyes too. Crystal clean bandages wrapped around her torso peak from her thin, loose maxi-dress. The night table is full of medicines and ointments and just beside the bed stands a wheelchair.   

What has happened to the Doctor?!   

He... he just can’t remember! Why can’t he fucking remember just  one  bloody thing?   

Faint feelings accost his mind. He can feel the terror and then some emotional turmoil but... what had caused this turmoil in him, then?   

Linda, look at you... This is all my fault.   

A voice sounding like him swirls across his brain, echoing at the far corners of it and pulling strings of emotions he hadn’t known was there. Guilt. It presses his chest, constricting it painfully until he can’t breathe. Why is he feeling guilty? What has he done? Is he responsible for Linda’s condition? Wh-?   

Belatedly, he realizes that he  actually  can’t breathe.   

“Lucifer?”   

He hears someone calling his name but it all gets jumbled into the web of his mind, unable to pierce his walls. The room is spinning, why is the room spinning? Black dots appear in his vision. His lungs are burning... is he... why can’t he breathe?   

“Lucifer, you are having a panic attack! Breathe, Lucifer!”   

“Just breathe, dammit!” - “Lucifer, look at me. Please, look at me!”   

HE CAN’T! Why don’t they understand? He can’t bloody breathe! And look at whom? He can’t figure out a single thing in the room, blackness creeps around his vision and he can feel the consciousness slipping away from him, the throbbing pain in his skull is back. He can’t -  

And then two small arms wrap around him, warmth of a body – yes! That’s it, he holds on to it like a pillar. Soft murmurs reach his ears, he can’t figure them but the voice.. The voice is familiar.   

“Lucifer, come back to me.”   

Chloe.   

The Detective is speaking to him and then two small, warm and soft hands are cupping his cheek forcing his face down and then her face swims into his vision – she is beautiful.   

“Breathe with me, come on. Hold in your breath, that’s it.” She takes a deep breath and he finds himself mimicking her and suddenly large gulps of air fill his airway, relief spreads through his veins. He, the greedy soul as always, takes more and more air until his lungs are full of it.   

“Sshhh, slowly Lucifer. You can choke otherwise. One... two... three, yeah that’s it.”   

She repeats the motion and he follows until he feels his breathing normalize, the pounding of his heart slows down and the room sharpens. He is safe, he can breathe.   

“You okay?” He looks down to face Chloe, worry and fear etched all over her features. Oh dear, he hasn’t meant to scare her like that, it’s just...  what?  It’s just what? Why is he acting like this? He is the Devil, for crying out loud! Why is he so... What is happening to him?   

Ignoring the painful lump in his throat, he nods, not trusting his voice right now. Chloe accepts his answer and steps back giving him his space, her hands withdraw from his cheeks and he bites back the whine threatening to escape for the loss. He has already made a complete fool of himself, there’s no need to be more pathetic now. Looking around he now sees the doctor is sitting on her wheelchair a few feet away from him, concerned and worried; the other middle-aged woman standing by the chair with equal confusion on her face.   

He hadn’t seen them moving.   

Ashamed beyond limit he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “Apologies, I hadn’t meant to do that.” He says in the least pathetic way he can. But Linda waves off his apology easily.   

“It’s not your fault, Lucifer. Extreme stress can cause panic attacks. It’s common and you don’t need to apologize. How are you feeling now?” She asks and Lucifer actually barks out a hollow laugh.   

“You are in the wheelchair not me.”   

But Linda’s stern gaze doesn’t soften and he squirms self-consciously. With Chloe and the other woman here in the room.... The doctor, ever the therapist somehow understands his unspoken request and turns to the other inhabitants in the room.   

“Chloe, Mala, will you both leave us for a few moments?”   

“I will be in the living room, okay?” Chloe informs Lucifer before silently walking out of the room followed by the woman – Mala? and closing the door behind leaving Lucifer and Linda alone.   

He takes a cautious step behind and sits on the sofa across the room, leaving a wide berth between them. The guilt now hitting him full force. He can see the doctor opening her mouth to speak but he beat her to it,   

“What happened to you?” He can’t keep the anxious edge off his tone, afraid to hear the answer... Afraid to know that the guilt swirling in him is not misplaced and it’s actually his fault.   

Her jaw goes slack as she blinks at him like the question has caught her off-guard. Her mouth works once, twice and he bloody well knows that look. The look where the person in front of you is contemplating what answer you will like and what not; sugar coating the truth. The anxiety increases to the point where he can’t hold it off anymore.   

“Is... Did I do this?” His voice chokes as he asks the question but he just can’t not know. Not knowing is torture.   

“What?”   

“Did I hurt you? Please tell me... did I? Do th-this?”   

Her eyes widen fractionally as she shakes her head. “No! No, Lucifer, you didn’t do this. It’s not your fault. Why would you even think so?!”   

His shoulders slump as he lets out the breath he has been holding. The relief is bliss, lightening his soul and warming his heart in a way he hasn’t felt in.... well before. But curiosity gets hold off it. “Then... what happened?”   

“You really don’t remember?” She sounds stunned and the discomfort returns. No, he doesn’t bloody remember, that’s why he is asking! He wants to snap but that won’t do them any good. His slipping memories are not Linda’s fault and she will not be the victim of his fury and frustration. Instead, he gives clipped shake of his head,  No.   

“You remember your mom?” She asks warily, eyeing him like he is made of glass and would break if not handled with care. He can’t blame her though; it  is  costing him a lot to keep himself together at the moment.   

But... His mum... that he remembers. “I... do. Not fully but I think I remember most of it. Although, there are... gaps? I haven’t seen her yesterday which could mean that she is gone or...” a dark thought occurs to him, “Bloody hell, did I send her to Heaven?”  

“You didn’t.” Linda is quick to assure, “As far as I know, you sent her to another universe. With the flaming sword thingy.. But before leaving, she might have... taken a swing on me.”  

“W hat?!”  

“ Lucifer, I am alright, don’t worry about me. And there is no need for me to be scared. Your mother is in another universe, right?” She gently assures.       

Another... universe? He doesn’t remember. Last, he remembers is him and Amenadiel being thrown into his Baby Grand. He can recall the extreme fear he has gone through the moment and then everything is fog as if covered by a blanket.    

My angel, I will miss you so much.       

A distant voice echoes in his brain... his mum’s voice. She is gone. She is gone to another universe and he sent her there with probably no ability to come back. His mum is gone forever and he doesn’t even recall it. He doesn’t know what hurts more, the thought of never seeing his mum or the mere fact that he forgot their last encounter. So much for perfect memory.   

“What’s happening to me, Linda?” For the first time in his long, long life he allows a weakness to seep into his voice. Fear. When he looks up at her, she is staring at him with barely concealed worry. The panic bungees in his chest.   

“I can’t be sure but I think you are suffering from Retrograde Amnesia.” At his blank look, she elaborates. “Uh... Short term memory loss but...”  

“But what?”   

She sighs, absently running her fingers lightly over her abdomen, most likely the source of her injuries. “But as far as I know, Retrograde Amnesia doesn’t work like that. A patient suffering from it may forget a large chunk of his or her life. This may be temporary or permanent, there is no way to tell. But in your case, it seems you didn’t particularly forget a chunk of your life but several pieces of memories. This might be the case of Senile Dementia as well... I don’t really know how any of the brain trauma can affect a celestial like you, Lucifer. It’s out of my depth.”   

Great! So, that’s it? He is stuck with two brain trauma mortal diseases losing himself gradually to the path of insanity while his only therapist is out of her depth and that leads to what? His defeat! He can bet his arse that this was his father’s plan all along! His ultimate fall, his eternal punishment of painful oblivion.   

No. He refuses to give up in his father’s game. He is Lucifer Morningstar; he can’t give up. He won’t.   

“But, there has to be something to help me. I can’t... I can’t forget. I refuse to surrender.” He shakes his head.   

“Surrender?”   

“To my father! Don’t you get it? It’s all part of his manipulation! He is toying with me, punishing me for whatever I am! And I can’t lose to him. I won’t. It’s not that easy to break me!”   

Linda nods, accepting his rant. “Have you talked to Amenadiel and Maze about it?”  

“I did.”   

“What do they have to say?”   

“’If this is happening, it’s because Father wants it.’ I mean, he is not wrong but the way he said, as if he is thankful to dear old dad for my suffering... on second thought, he actually might be.” He grumbles, “And for Maze... well, I bloody don’t know where she is.”   

The room is silent for a few seconds before Linda speaks. “I would suggest the first and foremost step would be an MRI. We can’t do anything until we diagnose the problem.”   

“M... RI?”  

“It’s brain scan. It will help you know what the problem is. You were kidnapped and imprisoned most likely; Chloe told me you suffered a concussion amongst other things. It might be highly possible that this is because of a brain trauma.”   

He doesn’t reply. Everything is so tangled that he just... he can’t figure out anything. His kidnapping, the slipping away of his memories, the feelings that he is experiencing without knowing the source, the gaps, not knowing everything – why him? Why every time him? Every single time when he is in a happy place; when he can finally breath freely something or the other happens and then his life goes to Hell, both figuratively and literally.   

What does it take for him to just be happy for once? Millennia he spent in Hell, just existing like a mechanical doll and now, that he is actually  living  his life, has people to care for, his dad and destiny are playing games on him.   

Is just existing for him a crime? Doesn’t he have  any  right to have a happy life? To have a life at all?   

Is the Devil so bad?   

The lump in his throat enlarges, heat prickles in his eyes and the room blurs with the unshed coat of tears. Bloody Hell, he will  not  cry, now. After crying all morning, he won’t make this mess now. Not in front of Linda. Not when there is Chloe in the other room. He won’t cry. He won’t!   

Yet, a stubborn tear makes its way out of his eye, rolling down his cheek. Immediately, he rubs his hands across his face, wiping the tear track and hunching on himself. The head ache is growing and he feels nauseous at the thought.   

“Lucifer, talk to me. Tell me how are you feeling?” Linda’s soft voice probes and just like that the remaining bit of his control crumbles leaving behind hurt, pain and rage.   

“What do you think, doctor?! How do you think I feel?!” He snaps, stern gaze zeroes on her face. The anger cutting off any rational thought in his brain, “I am a celestial. The Devil! I am designed in a much superior way than you humans, flawless you might say. I had the perfect memory! All angels have. It’s our pride. Eons and eons of memories stored and recalled perfectly, every detail, every word spoken, every person met. Do you know how that feels? No! You can’t! And now, everything is chipping away from you. Do you know how that feels either? No!   

I can’t remember Lux, Doctor! It’s apparently my  home!  I have spent six bloody years in the building yet I don’t hark back a single thing about it! I know I give out favors, I remember them but I don’t know who I did a favor for! I can’t remember my job with the LAPD or why Chloe seemed guilty for not tagging me in! I know the precinct but I don’t know why I could be there! There are terrifying gaps in my memories, how is that supposed to feel, eh?   

No, I am supposed to be dandy, right? Guess what, I am not! I am terrified! I am terrified of what it could mean, of what would happen if I forget everyone I care about...” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, the rage dissipates. Defeat replaces it. “I just don’t know, doctor!  Help me!”  He chokes out a sob, feeling the incoming tears wracking his entire body until he is doing just what he thought of not.   

He is crying.   

Frustrated and terrified, he is helpless! No one understands his situation! No bloody one! Everyone is either putting a human lens to the problem or lying to him with empty consolations. Why won’t anyone get how important memories are for a celestial? He had been through literal Hell, still he wouldn’t remove a single memory had he got a choice. His memories are what made him, him. They made him Lucifer, the survivor, fighter, Devil from the innocent, immature Samael, the poison of God.   

He hides his face behind his palms as he sobs quietly, one flimsy veil for his breakdown – not enough, never enough. But he is just too tired to care. Linda doesn’t mind and he doesn’t stop.   

Minutes trickle down and the tears finally die until he is just sitting, controlling his breath and sniffing noisily. Sometime during his crying debacle, Linda has dragged the wheelchair to her night stand, picking the box of Kleenex and now she is offering it to him. Grumbly, he takes it.   

First a panic attack and now crying. Can he stoop lower?   

“Do you want some water?” She asks softly. No judging in her tone but Lucifer shakes his head. “That’s okay. I know all of this is difficult, but we will get through it, Lucifer. I promise, we will.”   

The assurance helps.    

“I think we should end this here. I may not be taking any patients now but my door is always open for you, Lucifer. Take an MRI, it will help... I guess? And please meet me again this week.”  Linda suggests.   

He nods, absent mindedly. Everything seems so.... He just feels so distant with everything, now. He is sure he is disassociating, the same way he did after his fall. Although there is one thing that burns his mind, “Linda?” His voice comes out hoarse and quiet. He doesn’t clear it, though.   

“Hmm?”   

“Do you happen to know anything about my wings?”   

“Your wings?”   

“Mm. This morning when I checked them I felt hatred-”   

“Your wings are back?!” She gasps and it takes a moment for Lucifer to register what she said.   

“What do you mean ‘back’? Did I...” He gulps. His gut instinct was most likely right. “I cut them off, didn’t I?”   

The therapist stutters, “Uh.. Yeah. Shortly after you came to Earth, you asked Maze to cut them off. They grew back?”   

He ignores the question, posing a question of his own. “Why?” It’s a very vague question but thankfully she picks up rightly.  

“You thought that they are a leash by your father and you wanted to be free of it.”   

Lucifer doesn’t know what to say, what to think. Everything is distant, he doesn’t even know how he feels. His mind is blank. The walls are built to protect him from these things. Wordlessly, he rises from the couch, reaching for the door handle. His tasks are mechanical, thoughtless.   

“Tell Chloe to meet me, will you?” Linda asks and he obeys, mindlessly.   

He doesn’t register walking to the living room or sitting on one of the chairs of the dining table or even falling asleep. He has been spent, emotionally bankrupt. The turmoil is frozen until his brain starts working again.   

He dreams of darkness. He dreams of loneliness. A barren land where there is nothing but misery and pain. He is walking and walking, alone and helpless. His feet hurt, his back aches and there are multiple cuts adorning his bare torso. The trousers he is wearing are torn up to his shins, dark stains making the fabric stiff. There is no hope in him, only despair.   

And then a voice echoes, making his every hair rise in fear. He knows the voice. He can never forget that voice.  The Voice.   

“Samael... My enigma. My emissary. The day is coming.”   

-tbc-  

Chapter Text

↟ནઢ

Professionalism is more than a concept for Dr. Linda Martin. For her, Linda’s entire life has been chalked via discipline and competence. The essence of professionalism is the focus upon the work and its demands, while one does it, to the exclusion of all else - that has always been her motto even in the most conflicted situations. Even her dad’s death couldn’t steer her from achieving her goal, becoming a gold medalist in Stanford. Sans the one time when the literal Devil seduced her to become a little unprofessional - honestly, it only takes a god damned miracle to turn that man down - she has always taken pride in her professionalism and work ethics. 

Maintain a neutral facade in front of all her patients; don’t get emotional and have an open mind, judgmental is something a therapist will not want to become. 

And yet, dealing with Lucifer Morningstar challenges every single principle she has been trained in the school. He is just so different from any other patient she has seen in her entire life and no, it’s not because he is the literal Devil, if anything the Devil is the most humane she has known, but it’s mostly because professionalism just simply doesn't work in his case. Whether it’s the boyish energy when an over enthusiastic him pops almost all the gummy bears kept on her table into his mouth or the utter, utter foolish and misinterpreted ideas he conjures up at the end of each and every session or whether all the celestial melodrama he brings with him despite the fact that it always roots from a very mortal problem, she doesn’t know. In course of time, Lucifer has become more of her friend than patient and Linda finds his company amusing and relaxing and not to mention the way she looks forward to his every session. 

Over the passing years, the doctor and the devil dynamic has been blurred by the friendship of Lucifer and Linda and unknowingly, he has become more than family to her. Someone she deeply, deeply cares about.

 Maybe that’s the reason today has been the hardest fucking day in her history of counselling. The mere (and thoroughly trained) act of sitting with a straight but slightly sympathetic face has been a chore for her while her favourite patient was falling apart and spiraling down in his despair. 

Lucifer has cried. 

Lucifer has had a panic attack. 

Lucifer has openly lashed out and then broken down. 

All the three statements almost impossible for a person like Lucifer Morningstar, for whom even opening up is a sign of weakness.  Over the few years, they have had quite a few breakthroughs but none like this, none so painful that has left Linda feeling even more confused regarding exactly how much of a progress they actually made today. Although what happened today can’t exactly be categorised under the term ‘session’ as Lucifer is more of a friend to her than a patient at this moment. Which is why his breakdown has struck her more than she is willing to admit. And the worst part about everything is that she is actually out of her depth regarding the entire situation. 

Said situation deals with possible celestial Alzheimers combined with some sort of retrograde amnesia and is currently happening to the Devil who is so distressed that he has cried himself to exhaustion. 

The entire situation seems so surreal. 

And she has been freaking stabbed by the Goddess of all creation, so that says something. 

Her brain hasn’t yet wrapped around the entirety of the situation, everything happening so quickly and too much, too much. Even for a professional like Linda, this is taxing her. 

And no matter how much she is in denial, the truth gripes her throat with its heavy claws and worry settles deep in her gut. From what she has found out, Lucifer is losing almost every memory and he is losing them fast. So, there will be a time where he will most likely forget all of them, her, Chloe, everything. And despite all the solutions she offers, she can’t in any way help him out if the problem is somehow beyond his mortality. And she has a gut feeling that it is.    

Linda feels helpless. But this is not the time to embrace her feelings when she is here to help not only Lucifer but also Chloe. It’s her duty as Chloe’s friend. This news is tremendously disturbing for her and she can only imagine what Chloe must be going through at the moment. It is not unknown to Linda what they both feel for each other and how Lucifer’s ill health is affecting Chloe. She is no doubt an extremely strong woman but she is only human.  And the doctor can feel her distress even if the woman in front of her is hiding it like a pro. 

Chloe is sitting in the same place Lucifer sat moments ago, great minds think alike and all that, while the doctor is comfortable in her wheelchair across the room facing her. The pain meds are making her tired, and a faint throb is replacing the numbness in her abdomen but she wrenches the thought from her mind, focusing on the current situation. 

The detective’s eyes are red rimmed, puffy with the effect of the silent tears she is so desperate to hide. Her mouth is parted but silent, body completely tense except her fingers that are constantly fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. 

Maybe it's time for some external stimulation. 

“Chloe, this is a safe place.” Linda starts, her tone purposefully soft, “ And I am your friend here, you can talk to me, I am here.”  

In reply, Chloe inhales sharply, her eyes darting nervously, gathering her thoughts. 

“I know this isn’t easy for you, either. At first, Lucifer’s kidnapping and now his memory issues… this week has been rough for you too, you know. How are you holding up?” 

“I don’t know, actually.” comes the honest answer. Her fingers still instead reach for her hair, pulling at the ponytail harshly as she blows out a breath. “It’s a lot for me. I just… I am worried about Lucifer, no.. no, you know what? I mean terrified! Something is wrong with him, Linda! He is… you saw him today right? And it’s not only his memories, you know - and I don’t know what will happen if his memories just… vanishes, but also he is changed. He is pale and weak and probably tortured. He is like a shell! I can’t.. I can’t see him like this. Please, please do something, help him!” Her tone waivers at the end and the doctor’s heart twists at her admission. 

“I know, Chloe. But I can only help him in a limited area. I have specialised in counselling and therapy but the physical aspects of the brain is not my area. I have already advised him to go through an MRI to diagnose the problem. I will recommend a few of my colleagues who excel in this field.” 

The detective nods slowly as if the implication of how deep the problem might be sinks into her realisation now at the mention of the MRI scan. “Okay… okay yeah.”

“Before that, have you been sleeping alright?” Chloe blinks, evidently surprised at the question thrown on her all of a sudden but soon recovers. 

“Not much. Between Lucifer, his kidnapping and the case, I am kinda too squashed with the pressure.” She admits sheepishly. 

“Don’t overwork yourself, Chloe. Take some rest, recharge. You can’t exhaust yourself. I would have suggested you sleep meds but I don’t prescribe drugs easily. But you can try some meditation, music maybe?” 

I- I will try…” She nods and then, quietly adds, “probably.” 

“Chloe, I know you are worried about your job and Lucifer but you are not a robot. You shouldn’t take too much stress.” 

She flashes a watery smile, “Easier said than done.”

“I suppose.” 

They talk more. They talk about the case, about the killer’s unique MO and the extremely unnatural cause of death leaving Linda almost wide-eyed in wonder. They talk about Lucifer’s impromptu marriage and the impasse at their relationship and Chloe’s heartbreak over it, Linda vaguely providing a reason of sorts without managing to break the doctor-patient confidentiality and lastly they talk about her own health a bit. Only when the stitches pull in her abdomen and she stifles a yawn, do they stop. 

And then Chloe asks the question of a million dollars. 

“Is.. is he gonna be alright?” Her voice is soft, hesitant as if afraid to hear the answer and once again Linda’s professionalism wavers under the weight of friendship and concern for Lucifer.  

“I hope so, Chloe. I hope that very much. But it’s gonna be difficult.” But please let it not be impossible. “And my advice? Be with him right now. He is going to need you more than anyone else. Keep his stress levels low, although… This situation is pretty nuts. Only you can help him get through this.” Linda hopes that’s the case because she, herself, is not ready to jump on the other possibility of hopelessness. 

Chloe doesn’t speak, only nods her head in a silent agreement and stands to leave the room. “You should rest, Linda. Thank you so much for today.” She forces a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes but Linda understands. Of course she understands. 

“My door is always open for both of you. You can come here any time… except for the dressing time maybe?” 

The tension breaker is good in lightening the moroseness and when Chloe walks out of the threshold, her watery laugh reaches the doctor’s ears. Rolling the wheelchair out of the room, Linda finally gets the reason for the detective’s amusement, who currently has his head cradled in his forearms on the dining table, snoring softly.  

“He has fallen asleep.” 

But even in his sleep, Lucifer’s face is scrunched up as if in pain and Linda can only guess what nightmares are currently haunting his psyche as he struggles in the imaginary world away from his loved ones and away from reality. 

The thought disturbs her more than she thought it would be. 

But she can only hope that everything is going to be okay. 

↟ནઢ

Everything is not okay. 

As easy as it is to stay in this denial forever, Chloe knows that it’s time to face the harsh reality that everything is not okay. In fact, all of it, Lucifer’s condition, his kidnapping, reaching a dead end to the case, everything is far from okay and the truth only crystallizes harder, settling heavily in the air with each passing moment. 

Lucifer has been…. agitated, to put it mildly,  from the moment he has jolted awake from his impromptu nap in Linda’s. At first, much to both her and Linda’s worry, he has been unaware of his surroundings, flailing frantically against Chloe’s rocking embrace until her comfort seemed to have penetrated the thick clouds of confusion and he relaxed in her grip. When Linda, as polite and professional as she is, offered to listen, he has outright refused to talk about it anymore, muttering something about ‘dear old dad and his mind games’ which Chloe has utterly failed to follow and then literally fled the apartment in a matter of seconds leaving both the women baffled at his sudden absence. Later when Chloe has exchanged her pleasantries and ‘see-you-laters’ with the doctor and left the apartment, she found Lucifer riding shotgun in her car, arms crossed across his chest and a deep, worrying frown on his features. That was twenty minutes ago. 

He hasn’t spoken since then.

Which is alarmingly becoming their new normal and Chloe finds the silence unbearable. And not to mention distracting as hell. Lucifer, although silent, is fidgety beside her, shifting his weight more than often, fiddling with his cufflinks and then the window switch and finally the seat belt buckle beside his seat. He hasn’t touched the radio, though, which is again the evidence of how wrong everything is currently and it is eating at her soul. 

Unable to take the silence no longer, she grasps onto the first thought that comes to her mind and voices it. “So… we need to talk about...your brain scan.” Which is not necessarily a happy-go-lucky thought for the moment, quite the opposite actually but pardon her for not being able to think anything else at the moment of crisis. 

Lucifer startles at her out of the blue question; clearing his throat he asks quietly, “What about my brain scan?” 

“Well, for one that we need to make an appointment as soon as possible or else we might not get any recent dates and then there is the doctor’s consultations and also Linda will get in touch with one of her colleagues-”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” 

It takes some time for his words to really sink in and when it does, all she can do is to just gape at him in utter disbelief. Thankfully, the road in front of her is empty - very unlikely to the usual LA traffic - or else she could have hit the car rather gracelessly. Is he really being serious? “Lucifer, this is serious. You have to see a doctor and you can’t just not do a scan. It’s for your own sake.” And for mine, she doesn’t add. 

“What I can do is to talk to Amenadiel instead of going to the boring hospitals again, such a waste of time they are. I think I know what is happening to me.”

  He may be commenting on the weather as far as he is concerned and Chloe physically resists the urge to strangle him right then by clenching the steering wheel tighter. “Yeah? And what exactly is happening to you?” 

“Oh, dear old dad, detective, what else? He is back to his old ways, manipulating me. And now I know he is behind all this.” Chloe would have seriously rolled her eyes if not for his tone. Every time he speaks of the supposed ‘God’ as he puts forward, he is either irritated or rambles of nonsense about Hell and Heaven and stuff in a monotonic way. But this time, no matter how ridiculous he sounds, there is a menace to his tone, an undercurrent fury threatening to tear apart his forced calmness and break free. He no less than growls the words, making a sound that she can swear isn’t possible for any other human to make and which sends a shiver down her spine. 

“Lucifer,” she tries, soft enough to not spook him further but firm, “Look, I know you are stressed and worried but I promise you, the hospital would be able to help. I know you don’t like hospitals and all but please do this scan. I need you to be better and it’s not possible until you take the first step. Do this for me, Lucifer.” 

For a long time, he is silent, his gaze cautiously trained on the scenery outside the window but Chloe knows he is not seeing anything. Just when she has about given up the hope of getting his reply does he grumble. “Very well.” And then he ceases to speak at all. Again. 

Chloe sighs. If he is going to behave like a five year old child throughout the whole process, then so be it. It’s not like he has any other option when he is on the verge of forgetting his whole life. Including her. “I am dropping you at the penthouse before heading towards the precinct, alright?” 

She is lucky that the new lieutenant isn’t on her shoulders yet for leaving an actively investigated case for her partner, especially the one with all dead ends. After Dan pulled out the warrant for interrogating the ‘Asian Boyz’ gang, Chloe did her best to get a new lead while questioning them earlier in the morning before picking Lucifer up. Dead end, as expected. According to the gang members, Brandon Pant once upon a time was a part of the gang, after which he decided to turn his life around and come straight. Brandon used to owe them money for setting up his new life and they did beat him up a few days ago, as Dan already informed her but he actually paid them back a few days before his death. By selling his car. So that would strike out the motive besides getting their alibis checked out. Asian Boyz is out of the equation as of now. Which also leads to uh...nothing. Penny had no connection nor any relatives apart from Alex. Now, after dropping Lucifer and heading back to the precinct, she needs to regroup, come up with any other possible (highly unlikely) theory and then talk to Pierce and then he will decide whether to declare this one a cold case or not and then-

Lucifer shifts uncomfortably snapping her attention towards him. “Something on your mind?” She can’t help but ask. 

He side glances her for a second before shaking his head and giving her a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. If anything, with his gaunter physique, hollow cheeks, sunken eyes and pale complexion, he looks more haunted. “Nothing for you to be worried about.” 

So much for partnership. Deciding not to push him further - surely, if he wants to say something he will, right? He is not a baby anymore, - she keeps her focus on the road for the rest of the journey, carefully maneuvering between lanes and taking turns.

She parks at her usual spot in the garage of Lux and before turning off the ignition she tentatively reaches her hand to place on his knees, a tremor passes beneath her palm but he doesn’t pull away. When she looks at him, Lucifer is watching her with so much compassion that her heart jumps. As if she is the one to light his entire life. 

As if she is the only one he desires. 

If only that were true, she wants it to be true. She wants to be true so damn much but then he did leave her a few weeks ago when there was a chance for them- No. No, she won’t go there again. Tamping down that line of thought, she shoots Lucifer a small but genuine smile which he immediately mirrors with a smile of his own. A silent understanding passes and then he nods and exits the car. 

Chloe accompanies him as they ride the elevator and when the door opens to reveal the penthouse, Lucifer makes a beeline towards his library, for a change only to be greeted by Amenadiel. 

Chloe stands beside the bar, awkward and strangely out of place, watching the two brothers silently. 

“Luci.” The man greets Lucifer with a tight nod. 

“Ah brother, just the person I was hoping to see!”  Lucifer - his back now presented towards her - sighs with something she can only call as relief. “I have something very dire to discuss with you at this moment.” He carries on, completely forgotten about Chloe’s presence but the elder brother notices her. 

“Chloe.” He greets her, causing Lucifer to turn around. 

“Amenadiel.” She smiles and then, “I am going to leave you two now. Have to head to the precinct.” 

For a moment, she can swear she sees longing shrivelling across Lucifer’s face but he hides it real quick, plastering a smile on his face. “See you around, detective.” 

She returns his smile before heading towards the elevator once again. Just when the door separates her from the outer world, her phone rings. 

Dan. 

“ Hey Dan.” 

“ Where are you right now?” His voice sounds serious on the other line. 

“Heading to the precinct right now. Had to take a detour to Linda.” Not technically a lie. “Why?”

“ Well, another body just dropped. I’ll text you the address.” 

↟ནઢ

It takes another forty minutes for Chloe to reach the crime scene at West Malibu. Unlike the previous victims though, this one is killed right in the middle of the street - if it is a murder.  Chloe parks her Sedan to the side of the road, walking towards the small group of policemen and the yellow tape, she can’t help but miss the warmth of her partner by her side. It must be silly, she knows but she really misses him. She misses them. 

Chloe doesn’t know how long it will take for Lucifer to get better or what it will take for him to regain his memories, but… No. She can’t feel angry or disappointed. Lucifer is the victim over here and she can’t make everything about herself. She has to help him, get him treated - there is nothing that doctors can’t treat, yeah? Well, she will hold on to that hope and then things can go back to how they were, right? 

Crime scene. Yeah. Focus. She needs to focus on the crime scene. 

Chloe nods to the nearest police man for lifting the tape, something that is usually done by her partner, and walks towards a crouching Ella and the dead body. 

“What have we got?” 

Ella rises from her crouching position, a slight crease between her brows is all Chloe needs to see to know that this body - a blond woman - is troubling the latina. Although pretty much the entire ‘Heart twisting’ case is troubling for all of them. Chloe observes the still and cold woman lying on the road; she is beautiful with curly long blonde hair and hazel eyes. Her clothes, a plain white shirt and blue jeans, are intact though a bit dirty - not groped then, and from the looks of her she might have been in her mid thirties. 

“Meet Sophia Parkerson, an employee in the Oppotech Multinational Firm, age 34. Lives a few blocks away from here. From the shrinking and temperature of the body, I would say the time of death was last night between 1 to 3 am. COD till now unknown.” Ella bites her lips in another close observation, “No strangulations, no injector mark or external injuries. But here,” She points to the corpse’s bluish lips, “look at her lips and her nails,” picking up the ‘blonde’s’ hands, Ella shows the tips  of her nails which, Chloe notes, have also turned slightly bluish. “She may have died of oxygen deficiency, we just have to wait for the autopsy report. But here’s the thing,” Ella’s tone changes from informatory to slightly excited, “These are the same signs that we have found from Brandon and Penny’s bodies! Isn’t this totally bonkers?” 

“Yeah, it is.” Chloe finds herself nodding. If the signs are similar and it in fact is linked to the previous killings/deaths, then it is highly likely that the autopsy would find the same heart condition that has been found in the previous case. But Sophia being an employee of a multinational company and Brandon being an ex-gang member while Penny being a homemaker there is no apparent connection. 

Damn! What is this? A new kind of poison which has no traces left in the blood? Or is it a natural newly occurring heart disease? A virus of some sorts? Or a science experiment? Are these victims some kind of guinea pigs to a fanatic scientist? 

Even the thought makes her nauseous; in her line of work, she has seen it all, from jilted lovers to textbook psychopaths but still sacrificing humans for experiments is too much. She has never been a fan of ‘atom bombs’. 

A distant memory of Dr. Carlisle and his poison assaults her mind and she tamps it down almost forcefully. 

“Any witnesses?” She asks, shaking her head out of the thought. 

“Yes, actually.” Ella informs. “We have got a homeless man who claims to have witnessed the entire event but his statement is totally crazy. I mean, the guy was probably high or something cuz I ain’t seeing any logic there.” 

“Ella is right.” Dan joins the conversation, walking briskly towards them with a small notepad in his hand and a scowl on his face. “Just took all the statements. That man is crazy.” 

“Okay, but what does he say?” Choe asks, already impatient with their remarks. 

“Says that he saw the woman, Sophia, walking down the street last night when suddenly some kind of a dark shadow enveloped her completely-” 

“What?” Chloe scoffs. 

“- wait, there’s more.” Dan rolls his hand as a gesture showing the ‘more’ to the conversation and much to Chloe’s disbelief, “He says the so-called ‘shadow’ was talking to the woman in some ancient language. And the next thing, she is screaming so loud. When the shadow retreats and disappears the woman dead.” 

A burst of giggle erupts from Chloe’s throat as much as she wanted to suppress it. She just can’t help it. “Yeah, I am not believing the shadow part. Not a chance. But there might be some truth to it, you know?” 

“Of course, Chloe. That shit ain’t real. He was probably drunk or something. Maybe some ‘human’ was assaulting her and the man got confused, I mean it was night time right.”  Dan agrees. 

“Yeah but, the man says that Sophia was screaming, right?” Ella chirps in, “But if so, then why didn’t anyone in the house hear anything? I mean she was  pretty much surrounded by residential houses.” 

“Yeah that too. Who called in the scene?” 

“Mr. Terrance Joey. He saw the body first thing in the morning during his morning walk.” Dan informs. 

 “You guys have nothing to do until we get the autopsy. It can be a natural cause like heart attack too, you know?” Ella says and Dan and Chloe can’t help but agree on it. 

Chloe hopes that this one is a natural cause and not the victim of a probable science experiment even if her gut screams wrong. 

Chapter Text

↟ནઢ

They say history tends to repeat itself. Anything that’s happened in the past, will likely happen again in future. Truly terrifying concept, isn’t it? 

 Every good thing and every bad thing, they come back. The consequences of activities, they never leave one. Karma. They say. 

But these are all mortal beliefs. Pretty little superstitions that humans cling to for justifying their own callousness. Something so terribly beneath someone like God’s first soldier and also someone so hypocritical. What right does he have to ridicule these ‘karmic’ beliefs when he has been a blind follower for God’s master plan no matter how terrible the consequences? 

Since the beginning of time, Amenadiel Firstborn has been a stubborn follower of his father. Faith. He had faith in him; faith in all of what He did. Questions were for traitors, Amenadiel believed and thus no questions asked. Only orders to be followed. The perfect, little soldier. His belief unshakable all this time. 

But nothing lasts forever, he supposes. Because the faith slowly, slowly started to strain under the pressure of the consequences - a dangerous thing.

His first shock, Father has sent Lucifer back to Earth after he died. Why had he sent Lucifer back to Earth? Wasn’t this His order to always goad the Devil back to where he belonged? Why show him mercy then? Why allow Lucifer to stay on Earth? Was all of Amenadiel’s hard work just a waste of time then? The after wave of this shock automatically stacks towards his Devil of a brother. After taking the brunt of all humanity’s blame, surely Lucifer can handle his ire towards him. Yes, that is right. It’s Lucifer’s fault, like the manipulator that he is and not Father’s. Father is blameless. He has faith in God. 

His second shock, his fall. He doesn’t have powers anymore. Why doesn’t he? He has just been doing what Father ordered him all those millennia ago. Sending the Devil back to Hell. Why is he the one being punished but not Lucifer? Is it because of Malcolm? Of breaking one fundamental law of resurrecting a human? That must be it. But… but how does he redeem himself? He tries and tries and tries. He makes amends with the mortal doctor, with Mazikeen and even Lucifer. Yet, his wings keep molting. His powers keep fading. Time slips out of his grasp. What does he do? He is helpless, here! He is out of ideas. Father must help him, here. But… where is Father? Why is he silent when his first born is suffering? His faith rattles. 

 Amenadiel’s third shock, his Mother. Mother doesn’t have any ulterior motive; she just wants to spend time with her sons - sons, who were the reasons for her Hell, literally. Maybe a mother’s love can go beyond all limits. And then the discrimination comes. His mother only has eyes for her beloved ‘Lightbringer’, so much so that the Firstborn remains neglected. And why? Why must it always be Lucifer? The outcast? The one who has been his mother’s warden. But like always, mother is blind to Lucifer’s actions, compassion overwhelming towards the Lightbringer. Is this father’s plan? To show who is more loved? 

But then, he figures out the necklace. He is Father’s most loved, his favourite son, not Lucifer. Pride like nothing else fills the course of his veins. He finally did it. He has shown himself a greater possession. Lucifer may do whatever he has to with mother’s affection, he has his father’s. The God’s. His faith remains unbreakable, even if somewhat strained.

His third shock, Uriel’s death. One of God’s children dies. Yet, He remains silent. Unbothered. Not even Lucifer is punished for what he did. But no. It isn’t Lucifer’s fault is it? It’s Uriel’s. He has always been the stubborn one, the bullheaded - ironic, isn’t it? And Lucifer had no choice but to do what he did. Amenadiel has seen the aftermath. The guilt his brother is carrying with him, heavy and disturbing. The light which makes him, him just… vanishes. Leaving a darker image of a brother he hasn’t known. Is this how Lucifer remains in Hell? All dark and broody and angry. So very angry. He guesses he doesn’t know. He has never stayed in Hell, patrolled the gates, yes but even walking into the domain feels like an… anathema. But even in their grief, Dad remains silent. Just like he always is. His faith wavers. 

His fourth shock, Lucifer’s feelings. It turns out even the Devil can love and Oh! So passionately. His brother is happy. Peaceful and ecstatic in finally finding the place for himself. Amenadiel realizes he has never seen Lucifer happy. Never seen his content. Lucifer always had a sharper, predatory joy. Something lingering to danger. His definition of good time has always been sin and desire. But nowadays, he is genuinely happy. He is softer, more subtle and restrained. It’s easier to see the hidden Samael peaking out beneath the harder, tougher mask of Lucifer. And it pokes at the angel’s conscience. Is Lucifer so different from Samael? No matter how hard he tries, now looking at Lucifer, he thinks that Samael and Lucifer aren’t different entities. They are the same, one person. The innocent, naive, carefree and pure Samael covered by the tougher illusion of Lucifer. His father has been wrong in letting his children believe Lucifer is evil. His faith groans under pressure. 

His fifth shock, Chloe Decker. She is a miracle. He has been a pawn in father’s game. He didn’t know. And he didn’t even think about the importance of questioning his father. And the cost of His games? Lucifer and his happiness. The sight of his heartbreak, his pain so palpable that Amenadiel’s heart cries out. But what can he do when he is partially responsible for this mess if not completely? Lucifer grows desperate, lonely. And even after the devastating news, he kills himself to protect Chloe. The list of his sacrifices grows as he embraces his own pain and gives her the choice she didn’t have. Not without a single complaint. And yet Amenadiel isn't a fool. He can see how his brother is dying inside. Is this all father’s plan? To make him fall in love only to be snatched away? To make him hope only to extinguish that hope again? His faith cracks. 

And now, seeing his brother so distraught frantically searching for a book in his library, flipping pages after pages for a solution to his problem. His aura so stressed that Amenadiel finds himself backing up. The dark circles hug his brother’s eyes, cheeks hollow and sunken and not to mention his hair sticking out in eight different directions as he runs his fingers through them, frustratingly. “There must be something. Must be. I don’t remember having these books, but there must be something. Please." He hears Lucifer’s muttering, pleading with a non-existent entity and finally, Amenadiel’s  faith breaks. Not being able to witness this anymore. 

Because, as mortals say ‘History tends to repeat itself’, 

This has all happened before. 

The Firstborn stands beside Samael, encouraging his rapt attention on the tree standing in front of them. The first tree of the Silver City. The first sign of life after the microbes and protozoans, And Samael, always the curious one, has been the first to study all the details and textures and colours. “Would you look at that, brother! The shade of colouring is so perfect!” He chirps in smooth Enochian, beaming at the bark and practically lighting up in excitement. “Father has truly outdone himself this time.” 

“Hush, Samael. How many times do I have to tell you never to judge Father’s work?” Amenadiel admonishes without any real heat. An amused smile tucks his lips when Samael pouts. 

“I am only praising, brother!” 

Whatever Amenadiel is about to say, dies down on his tongue as a maiden drops on their feet. Her angelic beauty is truly mesmerising, enchanting but even looking at her makes Amenadiel curl in himself in disgust. She is an abomination, his Father’s rejects. The maiden’s robe is torn revealing the purple bruises on her golden skin. Her face is contorted in what only could be termed as Fear and pain. Good. She deserves nothing else. She is trembling in their feet and it takes every ounce in him not to kick her then and there. “S-samael, help m-me.” She rasps. 

Samael stiffens beside him; dropping the tender leaf from his hand, he nears the maiden, crouching in front of her so that she is eye level. Ugh, only Samael can do that. Drooping from his own sense of superiority for an abomination. His skin crawls but wisely he stays silent. 

“I am sorry Lady, but would you be kind enough to tell me your identity?” Samael speaks softly, more gentle than he already is.  And then he looks at Amenadiel, “Should we help her, brother?” 

“Amenadiel!” 

He blinks, dazed. Lucifer’s irritated face appears in front of him and only then Amenadiel realizes how close Luci is standing to him, arms crossed and posture rigid. “Well if you are bloody useless and can’t help me, then it’s better you leave me to my solitude.” 

“Sorry, I was… away.” 

“Hmmm clearly. Watching more porn are you? Careful bro, too much of those would make you blind.” Lucifer tries to joke, but his humor falls flat as the strain in his voice is evident. He is trying to deflect, to put lesser importance on his problems by building up a shield made of his humour. His defence. But Amenadiel will not have any of these. “Luci.”

 The situation is beyond anything he has ever seen and not like the last time…

But… How to tell Lucifer that? Without telling him the whole truth? Without making him hate Amenadiel once again? First Chloe being a miracle and now this….

 He just… he just doesn’t know what to do.

 Yesterday, when Lucifer informed him of the problem, he very insensitively pointed out it might be ‘Father’s own plan’ - the look that Lucifer gave him then made Amenadiel want to jump from Heaven’s edge. It held so much heartbreak, betrayal and anger that the angel quickly tried to backpedal but damage had been done. His brother merely turned his back to him offering him no retribution only giving a clipped ‘I am on my own then, am I?’ and then retired to his bedroom. 

So, when Lucifer called him - well, Chloe called on his insistence - he was surprised. He hasn’t spoken to his brother clearly since Chloe left the apartment an hour ago, Lucifer evidently diving into the heap of books and manuscripts. Now though,

“It looks like you have been right all along, brother.” Lucifer’s mouth forms a thin line, voice clipped under a lot of strain. He stands there rigid and still looking straight into the angel’s eyes. 

“What?” 

“It’s been father all along. I mean, for a moment I thought it might be related to my kidnapping - or so I am told - but no, it’s his elaborate mind game and plan.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ Heard his angelic voice in my dream today.” Lucifer grounds his teeth almost menacingly. Well, good to know he agrees with the angel, for once. But then the rest of the statement catches up to him.

“Wait, Father talked to you?” 

“Yes. Sort of. Gave me a cryptic message - ‘a day is coming.’” Huh. Seems like father is silent only towards him. Lucifer carries on, dropping one bomb after another. “I mean what does that even mean?! What does that bastard even want? More manipulation? For his sake, 

 He gave my wings back as well as a part of his manipulation!” 

Wait, wait. “Your wings are back?” 

“It would seem so.” His face a canvas of grimness. “I forgot I cut them off. And then Linda informed me said fact and now I-” Whatever he is going to say, he breaks off abruptly, turning away and walking briskly towards his settee, a new book on it. 

Everything is a tangled mess inside Amenadiel’s mind. What exactly is Father’s plan? As much as he tries not to be hurt, it stings. While he is trying all sorts to redeem himself, to get back his wings and that one-time power back the goal always slips out of his grasp whereas Lucifer who willingly cut his wings off gets his back. The irony is so strong that it leaves him reeling. But it’s not his time to wallow. It’s not his time to be hurt when his little brother is clearly suffering. He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose his memories - his perfect memories - but a part of him is thankful that Father hasn’t taken his memories away. While the other part aches for Lucifer.

 Lucifer doesn’t deserve to suffer from this. Again.

No matter what he does, Lucifer always seems to get the raw end of everything, wings or not. And then a realization - of sorts, dawns on him. His eyes widen, maybe this is a good thing. “Luci, do you understand what it means?”

Lucifer stills his activities, looking up with wide, hopeful eyes at him. “Well, don’t leave me in suspense, brother.” 

“Luci, this might mean you are redeemed!” He scoffs but Amenadiel bulldozes over him. “Look at that, you got your wings back and then maybe your memories are resetting to-”

“To make me forget everything about my fall and accept being Dad’s little mindless soldier, then?” His voice is bitter with hatred and fury. The book he has been holding, crumples beneath his shaking fist as he walks towards him. 

“No, Luci-” 

“Well, brother, I am not a computer program that He can reset any time and reprogram the way he wants.” The venom in Lucifer’s voice is impossible to miss, Amenadiel flinches. “I am not a thing He can tinker with, I am his so- I am a celestial, The Devil and whatever He is playing at, that’s unwarranted. Don’t you see, Amenadiel? This is not redemption! This is more and more manipulation from his side! Bending everyone else  when things won’t work his way!” He is yelling, unrestrained anger flowing off him in waves. “ That bastard!” 

“But brother, think about it this way. He is allowing you back to Heaven. You are being forgiven, isn’t this enough?” 

“NO!” Lucifer roars, a guttural voice escaping from his throat. “ I don’t want his forgiveness! I don’t want to go back to Heaven! And nothing is enough for,” He points towards himself, “this. For what I went through. For what I suffered for eons! And this is not forgiveness, Amenadiel. You don’t understand what it’s like. You can’t. When you have no idea what it feels like to have bits and pieces of your life to have been yanked away from you! This is torture! I don’t want his pretty wings or so called ‘blessings’ , I JUST WANT MY LIFE BACK !” He yells, the anger and frustration reaching its pinnacle before deflating quickly, draining out of him leaving only ruined hurt and broken sobs. “I just want my life back.” He repeats, more quietly this time. 

Amenadiel remains silent. What can he say to this? What possible consolation can he voice to soothe his brother’s burning heart and stressed soul? 

When Lucifer speaks again, his voice is cracked, broken like he is. Amenadiel tries not to notice the shining tears gathering round his eyes as he blinks furiously, gaze trained on an invisible point across his shoulders. “I had a life here, Amenadiel. My Home. I have people I care about… I want to be with. And now my home is slipping away from me,” the memories, the fondness, the emotions…"And none of you can help me.” He chokes out a sob which he disguises as a scoff. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen! Pathetic!” . 

Amenadiel finds himself reaching out, closing the distance between them in two strides and wrapping his brother in a loose hug. As predicted, he stiffens up but doesn’t pull away. Until two seconds pass and he pushes himself out of the embrace, the mask of nonchalance placed firmly, the tears almost magically vanishing. “That’s enough bro time for today, I think.” He says. 

Amenadiel steps back but keeps his hand on Lucifer’s shoulders in a silent support. “I am sorry, Luci.” Again. 

“Yes, well… unless you have a solution for me, your apologies are a waste.” He turns away. The hand on his shoulder drops. 

“I would help you if I could, Luci.” Guilt chokes the angel’s throat. Lying by omission. Lying by omission , a traitorous small voice nags around the corners of his mind. He ignores it. “But as we both know, Father is… too powerful for us to do anything.” Lucifer flinches. “I don’t know how to reverse this. I can’t even make sense of all of this.” 

Something changes in his stance as his posture goes from open to defensive in a fraction of a second. His expression closes off completely and he steps back. Away from Amenadiel. “Thank you for your time, brother.” 

A clear dismissal. 

“Luci, it’s not like that. I just… I just don’t know how to!” 

“I am the Devil. I always figure things out. I refuse to lose. Especially to Dad. You can go and enjoy your jolly life, Amenadiel.” He announces coolly. Almost too cool.  Amenadiel doesn’t know what to make out of that. 

“I am here for you brother.” He tries. One last time. 

“Well, I don’t need your moral support and don't test my patience, Amenadiel. Bugger off.” He growls from where he is now seated cross legged. On the coffee table. 

Well, it was worth a try. 

He walks out of the apartment into the elevator, guilt and disappointment heavy in his gut. He should have said something about the past to Lucifer. He should have. As an elder brother, he should have been able to face the consequences. But…. he isn’t ready for the conversation. And he thinks he never will be. Not without hurting Lucifer so much that he breaks. And not without hurting himself in the process. 

“Who is she, brother? She looks so pure, so angelic. But she isn’t one of our sisters.” Samael speaks in awe. 

“I don’t know who she is, Sam. But looks can be deceiving. It’s one of Father’s rejects. It’s flawed.” 

“Flaws are the ones that make someone perfect. If everything would be flawless, there would be no real beauty, brother.” Samael shares before focusing his attention on the branches again. The brothers discuss no more. 

↟ནઢ

Hours pass but Lucifer doesn’t come downstairs, remaining holed up in his penthouse while Amenadiel nurses drinks after drinks at the bar, to wash the bitter traces of guilt down his throat with the burn of Bourbon. Mortality does have its little perks, he is coming to realize why it is that Lucifer enjoys here so much. He may never understand his fascination with humans, but slowly, Amenadiel is starting to enjoy this mortal realm. Humans are amusing. 

I want my life back! 

Raw and unbidden guilt rises up his throat like bile. Oh, Luci. The single innocent demand that has been filled with too much anguish flaps like a trapped bird inside the cage of his heart. Over the past few years, Lucifer has become his closest brother, having to see him suffer like this is unnerving and… and painful. He really wishes he can do something, anything to help Lucifer but what can he do? If this has been Father’s plan all along, what can a small little angel like him with diminished powers even think of doing that can reverse ‘God’s’ spell? 

On the other hand, he is angry. Why is Father always so cryptic? Wasn’t one time enough? Enough for all the guilt and… and secrets that he has been storing in his heart since eons? And Amenadiel understood for the first. He really did. Father did what he had to do for a reason. Lucifer - Samael was being unreasonable that time and he really needed to be put on path and she had to go. There was a reason for the first time! 

But now? What is the reason now? Why is it happening again? Is.. is it because of Chloe? But then again, how come her being a miracle to do this fit in any equation? Nothing is really making sense anymore. 

A menacing headache is lurking behind his eyelids, the tender pain around the eyes already throbbing and intensifying with each second catalysed by the loud music and the bourbon down his throat. 

A young gentleman takes a place next to him at the bar, ordering a very ‘stiff’ whiskey on the rocks. If not for his piercing blue eyes and clean shaven, chiselled face, he looks similar to Lucifer, with the tan skin and dark hair. Even if he looks like Lucifer, his expression somewhat resembles Amenadiel’s moping face. 

Heh. Looks like he found a friend. Stirring conversation with a stranger is always awkward for the Angel, having no reason to talk about. Indecision pulls the strings of his heart and for long few minutes, they both drink in silence without acknowledging each other’s presence until, 

“Looks like you are in trouble too.” The gentleman observes, gaze trained on his tumbler. His accent sounds a bit Arabic although mixed with an American tone. Maybe he is born in parts of the UAE but clearly resides here for a long time. 

“Brother of mine.” Amenadiel chuckles, sweeping his bourbon in a go. “Who’s yours?” 

“Wife.” He answers begrudgingly. After a second, “What happened?” 

Amenadiel considers his answer, “Well, he has been going through certain issues and things are.. strained between us.” A small laugh slips out of his mouth, he can’t help it. “My relationship with him has always been complicated.”

“I get that. I have a family of three brothers and a sister. I know some fights can get ugly.” 

“You have no idea.” 

“But, whatever issues your brother is going through, I think it would be best for him if you stay with him. Looks like he needs you.” The gentleman suggests, much to Amenadiel’s amusement. 

“Well, I don’t think he appreciates my company.” Amenadiel stares at the polished granite of the bar top with a renewed interest. 

“All brothers do.” Something about the tone in the man’s voice makes him look up and Amenadiel finds an odd emotion passing through his face. “Trust me, I know. He may be lashing out, showing that he is strong and doesn’t need anyone but deep down he wants to rely on people. He needs to know that he isn’t alone. I don’t think he knows that he has people to rely on.” The man is clearly speaking about himself, Amenadiel realizes but he also notes how similar and how true the words ring in case of Lucifer’s situation. 

I am on my own then, am  I. Lucifer has said the exact words to him the day before with an unreadable tone. Amenadiel has conveniently brushed that off as his Luciferness then but now, come to think of it, he did notice a tinge of resignation and dread underneath the blankness. 

Lucifer truly is a chameleon, hiding his emotions so well that it’s nearly impossible to read him. 

Amenadiel sighs miserably. “And… if I have some things that might be related to his… issues but I can’t say that to him, what do I do?” 

The gentleman snickers drunkenly. “Aww, things are never good, man. If it helps him, you should really tell your brother.”

“What if I can’t?” 

“Why not?” He counters and Amenadiel sighs again. 

“Because it might threaten our relationship - whatever relationship we have left anyways. “ And also because I am a coward. He doesn’t add. 

The silence is his answer at first and just when he thinks he won’t get one, the gentleman replies quietly, his voice full of pain and sorrow. “I am getting a divorce from my wife tomorrow. She had a secret she wasn't  ready to tell me. She thought she would lose me if she opened up. She let that secret sit between us for months until I found out the hard way. What happened? Our relationship got rotten anyway. Maybe there was a chance to fix this mess if she had been honest with me but now… now, there is nothing left to do.” 

“I am sorry about your wife.” Amenadiel says, sympathetically. 

“Yes.. well..”

He lets the confession sit heavily between them, his voice trailing off as the demons of his mind overtakes his sanity until he shakes his head, forcing out a chuckle and an abruptly and totally fake happy tone. “So, it’s a pleasure to meet ya. But who is this stranger I am talking to?” 

The angel smiles kindly. “Amenadiel.” He extends his hand for a firm handshake which is reciprocated with equal kindness and enthusiasm. 

“Hi. Danish Amin.” He smiles. “It feels nice to talk to you, man. Thank you.” 

“Same here, Danish. And thank you for advising me. I will definitely take that into consideration.” 

Amenadiel promises. He will tell Lucifer for sure. But.. 

Later. He thinks. Later he will say when Lucifer is a bit less stressed. He already has enough on his plate. 

Later. 

“S-samael help me. Please.” 

“I am sorry, Lady. I don’t know who you are.” 

“No! No, no, no! What have they done to you? Oh no!” 

“What do you mean?” 

“No!  Please No, no, no! Samael NO!” 

-tbc-

Chapter Text

↟ནઢ

Lucifer is exhausted. 

He can’t honestly recall the last time he was this exhausted, although, his memories can very well not be trusted at the moment. He feels drained as if the dynamo meant to charge his divine body is shut down all of a sudden and he can’t recharge, compensate for the lost energy. Is this how it feels to be a mortal? So fragile and… broken? 

Well, that’s exactly how he is feeling. Broken. Lost and unwanted. 

It’s quite jarring how different a person can feel and be affected in different companies. With Chloe, Lucifer feels safe, empowered; he doesn’t know why the Devil would need to feel safe with a human but he does. Chloe feels like a sanctuary, his home. His real home. A place where he can be at peace. Where he can be happy.

 But as soon as he is out of her vicinity, the other factors of life take their toll on him. The conversation with Amenadiel has left him feeling lost and hurt. Helpless. The way he said… 

Has Amenadiel given up on him too? Just like this? While it doesn’t come as a surprise - Amenadiel is a blind follower of God’s so-called ‘mysterious ways’ - he just didn’t expect him to flip this easily. Of course, he will have nothing to reverse the curse or help him in this case except for a flimsy apology for his… condition. Well, pardon him for not believing or accepting the hopeless apology of ‘can’t’ doing anything when he is at the brink of losing everything. 

Is it so easy to just… give up on him? Lucifer blinks the thin sheet of tears covering his vision and focuses on the page in front of him. It’s useless really. It’s been two hours since Amenadiel left his apartment. Two hours of constant research and guess what he comes up with? Nada. 

Maybe Amenadiel was right. There is no cure for this. It’s dear old Dad, after all. His manipulations have to be pretty solid. And Amenadiel isn’t helping either since the feathery arse has made it clear whose side he is on. Remind him, why is Amenadiel on the earthly plane again? Doesn’t he have any other job in Heaven other than frolicking around here on Earth? 

Lucifer rubs his temple at the onset of another headache dangerously similar to the one in the morning. These headaches seem to be only increasing, something that an invulnerable Devil would never have experienced if not for Dear Old Dad and his mighty manipulations and vindictiveness towards his fallen son. He doesn’t understand why exactly Dad is doing this to him. Is it because of what Linda told him back in the session today? For giving Mum her own universe? 

Speaking of Mum, how exactly did she wind up here on Earth from Hell? And why didn’t she kill Lucifer for being her warden in Hell for eons? And how on Earth did he even manage to send her to a different universe? The session with Linda starts to go foggy in his mind. She said something about a… about a sword thing, right? But the rest of the conversation - his mind draws a blank. Again. 

Frustration like no other time boils up so fast in his gut that he actually tears apart the nearest book on the coffee table. With a guttural roar, he shreds. He shreds and shreds and throws and rips and crumples; the red haze of anger and helplessness, uncertainty of a forgetful future, all of it eating him apart, tearing and biting at his soul even as he struggles to get a hold on them. The fire of fear so strong that it only gets stoked and stoked until he is sitting inside a ring of ruins, ashened and crumpled under the burden of his rage.  

 His skin is unmarred, clean, a mocking difference to the barren, wasted land of his soul and the destruction he wreaked around him. He wipes his face furiously only to feel the wetness on his cheeks - he hasn’t even realised he was crying. Glass shards from the broken coffee table, the crumpled and torn bits of paper flying around like embers of ashes, and the silence of the lonely penthouse cut deeper scars in his psyche, more than he would like to admit. In all this destruction, he sits on the floor alone. 

Alone as he always will be. 

Dad, he needs a drink. Urgently. 

Lucifer rises up on wobbly feet, swaying gently to the bar and brings the nearest bottle in his reach to his lips and downs the liquid in one go, not bothering for a glass or tumbler. This feels like a chug day, indeed. The ache around the tender muscles of his eyes and skull intensifies, throbbing hard in a rhythm, making him wish to just… stop and not feel at all. 

Too bad that the whiskey’s not working in numbing him. The turmoil this situation has created in his heart, still whirling around like a tsunami. 

When he pulls the bottle down, it’s already more than half empty and he chugs at it again. He can’t take it anymore. He just can’t. He needs to… he needs to do something, something to numb the pain, something to calm himself. How does he do that with his celestial metabolism? - oh, and isn’t that an irony? 

For a moment, he contemplates what might happen if he indeed loses all his memories. He thinks about the moment he won’t be able to remember his home and that might not be a problem because he already did forget it, after all. This penthouse, the bar, the walls mean nothing to him anymore. Just a place to crash, not his home. He would forget his job which is… what exactly is his job, by the way? He runs a nightclub most probably and sometimes tags along with the LAPD? Why? Even the notion of a crime-solving Devil is absurd and not to mention hilarious but… a deep stirring of longing isn’t what he was expecting at the thought. What wrong would it be if he solves crimes by Chloe’s side? Did he use to solve crimes by Chloe’s side? 

Chloe. 

He remembers her. He remembers the golden tresses flowing over her honey-smooth skin; he thinks of her sea-blue eyes, the depths of which can easily pull him into a reverent trance of worship, her smile, the sound of her laughter and the way she looks at him with all the mixture of adoration and love, the way she makes him feel. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose her. These memories are his most cherished ones, the ones that rule his mind even in the most difficult of the times - like now - and provide him solace. He would trade a hundred lives for her memories, he would fall a thousand times if that meant he could be at her side. 

The bottle in his hand groans as he clutches it tighter, the very thought of forgetting Chloe making him nauseous in disgust and hatred. He will loathe a life without her in it. He will loathe himself for not remembering her. 

No. No, no, no. He can’t forget her. He just can’t. He will be a shell of a person - Devil - without her, going back to the meaningless torture of Hell or the blind discipline of Heaven. 

With red rimmed eyes and the most venomous snark, he looks up at the non-existent and cruel, absentee father he had once in his lifetime, He might control his brain or body or even mind. 

But, Lucifer Morningstar’s soul belongs to Chloe Decker and only Chloe Decker. He doesn’t understand the mechanics. He doesn’t understand how or why they aren’t in a relationship now, given it’s obvious how much Chloe cares about him - or rather he doesn’t remember, he can’t tell. Does she love him? Does he? But he knows one thing, he feels for Chloe. And he burns for her as well. 

 “Not a thousand manipulations or games from your side is going to change how I feel for her, Dad. So try as you may, but I won’t let anything make me forget her. I won’t.”  He grits out through his teeth, promising both himself and his Father and secretly hoping that this is a promise that he at least can keep to himself. At least, he is a Devil of his word. 

But what if he can’t…? 

What if he is just making empty promises and despite knowing what the result might be is just lying to himself. He does lie, after all. To himself. Obviously, there are memories of Chloe, of them, he just can’t remember - how did they meet? Did they sleep together (his mind guesses a ‘no’)? These memories shouldn’t have been erased from him. Ever. These memories are a part of him. A part of his soul. They shouldn’t be just… gone. 

The bone deep fear of the day when he won’t remember the blue eyes and golden hair and that pure smile, settles heavily on his gut. The day when ‘Chloe Decker’ would mean nothing to him. What then? He may have promised himself he won’t forget her - not completely - but he, of all beings should know there is simply no winning against his Father. Only defeat. 

Defeat and resignation. 

Whirling around he throws the bottle from his hand to the nearest wall by the elevator, watching with bemused satisfaction how the bottle shatters at the impact, whatever little brown liquid left splashing onto the floor. 

He needs more. He needs more to calm him down. To just stop feeling this pain. 

He chugs two more bottles in one breath. His lungs burn from the deficiency of air, but maybe he deserves it. Maybe he should punish himself for tampering those beautiful moments with Chloe that he no longer remembers now. 

At the end of the third bottle, he decides just alcohol isn’t enough. Being invulnerable, he can’t even get a pleasant buzz, forget about being black-out drunk. Lucifer hurries to his bedroom, searching for any bottles of oxys or even cocaine. Reaching blindly for the lower drawer by the bed, he finds his stash. Ah. So that’s where he used to keep all these. Good to know. 

Lucifer doesn’t waste much time, arranging lines of cocaine; he snorts them consecutively, not taking a break. Then comes the oxys. Swallowing over a dozen pills, he rolls up a joint. 

It takes him hours to get to the zone, the night sky of LA illuminating his outer patio and by the time he does feel a bit floaty, his headache has gone to a pinnacle and his skin feels crawly. Distantly, he realizes he is sprawled on the floor beside his bed, naked - when did he get naked? - but is too weak to even raise his head. So, he stays there. It’s not like anyone would even come to visit him now. Not even his Maze. 

A shrill noise pierces through the fog of his mind. Ah, his home phone probably? But he can’t get up anyways, so he ignores it until the noise recedes and the silence descends again. It’s peaceful for a moment. Until…

“Father, please. Mercy.” 

“Samael, this needs to be done. I will not condone your rebellious behaviour anymore. I wash my hands off you. Begone.” 

And the ground drops beneath him, the air leaves his lungs as gravity forces him downwards like an asteroid ripping through the atmosphere, catching fire. He falls. 

He jolts, squeezing his eyes shut, groaning at the sensation of the accosting memories. Why are they coming back now? It’s been millennia since he remembered these memories, locked in the furthest corner of his mind until now. Wh-why?

“Michael, don’t do this to me brother.” 

His brother pushes the sword deeper along his throat, the other end of it grazing his chin, slashing a deeper cut on the tender skin. “Do not call me that, Lucifer. You are no longer my brother.” He hisses in barely restrained anger. “You  are no longer my Samael. Get out of my sight, you snake!” 

And then he pushes. Samael hurls back to fall on his backside as two other hands grab and clip his wings. Did Michael just- 

“Stop.” He murmurs, clutching his head, curling up on his side, wishing, no, pleading for it to stop. But the mind being a mysterious entity, it doesn’t. More memories scratch at his sanity, forcing him to relive every detail of his nemesis. His whole body burning from the phantom pain. His wings hurt and he is shaking all over. “Stop. Please stop!” 

Whatever bones in his wings that had healed over the short period of his capture, shatter all over again as he frantically attempts to flap his wings only to realize that they are clipped and wired together, his tunic has long burnt leaving only the skin to be peeling and melting as he plummets downwards and downwards towards the bowels of Earth. The temperature increasing rapidly, fire catching his skin from the friction, his lungs not working. 

“Stop, stop, stop, stop. Pleasepleaseplease, stop stop. Oh, stop! Just stop!” He chants silently as his head almost bursts open from the pain and the flashbacks slam into his mind one after another. 

He goes blind as the fire melts out his irises. With his sight gone, it’s much more painful, his other senses enhanced with one damaged. The burns are under his melted skin now, under the flesh and muscles, burning his bones and organs. His lungs burn and he can’t breathe anymore. He can’t breathe-

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe! Lucifer claws at his throat, trying to suck in as much air as he can but he just can’t. The memories are relentless, wreaking havoc inside him and his only hope is to suffocate and just.. die. Blue dots mark his vision as his consciousness falters. It happened today, earlier back in Linda's office. Chloe had been there to calm him down, to make him breathe. But now…. 

“ Oh, Sam, brother, I am always there for you. I am your twin and I will never, ever leave your side. Never.” 

“Brother, please stop this insanity. You know I can’t side with you there. I can’t protect you, Sam. Understand! Let me help you brother.” 

“You are dead to me Sam. You hear me? You are dead.” 

When darkness overcomes and pulls him in its blissful embrace, he goes willingly, submitting himself to the painless oblivion. 

↟ནઢ

Lt. Marcus Pierce may have beefy arms and Ella may gush over him all the freaking time but to Chloe, he is a self-centered control freak with a universe-sized ego. Having a phone conversation with him can be so different from actually getting to talk to him - well, listen most of the time but po-tay-to po-tah-to. For the first time when she called the Lt. office, requesting a half day to take care of Lucifer, Pierce wasn’t too cooperative but he wasn’t dismissive either. The main point is, her work was done for the first time. Now though, 

“The previous few Lieutenants informed me that Detective Decker has the highest closure rate in the department and for a moment I did actually believe that. But now, I am having serious doubts over this fact.” He throws nonchalantly, not even bothering to look up from the document on his table. 

Chloe, on the other hand, is seething, her hands balled into fists and teeth gritted, mostly focusing on how to not punch his smug face right then and there. Thanks to the initial days of her partnership with Lucifer, her patience is not so thin anymore. But still this is rather too much. Attacking her closure rate is a low blow. 

“With all due respect, Lieutenant, I am not God. I can’t solve all the cases. I am trying, I really am, but so far we’ve come up empty with Brandon and Penny’s case. This afternoon, we investigated Sophia’s crime scene and we are waiting for the autopsy report for further investigation. If for some reason, the three are connected, I will leave no stone unturned for this case but if not, I would have to close Brandon and Penny’s case as a cold case.” 

 Pierce has the balls to roll his eyes and no, she isn’t being hypocritical. Lucifer is her partner and her friend, she can roll her eyes on him whenever she wants to, but Pierce is her boss. He doesn’t have any professional right to do that. “I don’t believe that’s your call to make Detective Decker. See these little two letters, L and T in front of my name? That means I am calling the shots. And I say, keep digging. Even if Sophia’s death is a natural cause, don’t close the Brandon, Penny case.”   

Now he is just being irrational. From where the heck, will she even produce new leads?! Why is Pierce such an asshole?

“Do you have anything else to say, Decker?” He asks, head now buried in his paperwork. 

“Uh, no, Lieutenant.” 

“Then why are you standing here? Dismissed.” 

By the time Chloe walks out the office, a dull headache has started to announce its presence to her and of course, her irritation is not helping either. She locks her jaw and walks to her desk where Ella and Dan are already regrouping or maybe talking about their new, dashing Lieutenant with macho arms or whatever. Seeing her thunderous mood though, they stop.

“How did it go?” Dan asks her, concerned. 

“Peachy.” Chloe grits out, leaning against her desk. “He wants us to keep digging. As if I am gonna produce new leads for the sake of the case.” 

At least Dan looks a bit annoyed at the prospect which is sort of a comfort to her while Ella is too tightly settled on her optimistic fangirl train of Marcus Pierce. “Hey, all we have to do is wait for the autopsy right? And if it somehow is connected, then we will have new leads to look over, right! And Pierce is a stern lieutenant but he also has a soft heart.” 

Yeah, heart as soft as a rock. Chloe doesn’t argue. Ella’s enthusiasm is childish, naive and she obviously doesn’t want to rain over her parade; it seems cruel. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t irritated. Sensing her discomfort, Dan, always the one to rescue, decides to change the discussion. 

“So… how is Lucifer? Will he be joining us soon?” He asks sheepishly and Chloe almost wishes to go on with the Lieutenant and not this topic. Because it’s worse. And it’s taxing. And she is scared. So very scared of everything this might mean. But, Dan and Ella are his friends too and if anything, Lucifer needs his friends right now. And they deserve to know as well. 

She rubs her face tiredly, already exhausted from the conversation. “He is… not well, Dan. And I don’t think he will be joining us soon.” If he joins, that is. 

The change in the atmosphere is almost tangible as Ella’s mood shifts from bubbly to concerned and Dan’s to empathy. “Hey.” He says softly, as if handling something fragile and Chloe hates him for it. Chloe hates herself for needing it. “What happened?” 

Her throat is dry and it feels like she has eaten glass but Chloe speaks. Tries at least. “He… well he is having memory problems.” 

“Wait, what?”

“- What?” 

Two hitch pitched voices scream at her for answers. Chloe sighs. “It’s not like a regular concussion, it’s almost like retrograde Amnesia. Like the trauma victims we dealt with early in our career? Only difference is that his memories are erasing much faster.” 

“Ay Dios mío” Ella whispers, stunned. “Is he being treated, at least? How much did he forget?!” 

“I convinced him for an MRI tomorrow. Linda has recommended one of her colleagues who can take over Lucifer’s case and then we will see what to do. Much of his life, actually.” Chloe answers Ella’s second question. “He doesn’t remember Lux, anymore.” Both Ella and Dan make an incoherent sound, astounded by the gravity of the situation. “But, he remembers me and Linda. That counts for something right?” She tries to gather as much optimism as she can but fails completely, her voice wavers at the end and if Dan and Ella notice it, they don’t comment. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Dan is muttering under his breath while Ella is clutching at her cross necklace tightly, looking grim. And Chloe? Well, she might as well cry out because this whole situation is nuts and there is a very real possibility that she might lose Lucifer forever. But then a thought occurs. She left him at the penthouse a few hours ago. How is he? Is he doing well? Of course, Amenadiel is there with him but her worries suddenly take a sharp turn above, reaching its peak. She pulls out her phone from the jeans and dials his house number. “What are you doing?” Dan asks.

“Calling Lucifer.” 

It rings and rings and rings and goes to voicemail. 

He isn’t picking up. 

Concern bungees inside her. Maybe she is being paranoid and Lucifer is just downstairs on Lux or even engrossed in a conversation with Amenadiel but both of them sound highly unlikely since Lucifer wasn’t in a state of partying or visiting his club the last time she saw him and even with Amenadiel, he should have picked it up. And after his kidnapping and memory issues, nope. Chloe is not taking any chances. 

Tugging on her blouse, she straightens and picks up her car keys and wallet. “He isn’t answering. I am going to see him.” 

“Are you sure you aren’t being paranoid? Maybe he just-”

Chloe cuts him off with a deadly glare, “Dan, he is a victim of kidnapping, trauma and now he’s losing his memories and he isn’t answering his house phone which rings as loud as an elephant trumpet. So, no, I am not being paranoid and I am going to see him.” 

Dan nods, “Okay. Okay, I will go with you.” His statement is resolute, leaving absolutely no room for further argument and frankly, Chloe doesn’t want to. She is not alone in this and it’s good to have someone by her side. She finds herself nodding. 

“Guys, call me, alright?” Ella says. “I will be waiting for your call. And don’t worry, I will handle the Lieutenant.” 

Which… okay, she didn’t even think of Pierce but thanks Ella. Nodding, Chloe and Dan find their way to the elevator and if Pierce has been glaring at them from his office, she ignores that. Lucifer is much, much more important than a thousand Pierces. 

↟ནઢ

Lux is somewhat bland when Chloe and Dan enter. Everything is going textbook accurate - the music so high, bartenders vigilant behind the bars and patrons drunk and happy, yet, Lux isn’t Lux until a certain someone with a British accent and perfectly tailored suit makes his presence and shows off his music skills on the piano. Without him, the entire nightclub falls apart, as if the soul is absent. And it is. Given, the owner of the nightclub has forgotten his den of sin and is most probably brooding in the penthouse, a place he no longer can call a home. Scanning her gaze across the club, Chloe confirms the absence of both Lucifer and Amenadiel. That means there’s only one place left. 

The elevator ride is stuffy and eternally lengthy. It might have been a matter of only a few seconds but the concern for Lucifer is growing and growing inside her and she just can’t tame it. Even Dan’s soft consolation of ‘ It’s gonna be alright, Chlo. You will see, he is okay.’ falls on deaf ears and she finds herself desperately staring at the digital number of the floor at the top of the metallic doors. 

When the ‘Ding’ finally announces their presence, Chloe sprints out of the door not waiting or even looking at her ex-husband, her eyes only for Lucifer. In the living room, she doesn’t find him but bears witness of a different kind of horror so much so that she freezes by the bar. Her eyes going wide. 

Beside her, Dan halts too, gaping at the utter havoc wreaked in the penthouse. 

The coffee table is destroyed. Upturned and shards of glass scattered all around the place. The books, piles and piles of books are torn, ripped and crumpled all over. The settee is destroyed as well, the italian leather torn apart as if someone has clawed through it. The rest of the penthouse though looks somewhat untouched, save for a shattered bottle of whiskey by the elevator door. 

This isn’t a robbery or vandalism but this is Lucifer. Done in his haze of anger and frustration. And if… if this is the end result of his rage, what is he going through now? She was only gone for a few hours! What has happened here?! Did somehow the conversation with Amenadiel go awry or- 

A soft choking sound pulls her from her mental short-circuit. The police training kicks in, her hand immediately goes to her holster and through her peripheral vision, she sees Dan doing the same. Another choking sound and this time it’s evident enough for them to know it’s coming from the bedroom. With the softest click of heels, she scurries up the short stairs and in the archway. 

Her blood runs cold. 

On the nightstand, remains a mountain of pills and powders - drugs, enough for an entire herd of elephants. Three empty bottles of whiskey lie on the mattress surrounded by two cartons of cigarettes. 

But that’s not what stopped her dead. Beside the nightstand, on the floor lies Lucifer. Naked and almost unconscious. 

“Shit!” She hears Dan cursing and that brings her into the action, both of them rushing to his side immediately. Severe tremors are raking through Lucifer’s body as he chokes, his lips already turning blue. 

“Lucifer! Oh my god, Lucifer!” Chloe slaps his cheek gently- his skin is ice cold! - trying to keep him awake as much as she can. But he is beyond her reach. Tears sting her eyes as she keeps calling his name and he remains unresponsive. 

“Chlo, is he OD-ing?” Dan yelps, panicked, already pulling out his phone to dial 911. 

“He is having a panic attack, Dan. He can’t breathe.” She answers equally alarmed. Lucifer’s condition deteriorating each second, his lips turning bluer and the frantic rising of chest turning slower and slower. He is fading. She is losing him. She is losing him. 

“I am calling an ambulance right now.” 

“ He isn’t breathing Dan! We have to do something, now! Oh god, oh god!” Chloe frantically looks around the room to find something but of course it’s in vain. What happened to her knowledge of first aid during her academy years? She herself is close to panicking, her mind blue screening to death. And then she grasps the nearest idea and without a second thought, pries open Lucifer’s mouth shoving two fingers down his throat. He chokes more, wheezing but doesn’t vomit. Dammit! How well is his gag reflex?! 

“What are you doing?” She hears Dan’s bewildered question but doesn’t bother to answer, keeping her entire focus on Lucifer and her fingers down his throat. She pushes deeper until her knuckles are hitting his teeth, her own breath coming in pants, and only when she adds a third finger, curling them does Lucifer retch. Strong, bitter bile rises up his throat, his torso convoluting at the force and he vomits. 

Then he gasps, taking gulps of breath, greedily and urgently. Both Dan and Chloe sigh breaths they didn’t know they were holding, relieved that Lucifer is breathing on his own. Chloe gently cradles his head, moving him away from his vomit on the floor all the while stroking his sweaty forehead while he pants heavily, still in a kind of daze. “It’s okay, Lucifer. Take it easy, tiger. Slow breaths.”

“Ch-Chloe...” Lucifer wheezes. 

“Hey.” She coos, realizing that she had been crying all along. Turning to Dan, “Help me in getting him up? We have to wash him.” 

Dan nods. 

“Not… a baby.” Lucifer grumbles between pants. Both of them ignore him. Dan manages to sit him up and Chloe ducks under his armpit taking support. Lucifer might be lean but he is ridiculously tall making his body weight really heavy even for a muscular man like Dan. They drag him to the bathroom with much difficulty, even more than they expected. Lucifer is wrung out, nearly asleep with half-lidded eyes and keeps almost all of his weight on both of them, making him even more heavier and by the time they manage to lower him in his ridiculously large bathtub, they both are panting from exhaustion. Lucifer sags on his side, bonelessly. 

“You wash him up.” Chloe keeps her gaze trained on Lucifer, “I will clean his room and change the sheets.” 

But Lucifer has other things in mind because as soon as Chloe makes a move to step away, his hand shoots out to grab her wrist with a wicked grip. She nearly yelps in surprise but the look on his face dissolves any and all comments on her tongue. He may still be high or may just simply be too far gone because Lucifer in normal situations would never look like he looks now. His eyes are wide in raw fear and so much vulnerability that Chloe’s heart squeezes in pain. His lips quiver but the grip around her wrist remains iron-strong. “Please, don’t leave.” He pleads. Lucifer Morningstar pleads. And if it isn’t enough to make her cry all over again. 

“I am not leaving, Lucifer.” She says, voice cracking. “I am just going to your bedroom, yeah?” 

“Please don’t leave. Not you too.” His tone has the child-like innocence who knows people would leave him but he still tries. 

“I, uh.. You stay here with him, I will.. set the room, okay?” Dan, clearly uncomfortable with the scene unfolding, suggests somewhat awkwardly and sprints out of the bathroom leaving the two of them alone. 

“I am not leaving, Lucifer. I am here. I will always be here. You have nothing to worry about.”  She cards her fingers through his hair and he visibly relaxes, purring like an overgrown housecat until he releases her wrist. 

She works on him silently, not sure she can even voice anything past the lump in her throat, him seated inside the tub, cross legged like a child and her standing by the tub with a hand shower. Turning on the shower and pressing a dollop of shampoo on her palm, she massages his scalp, slow and gentle. 

“Mmmm…’s nice.” He sighs drunkenly. 

Chloe blinks back the tears, “Yeah? You like it?” How had no one done this simple gesture to him before? How lonely has he been before? 

“Like… you.” He murmurs, burying his face into her stomach, successfully drenching her shirt in the process. 

Her heart skips. No, she shouldn’t feel anything right now. Clearly Lucifer is not thinking straight and he is enervated. He has no control over his tongue. Or his mind. She shouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Nope. She shouldn’t. 

Chloe focuses on rinsing the shampoo with the hand shower, feeling the softness of his hair through her fingers. This is an intimate act. Too intimate. One he should share with someone he loves and not her. Not her, who is just his friend or just professional partner but she wants it. She wants to cherish him, to love him every second of his life. To fill his life with so much happiness and care that he will be giddy with positivity. She wants him in her life too. More than friends. She wants all of him. But of course, she can’t go there. She tried once, ready to accept every flaw and all things that made him. But he ran away, breaking every hope and chance at a happily ever after for both of them. 

Now they are just friends. Friends who repress any kind of desire for each other and pretend that there is nothing more no matter how it affects them both. Chloe shouldn’t do this; shouldn’t misuse a vulnerable moment like this to fulfil her want. But unlike what Lucifer has always thought, she isn’t selfless to a nauseating degree. She is selfish and she wants this. So, selfishly, she takes it. Takes whatever Lucifer has to offer her at this moment and judging by the pleased hums he is making while she scratches his scalp like an adorable puppy, he too is selfish enough to take it. To just throw caution to the wind and pretend that they are a couple, something more for once. Everything else be damned. 

Lucifer snakes both of wet hands around her waist possessively, pulling her close and nuzzling into her stomach. His antics are so child-like and sweet that she can’t help but laugh. That’s her Lucifer. An overgrown toddler. And she loves him for that. Not that she is ever going to admit it to herself. 

“I am going to massage your body now.” She whispers gently, silently asking permission. 

“I would let you do anything, Chloe.” 

And there it is again. A statement so akin to a love confession. Something he does so often without even thinking about it. And something that always manages to make her stomach flutter in giddiness. 

Chloe starts from his shoulders, running firm but gentle hands on his wet, dripping skin, rubbing small soothing circles and feeling the tense, knotted muscles beneath her palm relax. He sags even more, if it’s possible. She repeats the motion until she reaches his back… 

And then everything goes haywire. 

She freezes. 

There is no scar on his back. The two identical crescent-shaped scars that he had, that she saw with her own two eyes,  are now replaced by clear, unmarred skin. How..? Wh-? 

Don’t, Please. 

The memory is still fresh in her mind - those vulnerable words, his face while he pleaded with her not to touch them, the first time she actually saw the real Lucifer Morningstar…

How did he…? This can’t be plastic surgery. This just can’t. Even surgery can’t make them totally unmarked without tenderizing the skin. But this.. this is firm and tight skin on his back as if the scars never existed. 

As if on cue, under the pressure of her palm, Lucifer rolls his shoulders and immediately two white, feathery limbs bat away her palm, unfurling halfway to fill the bathtub. Wings. 

“ ...oops.” Lucifer giggles and with another roll, they disappear. 

Chloe falls on her backside, wide eyed, terror overwhelming her senses. 

His smile vanishes. “Chloe? Are you alright?” He asks but her brain is short-circuiting, fireworks burning her entire system. Her ability to compute is now gone. “Oh, no. I didn’t break you, did I?” Lucifer asks, a hint of uncertainty lacing his voice. 

And her entire reality burns to cinders.

  ↟ནઢ

When Chloe really registers everything going around her, she is standing beside Lucifer’s bed, the sheets freshly changed and no signs of whiskey bottles or drugs anywhere in the room, the pleasant smell of Pine-Sol replacing the odour of bile. Lucifer is lying on his belly on the bed, changed in a satin red pajama pants and Dan is hovering in front of her with concerned eyes. How she got here in the first place or how did she even bring him or get him to change, she has no idea. It’s as if there is a gaping hole in her memory. One moment she is sitting on her ass witnessing literal Wings and the next moment she is standing here. 

“Chlo, you alright? You just spaced out for like five minutes.” Dan asks, concerned. 

“Yes. I am fine.” She says instinctively, her voice hollow and mind blank. He looks unconvinced but doesn’t say anything, thankfully. 

“Okay so, Ella called and I explained everything to her. I need to get back to pick Trixie up from Sandra’s but… you will stay with him a bit?” 

Yeah. Him. Like Lucifer Morningstar. The Devil. With… angel wings. White angel wings. 

She should be freaking out right now. She definitely should be running for the hills. Away from him, far far away from him. But surprisingly or rather shockingly, she isn’t. Her mind is just… blank, no fear, no rash decision, no overwhelm, just nothing. Shock. She realizes. Her brain is in shock. And if Linda would be here, she would definitely add denial to the list as well. Because even after getting irrefutable proof of the divine, her brain just can’t accept what’s lying in front of her eyes. 

Her brain refuses to believe that this dark haired, handsome man-child who is her partner, her best friend is the Devil. Someone from the mythical books. Someone who is supposed to be the evil-incarnate. 

Chloe laughs. Manic and absolutely out of line but she just can’t help it. Her entire fucking world has just turned upside down, her reality is blown apart and she is just being proposed to stay alone with Satan. Satan who is losing his memories for some reason and just suffered from a fatal panic attack. 

“Chloe, you sure you’re okay?” Of course, for Dan she sounds outright crazy. 

Some Albanian field wench, as he would refer. 

‘Okay’ was some lifetime ago. “Fine, Dan. You go ahead, take Trixie with you tonight, yeah?” 

“Sure. Call me if you need anything.” And then he turns to the other person, currently resting. “I am glad you are okay, man.” Dan nods kindly before walking towards the elevator. 

Chloe stands there, silent and stunned for minutes. Left alone with Lucifer. Fear will come. Of course, it will when she gathers her wits but now.. 

A mewling from the Devil yanks her attention to his resting form. She eyes the scars that aren't there on his bare back, softly rising and falling with each breath. His head is turned towards her, eyes open and observing her warily, patiently. As if witnessing a cornered animal. His hands are limp on either side of his head, showing a placating gesture. 

Don’t leave me. Not you too. 

Before her brain can even realize what’s happening, her heart works for her. Chloe sits, scooting close to his head, the mattress dipping slightly with her weight. A surprised yelp rips out of her mouth as Lucifer immediately moves closer, lifting his head and placing on her lap, nuzzling in her jeans, his hands grip at her waist gently. She strokes the back of his neck, playing with the shorter hair almost immediately, acting on her motherly instincts. 

“You didn’t leave.” He whispers in awe and wonder, his head still buried in her thighs. 

“No.” She replies. 

“Thank you,” Lucifer says wetly and Chloe has a suspicion that he might actually be crying. “Everybody leaves. Dad, Michael… But you are different, Chloe. You won’t leave me, right?” 

Oh. 

Oh. Never did she ever think that the Devil might be so lonely. This way, it’s just so easy to forget who he is - not that she has actually registered it yet - but for now, it’s easier to pretend he is just Lucifer. Not someone so… significant in biblical proportions. 

“I won’t leave. I promise.” She surprises herself. Stupid move! Promising the Devil to not leave, she is such an idiot! What is she even doing?!  But this is something that she knows she can’t take back. 

Lucifer hums, already half asleep and Chloe continues her ministrations with his hair. “You are my only comfort spot.” He murmurs, already engulfed by exhaustion, it doesn’t take more than seconds for his breath to even out and he is asleep. 

Chloe sniffs, “You are my comfort spot too, Lucifer.” She whispers to herself. The bliss of her emotionless mind stripping her of any and all defenses for feelings.

Chapter Text

↟ནઢ

Lucifer dreams of Hell. Vivid, graphic dreams reminding of the extensive details of his Fall, reliving it over and over again. It’s his own kind of Hell loop, really. The moment he was being pushed from the precipice of Heaven to the darkness and hopelessness he felt wrapping around him in the land of eternal damnation, how loneliness and self-loathing crippled his senses so much so that his own skin peeled off to form the monstrous visage he so un-proudly calls the ‘Devil face’. He dreams of the torture he inflicted on the damned souls, the ruthless cruelty he carried along with him every second he wandered through the corridors of Hell.But  this time, he isn’t torturing others, he is torturing his own self, crying and screaming and wailing and howling in pain. And when he is about to carve up his own face, Lucifer jolts awake, now bathed in sweat, his heart still pounding loudly. 

The first welcome he gets from the land of awake is a splitting headache, his skull and eyes throbbing with pain. He groans, burying his face into the pillows further when a small, shaky voice snaps his attention. Lucifer slowly and groggily blinks awake, squinting against morning light peeking into the room through the curtains and looks around. Where is he again? Right, he can’t remember and maybe that doesn’t even matter anymore. Ignoring the sharp pain behind his eyes with every movement, Lucifer scans across the room to find a blonde woman sitting on a chair, knees drawn up to her chest and breathing shallowly and quickly, almost as if hyperventilating. He blinks until his blurred sleepy vision clears and now he sees. It’s not any woman who is sitting like a cornered animal pressed at the far end of the room looking at him with dilated pupils and mouth ajar. It’s Chloe. 

He lifts himself up, propping against his elbows to get a better look at her and then at himself. Wh-what is she doing here? He tries recalling the previous day but everything is a haze, it’s really hard to put everything together in his mind. The first thing that comes to his mind about yesterday is Michael. Which is…. Funny because he hasn’t thought about him for millennia and he certainly doesn’t want to think about the self-righteous prick in any way. Then why is he the first person that comes to his mind about yesterday. And what about the rest? His mind draws a blank. 

Okay, great. He has forgotten about yesterday completely. The day erased from his mind like it never existed except for all these phantom pains his body experiences for some unknown reason and… well, Michael. 

He nearly screams in rage but stops himself as Chloe makes another distressed sound, small and choked. He winces. What is she so afraid of? Surely not of him, right? What has he even done to scare her off? 

“Chloe,” his voice comes out thick and scratchy from disuse, so he clears his throat before speaking again. “Good morning, darling. As happy as I am to see a beautiful woman the first thing in the morning, is there anything I can help you with?” 

She doesn’t reply in words, instead, making two more incoherent words, triggering Lucifer’s concern for her to reach its pinnacle and pressing herself even more to the chair as if she can just melt into the furniture. 

“Chloe? Are you alright?” He sits up on his bed, groaning when the headache increases with the change of position and rubbing his temples with his fingers. 

In his new position, he can now see what he missed earlier. Dozens of books littered across the floor, opened and ready to be read and not just any books, most of them were religious manuscripts including the abridged version of Dante’s Inferno, Sharon’s Silencing Satan: Handbook of biblical demonology, The Bible, Satanic Bible and many, many others. And amongst the mess, there lies Chloe’s phone clearly opened to a wikipedia page about ‘Fall of the Devil’. The implication is clear as a crystal and Lucifer’s blood runs cold. 

How did- ? Did he-? No, he can’t! He doesn’t even remember anything! Why did he-? 

No! No, no, no! 

“You know, don’t you?” He asks instead, his tone dark as he cautiously keeps a blank face. It makes sense now. The scattered religious manuscripts about the Devil, research on the internet, Chloe’s posture and how she reeks of fear, fear of him. She must have figured it out or he must have shown her his Devil face…. Not knowing is such a torture! 

He expects many things, maybe Chloe would scream and run or she would lash out on how he came into her life and ruined everything or how she is terrified of him right now, but what he doesn’t expect is Chloe saying, “You don’t call me Chloe.” Her voice is hollow and strangely haunting, tone as flat as a broken recorder. She looks at him with those petrified blue-green eyes, tears swimming in them and despite the churning in his stomach, he blinks in shock.

“Well, what do I call you then?” Lucifer tries to keep his voice gentle and soft, deliberately creating a barrier between them with the pillows he can find across the bed. He remains completely still, scared that she might bolt at any moment if he makes any wrong move, his exhausted muscles tense and trembling with the effort.

“You call me ‘Detective’. It’s your endearment for me. You hardly ever call me Chloe.” 

He nods, hesitant. Well, that might be the answer to his question. Chloe is a detective then. Good to know. “Right, okay then, Detective. ” He swallows, working on his breathing. He is sure he is panicking right now, by the way he gulps down air and controls every tremor wracking through his body and the way his heart is beating like a trapped bird in a cage. His throat feels so dry, he can use a bit of liquor right now. “You… know, Detective?” 

The Detective drops her head to her knees and he thinks he hears her sniffing but he can’t be so sure. “Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?” She murmurs and his heart sinks. 

What… she says, not who but what. And he can’t even deny it, afterall he isn’t even a person to begin with. And to her limited human perspective and knowledge, he is a monster. And monsters are always referred to as ‘what’ not ‘who’. 

“I am still the same, Detective.” He tries again, hands raised in what he thinks should be a placating gesture, “I am the same, old Lucifer you have always known.” Well, at least he bloody hopes so. There’s nothing he can remember at the moment to provide him with consolidated evidence except for his feelings for her and she doesn’t need to hear that from him. Not when she is scared out of her wits. 

Chloe lifts her head and the sight that greets him is absolutely devastating. She is crying. Tears roll down her cheeks steadily, her eyes are bloodshot and her face is scrunched up in pain. “Are you?” She asks, voice small and so unlike her. His heart twists with guilt. 

“Of course I am, Detective. I never lie.” 

“I just… you are the actual Devil.” She points an accusing finger towards him, her pain quickly turning into something easier yet dangerous, anger. “You are the Devil and you are walking among the humans, owning a club and solving crimes! None of this makes sense! ” 

He… solves crimes? He wants to ask about that particular nugget of information but thinks better of it. He isn’t sure the reaction he would receive would be a positive one. 

“Why are you even here on Earth?! What’s.. What’s your endgame? Are you here to… manipulate us?”

“ No, of course not!” He replies, aghast and appalled with the notion that his Chloe can even think of him like that. “I am here on Earth because I like Humanity. I like spending time here, indulging in desires and passion, that’s who I am, Chloe. I am not what these books paint me to be. I am my own man - or I would like to think so, can’t be sure when your parent is an almighty God, can you? - but the thing is, I am not Evil. Surely, you know that, right?” His question ends up with a hopeful note and he hates himself for it. Why can’t he just learn his lesson? Why is it so difficult to not hope? 

Chloe sniffs, wipes away her tears miserably, “At this point, Lucifer, I don’t know anything. Everything I have believed about you… it’s all an illusion!”

And lesson learnt. The hope crumples to pieces. 

“I never lie.” He protests meekly, hanging his head down, eyes closed in resignation. 

“-But you never tell the whole truth! You just… mould a version of everything as it suits you and how is that not a lie?! And now this.. This thing with your memory! What does that even mean? How can you have ‘Alzheimer’s or Amnesia’ if you are not even a human?!” 

Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? “I don’t know, Chloe.” Lucifer keeps his gaze trained on his lap, blinking away his own tears. “This has never happened to me before.” 

“Well that’s rich, isn’t it?” The lack of sympathy in her voice is like a stab to his chest but he keeps quiet, taking in all of her ire. “You don’t even know what’s happening to you, how can I, a mere human, even help you, the Devil, evil incarnate?” 

She doesn’t know how much her words are hurting him, twisting the knife in his wound again and again, causing him an excruciating pain. “I am not Evil, Chloe.” He whispers again. Pathetic, really. 

Chloe softens a bit. “I am sorry, Lucifer. But.. but I don’t know what to believe right now. Everything just… it just hurts. I can’t do this. I can't be around you right now. Enough is enough.”

 She makes a move to stand up all the while keeping an eye for him, vigilant and alarmed. Lucifer doesn’t move, doesn’t even look up and remains completely still, allowing her to leave as comfortably as possible and ignoring the lump in his throat and the heat behind his eyes. Chloe keeps the maximum distance between the bed and herself, picking up her phone and wallet from the floor and walking backwards and eyeing him like prey, ready to attack if something goes wrong. And it hurts. Damn it hurts so much.. And the worst thing to even witness is how her hand hovers near her gun holster. She will be ready to even shoot him if things go awry. Lucifer looks away. 

And then she slowly reaches the stairs, turning around to head for the elevator when, 

“Chloe?” He asks hoarsely. She freezes, dead on tracks. 

“Y-yes?” 

“Why didn’t you leave before? Why now? Why were you here?” 

She doesn’t answer immediately, but.. “We were friends and friends help each other out. Keep their promises.” A faint echo of her words catching him off guard - Friends help each other out… 

 And with that, she leaves him alone to stew in his pain and hurt with no promise of return. 

She leaves him.  

↟ནઢ

Mazikeen is pissed. Her whole being vibrates with pent up rage and anger. She is already a week late in her bounty, thanks to Lucifer’s disappearance and Chloe’s incessant callings and texts about his kidnapping and all. If only Decker would know who he really is… maybe then she would stop worrying about him. And of course, it’s exactly like Lucifer to pull off a missing stunt when he desires without considering the consequences, that bastard. And for that, she is late! 

Truth to be told, the evidence of Corvette in the parking lot of Cedar-Sinai was a tad disorienting for Maze because one thing to be sure about Lucifer is his love for the car and there is no way he would leave it behind but then spiritually, the demon didn’t find anything wrong with the bond between her and Lucifer. That should have meant that he wasn’t in any grave danger. That reassured Maze a lot, not that she would admit being worried about him in the first place.  

Besides, Lucifer is the Devil. There are a very few things that could actually harm him, anyways, especially on Earth. And away from Decker, he is practically invulnerable. So, once she got the news of Lucifer being rescued from Death Valley - what a joke! Right good laugh she had then - off she flew to Brazil, for her latest bounty hunting. 

Ricky. That’s a slimy little mortal, wanted for human trafficking and drug operation and she has been on him for seven days. But, she will catch him today. She is sure of it. Mazikeen sips on her tequila, keeping a close eye to the entrance of the Tiki bar for her bounty. 

It might have been moments, when a sudden stench caused Maze to straighten up, her demon sense screaming Something's off and hell yeah, it is. It’s not any stench that hits her senses, overwhelms her with increasing nostalgia. It’s the stench of Home. 

Hell. What the fuck?

She looks around sharply, gauging any irregularities or weird demons but everything looks just fine, a group of men cheering over a game of Billiards, some drunk patrons cooing nonsense in a table, some decent customers murmuring amongst themselves and the normal. 

And then her gaze lands on Ricky. Mazikeen gasps. 

The man in the black shirt and blue jeans, looks awfully pale, bone white even as if there’s no blood left in his body. His lips are chapped and eyes hollow and blank, a white bandage covers the side of his neck. And he is the one that reeks of Hell. Speak about everything being wrong.

Immediately  the demon takes on her heels, slithering her way through the crowd. Ricky, as if sensing her, bolts out of the bar as well. Maze smirks. The chase has begun. 

Ricky runs gracelessly but somewhat swiftly over the pavement but Maze is a denizen of Hell in her own body. She picks up her pace, mingling with the shadows of the night as she chases him. The chase continues for a few blocks until they reach an alley. Ricki slips into an alleyway followed by Mazikeen and fortunately, he soon discovers the dead end. 

Now trapped between a wall and Hell’s best torturer, Ricky looks around frantically to pave a new exit, anything to escape, the first trace of terror visible on his face. 

Maze just cackles, “Oh, you bastard. You have nowhere to go. It’s just you and me, Ricky.” 

She expects many responses, accustomed to all that they have to say but what she doesn’t expect is the unrestrained glee on Ricky’s face and the way his yellowish, dead eyes start to glow with mischief. 

“That’s where you are wrong, sister.” 

Maze freezes, her hair rising in panic and blood running cold. She should have guessed it earlier, all the signs were staring right onto her face but the mere possibility of it was so absurd that she didn’t even let herself think about it. But it’s true and she is facing right into his face. “Azathoth?” She breathes, shakily. 

The not-man grins, his smile all crooked and wicked. 

“I knew you would be able to recognize me, sister even in this pathetic sack of protein. It’s been a long time.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Azathoth?!” Maze hisses, getting into a fighting stance. “You know very well that the king banned possession eons ago and we can’t disobey him!” 

“Oh really?” Azathoth purrs, joining his hand together in front of his chest. “I never thought about it, actually. You see, Mazikeen, Lucifer has left us a long time back and we were all distraught. Not knowing what to do when there are no orders. But then, we soon realised that when there’s no king, there’s no orders as well.” 

“You all are pathetic!” 

“We all are demons!” Azathoth roars in anger. Maze winces but doesn’t back down. “We are expected to just act, follow him. But what are we going to do if he’s never there?! You don’t understand because you are his pet! You are born to protect him and serve him. We aren’t. And we don’t take orders from him anymore.” 

“‘We’? Who else have you brought, Azathoth?” She asks, her gut churning with the implication. But the other demon just smiles cruelly, disgustingly. 

“Oh there are more, Mazikeen. Lots more.”

“I know you aren’t smart enough to pull this off. Who aided you? Tell me who aided you?!” 

“Or what? You will torture the truth out of us?” The demon makes a puppy eye face. The nerve! 

“Bark you vile moron!” 

“Go back to your pathetic master and say we have found our new lord. Someone who won’t abandon us!” With this Ricky’s body goes slack, his eyes roll back as he collapses in a heap on the concrete. 

“Wait!” But it’s too late. Azathoth has left the body, probably to find another accommodation. She doubts he will go back to Hell. But what really strikes her is that the demons are now following a new Lord. Lucifer has been replaced. 

Did his kidnapping or whatever have anything to do with this new ruler of Hell? If yes, what does he/she want? And what about Lucifer? 

“Shit!” Mazikeen mutters under her breath, her forehead breaking into sweat. 

↟ནઢ

“Mala, can you please bring me the ointment from my room?” Linda calls out from her living room. Her health is improving nicely, the stitches have almost dried out, two more weeks and she will be ready to have it removed. Mala has been god-sent - of course, not literally - these few days, helping her out with movements and prescribed stretching and dressing the wounds and now as Linda makes an attempt to walk with her walker, the nurse is always there by her side. She can walk a bit now. Good. Few more days and she will be ready to join the field. A field hopefully without any psychotic, murderous Goddess on a killing spree. 

Linda shudders as the memory - still fresher than her wound - accosts her. If she didn’t know better, she would probably assign herself to a PTSD counselor. She may still be tad traumatised but she can get over it, can’t she? Well, she is a therapist after all. And she is doing better these days. She doesn’t have those awful mind-frying nightmares anymore where she is looking at her own dead body, cold and still on the floor of her office or she doesn’t panic over any loud noise-

A knock on her door makes her flinch. Hard. 

Okay, maaaaybe, she still needs some more time to get over it. Mala- remind her to pay her grandly-- appears from the other room, passing the ointment to Linda and then walking to the door to answer it. Linda pushes her wheelchair slightly to the right, just beside her dining table to get a look at the guest and quite unexpectedly finds Lucifer standing. One look at him and klaxons start ringing in her head. 

He looks off in the way his shoulders are slumped and minutely hunched, the way he is standing there with a wrinkled shirt and trouser sans any vest coat or jacket early in the morning, the way his hair is dishevelled, beginning to curl without his products and the way he looks so pale, dark bruisings beneath his eyes. And that probably makes sense given what he is going through and the memories leaving him but at the same time… wait, wasn’t Chloe supposed to take him to the MRI today? Why is he here right now? 

He slowly walks into her apartment, none of the joviality in his steps and in that moment, he looks so utterly old and weary that Linda’s heart bleeds for him. He stands at the base of the stairs, seemingly awkward with being here at all and eyes Linda with a frown. Over the years, Linda has grown accustomed to all his body language to guess what’s going on in the immortal mind of his. His hands fidget and shake slightly by his side, eyes darting across the room. 

“Lucifer, I didn’t expect you today.” Linda prompts and that seems to shake Lucifer from the stupor. 

“Yes, well, you weren’t in your office.” 

Linda frowns, “You know I am still healing and in home rest. You came to see me yesterday, Lucifer.” Had he forgotten this too?  

Lucifer looks away, as if ashamed. “I… did, right?”

“Lucifer.” 

“I forgot everything about yesterday, okay?” He snaps. 

Oh gosh… “Oh Lucifer-”

“I don’t want your sympathy. I don’t know what’s happening to me and how I-” Lucifer breaks off, gulps and then continues in a much softer, defeated voice. “I might have done something yesterday that I don’t remember.” 

“How do you know that when you don’t remember yesterday?” 

“I just know!” He grits through his teeth, increasingly annoyed now. 

“Okay….What do you think you did, Lucifer?” 

He huffs, “There’s no certain way to tell but I may have flashed my Devil face to the Detective.”

“You may have fla- Wait, so Chloe knows now?” 

“Apparently. And she is terrified of me.” 

Lucifer looks so pitiful and vulnerable at the moment, Linda wants to hug him but her injuries as well as professional boundaries resist the idea. “You need to give her time, Lucifer. Remember how I reacted when I saw-” 

“That’s the bloody problem isn’t it? I don’t remember it! I don’t even remember why in the first place I showed you or how you reacted! I just knew that you know and nothing else! It’s like my brain won’t even cooperate with me and this is such a… buzzkill!” Linda glances at Mala who is utterly confused with the Devil talk that’s been going on and chooses that moment to leave them alone. Lucifer takes a deep breath and continues, “But with Chloe it’s different. I saw her today Linda, the way she looked at me, I-”

“Lucifer, it’s okay. I promise she will come around.” Linda tries to soothe but Lucifer merely chuckles. 

“Maybe by the time she comes around I won't even remember her.” He shrugs. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yes, I do. It’s my father who is playing here. And nobody bloody wins with him.” 

Linda purses her lips, utterly at a loss to what to say and she is a therapist. Clearly, huh. Seconds pass where none of them speaks, both of them lost in their own thoughts but Linda quickly shakes off her own. “Lucifer, sit down, please. Talk to me.” 

He gives her a watery smile, “There’s nothing to talk about, Linda. I am fading. I won’t remember you or any of my friends or…” 

“Or Chloe.” She finishes for him. Lucifer’s lips are now a thin line, jaw locked and fists clenched, Linda sympathises with him. 

“Talk to her, will you? She needs you, right now.” He says quietly, his eyes downcast. 

“Yes, I will. But Lucifer-”

And she never gets to finish her sentence as the distraught patient flees her apartment without as much as a second glance. And at this moment, suffering from a Goddess-induced PTSD seems to be the least of her concerns. 

Chapter Text

↟ནઢ

To say that Dan is exhausted might be the understatement of the freaking year. He feels wrung-out, as if he has been twisted and stretched like a wet kitchen dish-rag only to be used again.. and again. And currently with the work-stress, everything just seems cherry on the top of a twelve storey agony cake. Theme of his life really. 

He should take that vacation to Hawaii he has been planning for months now. Because if this continues, he is pretty sure he will be crashing in no time. Basically everything since Perry Smith’s trial seems to be going wrong and he is just so fucking tired to be always shown his place. His relationship with Charlotte - actually, can it even be called a relationship? He feels pretty much like a booty call to her - has been going hot and cold. After the trial, he really tried to cut off his ties with that woman but he is only a man, and a weak one to be honest. And somehow, Charlotte has wormed back her way to his heart. 

Everything was going perfect and then Santa Monica happened. His relationship took a doom. Because apparently, Charlotte doesn’t even recognise him anymore, not to mention this whole cold shoulder thing. As if, he is just an inconvenience. A toy to be played with and then when bored, being tossed over. Maybe that’s exactly what he is to her. Never in his life, Dan felt so cheap, so used. And he can’t exactly blame her, can he? Not when she made it clear from the very beginning that she was interested only in his body and not him. Not when it’s his feelings that are one-sided. 

He doesn’t want to admit it but it hurts. It hurts when he thought that maybe this sex could turn into something more. When he had hope only to be ripped away later. God, why is his life like this? Why can’t he just find one ounce of happiness? Is it because he was a bad person? Some Karmic payback because of Palmetto, of being a corrupt cop? But he is trying, he knows he is and he is trying so hard to turn his life around and become a better person, a better friend to everyone. Doesn’t he deserve anything good even if he is trying? 

The hand strengthener squeaks as he tightens his grip, staring sullenly at the bobblehead on his desk, the hustle of the precinct is nothing more than a white noise unreachable, impenetrable to his heavy mind swirling with self-depreciating darkness.

 Maybe he does deserve all this. Maybe this really is his payback for gaslighting his ex-wife for years - to not get a second chance at all. 

He doesn’t know why his mind is going in this particular direction today, maybe because of the 216th voicemail he sent to Charlotte and got ignored? He has been boding well till now, throwing himself to work and slamming any and all external thoughts in the far corners of his mind. But even in work, frustration has been growing ever since. 

As a cop and a detective - for most of the part in his life - he looks at this case. Sophia Parkerson’s tox report - natural. Normal and no poison, nothing. Except her heart. Her heart which is drained and hardened as if the blood has been squeezed out of the organ. Exactly like Brandon and Penny. Not a heart attack then but… is it even a murder? If so, then a perfect murder then. 

His frustration boils over.

Work is not a place of peace anymore. And it of course, started with Lucifer the great delusional Morningstar. Everything was fine until he ran off and married a stripper in Vegas. Things began to grow awkward between Lucifer and Chloe since then and obviously, by the third of Murphy's laws, he just had to get caught in the crossfire. Sometimes like a pigeon, passing on messages to each other and sometimes as mediator when things get agitated and past wounds tend to get opened. Of course, Lucifer and Chloe never really talked about their relationship anymore - they are just professional partners, that’s all. And he means that literally. Gone were the days when the delusional Devil, Detective and Douche used to hang out in Lux afterhours. Relaxed, happy and just jittering. But then with Chloe distant towards Lucifer and him being somewhat withdrawn, Dan finds himself bereft of those simple times really. Why does this Lucifer always have to go ruin things? 

But then he went missing. Again. And this time, though not intentional, took a greater toll on Chloe. On both of them. Because as much as he wanted to ignore the problems of a certain civilian consultant and hand over the case to the missing department, he knows he cares for Lucifer. Chloe cares for Lucifer and if anything is to happen…. 

And then Lucifer is missing memories. Great. 

A fine shudder runs through him as the entire last evening flashes right across his mind. Walking on a destroyed living hall and then finding him like that. Dan has seen almost every mood of Lucifer in his short span of friendship with the man but never has he seen him like that. He knows Lucifer drinks whiskey like water and he is probably the world’s most functional alcoholic and he takes drugs - mind him, not to mention it in front of the narcotics - but he hasn’t even seen the man slur a single word. But then last night, Lucifer convulsing and choking on his vomit while Chloe desperately calling him, clutching and shaking his shoulders, he just can’t get the picture out of his mind. The thought has taken his sleep away as well. Tossing and turning throughout the night, he has woken up completely drained and feeling like shit.  

Dan glances at the adjacent desk. Empty. Chloe still hasn’t arrived yet. He doesn’t even know whether she is still with Lucifer or not. His calls have been unanswered, messages unseen and voicemail ignored - really, what is it with the women in his life ignoring him? Maybe Lucifer is sick again and she is taking care of him? But then again, she would have at least taken the lieutenant’s permission for a late day. Speaking of-

“Something to share with the class, Esperanza?” 

Dan bites back his groan of irritation and looks up to find Lt. Pierce standing right in front of him, expression bemused and beefy arms crossed over his chest. 

“No, Lieutenant.” Dan grits through his teeth. “Just going through the tox report of Sophia Parkerson.” 

“For the last forty minutes.” 

Well… has he been thinking for forty minutes? He is about to reply when Pierce just waves a dismissal and squints at Chloe’s empty desk. “Where’s Decker?” 

Dan follows his gaze, clearing his throat, “Uh.. She hasn’t come yet. She had an… emergency, of sort.” 

“Something with your daughter?” Pierce throws around casually and Dan looks up sharply. 

“No, sir. Trixie’s fine.” Dan clenches his jaw. The man has a very repulsive aura and Dan just can’t bear it. 

“Then nothing’s important. Tell her to come right at the moment. And aren’t you supposed to be on the field right now?” 

“Chloe is the primary in this case, Lieutenant. Until she gives me the direct order, I can’t.” 

Pierce huffs, apparently annoyed. “My precinct is full of incompetent thickheads. Good for nothing. Get Chloe here and move forward with the case.” Without waiting for a reply he turns back and disappears behind the translucent door of his office leaving a fuming Dan behind. 

He tries Chloe’s number one more time and when this time it goes unanswered, he doesn’t bother to stay in the precinct. “To Hell with it.” He strides towards the parking lot. It’s time to interrogate more. Alone. Maybe this way, he can keep his mind off things.

__

Dan shifts awkwardly as he watches the man, Chris Parkerson, cry all over him. The last day when he has informed the ill fate of his wife to Chris, he went shell shocked, numb and he hasn’t asked anything, letting the man grieve. But today, things are different. Sophia’s case is most likely a murder and the killer is still roaming free after his third victim. He wishes Chloe would be here. She is always the level headed one and matured to handle situations like this.  But she isn’t. She is still ignoring him head on and absent from the case. Deep down, Dan is starting to feel the tell-tale signs of  concern burgeoning in his gut. It’s not like Chloe at all to ditch a day in the middle of a case without notice. Forcing his attention on the man in front of him, he flicks open the notepad in his hand. 

“I am so sorry, Mr. Chris. But I am going to ask you some questions. Where were you the day before tomorrow between ten to twelve?” 

Chris sniffs, “I was at my home. Our daughter is sick and I was taking care of her. Sophia is - was a bit career centric and she used to work late at night. I thought this was one of those days. I didn’t care for it much, so I tucked my daughter in and went to sleep.” Tears roll down his eyes as he presses a shaking hand to his mouth, “God, if I had just called somebody or even looked for her…! What am I gonna say to Mary now?” 

Dan doesn’t ask who Mary is. He knows. And despite everything, his mind wanders to Trixie and the relief he feels when he thinks that he is going to tuck her in tonight. It’s always a blessing to have children and he can’t imagine what Chris’s daughter will be going through once she knows about her mother’s demise. But then again, 

“I am so sorry, Mr. Parkerson but I need to talk to your daughter to corroborate the alibi. Can you think of anyone who would want to or might attack your wife?” 

“Not that I know of. She was a very amicable person. Always charming. Everyone loved her. Her colleagues admired her and our mutual friends adored her. I can’t think of anyone who would do this. Why would anyone do this to her?!” 

Dan grimaces as Chris doubles over in grief, feeling like an utter dick to having to question a widower husband who just lost the love of his life. Yay, lieutenant jerk! He asks one or more questions but comes up blank as well. Sophia was a good person, nobody disliked her, nobody had any motive or grievance against her and Chris’s alibi checks out. Thanking Mr. Parkerson again, Dan heads towards Sophia’s office. 

“Sophia was a god to us. She basically taught us everything!” Some say. 

“ We adored her. She is an amazing woman. How can anyone do this to her?!” 

“She is a wonderful boss and the friendliest colleague. She is a good woman. She didn’t deserve this.” 

Hours later, Dan drives with a scowl on his face. 

Not a single thing out of the interrogation. Every alibi checks out and not a single one of them seems to have any motive against Sophia. Just like Penny and Brandon. Three homicides, three good people gone and not a single lead. Weeks of dead end and nothing but frustration. Dan groans, steering wheel held tightly in his white knuckled fist. He is certainly having the feeling that the case is going to be closed in no time if this continues. 

He side-glances at his phone on the passenger seat. He has called Chloe seven times and everytime it’s gone to voicemail. The yawning abyss of worry is only increasing, threatening to drown him inside. Something is going on with her. And he has a looming suspicion that it’s related to Lucifer- oh wait… 

Didn’t she say that she would be taking Lucifer to the MRI yesterday? 

Maybe that’s where she is? Maybe that’s why she has switched her phone off? Either way, maybe it’s time to pay him a visit.  After last night, Dan really wants to check on the devilish club owner and make sure he is alright. Of course, he has to be if Chloe is there with him but still… Lucifer is his friend and he deserves some care and concern. 

Reading the time from his wrist watch, Dan takes a turn, heading towards Hollywood Boulevard. He still has thirty minutes of lunch time, he can make it to Lux before that. And if they aren’t there then maybe he can ask someone about Chloe? Yes, that’s what he is going to do. 

Lux is dark. He cranes his neck from the club railing to find the bar empty as well. Nobody’s here. The club is closed, it seems. Till now, Dan has always seen the building so full of life, the lights shining bright and music heavy in the air. The club always brings a lightness to his heart but now seeing the club empty, only a few spotlights dimming and the piano standing in the middle, collecting dust - it just shows how wrong the entire situation is. Lucifer should never be in an MRI or anything. He should be here, drinking and flirting with patrons in a three piece suit and a smile sharp as a weapon. He should never have to be alone in the penthouse, suffering from panic attacks and vomiting his ass out. His heart fills with a sudden sympathy for the civilian consultant. The man seems to be a magnet for troubles and trouble himself. 

Ignoring the shiver in his spine at the isolated atmosphere, he pushes the button of the elevator. The cart brings him to the desired location. When the door dings open and Dan walks in, his mouth drops open. The destruction from last night is still there but to add to the havoc, there lies piles of open books and manuscripts on the bar. No sign of Lucifer or Chloe. Someone’s doing some research, he thinks dryly. 

“Lucifer? Chloe?” He calls out… 

The silence greets him. Great. 

Dan makes his way to the bar, opening some random pages from the books - wait, are these the books on… Satan? Is Lucifer reading these for his delusions? He rolls out some manuscripts, “ That emperor, who sways, The realm of sorrow, at mid breast from th' ice, Stood forth; and I in stature am more like, A giant, than the giants are in his arms-”

“ Finished snooping?” 

Dan almost drops the book - Divine Comedy from his hand, whirling around to see a very unimpressed Lucifer standing on the archway to his bedroom, his mouth pulled down. “Jesus, Lucifer!” 

Lucifer chuckles darkly, “Not quite.” 

Nobody speaks after. And when the awkward silence stretches too long, Dan breaks it. “Right, um.. So, what are you doing with these?” What a question, Espinoza. 

Lucifer looks at him funnily, pulling a face and Dan finds uneasiness gazing at the man’s eyes. And now that he averts his gaze, he truly sees the condition of Lucifer. “You look like shit.” He does actually. His posture is stiff and he is trembling ever so slightly, as if holding upright is costing him a lot. His grey shirt is wrinkled and the same can be said for his trousers. His hair is dishevelled and stubble a little longer than he is used to seeing. Lucifer stares at him with bloodshot eyes and bags large enough to keep a cat inside under his eyes. 

“A+ for your bluntness.” Lucifer deadpans. “And to answer your question, it’s none of your business what I do with the manuscripts. Now, back to mine. What are you doing here?” 

“I, uh, came to check on you, man. After last night-”

Lucifer looks at him sharply, “What happened last night?” 

Dan blinks, taken aback at his question. “You don’t remember?” 

“I wouldn’t ask you if I did, would I?” 

Oh, well… Chloe did mention he is having memory problems.. “Well, I don’t know about your rest of the evening but when I and Chloe came to the penthouse last night, you were..uh..” He hesitates, unsure whether to say the truth or not. He knows Lucifer is proud and untouchable to a manic level. He wouldn’t want a reminder of his vulnerable state. Dan isn’t sure how Lucifer will react to this. But of course, Lucifer is a stubborn ass. 

“I was, what?” 

He bites his lips, shifts on his feet uneasily. “You were having a panic attack. You had to retch to breath.” One look at Lucifer’s face and he backpedals, “Hey man, it’s alright, we don’t think any less of you. Everyone has some vulnerable moments.”

This gets Lucifer’s attention and he very nearly growls, making the hair in the back of his neck rise in panic. He is pretty sure the sound is inhumane. “I don’t give a damn about what you think.” And then his expression softens. Infinitesimally. “You said, you came with Chloe?” 

“Yes.”

“That means…” Whatever he was going to say, he trails off leaving Dan to wonder the rest of the sentence. Instead, he asks, “What else happened?” 

Dan thinks back to last night, “We brought you to the shower, got you cleaned up and then  I left. Chloe was there for the rest of the night.” 

“Ah.” 

Something is wrong, Dan’s gut says. Lucifer is acting weird, even more closed off. And if Chloe isn’t here then, “Where is Chloe?” 

“She isn’t here. Left this morning.” 

Well, that isn’t assuring at all. Dan waits for him to elaborate but he stubbornly remains silent. “Do you know where she went?” 

“Probably a place that is far away from me.” Lucifer’s face is blank when he says it. Something that terrifies Dan even more than his temper. Lucifer is always expressive, his eyes shine when he is happy or they burn brighter if he is angry or upset. But now… his eyes are dead. No emotions swirling behind those ebony windows. Just exactly what has happened? 

“What?” 

And then he starts laughing. Harsh and guttural laughter filled with so much bitterness that Dan flinches at the sound. “Well, she knows what I am now. So, of course she is running for the hills.” He grins but his eyes remain lifeless. 

Something is very, very wrong. 

“Lucifer-” 

“Well, before you go on about your twenty rounds of quiz, I have one burning question.” Lucifer slides his hands into his pocket, sauntering towards Dan in a predatory way. 

“Now, who are you and how do you know me and the Detective?” 

Wait… what?! 

- tbc-

Chapter Text

↟ནઢ

13 missed calls, 27 messages and 9 voicemails. 

Chloe knows she should at least answer one of them, let people know that she is alive and currently nestling beneath the three-layered safety blanket on her comfort couch and surrounded by bottles of Three Bucks chucks. She doesn’t. Instead,she blankly stares at the lit screen of her phone vibrating on the coffee table in front of her. She should do something, pick up or maybe decline, tell everyone to ‘just piss the fuck off’ but her hands feel numb; there’s an added weight to her legs, so heavy that she can’t do anything except sit around the whole morning. Her eyelids are droopy, courtesy of the lack of sleep last night. Last night, which she spent in the Devil’s lair. 

A sudden chill settles in her bones, making her shiver and not because of the cold. Tightening the blanket around her, she gasps. The Devil with the capital D. Living in Los Angeles and is - was, definitely was - her partner for three years. This doesn’t feel like reality. She doesn’t feel real. If she didn’t know better she would have guessed this was a scene from Supernatural. Everything feels so surreal that she wants to say ‘no, this is just a dream.’ But… 

But she has already wrapped her head with so much bubble wrap and dove into the pool of denial for the last three years that she has ignored the evidence that has stared at her face for so long. Some detective, she is. 

Lucifer fucking survived a hailstorm of bullets during their first case - both during Delilah’s attack and from Jimmy.  She had completely shut down that train of thought even when she should have investigated further. 

Jimmy going to the asylum. 

Lucifer throws men twice of his size across the room, lifting people at least a foot off the ground with a single, bare hand - super strength. Lucifer can vanish and/or teleport from one place to another in the blink of an eye - super speed and teleportation… Why did she think this was another parlor trick? How could she think like that? 

Lucifer doing his desire mojo, charming people out of their minds with his magnetism - This isn’t some hypnotism trick, this is real. This is his supernatural ability. 

Lucifer picking locks, getting out of handcuffs within milliseconds - Damn it, Decker! How could she have been so naive?! 

People crying and curling into a ball, chanting ‘Devil’ by the end of any interrogation where Lucifer is left alone with the victim, a result of extreme trauma - Of course, he is the real Devil, people ought to be scared of him. 

Him dying and coming back to life after Malcolm shot him - couldn’t have been a bulletproof vest and blood packs. It was all him. It was all Lucifer. 

And she, like an idiot, has always worn this blindfold around him. Denied every possibility of thoughts outside the periphery of her limited knowledge. And of course, now this lack of knowledge is coming to bite her ass off. Well done, Decker. 

She groans. And then she chugs another bottle, feeling the burn of the cheap rum down her throat until her thoughts feel fizzy, out of their chain and haphazardly arranged. And ironically, she can hear Lucifer’s disapproval for her choice in liquor. 

Great, the more she runs the closer she gets to the Devil. 

Another ‘bing’ of text interrupts her inner cacophony of thoughts and she returns to staring at the phone. Again.

Another message from Dan. 

She really should tell him she’s fine. And she really should have given a reason for her sudden and unexplained absence. The lieutenant is going to kill her - nay, roast her in a pit of barbeque before swallowing her whole.  Lucifer does this all the time - disappear without notifying anyone but she? She never does that. That’s what makes her Chloe Decker. The responsible, uptight Detective with a singular focus. 

But now everything seems unhinged, falling from its axis and scattering away and away while she is left, grasping at nothing and desperately trying to make sense of everything that has been thrust into her life. And she is failing..

She doesn’t read the message. Doesn’t text him back. 

Her apartment is silent, Trixie is in her school and Maze is suspiciously absent - which is really very grateful for, and the silence is driving her mad. She feels like she is bursting from inside, unable to keep this magnanimous truth inside. Her life is a mockery. Everything that she has believed is a mockery and what does that make her? An insignificant moron of a human. 

“Never thought I would be describing myself as a human, ever.” She murmurs to herself, snickering at the thought. Yes, human because apparently non humans do exist. Demons, angels, God - fuck her life, exist. And who knows? Maybe her neighbour next door might be a vampire - Are they real? Or Trixie’s schoolmate might be a werewolf - oh shit, please don’t tell her those are real too. 

Should she resign and take Trixie with herself to live in the Himalayas? Maybe become a hermit or sort. 

Fuck, she is so drunk! 

And she can feel it with how stray and awkward her normally arranged thoughts are. One moment she feels scared and the next moment hysteria chokes her throat. Now, though, all she wants to do is weep and weep. She doesn’t know why. 

She thinks about why she spent the entire night back there with Lucifer. Sure, she has been doing her research and everything but why there? Why couldn’t she just leave and flee home? Locked her door and just hid under the bed? Why did Lucifer’s two words, ‘Stay, please’ knocked the remaining doubts off her mind and bound her to stay there. 

Can he do that? Bind people to do his bidding? Is everything about him a manipulation? 

Is everything between them a big lie? 

Chloe shakes her head vehemently, almost giving herself  a whiplash - no, it can’t be. The way Lucifer looks at her, his feelings, everything... they can’t be a lie. Chloe knows liars and she can figure out if someone is lying. But, Lucifer Morningstar never lies. 

Point of pride for me, he’d once said and Chloe believes him. She has to. Because if truly, everything has been a lie then… 

She blinks back the tears. 

Then, that would mean, their kiss on the beach, her feelings for him, everything had been a game to him. A joke. That would mean, she has been a joke to him. And she can’t think like that. She can’t. She is too fragile to deal with the betrayal if that’s true. But then again, who is she compared to the mighty Devil? Son of God and the second most powerful being in the universe?  Holy shit! And she has been trying to place him on a leash since day one, like a damned puppy! 

And then with a resounding slap, her thoughts clear. Untangling from the web of this celestial clusterfuck. Lucifer is the Devil, the most powerful angel and son of God.  But he is not the only one powerful. 

She remembers each time when she was the one to calm him down, to stop him from doing anything reckless and to be there for him. He showed her his vulnerable side Don’t please. And she showed him hers. 

If it’s any consolation to your pride, it would seem that you make me vulnerable as well. 

And then last night, when he buried his face into her stomach, pleading with her to not leave him… it was his most vulnerable moment. The way he retched and rasped a weak, barely audible ‘Chloe’, there’s no way he was faking it. 

Nobody can fake that. Not even the supposed Prince of Lies. 

That much power she has on him. Over the course of years, she, Chloe Decker, has become the one to tame the Devil. What do you do when you hold power over the most powerful being? What do you do with that power? 

Oh god - damn, she has to find another way of using profanity to prevent further blasphemy- she needs to talk. To someone, anyone. Anyone human. She can’t do this. She can’t do this alone. She will die, buried under the burden of these truths. 

Of course, she can go to Lucifer himself, or Maze - a demon- or even Amenadiel- an angel - but they won’t understand. Nobody will. And as for Lucifer, she knows she shouldn’t fear him, shouldn’t see him in the same light as others, as the same monster but there’s a difference between knowing and knowing. There’s a difference between ideality and reality.  Because as of yet, she does fear him. Maybe not because he is the Devil or evil - she believes him when he says he isn’t evil- but because he is just so much more than her, her life and even the planet she stays on. She can’t even begin to comprehend where she ends and he begins. And even if she tries to, she will probably end up in the same asylum Jimmy did. 

The problem isn’t that he is the Devil. The problem is that the Devil is in her life in more than one way. The problem is that she doesn’t want him out of her life despite everything. And the problem is that she likes him.  She feels something for him that she has never felt for anyone. But she doesn’t know if she can even think of being friends with him right now let alone opting for something more. 

Is it blasphemous to consider Satan as your friend? Will God smite her for this? 

Chloe doesn’t even notice she is trembling until the bottle in her hand slips and breaks. The shattering of the glass too loud in the silence, breaking her from her reverie. She brings her shaking hands to rub her face, noticing how wet her cheeks and upper lips are. Ah, she must be doing the ugly crying now. She sniffs.  

The phone vibrates again. And this time with a voicemail. 

She is all prepared to ignore it, already picking up another bottle and pressing to her lips when the recipient’s name flashes across the screen. 

Dr. Linda Martin. 

Chloe frowns. Why is she calling her? She is…. Lucifer’s therapist. Shit! So does this mean…. 

Her hands work on auto-pilot. Picking up the phone, she presses play with shaking fingers and the doctor’s serene voice echoes around the walls of her mind. 

“Chloe, good morning, I sincerely hope you are okay. Lucifer told me about what happened and he also told me that you happen to know about him. The real him. I know this is incredibly hard for you but you needn’t do this alone. I am here for you, if you need to talk. I know Lucifer is the Devil. Have known for almost two and half years. So feel free to reach out to me, okay? We have a lot to unpack together and it’s always better to talk to someone rather than going through something like this alone. Trust me, I know. Call me if you want.” 

The voice fades to nothing as Chloe gapes at the phone, dumbfounded. She plays it again. And again. And again. Until she believes that it’s true and not an illusion or trick that her fried mind is playing on her. And when she does, it’s like a bucket of water has been poured on her. 

Linda knows. 

She has always known. About Lucifer, about Heaven and Hell and everything. Obviously, she knows! She is his therapist. And Linda accepts Lucifer and is his friend despite everything. 

An irrational thought stings her mind. Lucifer has trusted Linda enough to show her that he is the Devil but not her. Never her. What has she done to earn his distrust? 

No more going backwards… 

Is this what he was going to say before getting kidnapped? Was he going to reveal himself to her? 

Speaking of kidnapping, who kidnapped him? Who can kidnap the Devil? And to the extent of torture? And now, his mental state, what about that? Why is he losing his memories? And why the fuck did Linda suggest an MRI? He is not a fucking human! What can the human medical reports even do for him? And wait… why was he in the hospital in the first place when she found him?! 

The more she thinks, the more jumbled and tangled her thoughts become. It’s impossible to make sense of all of these without any further facts. And facts, she will get alright. She is a seasoned detective, the best in LAPD. So what, she has failed to solve Lucifer’s mystery for the past three years? She will turn a blind eye no more. She will keep an open mind and accept all the facts and then process them one by one. 

She knows she is speaking out of her ass, in this context, at least. She has suffered two panic attacks since this morning, going into a nice third. And that too without any information. She isn’t sure what she will do with the information she is going to get. 

She is sure she won’t be able to handle it. 

But then again, hey she is not alone anymore right? She can talk to someone else, someone human without getting tagged as insane and Linda can understand. Linda always understands. She will help her through this. 

Having her mind made, she sends a text to the doctor, 

Can I come over? Please? 

The reply is within seconds. Linda perhaps was expecting her beforehand. Of course, Chloe. I am here for you. 

Chloe sniffs, wipes away the tears and snot, rubs her bloodshot eyes and sends a quick, ‘I am coming in thirty’ before she lifts herself off the couch. 

Pins and needles assault her long numb feet as blood flows freely again - how long has she been sitting there, really? - and she sways unsteadily. The buzz created by all alcohol is fading and all she feels is a bit tipsy. This will have to do, facing a soon to be existential crisis being entirely sober will probably not be a good idea.  Chloe doesn’t bother with a change of clothing, instead washes her face with ice-cold water and grabs a ham sandwich, filling her stomach’s demand and orders an Uber. 

The talk with Linda is probably going to be a long one. 

↟ནઢ

The room is silent. So silent that the ticking of the analog clock on the wall is as loud as a trumpet. Nobody makes any attempt to breach this thick fog of silence. 

This is making her restless. Her fingers fidget with the hem of her long shirt which quickly turns into rocking back and forth and tapping the ground. Chloe has never been one for being impatient but this? This moment, this everything has changed something fundamental in her and she is just realising how different she is acting. And why isn’t the other woman saying anything?! 

They have been sitting in Linda’s living room like this for the past ten minutes, Chloe actively trying to control her breathing and stall an impending panic attack while Linda is seated in front of her in her wheelchair, carefully studying her and waiting for her to begin. 

She doesn’t like this. She feels like she is being judged even if that’s not what the doctor is doing. The room feels claustrophobic, the walls pushing themselves close around her, trapping her. Is this how suspects feel when they are being interrogated? Is this how it feels to be in therapy? 

She had been advised to take therapy a lot of times in her life. In high school, when she was busy juggling her studies and acting life; when her father died; when she started feeling neglected by her mother… But she never acted upon those pieces of advice. But now, this… this feels a lot like therapy. 

Is she supposed to say something? Something to break the ice or maybe Linda is waiting for a breakdown? After all, she is hardly keeping it together. Honestly, how does an ADHD Lucifer take this… torture? 

Lucifer… 

She is here to talk about him. About her existential crisis, about… well, everything. “Lucifer is the Devil.” She blurts out and then to her everlasting chagrin, drops her gaze. Stupid, Decker. Very smooth. 

But it does the trick, somehow. Because Linda smiles softly and breaks her silence, finally. “I know.” Her voice is soft, sombre like she is soothing a cornered, panicked animal. Maybe that’s what she is, who the fuck knows? 

“Yes...of course.. I-I mean that’s why I am here, isn’t it? Of course, you know.” Chloe wishes the ground would just open and swallow her whole. Gosh, what the fuck is wrong with her? 

She doesn’t know why she expected Linda to laugh or dismiss her ramble but Linda, after a moment, asks the unexpected. “Are you okay?” 

“I am fine.” Comes her automated reply, instinctive and easy. But Linda waits, quirking her eyebrows and looking at her, expectantly. Chloe sighs. “Not really. I am not fine. This is… just a lot. Like a lot. I don’t know how to do this, Linda… I can’t do this.” 

She is grateful that Linda doesn’t comment on how shaky her voice is or how her eyes are starting to burn from the heat. The doctor simply nods, an understanding smile on her lips and eyes warm with empathy. “I certainly understand how you feel, Chloe. I have been there.” 

“How… How did you… cope? How did- do you wrap your mind around all of these?” She asks because she needs to know. She needs to understand too. 

“Honestly, it’s difficult. Really difficult and once you get to know about this side of the world, everything gets a new level of complexity. I won’t pretend and say that this is all okay and everything’s going to be fine but after a certain point of time, it gets surprisingly… normal. I mean, of course, I still get floored by the fact that my patient is the literal Devil and my best friend is a demon and I can never get over that fact, honestly but as much as this is our world, it’s theirs too.” 

Chloe nods, trying to turn that thought around. “And you are okay? Okay with Lucifer being the Devil?” 

“Chloe,” Linda starts, her voice gentle but firm. “You need to understand that Lucifer and Devil are not different entities. The Devil is Lucifer and Lucifer is The Devil. It’s like I am a therapist. You are a detective but you are also a mother and you are also a daughter.” 

“I guess so…” 

“Are you afraid?” 

Is she afraid? Yes. Terrified, even. But of him? Maybe. But of him being evil? Never. “I am.” She settles on, looking away. Her shame is constricting.

“You needn’t feel any guilt for being afraid, Chloe. We all have been conditioned to be scared of the Devil, of course you need some time to process-”

“But that’s just it, Linda! I am not afraid of Lucifer being the Devil or anything. I know he isn’t evil. I know that in my gut. But… but he is an angel, son of God, archangel and I am nobody! He is just so much more than anything I can even comprehend, how am I supposed to deal with that? Do you know he made the stars? He literally made the sun. ” 

“Lightbringer…” Linda whispers in awe, as if the name has become much more meaningful now that she knows the purpose. But then she shakes her head, visibly putting that thought away and focusing on Chloe. “He is all of that but he is also the oldest most immature person on Earth, he is someone who lights up when he spots gummy bears and candies on my desk,” Linda’s eyes soften into fondness and amusement as she speaks about Lucifer, “he is a dumbass who takes dick pics and posts them on a rooster site,” Even Chloe can’t help but laugh at this. He really is a dumbo. “He is someone who complains if there’s no cool ranch puff in the vending machine, someone who will literally panic if he sees children,”

She snickers at the memory, “I remember when Trixie hugged him, he literally squeaked ‘ getitoffgetitoffgetitoff’ constantly until I took Trixie off him.” And once she starts accounting, everything gets easier. Linda doesn’t interrupt as the dam breaks free, “Also he tried to play fetch with my seven year old daughter.”

“See? He is utterly clueless about things. He once sent me a stripper telegram because I couldn’t be in my office during my periods.” 

“Oh, he does that, alright? Dan always gets so pissed off and then Lucifer steals his pudding to piss him off even further. Like he gets a kick out of it or something.” She laughs and this time Linda joins her. 

“Not to mention the weirdest combination of cornflakes and whiskey.” The therapist snorts. 

“Oh yeah, Maze eats that and I just can’t be anywhere near her during that time or I will just puke my guts out. I mean there’s a line. I can accept coffee with whiskey but that? Nope, never!” 

“I know right! It’s disgusting! I visited Lucifer in his penthouse and he was trying that and I just had to take the bowl away and Chloe you wouldn’t believe me how he looked at me…” 

“With wide brown eyes and a pout?”

“Yes, exactly!”

“I knew it!” She nearly shouts, triumphant. “He always does that with me. His puppy eyes and I can’t even say no to anything when he does that, it’s so annoying. I bet Trixie has learnt this from him as well. He is such an idiot. Urgh, what am I gonna do with him?” Chloe shakes her, amused and unbeknownst to her, a fond smile has found its way to her face. 

This time, Linda doesn’t reply. Instead, letting the memories and thoughts settle in her, easing her doubts away… She is right, Lucifer is a child. By the end of the day, he is just, plain, old Lucifer. Not an angel, not the Devil, just him. The annoying, narcissistic, clueless partner with the kindest of hearts. Maybe she doesn’t need to worry at all… 

“You see Chloe? Nothing has changed. At the basic level, he is still the same old annoying ass of a partner. In very human terms, he is a lost child, abused and abandoned by his family and trying to get a grip on his life. I am sure you know that bit about him by now. He is just someone who is alone and trying to find friends. Friends who have his back and don’t abandon him. And for sure, he has a large amount of baggage, but then again don’t we all?” 

Linda’s right. Lucifer is as human as anyone can ever get. He sees and feels things differently but that’s what makes him so unique, so… pure. He might be the most complicated being but he is also the simplest man. He might be the most selfish, hedonistic ass but then he is also the most selfless man she has ever seen. He sees himself as a monster, yet he is driven for justice. He claims to be emotionless or above petty human problems yet by the end of the day, he is sympathetic to those who deserve it. He has been in the darkest of the darkness for millennia and yet he is the lightbearer.  He is a paradox, an enigma. And he is her friend, her best friend. Her partner who's always had her back. And she is just one step forward in understanding him better. She just wishes she got to understand him better before. For three years, she thought him to be delusional, crazy and of course that showed in her behaviour towards him as well - outright denying or ignoring anything he said, rolling her eyes at something he finds important and indirectly hurting him. How many times did this happen just because she was the fool and ignorant and not him? 

“Why didn’t he say this to me before? Why didn’t he trust me?” The words rip out of her before she can stomp them down, the hurt lacing at her every word. She shouldn’t be this needy, like a clingy girlfriend. She is just his friend and colleague, not his significant other or anything. He doesn’t owe her any explanation but doesn’t she deserve better? 

“Chloe, you have to put yourself in his shoes to understand this.” Linda says after a moment of silence. “Imagine you are twelve. And now imagine being abused by your family, then abandoned and thrown out just because you dared to ask a question.” Chloe can’t imagine that herself, her parents nothing like what Linda is describing but she listens on, embedding every word into her mind. “Your own brother throws you out and you are left alone with your own thoughts for years, at a place which is literally Hell. Imagine being cruel even if you are fundamentally not that person just to survive, and then imagine getting blamed for all the sin and mistakes that you didn’t even commit or know about. What would that do to your self worth?”

“Oh my...” In all honesty, she can’t even imagine how much agony Lucifer has gone through in his life. How much darkness he has been forced to endure and yet he turned up as a kind person, as someone who enjoys life at its finest, someone so bright. She is surprised he hasn’t gone mad after everything. 

Linda forges on. “Now imagine, I am your friend. Your only friend and you like spending time with me very much. But you see yourself as a monster and you have zero self worth. You are convinced that nobody can accept you for who you are. Now, it’s your choice. Will you show me who you really are?” 

She thinks about it. Actually, thinks about it. Will she show her who she is and risk losing her? Her only friend? She tries to think from a moral perspective and then a thought about what she should do but everytime her mind halts at the same answer. “.... no.” She settles on. Biting her lips, she understands his trepidation all too well. “He was afraid that if he showed me then he would lose me too. Because that’s what he is conditioned to believe. That no one can accept the Devil. No one can care about the Devil. It’s what he believes with all his passion.” 

She remembers his face in the morning when she left the penthouse. It wasn’t some shock or surprise. It was just unadulterated resignation, hopelessness. Like he knew this was gonna happen but still it hurt him anyway. Of course, it hurt him. She would be hurt too if she was in his place. And what had she done? Dismissed their friendship and abandoned him just like the others. During his time of need. Some partner she is. 

“Don’t.” Linda’s voice is sharp yet gentle - only a therapist can acquire that tone, she supposes. “Don’t feel bad about leaving. I know what you are thinking, I can see it on your face.” 

“But I left him, Linda.” 

“You didn’t. Don’t you see? You are trying, you are thinking of going back and it’s not even a whole day and you are taking this remarkably well. You didn’t leave him, you just asked for space in not so many words. Even if you choose not to return to him, I will not blame you nor will he.” The ‘I will be disappointed, though’ remains unsaid. 

“I hurt him.” 

“You did. But he understands. He is an extremely forgiving person, Chloe. Also before thinking about him, you need to give yourself a thought. Do you truly want him in your life? That’s the question you need to ask yourself.”

She does so and surprisingly, the answer comes to her easily and immediately. “I do.” Lucifer has become an integral part of her life and she, no matter how hard she tries , can never imagine her life without him in it. Maybe they will be friends or even partners, maybe they won’t have a relationship like she desires but that’s okay. As infuriating as he is, Chloe Decker wants Lucifer Morningstar in her life and there is no doubt in it.

“Then you know what you need to do, right?”  

She nods, grateful that her mind is much more calm now. But there’s still one thing that’s hitting her. “But he showed you.” She asks, hesitant and scared. But Linda understands. 

“You know? I don’t think he would have shown me in any other circumstances.” The doctor muses, idly stroking her wounded abdomen.

Chloe frowns, “What do you mean?”

“He…” a grimace paints her, eyes deeply troubled as she spaces out, clearly reliving the moment she is talking about. “He was.. struggling with something. And he wasn’t in a good headspace. That’s the most vulnerable I have ever seen him… well until now,” She adds as an afterthought, “He desperately wanted to get help and I was the only one who he could reach out to and he did. But back then I thought he spoke in metaphors and I was so fed up by this and I really forced him to share the whole truth. And… well, let’s say it didn’t go that well. He didn’t think it through, he just reacted, already drowning in anguish. And I was… catatonic, to put it mildly. I mean clearly you know, you have seen it yourself. His Devil face can do that to people.”  

Chloe’s mind hooks at the word ‘Devil face’. Wait, is that a thing, now? Is this what makes the suspect a babbling mess when left alone with Lucifer?? “Wait… devil face?” 

Linda blinks, surprised. “Yes. The red, scarred visage….” and then realisation dawns on her face, “You didn’t see his devil face, did you?” 

“No.” Chloe says, blankly. 

“What did you see then?” 

“His… wings. They are snow white and they are beautiful, almost..”

“Divine?” 

“Divine.” Chloe nods. She had seen a replica of the wings at the auction all those years back and she thought those were gorgeous but they are not even comparable to the real ones she saw last night. It was just a glimpse, a mistake on his part yet the divine glow from his wings will be etched in her memories forever. She can weep by their loss. 

But then a question strikes like lightning. “Wait, didn’t he say he cut his wings off? Back then I thought it was a metaphor but now… he really did cut his wings didn’t he?”

Linda nods. “He did. But it’s not my tale to say. You have a lot of questions, I gather and unfortunately I can’t answer them. I have doctor/patient confidentiality and I can’t break that. But I will suggest you take it slowly. Process things and then go, meet him. I am sure he will answer each and every question you have to ask.” And then Linda says something, almost inaudible. But she hears it. And her heart sinks. “If he remembers you.” 

The words are like a knife, hot and sharp stabbing at her heart and twisting it painfully. A lump forms in her throat. “So… he is forgetting things. Does that mean he will..?” She can’t bring herself to complete the question. She just can’t. 

If he remembers you…  

God, she doesn’t have time, does she? They don’t have time. 

The therapist’s shoulders slump a little, “Honestly, I am as clueless as you here. Lucifer shouldn’t be having any of these issues. He is immortal and mostly invulnerable. He has the ability to remember every single detail of his life. I don’t know why he is going through this.” 

That means… wait, “What do you mean mostly invulnerable? He bleeds, right? I have seen him bleeding.” 

“Again, not my place to say anything. You should ask him and if he hasn't already forgotten it, he will answer it.” 

“Linda, please! Can’t you do anything to help him?” She nearly shouts, desperate with each passing moment. 

“It’s not like I have studied Angel Alzheimer’s in my school or something!” she snaps. “I have already suggested you an MRI and I am thinking of ways to do his treatment. I am a therapist not a medical doctor.” Taking deep breaths, she continues in a softer voice, “I am trying Chloe. I have contacted my colleagues regarding this. I am thinking about ways. Trauma patients deal differently. He has just been kidnapped and most likely tortured. We have to be patient with him.” 

“I know.  I know that. But…” She can’t bear the thought of losing him. She can’t bear to imagine a world where Lucifer Morningstar doesn’t recognise Chloe Decker or look at her without any spark of recognition. Chloe bolts out of the couch, already heading towards the main door. Only one destination in her mind. “I have to go. I have to go see him.” 

“Chloe, are you absolutely sure about this? You don’t have to be so hasty, you know?”  

“When my friend is losing his memories and most likely won’t remember me in a few days? Yes, I am fucking hasty!” She snaps. Pulling the door open with a bit more force, she looks at Linda. “I don’t care if he is the Devil or anything. I just can’t lose him. I just can’t fucking lose him. And I am not going to.”

Just as she is about to bolt, her eyes soften and she throws a grateful look towards the doctor, “Thank you so much, Linda. You put my thoughts into perspective. I can’t repay you enough.” 

Linda smiles, “You owe me nothing.” 

Chloe closes the door behind. 

Now, off to Lux. 

↟ནઢ

She needn’t say much about Lux as a place. It’s Lucifer’s abode, a place that he has built from scraps with all his passion and desire and will to be free. And this place has offered its desires to him. So, there’s very little doubt that Lux responds to Lucifer’s mood. Chloe has visited Lux often enough to know that the music plays livelier and the lights are brighter and people seem happy when he is in a good mood. She doesn’t know if it’s the Devil thing or something, after all he is the Lightbringer and Lux is named after his light. Similarly, everything feels more raucous when he is angry or upset, an aggressive energy thumping in the air during those times. 

Now though, the club looks sullen, dark and… empty. It’s true Lux hasn’t opened yet but that’s never been a factor before. The club has always radiated a strange homely aura, one that Chloe has grown so accustomed to that it’s quite jarring to see the soul of the club slowly fading away. That Lucifer is slowly fading away. 

She stands on the balcony, giving a quick scan across the floor to ensure that Lucifer is indeed not there. Patrick, from behind the bar catches her gaze and benevolently points an index finger upwards, a gesture that screams ‘ He is at the penthouse.’ Chloe nods, grateful for the information and makes her way towards the elevator. 

As the carrier ascends, stress balls in her stomach. She was running on adrenaline this morning when she left the penthouse, hurting Lucifer but now? Now, she is as composed as she can be. But still, anxiety is a bitch. She has no idea what to say to Lucifer. A simple ‘ sorry’ would probably not suffice and ‘ hey, I know I ran like a rabbit this morning, but I am back, so that’s something, yeah?’ would sound utterly dickish.. ‘I am not afraid of you.’ will be a bit of a lie because seriously, who can blame her for being a little jumpy around a literal archangel? She wants to tell Lucifer the truth. She wants to tell him that yes, she is afraid and yes it will take her time to accept the idea of him, but she isn’t running. She will never do that. Not to him. Not when he is down or ever. But she needs time, yes. 

The ding of the elevator announces her presence and immediately muffled voices reach her ears. Her first thought is a bucket of fear that someone is going to harm Lucifer, hands instinctively moving to her holstered sidearm but then she quickly discards that thought. Lucifer is not that weak (more like not weak at all, but let her brain have this). 

“....mber me? That’s some fucked up shit, man.” She hears in a voice extremely familiar.

As she walks out of the elevator quietly, standing beside the bar, she gets the source of the voices. Dan is talking to Lucifer. Lucifer’s back is presented to her as he is facing Dan and while Chloe is almost in Dan’s line of sight, her ex-husband’s attention is completely devoted towards the Devil, his mouth hanging open and eyes deeply troubled. Uh oh, whatever’s going on can’t be good. Now that she thought of it, she notices the stiff shoulder lines of Lucifer, how his posture is rigid and a slight tremble passes through his body. He is tense and most probably annoyed. 

“Believe me, Daniel Espinoza, I don’t know you and trust me, I would never forget this douchey face of yours so when I say I don’t know you, I don’t.” Lucifer says, a hint of despair and insecurity creeping into his voice. 

Chloe’s heart stops. What did he- 

This can’t be happening. This fucking can’t be happening. 

If he remembers you.. Linda’s words bombard her mind, shattering what little composure she has. Panic chokes her throat and the roaring of blood is so loud to her ears she can honestly cut those things off. Black dots appear in her vision. Lucifer doesn’t remember Dan. He can’t recognise him.

Lucifer doesn’t remember Dan. Lucifer doesn’t remember Dan. 

If he remembers you.. 

Lucifer shouldn’t be having any of these issues. He has the ability to remember each and every detail of his life. 

If he remembers you. 

Belatedly she realises that the two men in the room have stopped arguing and are now looking at her. She must have made a panicked noise or something. And while Dan is looking at her, worried and tense - that of course, is not for her but more because of the club owner, Lucifer is shocked. 

He watches Chloe with wide, vulnerable eyes, his jaw dropping open and he is completely still. Making himself non-threatening, she realises. If that didn’t just break her heart into two, the words Lucifer utter definitely crumple it into pieces. “Chloe…” he rasps, voice thick with emotions. “You... you came back.” 

Call her selfish but relief knocks the air out of her lungs. He might forget Daniel, but he didn’t forget her. He still remembers her and he stills remembers her reaction. Her mind feels dizzy with guilt and relief, happiness and sadness. She wants to laugh and weep at the same time. Can she do that? Instead, she gives Lucifer a watery smile and says, “I did. I will always come back to you.” 

The shy, disbelieving grin that he gives her, soothes all the previously inflicted anxiety. How can anyone think he is the evil incarnate?  

And for the nth time that afternoon, her heart reaches out to him. The situation is all fucked up, that’s true. He is at a vulnerable moment and so is she. But she knows in her heart that they are going to be okay and if not, they will deal with it. Together.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

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The situation eventually grows awkward with the three of them staring at each other with sheer bafflement and in Dan’s case, bemusement. Chloe clears her throat in order to wade off some discomfort while Dan shifts foot to foot, dumbly scratching the back of his neck and as for Lucifer? He just stands there, exchanging puzzled glances between the two of them. 

“What are you not telling me?” He narrows his eyes suspiciously and asks the dreaded question eventually. Chloe has just known this is where his mind would go first. And it actually makes sense. He has forgotten Dan and judging by the not-so-subtle panicked looks that her ex husband is throwing at her, Lucifer would of course conclude that there’s some ulterior motive between the two of them that will be used against Lucifer.

“Do you really not remember Dan?” She asks instead of giving the answer. 

A flicker of annoyance crosses The Devil’s features and he scoffs, going back to fiddling with his cufflinks, “I don’t lie. And as for the douche over there, no I haven’t seen him before.” 

“Chloe? What is this?” Dan asks, alarm in his voice evident and only calming down once she nods at him in what she hopes is a reassuring way….yeah….she isn’t sure about that, given that her own heart is struggling to leap out of her throat. She is scared and she has absolutely no idea how to deal with… ‘Celestial memory loss’ - never thought she would use this kind of a sentence, but well, life is a labyrinth of unpredictability. 

“Lucifer, Dan is your friend. Daniel Espinoza? My ex husband? Trixie’s dad?” She prompts, hoping that he would catch at least one of them and he does but not what she thinks. 

“The urchin? What about her?” Lucifer cocks his head sideways like he does when things get puzzling for him. 

Oh well, he remembers Trixie. Good to know that he hasn’t forgotten a very big part of her life and honestly, she doesn’t know how Trix would react if she got to know Lucifer has forgotten her… 

“Dan is Trixie’s dad, Lucifer. You both have been partners for many cases and you meet-” she grimaces, “-used to meet him everyday. He is your friend.” 

Lucifer’s lips are thinned, brows furrowed as he grasps for a response. Anything, just to make sense of all of these, she can tell. But he draws a blank. Pursing his lips, he looks away, staring at the blue sky and LA horizon at the balcony, fists clenched at his sides. Only then, she notices the slight tremble wracking his body or how hard his jaws are clenched and how shallowly he is breathing. Like he is about to… like he is about to have a panic attack. Like last night. In a flash, the memories accost her, his not breathing and her overwhelming fear, how he was so close to being dead…. Oh no… 

Shit.

She is overwhelming him. He might not show it to them, probably thinks of it as a weakness but he is anxious, panicked even. Seems like whatever vulnerability he has shown since the kidnapping is only reserved for her. In the presence of Dan, he is trying to hide behind the armour and even if it fools Dan - which she is pretty sure, it will - he can’t hide it from Chloe. She knows him like she knows her palm. She has learnt his every tic over the years of their partnership. 

“Man, try to remember this. You can’t just forget-” Dan tries but immediately snaps his mouth shut as Lucifer cuts with his eyes. 

“Oh really? And how exactly do you think I would remember you?” Lucifer grinds out. 

“Oh, I don’t know? Try going to a doctor maybe?!” Dan flings his arms above his head, exasperated and panicked. “You both were supposed to go for an MRI anyways, why didn’t you? I never imagined the situation would be so adverse, jeez man!” 

Lucifer opens his mouth, probably going for a snark or something but Chloe beats him to it, “Dan! Could you give us a moment? Please?” 

He softens at Chloe and nods but not without taking a last glance at Lucifer and heads towards the elevator door. “You guys gonna be okay, right?” 

Chloe smiles at his concern. Sometimes it’s cute, honestly. “Yes, Dan. We will be okay.” 

He nods, apparently satisfied with the answer. “Oh and Lieutenant Pierce is looking for you. He is pretty pissed off.” 

“When is he not?” 

“Good point, yeah. But I wouldn’t wanna mess with my career, Chlo.” 

“I will meet you in an hour or two? I just wanted to talk to Lucifer for a bit. I am sorry I wasn’t answering your call or text this morning, I was…. Preoccupied.” Yeah, with three bottles of cheap rum and a blanket. 

“That’s alright.” He sighs, “Just glad you are okay.” 

Chloe squeezes his forearms, a gesture of comfort and apology and his mouth curls upwards, just slightly. “Cover for me, for a bit?” 

“You’ll owe me this one.” 

She grins, “Deal.”

 Knowing very well, the double meaning of this particular word, now that she is a celestial insider and all that. Seriously, how many times had she heard Lucifer say that to people and how serious he is regarding his favours, going to the extent of even warning her ‘You owe me nothing, Detective. This is not a favour nor a deal, remember that.’ when she accidentally uttered the word in a sentence. Funny that Satan insists her not being in his ledger but in some way, it fills her heart with a warmth of how considerate Lucifer is regarding her. 

When the elevator dings again, this time announcing Dan’s departure, Chloe turns towards Lucifer only to find the spot empty. He has walked to the balcony, leaning against the guardrail and gazing at the horizon of LA. 

The Devil in the city of Angels. The thought suddenly comes to bite her in the ass as she makes a choked laugh. She knows very well that her life won’t be the same anymore. The new universe that she has been thrusted into all of a sudden will assault her in the weirdest of times and she knows that she will not be able to handle things, not even close. She will freak out,she will scream and she will tear her hair out but one thing is for certain that she won’t run. 

Looks like the ticket to Himalaya won't be needed after all. 

He tenses when she comes to stand beside him, her gaze trained to the front but from her periphery she can see how tightly he is clenching his jaws. She doesn’t speak. He doesn’t speak. They wait and an unfamiliar awkwardness hovers in the air between them, something that’s truly unfamiliar after years of buttery banter with each other. It’s all wrong. 

Her anxiety in his presence, his tenseness in her presence, this is not how it’s supposed to be. Their partnership is supposed to be easy, compatible and trustworthy. This awkwardness is alien. 

A few moments pass before Lucifer finally decides to break the ice. “When are you going to do it, eh?” 

This draws her short. “Huh?” 

But Lucifer either doesn’t listen or ignores her because he goes off on his own tangent. “So what? Are you gonna bore me to death? But that’s actually not a bad idea, detective. I can see why you would do that. Excellent way of torture by the way. Bravo-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” She asks, irritated but Lucifer just snorts. 

“Hell, indeed.” With Chloe’s continued blank stare, he pinches the bridge of his nose as if she is the one who can’t understand something so blatantly easy. And Lucifer’s dad-dammit, she can’t!  “ Oh, don’t play coy Detective. I know what you’re here for. So, chop chop. We don't have much time to waste do we?” 

Okay, seriously, what is he on about? Chloe turns to him, scowling and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “And what do you think I am here for?” 

Lucifer ignores the ocean of sarcasm in his voice, still avoiding her and just shrugs. “Why, to murder me, of course.” 

She flinches. Hard. She has always known Lucifer to have self-worth issues, to be insecure under the carefully built armor of extravagance and confidence but she has never known the roots would be going so deep. He is saying this as if his mind is made up. He believes that she will kill him and that’s apparently the only truth he is seeing. And damn him, it hurts. They are best friends and he still thinks she is going to hurt him and it’s not only disrespectful, it’s like questioning her morals. 

“I can’t fucking believe you just said that.” She snaps, startling Lucifer in the process. Good, he deserves it.  

“What’s not to believe? You see a monster and you shoot it, yes? That’s what you do for a living, need I remind you.” 

“Oh yeah. I enjoy shooting monsters. But the monster is not you, Lucifer. Get that straight.” 

And that makes him pause. He turns to look at her, a frown settling on his features and eyes dark with confusion. He truly can’t comprehend what she is saying and isn’t that just heartbreaking? “I am the Devil.” He says, as if that miraculously settles everything. 

“And?” She doesn’t break eye contact, and doesn't allow him to look away. She wants him to face her, she wants to ground him so that he can’t run away from her. Again. She won’t let him do that. She isn’t running so she won’t let him run too. 

“Did you hit your head too hard?” 

That earns him a customary eye roll but she humors him. “No, Lucifer. I am perfectly alright, no concussion. But what I mean is it’s okay. It’s okay that you are the Devil.” 

He scoffs, clearly dismissing whatever she said. “Nothing is okay, Detective. I may forget that douche but I remember this morning very clearly. So, don’t you dare say that it’s okay.” 

“I-”

“Your hand was on the holster the entire time. You were preparing to shoot me!” 

Her anger flames, “I was- Lucifer, I wasn’t in the right mind! I just found out about the supernatural being real! I wasn’t thinking straight- hell, I wasn’t even thinking to be honest. You can’t blame me for acting on primal instinct!”

“I don’t!” He growls, “That’s the appropriate reaction, normal. Your instincts are, dare I say,perfect. But this-” he gestures vaguely at her direction, “whatever you are doing now, is not normal. You were scared of me this morning and suddenly you are not? How can you expect me to believe that?” 

“I am still scared, okay?!” She shouts back, words tumbling and mixing together in her haze of rage which only dissolves once she finds the mixture of hurt and odd satisfaction flickering in his eyes. She takes a deep breath and continues, “I won’t lie to you because you deserve better-” She ignores his snort, “I am scared. Hell, I was even considering fleeing to India a few moments ago. But let me get one thing clear Lucifer, I am not scared of you. I am scared of this whole concept of divinity, suddenly my life is full of celestials and demons and heaven and hell and God and I am only human, nobody! Of course, I need time to absorb all of these. But I won’t run away from the problem, okay?” 

“Got it, I am your problem.” 

This Devil is now grating on her nerves, “I didn’t say that.” She grinds out, frustrated and pissed. “The problem is that I am human and everything around me is… well not human. I can get adjusted to Harry Potter or Avengers or Lord of the Rings, but these are pop culture. Not everyday I get to know that, yes these things are real!” 

“Nope, not real, I am afraid.” He shakes his head. 

“Wait, really?” 

“Nope. Sorry to disappoint you.” 

“Witches and wizards don’t exist then?” 

“I didn’t say that.” He shrugs at her. “I said Harry Potter isn’t real, neither Avengers nor Lord of the Rings. Witches and Wizards exist.” 

Damn, just the moment she thought she was coping. She doesn’t need to know the rest. She doesn’t but- “What about Vampires?” 

“Not real.” 

Well, there goes Trixie’s vampire teacher notion. Thank G-well, someone. 

“And werewolves?” 

“Not in the way you’d think.” 

What does that even mean? He didn’t say no. He didn’t say Werewolves are a myth but ‘not in a way she’d think.’ “Could you be any more cryptic?” 

He huffs a breathy chuckle at that. Some of the tension he has been holding dissolves, much to Chloe’s satisfaction. “Sorry Darling, but I don’t think you’d require or like more information on werewolves since you are not gonna meet one.” 

“Ah, thank Go-goodness, I was worried Trixie’s classmate would turn out to be a werewolf.” 

“ That’s what you’ve been worried about? You find out I am the Devil and you are worried about the urchin’s classmate being a werewolf?” 

She grins, “You can’t blame me. Werewolves are terrifying. More than the said Devil.” 

He sputters, “Wh-I- I beg your bloody pardon! I am the king of Hell, I am the most terrifying creature out there!” 

“Uh-huh, whatever you say, Satan.” she can’t help but laugh at the appalled expression on his face, though his lips are tugging upwards. They will be okay. And trust Lucifer to make anything into a competition. He is afraid that she might shoot him but at the same time he is upset that werewolves are more terrifying than him. What an Enigma. 

Truly a living paradox. 

The silence which descends as the conversation fizzles out naturally is not comfortable per se, not like the compatible silence they used to have prior to all of these, but it’s not bad either. She listens to the faint honking of the busy cars, the distant chirping of the birds and sometimes some muffled profanity that floats here and there. From her periphery, she sees Lucifer glance at her every alternate moment, wanting to say something but ultimately opting for the silence. 

She tries to recall a time when she has seen Lucifer struggling to speak. Her mind draws a blank. Lucifer is extraordinarily eloquent and witty. He always knows what to say or how to make a situation play out in his favour. He might act like a dork or an idiot around her but she knows the well read, observant and knowledgeable mind he hides beneath. She knows he can speak every language; she knows he has read every literary work on Earth and met every prominent personality - and no matter how bizarre it sounds, he must have met Shakespear as well, Holy shit! - and she knows the experiences he cherishes in his unreachable mind. 

Lucifer exists from the beginning of time, most likely invented words that she doesn’t know about. Hell, he invented sex, for Earth’s sake! He is the reason why humans have free will. Because he asked, nay demanded God for it. He has lighted the stars in the sky. He has seen Earth evolve from a primordial soup. The same Lucifer who is her partner and who she has always thought to be an adorable idiot. The same Lucifer who is a King - ‘It’s been ages I have sat on a throne, Detective!’ He rules over demons - demons like Maze. And he probably has a commanding voice or something that makes even the demons cower away from him. 

She faintly realises that she is breathing very shallowly, her lungs are burning but she ignores it against the roaring of blood in her ears and the erratic pounding of her heart. She needs to.. She needs to breathe but she can’t. She just can’t. She is drowning in this spiral of thoughts. She needs to get out, she needs someone to pull her out. Someone, anyone. 

“Chloe?” 

Yes, yes. She grasps at the first voice she hears, making her bask in the familiarity of her name. She needs someone to say her name again.

“Breathe, Chloe. I don’t know how any of it works but I am sure that humans tend to breathe.” 

Humans… Lucifer isn’t human. He is a different species altogether. What? What what what?! Her partner is not human. Someone from not of this world. Someone so high and far from her reach. Shit, shit, shit! 

She can’t breathe. 

“Shit, I am making this worse. Okay, focus on my voice, Detective. Just focus.” 

Focus on the voice… Yes, she can do it. Such beautiful rumbling that the vibration pierces through the fog of her mind. She focuses on the rhythm of his tone, the cadence and rich accent rolling off his tongue. 

“That’s it, you are doing very well. Come back to me.” The voice is soft, warm like a murmur. “Just breathe, darling. Yes, that’s it.” 

She sucks in a breath, half expecting to find water in her lungs but surprisingly realising it’s air. She gulps air greedily, calming her nerves. The burn in her lungs stops as the erratic rhythm of her heart settles to somewhat a regular pace. She takes another deep breath, clarity returning to her vision. 

The sun shines brightly, the sky is clear and the LA horizon is vast as she blinks. A pained whimper immediately yanks her focus to her side to find Lucifer wincing. He is standing very close to her now… more like she is leaning onto him as his arm is wrapped around her shoulders like a gentle anchor.

Oh, when did that happen?

“Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I just… I just realised how old you are.” Her attempt at lightening the mood only misses a mile with how her voice cracks but Lucifer shows a small mercy.

“I would prefer ageless but yes, I suppose I am… old.” He chuckles. 

 Her body involuntarily shivers against the steady heat radiating off him. It is oddly comforting. 

In their partnership, neither of them had much idea of personal space, Lucifer literally clinging to her back and she touching him whenever she feels like. Only now that she realises, how touch has become a primary language between them and how without his comforting presence she feels strangely hollow, incomplete. 

Lucifer, of course, mistakes her shivering as fear because he immediately withdraws his arm from around her leaving her bereft. Her protesting whine is swallowed as she watches him wince again. Frowning, she follows his gaze and immediately regret fills her like sweet poison.

 She is clutching Lucifer’s hand so tightly that her own knuckles have gone white, nails breaking into his skin as blood drips down his hand. She lets go of him quickly as he sighs, relieved. Four deep crescent shaped marks filled with blood marr the back of his hand. 

How long has he been suffering while she was busy spiralling? And when did she even grab his hand? 

“I am so sorry.” She sniffs, “I didn’t realise-”

“I am bleeding.” Lucifer says dumbly. Bringing his bleeding hand closer, he observes the blood closely like he hasn’t seen the crimson liquid before, a scowl etching his features. 

But the thing is, why is he acting like he doesn’t bleed? She has seen him bleeding a lot of times. She has never behaved like this….

Well, except for the first time when she shot him. He was shocked when he bled that time, his insistence on being invulnerable dying on his tongue as he looked up to her with wide, accusing eyes and asking, ‘ What’s happening to me?’ 

She realises he is behaving exactly like the first time. As if he can’t figure out why he is bleeding, like he hasn’t bled before. 

Earlier, she would have ignored his confusion as his eccentricity and weirdness but now that she knows he is not human anymore, she isn’t so sure about dismissing his every antic.  She won’t make that mistake again. 

“Uh… I have seen you bleed a lot of times, Lucifer. You bleed.” She offers hesitantly and his head snaps up, his frown deepening. 

“I do?” 

“Umm, yes. You have been stabbed and shot a lot of times for me to know that you do bleed, Lucifer.” 

“And these weapons aren’t celestial?” 

The level of question is so weird that she can’t help but snort but that quickly fades with one look at his annoyed face. “Sorry, it’s just. Never thought I would be having a conversation regarding celestial and human weapons.” 

His gaze softens a bit. “I know.” 

“Well, I am pretty sure those are made by, uh, humans.” 

His frown returns, “Odd.” 

“Why?” 

“We never bleed. Well, never bleed by a mortal object.” 

O...kay? That information is new. At least that explains his surprise both the times he realised that he bleeds. He must have forgotten this information about himself. But, wait a minute, “‘We’?” 

“Angels and Devil, in my case.” 

Chloe gapes at him. So, he is supposed to be entirely invulnerable..? Like no bullets can penetrate his skin or knives break when stabbed at him, but that’s in theory. In practicality, he is as mortal as one can get…

Lucifer shouldn’t be having any of these issues. He is immortal and mostly invulnerable.

Linda’s words from earlier echo in the corners of her mind. ‘Mostly’ invulnerable, she said. That means she knows about how Lucifer shouldn’t bleed but he does. She must know. And if Linda knows that means Lucifer must have told her. Lucifer knew why he is an exception in the invulnerability rulebook and that makes sense because apart from that one time when she shot him, she has never seen him in dismay over his so called ‘mortality’ if something, he has always been eager for danger and thrill. 

But this Lucifer doesn’t remember the reason. He doesn’t remember Dan nor does he remember his own home or profession. 

She has so many questions, gradually sucking away the equilibrium her mind has found and pushing her towards a path of mysteries and puzzles with no end. But she doesn’t know how many answers she will find from Lucifer. The Lucifer who doesn’t remember half of his life. And asking him questions will only poke at the thinly veiled patience he has gathered. She doesn’t want to stress him out, not after the stunt she pulled on his abused hand. A deeper part of her knows that it’s just a flimsy excuse for stalling. Truth to be told, she doesn’t find the courage to bear any more revelation out of her league. She is already cracked, barely holding it together and she is scared that anytime it might all fall apart along with her sanity. Later. Later she will know about the universe. Later, when she is not stewing in her own existential crisis and later when he is not acting like a statue around her. 

Later, when they are not awkward with each other. 

After all, ignorance is bliss. She just hopes this ignorance doesn’t come to bite her in the ass later. 

She takes a deep breath and pulls herself out of this reverie, focusing on Lucifer, who is busy observing the blood flowing from the wounds in a slightly dazed manner. The cuts weren’t too large, some of the blood has already started to clot but she needs to clean it. Nails can be poisonous sometimes and she doesn’t want it to get infected. 

“Lucifer.” His gaze snaps up to her. “I need to clean the wound. Where’s your first aid?”

An adorable line appears between his eyebrows as he concentrates for a while before sighing dejectedly, “I remember nothing from this penthouse. I have no idea.” 

Right, well then, plan B it is. 

“Come with me.” Chloe gently grabs his forearms pulling him into the penthouse and towards the bathroom. He lets himself be pulled, following her without a word. 

The thought that she is dragging the Devil like a puppy crosses her mind and it should have made her afraid but all she finds is a strange warmth tugging at her chest at his willingness to obey her. 

She does have power over the Devil. 

Chloe leads him to his bathroom, the one where all of this celestial clusterduck started. She remembers spotting a first aid kit in one of the sink closets while filling the tub for him last night. And she knows for a fact that Lucifer keeps first aid around, if not for himself but for his overnight guests at least. She tries to tamp down the tinge of jealousy at the thought of his guests, focusing more on the Devil guy behind her. 

Lucifer sits on the edge of the tub, silent and observant. His eyes bear an intensity she has never seen in them before, as if he is trying to figure her angle, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He takes in her every reaction, observing her like a hawk while Chloe does everything to ignore his penetrating gaze, pun definitely not intended. She slides open the small cabinet above the sink, relieved to find a small packet of medical kit containing cotton pads, gauzes, band-aids and antiseptic ointment. Well, it’s not much but it’ll do. 

The paper crinkles in her hand as she grabs the packet and places it on the sink. She leaves Lucifer alone in the washroom, disappearing behind the bar, searching for a small bowl to hold water. Eventually, she finds one and makes her way back. 

The bowl filled with lukewarm water, bandages and ointment in hand, Chloe settles in front of him, kneeling between his legs. He freezes for a moment before shrinking away a little. She dips a cotton ball into the water, takes his injured hand and proceeds to clean the dried, crusted blood while trying not to notice the intense goosebumps he is experiencing from her touch. 

She glances up briefly to meet his eyes and what she sees absolutely wrecks her. Lucifer is watching her with half-lidded eyes, the brown in his irises have blown to black, red painting his cheeks, burning his ears and neck. He looks…. Wrecked. Heat is already pooling between her legs, a deep throb accompanying the heat and her face is burning. She breaks the gaze, looking at the wound instead, anything away from his face. 

She isn’t ready for this, she isn’t ready for this, she is NOT ready for this… 

The mantra being chanted in her mind, she carefully cleans the blood. She then takes a small amount of ointment in her middle finger, smearing the antiseptic over the wound. He hisses at the pressure, flinching away from her but she tightens her hold on his keeping him in place. 

“Sorry, should’ve warned you.” She murmurs as she smears more ointment on his skin; she takes the gauze and secures them with tape. 

“It’s alright.” His voice is throaty, almost a rasp and the deep rumble sends electric jolts to her nerves. 

She can’t do this, she can’t do this, she can’t do this! 

She wants him. She needs him.

She isn’t ready, she isn’t ready at all.

She is more than ready. 

But she can’t do this! 

Chloe clears her throat, “Done.” she says but can’t bring herself to leave his hand, her fingers still lingering to his skin. She should move her hand but she can’t. An unspoken, heavy tension sparks between them that she knows he is feeling too. It isn’t the first moment they have had in their partnership and this isn’t gonna be the last but this right here is different. Before, no matter how many moments they had, there was an invisible wall, a boundary between them, something that she could never encroach. She has always thought he hides behind the metaphors only to find out that those weren’t metaphors at all. Either way, this is the most vulnerable they have ever been with each other. The wall that has checked them from getting closer has crumbled leaving both bare and needy. 

Lucifer pulls away abruptly, standing and pushing past her to give both of them their much needed space. She is both grateful and annoyed at his absence. He stands near the threshold about eight feet away from Chloe.

“So, it seems like we are done, Detective!” He says briskly, flashing the fakest grin she has ever seen on his face and pointing at his bandaged hand. 

Well then, if he is going to pretend as if the moment never happened then who is she to break the illusion? 

“Ah, yes.” She rises from her position, nodding vehemently and desperately hiding the blush currently painting her face. 

“Detective?”

“You should come to the precinct.” She blurts out and Lucifer frowns. 

“Pre...cinct?” He says slowly, as if trying out the word for the first time. “Why? What would I do there?” 

Be my partner, annoy me, make me smile, eat cool ranch puffs, steal Dan’s pudding… She wants to say. There are so many memories she has of Lucifer in the precinct. His jovial ‘Detective’ with the offering of her perfect coffee, his banter with Ella and pulling Dan’s leg, their stakeouts, their bouncing theories to each other, so many things. And he doesn’t remember. Not a single one of them. Three days after his kidnapping and his most cherished memories are swept away from him. 

Tears burn behind her eyes as she blinks them back. “You are a civilian consultant for the LAPD, Lucifer. You are… my partner.” 

He looks at her with a deer caught in the headlight expression and she is about to think she has broken him when a small, shy smile appears on his face. “I am your partner?” 

Damn him to break her heart so many times like this. “Yeah.” She chokes out, “And I think going to a familiar place may help you in jogging your memories? I just want to check all options.” 

He gives it a thought before shrugging, “Well, there’s no harm in trying out. It can’t be worse, right?” 

“No, no it can’t be. So, I am already needed in the field, Dan can only cover for me for an hour but I want you to come with me. I will- yeah, I will wait in the car. You get ready.” Without waiting for his reply she promptly walks past him out of the bathroom and the bedroom and then to the elevator. 

She needs a moment away from him. For her own sanity… amongst other things. 

↟ནઢ

The car ride to the precinct is relatively silent, both of them lost in their own bubble of thoughts. Chloe steals a glance or two towards the Devil riding shotgun… literally. His expression is unreadable, the blank mask firmly in place giving her no clue what he might be thinking. Chloe has always taken pride in being a very good detective, but whenever it comes to Lucifer, her skills fail her. Even back when she thought he was a delusional, eccentric club owner, it was near impossible to decipher his thoughts and Chloe mostly ignored them, pushing them in the back of her mind as some ‘delusional rambling’. Now though, when she knows that every thought has a dire celestial implication, how can she ignore any of them? 

It’s partly her fault really. Had she not been so stubborn in not humoring him, had she just been a little open to him…. Well, she has always complained about Lucifer not opening up to her and initially it was because he had always been talking in metaphors but then… then, he closed off completely. 

He never did say how he managed to get her antidote. 

He never did say why he wanted to kill himself in front of the sniper - ‘But you can’t understand, Detective. And you never will.’ 

He has spoken the truth then because she didn’t understand, didn’t even try to, pushing him away just because he wasn’t cut out for her own god-damned logic. ( God is real!) In her adamance, she has never been there for him. Ever. She had failed him as a partner, she realises with a pang. 

Her heart sinks with yet another realisation that she may never get answers to these questions. With Lucifer’s fading memory, he might not even remember her, least of all these incidents. 

Why he bleeds in spite of being an angel, Why did he-

“Lucifer?” She asks quietly, her gaze stubbornly trained on the road ahead. 

Lucifer turns towards her, “Yes, Detective?” 

“Why did you rebel? Why did you fall?” She dares to ask the million dollar question because why did he? Why did the benevolent God turn against his own son and deliver a punishment that not even the damndest deserves. What wrong could Lucifer have done to ensure such wrath?

He keeps quiet for a few moments, his expression distant yet bewildered as if he couldn’t quite believe this is happening. “Nobody has ever asked me that before.” He murmurs, barely audible. 

And Chloe just can’t believe it. If anything Lucifer has always been an oversharer, so that one incident which turned his whole life - nobody even asked why he did what he did? How is that even possible? “What? Nobody? What about your siblings or the authors of the Bible?” Her question feels stupid and she expects a chuckle or an eyeroll in return. What she doesn’t expect is his pained, soft sigh as he thumps his head against the headrest, closing his eyes. 

“No, Detective. My siblings are like mindless robots. They will do whatever Dad tells them to do. Their feelings on the matter are inconsequential and so they have stopped feeling, stopped thinking and stopped questioning. They don’t know why I rebelled. Only that I went against Dad and it’s God’s words against mine. So, here I am. The evil slanderer.” 

But that’s…. What- Even in court the guilty’s side is taken into account. What Lucifer just explained is not justice. It’s more like dictatorship. 

“But they are your brothers and sisters!” She insists. She might be the only child in her family but she knows for a fact that sibling bond goes way deeper than anyone can imagine. She has seen it in hundreds of her own cases - brothers standing up for sisters and protecting each other, loving each other. 

“Doesn’t matter. God is their only commander.” He has his eyes closed but she can see the pain rolling off him in waves. He might never show that, hide behind his cheery attitude but that pain is always there, is a part of him. He hasn’t moved on from his Fall, has simply learnt to carry the pain with him. 

She doesn’t want to hurt him but, “Do you remember why you did it?” 

“I do.”

She waits for a few minutes, not wanting to prod him for answers but when it becomes clear that he won’t be forthcoming, she sighs. “It’s okay, Lucifer. Thank you for telling me that. If you want to talk about it, I am here.” 

To this, he snaps open his eyes, a frown marred on his face. “I didn’t answer you. Why are you thanking me?” 

“Lucifer,” explaining this to someone who has literally been isolated for eons just for wanting something for himself is going to be hard. “I have never forced you into anything and I am not going to do it now. It’s completely alright if you don’t want to talk about it. I am glad that you at least shared a small bit with me. For that, thank you.” 

He hums but his expressions remain disbelieving. Baby steps, though. 

A particularly sharp turn, causes the car to jerk and beside her Lucifer hisses. Immediately, she turns. “Lucifer! Are you okay?” 

He is now bending forward, hunched on his knees and breathing heavily. “Yes” He grits out, “Fine.” 

She halts the car at the side of the road and then turns completely towards him. Her hands hover just inches from his forearms but she can’t bring herself to touch him, not when he is already in pain. “Lucifer.” 

He deflates, “It’s just… my wings.” 

Right, yes, Wings. Because he has those. Wings. He has wings, white and divine wings. Of course, because Lucifer is the Devil. Chloe shakes the thoughts out of her head. Another panic attack won’t do at all. “What happened to your wings?” The question sounds foreign to her own ears but… well, when in Rome. 

“I don’t.. Well, I don’t know. They are so sore.” 

“Sore? Why? What happened? Why didn’t you say something?” So many questions bubble up. The last she saw, his wings looked normal to her but maybe it was because he extracted those very quickly? 

“I don’t know...or rather remember, maybe. They are just sore or healing from whatever has been caused.” He shrugs a bit as if to check if he is comfortable or not when another tremor wracks his body. 

“Lucifer, I think you should get this checked. It’s not looking good to me.” 

“It’s healing, Detective. I can feel it. Sometimes divine healing makes the muscles sore and painful, that’s all. I am fine.” 

The internal battle inside Chloe finally ceases, as she gives in to the urge. Leaning over the central console, she takes his un-bandaged hand in hers; he startles a bit at the contact, looking at her quizzically but doesn’t pull away. 

She strokes her thumb at the back of his hand, feeling the soft skin and smiles at him. “Whatever is happening, we go through it together. As partners, yeah?”

He frowns, “Why are you being like this, Chloe?” 

“Like what?” 

“So supportive? Doesn’t my Devilness mean anything to you? I am losing memories and there might be a day I may not remember you at all. Why go through all of this trouble for a lost cause?” His eyes are glassy but his expression is blank, waiting. For her. Waiting to make sense of all of this. 

“Because you are not a lost cause. You are worth it. And I guess, I have faith.” 

His mouth turns bitter, “On Him?” 

“On you. ” She gently corrects, tightening her hold in his. “There is nothing that my Lucifer can’t overcome.” She shrugs nonchalantly. 

“I will forget you.” 

“Never.” She says sharply. 

“Chloe, I-”

“You might forget me here,” She taps his temple, a universal gesture of the brain and then promptly places her palm on his heart, her other hand still holding his hand, stroking the skin soothingly. “But I know you can never forget me here.”

He flashes a watery chuckle, trying to lighten the heaviness that has settled into the car. “Well, we’ll see about that, Detective.” 

“We will find each other.” She withdraws her hands, starting the engine again. “We always do.” 

The car rumbles to life as both of them make their way to the precinct. 

Chapter Text

↟ནઢ

With every passing moment, Chloe realises that maybe bringing Lucifer to the precinct without any prior notification or warning might have been a bad idea. Lucifer, since the beginning of their partnership, has always been the charmer of the precinct. Everybody loves him, adores him and his extended disappearance apparently has affected everyone more than what she has thought.  That means, from the moment they step out of the elevator and into the bullpen, people have surrounded them like a swarm of bees, asking about Lucifer’s whereabouts and normally it’s fine - it’s cute and assuring that people care about him so much if Lucifer wasn’t being so antsy. 

He doesn’t show, of course. An easy smile here and a flirty purr there and people are mesmerised by his presence. But Chloe can see it, the tension held in his stiff shoulders or the occasional flexing of his fingers or the frequent fiddling of his cufflinks. He is agitated and when someone pats on his back, he can’t help but flinch at the contact. 

“Sorry, should’ve warned you.” Chloe mutters as they make their way through the crowd. Gosh, her desk is only six feet away. 

“It’s not your fault, Detective. I tend to have these effects on mortals.” The way he says it, so dismissively, alarms Chloe. He isn’t looking at her now but studying the picture frame of her and Trixie on the desk but she can feel the anxiety rolling off of him. And now that she thinks of it, he hasn’t once mentioned any name of the officers wishing him health back there. 

“You don’t remember them, do you?” She asks even after knowing the answer. 

Lucifer shrugs, going for nonchalance and missing the mark completely. “Well, what did you expect? I didn’t remember I was a consultant for the corrupt LAPD until this morning. New normal, I suppose.” 

“Lucifer, I am so sorry I-”

“Lucifer!!!” An excited squeal interrupts her as a tiny brunette barrels toward the Devil, promptly attaching herself to his body, giving Chloe a distinct impression of a koala bear. “I am so glad you are okay, buddy!” Her voice comes out muffled from his suit as she presses herself closer to his body. 

Lucifer, predictably, freezes completely at the contact, sending thousands of panicky glances towards Chloe, silently asking for help. Well, no way, is she interrupting such an adorable scene in front of her, Chloe thinks as she presses her lips together to avoid an embarrassing cackle escaping her mouth. When Lucifer gets that he is on his own, he squirms out of Ella’s grasp, who lets go of her immediately. “Uh… thank you, my dear.” 

Ella shoots an alarmed glance towards Chloe, who is as clueless and scared as her. “Buddy, don’t tell me you forgot me?! I mean, sure Chloe told me you were having certain memory issues but-”

“I assure you, darling, that I remember you...or at least your presence and ridiculous bear hugs. It’s just that your name is a bit.. eh, muddy for me.” He says. 

Something unbearably tight loosens in her chest. Lucifer may not remember Ella’s name but he remembers her. So, Lux - no, Daniel - no, other aspects of his life- no; Chloe - yes, Ella - yes, and Trixie - yes. This weird pattern of forgetting strikes a sense of unease through her. As of now, she hasn’t seen him forgetting any of his celestial history of abilities, just his vulnerability sitch, which, too, as per Lucifer has started after a few years on Earth. At least that’s what Chloe hopes. She can’t imagine him down there fighting the awful demons with a mortality problem. For some reason, her gut tells her that he hasn't forgotten any of his Hell memories as well. She can’t be sure unless she asks him but her gut instinct is pretty darn strong and if Chloe Decker is known for something, it’s her intuition. 

So, that leaves only one thing. It’s very plausible that Lucifer might only be forgetting his Earth memories. And she doesn’t know what to feel about that. There’s a lump stuck in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. To think. What will happen once he loses all of his memories here? Forgets her? Will he go back to Hell? Will she lose him forever? 

“Oh, just me then?” she startles as Dan’s voice cuts through her melancholic reverie. Her ex-husband is standing just beside her, coffee in his hand and a pale approximation of hurt on his face. She didn’t notice when he stood beside her but from the expressions on his face, she knows Dan is concerned about Lucifer. They had a rocky relationship but they cared for each other…. At least in their own twisted way, whether it might be Lucifer’s way of showing by stealing his pudding cups or Dan’s way of scowling at the Devil every two seconds. For a moment, Chloe considers dropping the bomb that Dan literally scowls at Satan with capital S. It would be fun to see him pale and shivering at the thought but… well, she has other things to worry about now. 

In front of her, said Devil sighs, annoyed. “Well clearly not, since I remember your douchey name from the morning, Daniel.”  

“But?” Dan prods, his expression utterly bemused at Lucifer. 

He sighs again, “ But I don’t have memories of you, yes.” And then his face grows thoughtful and as an afterthought he adds, “Perhaps for the best. Judging by your-” Lucifer makes a vague gesture at Dan, “delusional choice of attire, your memories would be quite hideous for me, thank you very much.” 

“Dick.”

“Douche”

Chloe groans when Ella laughs at them as she disappears back into the lab. She is dealing with children over here but that being said, it’s good to hear them banter like this. She doesn’t know how much time Lucifer has, they have with him but she always wants to see him happy. And seeing him right now, with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face and mirth twinkling in his eyes, she can’t help but smile at that. Who knew the Devil would be such a dork? Gosh, she loves him…

Wait, did she just-

“Detective Decker!” The cool, icy voice echoes around the bullpen just in time, as Marcus Pierce heads over them from his office. Oh mamma, this is not going to go well. Beside her, Dan shoots an apologetic glance, murmuring something about ‘couldn’t hold off for long’ and scurrying away from them and honestly, that makes sense. Pierce probably targeted Dan a lot since her unreasonable leave. She looks around to see some of the officers have stopped their work to observe the chaos that is going to unveil. Great, cherry on the top of this spectacular shit cake. 

Lucifer shuffles to stand next to her, his constant warmth at her side providing her a bit of comfort as Pierce looks at them with detached disappointment. “Detective Decker, I hope you know that this is your career that you are not taking seriously. This is the second time I am warning you.” 

“I was doing exactly what you asked me to do, Sir. Was going through leads here with my partner regarding Sophia Parkerson’s case.” From the corner of her eyes, she sees Lucifer throwing her a strange look and honestly, she should feel a bit guilty for lying like this, especially about her job but the Lieutenant wouldn’t understand the cosmic level of imbalance in her life nor the overwhelming urge to bring her partner along with the case. Lucifer has always been an asset to the LAPD and his uncanny perspective has helped crack a case, most of the time. Maybe having Lucifer now can help her with the case as well. 

“Yes, she was with me at my penthouse.” Lucifer says, not a lie, just an ambiguous statement that leads others to believe what they want to. Pierce yanks his gaze from her to Lucifer, studying him for a bit. Lucifer remains casual, his hand shoved in his pockets as a shark-like grin blossoms on his face. It’s so different from the soft, reverential look he gives her and looking at him, she knows it’s the Lord of Hell showing off his aura. 

“Ah, right. Chloe’s your partner.” Pierce nods and a spark of irritation flares at her chest. Excuse me? 

“Well, he’s mine, actually.” Too late, she realises how that would sound and adds, “Uh, Partner.” 

The Lieutenant waves her off, his attention focused on the Devil. “That’s what I said. You must be Lucifer.” 

“Morningstar. Pleasure.” Lucifer extends his hands towards her boss, hoping for a firm handshake but the latter shakes his head. 

“There was an investigation last year. We interviewed, what was it, 92 of your sexual partners?”

Lucifer narrows his eyes, “That sounds like me, yes.”

“I think I’ll refrain from physical contact if you don’t mind.” 

Seriously, what the heck? 

To this Lucifer chuckles and pulls his hand back to his pocket. “You don’t seem reckless.” Pierce goes on, ignorant of Chloe’s increasing annoyance. “Narcissistic, hedonistic, that I see-”

“Well, thank you very much.” 

“Not a compliment. Your file’s as long as my johnson.” He says and Chloe chokes on air. 

But Lucifer, being well.. Lucifer grasps the opportunity as his grin turns into something more seductive and daunting at the same time. “Oh, quick read then.” He glances pointedly at the other’s crotch while Chloe fights very hard to not turn into a tomato. 

“Hardly.”

“Well, I for one don’t need a file to ascertain you haven’t even had a snog in ages, have you?”  He raises his eyebrows as Pierce glares at him. 

“Accurate.” 

Seeing this is the time to break the tension, Chloe jumps in, “Okay! Let’s not do this here now.” And just like that the tension breaks.  Pierce steps back and holds up a file that miraculously she didn’t even notice until now. 

“Another body just dropped. Van Nuys, same MO. We are under a lot of pressure, Decker. Press is circling like a vulture and I want this case solved as soon as possible before the FBI takes it away.” And with this, he walks away leaving a flustered Chloe and a bewildered Lucifer behind. 

Lucifer recovers first. “Well, then.” He fixes his cufflinks and looks at Chloe. “Van Nuys.” 

↟ནઢ

Lucifer stays quiet for the entire ride to the crime scene and if it’s not disturbing, she doesn’t know what is. These days, it seems she has lost a part of Lucifer forever. He is more withdrawn, quiet and dare she say, spaced out. But today, Chloe has a sneaking suspicion that it’s more to give her the required space than his crisis. And it breaks her heart to see him censoring himself so much for her comfort. 

“You know you don’t have to do that.” She says quietly. 

“Do what?” He asks.

“Check yourself. You don’t need to do that. I can handle you.” 

“Hmm, clearly.” His disbelief is palpable. “Let me remind you of the anxiety attack this morning.” 

Chloe cycles a deep breath. He doesn’t understand, he is not human and he can’t know what it’s like to know about these things and he doesn’t understand a thing about feelings - it makes so much sense now - she needs to be patient with him. “Look, I can’t promise you that I won’t freak out. Because I will, I am freaking out, okay? But it doesn’t mean I want to put you in a cage for being, well, you. You can be yourself.” 

“Oh really? What part of me being myself will you accept?” 

She grips her steering tighter, “You know I didn’t mean like that.” 

“Then what did you mean, Detective?” He shifts slightly, turning to face her more clearly and a menacing glint dances in his eyes. Chloe swallows. “Please feel free to enlighten me. Do you want me to be the big bad Devil? The one who tortures millions of souls and demons down in Hell?”

“You retired.” 

“You can’t take the Hell out of me, my dear. And I am the Lord of Hell, Satan with capital S. Beelzebub, Old Scratch - oh, I like that name. Do you know one of my pet demons started calling me that, after I ripped one with my bare claws?” 

Chloe’s stomach turns, as nausea rolls. “C-claws?” 

“Oh yes. I might flash my devil face to you last night but I assure you it's a lot more than that.” Lucifer smiles and this smile doesn’t suit him. It’s not the genuine, soft smile he reserves for her but filled with a cruelty she has never seen on him. She can’t concentrate on the road, she can’t get that smile out of her mind and it’s wrong on so many levels. Something is wrong.

“Uh…you didn’t show your devil face.” She grits out, her knuckles white and Lucifer is really scaring her. Not in the way he thinks she is but she is worried about him. 

“I didn’t?” His confusion melts into a pained realization and then he laughs, hysterical. “You saw my wings, didn’t you? No wonder you say you aren’t afraid.” 

What does that mean? “Huh?” 

But he forges on, either not hearing her or deliberately ignoring her. She can’t understand why all of a sudden he is doing this, why he seems so mad at her. What has she done? 

“It’s all about the wings, isn’t it.” He says, mouth turned down in a grimace. “You think I am an angel and now it all makes sense. Why you didn’t run away or be scared of me. You haven’t even seen my ugly bits and you claim you know me. Well, boo-hoo, Detective, I am not what you think. I have a very monstrous side which is very much dominant, thank you. I basically invented torture. Think of the worst thing you can imagine being inflicted on someone and I have done a thousand times much worse. I innovate torture, you know. Skin someone and then feed the flesh to them, openly cutting out one’s limb and pouring acid on the wound, feeding coals and then burning them from inside-” 

Chloe stamps the break and the car screeches to a halt by the side of the road. She can’t do this. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

Lucifer shrugs, “Oh dear, is that too much for the mortal detective?” 

“Stop. Being. A. Jerk! You want to show me your worst side? Go ahead, show me then! Because whatever you are trying to do right now, it’s doing nothing except pissing me off. Do you think I will hate because of the torture you inflicted on the souls down there?! I know I should, but breaking news, I don’t! So just stop insulting my conscience and morals by throwing these things onto my face, you moron!” 

It’s satisfying to see the chagrined expression on his face, like he is properly chastised but oh, she is not done. Not by a long shot, alright. 

“I know what you are trying to do. You want to scare me away because you are afraid of the other shoe to drop but there is no other shoe, I promise you, Lucifer. You are stressed, freaking out-”

“I don’t freak out-”

“And being a stupid megalomaniac but the thing is you don’t get to do this to me. I am a person, not a thing to play with! I know that you inflicted torture and I know what that means because I can imagine Hell to a certain extent and I know it’s how you survived down there. But I also know it’s not you. I know you are the person who likes to steal Dan’s pudding or get my daughter 200 dollar dolls or pay her for loophole swear words. You are a manchild who clicks dick pics with Ella’s forensic camera and posts them at a rooster website, you love gummy bears and you love Cool ranch puffs and you pout like a four year old when the vending machine runs out. You complain about boring procedures but never once try to cross the limit and you are infuriating, immature and a billion years old idiotic dork but you are also sweet and loving and kind and passionate and funny and I know you care about me, about all your friends and we care about you too! “

“So, it’s not up to you to run away and decide for other people to run away from you!” 

Lucifer is looking at her with wide, hopeful eyes and a blank expression betrayed by the slight tremble in his jaw. Oh dear, she has broken him, hasn't she? But then, “So, if you are worried I will run once I see your Devil face, then just show me so I can prove you wrong and we can get to the damned crime scene!” 

His expression shutters closed and he looks away. “I apologize, Chloe. I shouldn’t have said all those things. My face.. It’s for punishment and I won’t expect you to endure that. Please just drive.” 

“You are doing it again.”’Chloe grounds out, clenching her jaw so hard in anger that she is afraid that she might crack a tooth. “You don’t get to decide that for me. Show me and let’s get it done with.” 

“Drive, Detective. I am not your dancing monkey.” He snaps. 

“And I am not a glasshouse, Lucifer! Show me or else I will drive you back to Lux and go to the scene alone.” 

“You won’t let this go, will you?” He glares at her, annoyed and she should be worried about pissing off Satan, but why the hell not when he is being this moronic? 

“Clearly not. You know me.” 

He makes a choked sound of anger from the back of his throat, half growl and half grunt and then she is not looking at Lucifer. A red, scarred visage replaces his face - slowly burns out, the hair is replaced with the same skin and his eyes are glowing - the fuck, glowing ?! - with most probably Hellfire. 

Her breaths come out shallow and adrenaline picking up, coaxing her to run and get away from this creature, the primal animal instinct threatening to kick out because holy shit! This is terrifying…. She is pretty sure she will pass out or scream or both but then she notices his nose. 

The same upturned and sharp number 7 shaped nose and it’s so similar to Lucifer’s nose - that she wanted to boop so many times, she can’t count - and then soon, all his features come out similar, achingly familiar. His almond shaped eyes, the pouty lips although it’s chapped and red and his eyebrow ridges, naked but similar. His face is rounder in this form, though the cheekbones are still sharp. His stubble is burnt out, yet, she can figure out the sharp chiselled jawline and then sees the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. 

That’s when she notices, he hasn't even breathed, his posture as still as a statue and he is scrutinising her every movement, every reaction. Chloe doesn’t look away and after finding the resemblance, honestly it doesn’t look that scary as well. Sure, it’s worse than a burnt victim but still he is Lucifer. His features are Lucifer and she can’t be scared of Lucifer. So, she takes a few deliberate breaths, feeling her heart calming down.

Lucifer blinks at her, his eyes dimming into that chocolate brown she loves so much, There you are. And then his face morphs back to his handsome, human-like British face. “Why did you have to endure that?” He rasps, his voice containing an echo of a growl - maybe his devil voice? Who the fuck knows? 

“Breaking news Satan,I am not running. Satisfied?”

“I..” He nods, dumbstruck.

“I have two questions though.” She exhales slowly. 

“Yes.” 

“One, is that how your face looks in Hell?” 

“Uh, not all the time. This face, as I said, is for punishment. Demons follow me better with this face.” 

Okay that makes sense, to a T. “Second, how did it happen?” 

“I burnt.” He shrugs. Like burning is not even a factor for him. “I fell into the Sulphur Lake and, well, came out as a barbequed Devil.” 

Tears prickle behind her eyes, how can he be so casual about himself? What kind of a father breaks his son so much that he feels himself to not be worth worrying about? “ Don’t. Don’t joke about it like it was nothing.” 

He sobers, “Apologies. Well, if it’s any consolation this happened a very long time ago. I don’t think much about this. It doesn’t hurt.” He shakes his head, his expression is a mixture of awe and bewilderment, like he can’t imagine someone seeing his Devil face and still caring about him. And he can’t. Because nobody has ever done that for him. Nobody has ever sided with the Devil. 

She will. 

“Good. I don’t want you to hurt anymore.” 

“Chloe.” He breathes in wonder and her heart feels too big for her chest. She needs to move on or she will cry. 

“Come on, let’s get moving.”With that she starts off the engine and reaches the crime scene five minutes late. 

The scene is simple but Ella, who arrived just a few minutes before, looks stressed. Lucifer holds out the crime tape for her as she crosses it; seems like some habits can never die. Once a gentleDevil always a gentleDevil, she supposes. The earlier revelation is still heavy on her mind, their conversation in the car was just a scratch on the surface and somehow she is able to pacify Lucifer without getting too freaked out herself. Small victories. At least, she is sane, yeah? She has seen first hand evidence of how suspects cower and curl into a tight ball after he flashes his face to them, a glimpse of Hell and they wet their pants. But Chloe has neither the reaction. Yes, of course she felt lightheaded, doozy and to some extent freaked out but the thought of going mad over that face, never. She wonders if it’s because she is strong willed or is there any other reason for that.

 She shakes those thoughts out of her head. It’s not the time to dwell on her personal feelings. It’s her job and duty time.  It’s the fourth body in three days and she hasn’t gotten a single promising lead to even begin to solve this case, no pattern, no murder weapon, no witnesses. Just the body and a hardened heart. How can death even be like this? 

Ella is praying for the poor soul - and yes, God and souls are very much real, Hell and Heaven exists, thank you very much - when Chloe and Lucifer stand by the body lying face down on the street. Ella looks up at them and carefully turns the body, his previous position chalked and marked. 

Both Lucifer and Chloe stifle a gasp. 

The man might pass as a doppelganger of Lucifer if not for his clean-shaven jaw and piercing Blue eyes. Being dead, he looks white as a sheet with blue mouth but Chloe guesses had he been alive, he would have the similar shade of skin as him. Unlike Lucifer, he wears blue jeans and a white dress shirt. His face is really similar to Lucifer and Chloe doesn’t like it, not one bit. And judging by the grimace painted on her partner’s face beside her, he is probably thinking the same. 

She doesn’t know what makes her do it, but she reaches out and squeezes his hands a bit. He smiles at her, grateful for the silent support and squeezes back. She turns her attention to Ella. 

“What have we got?” 

Ella sighs and stands, “Sorry bud, the resemblance is um..” She trails off, averting her gaze from Lucifer. 

“Don’t you worry, Miss Lopez. I can handle far worse than this. I assure you, I am fine.” 

The forensic scientist nods, “Danish Amin, age 35, born and brought up in Saudi but travelled to LA a decade back, still living on his work visa. Time of death, around six to eight am today and COD is well, nothing superficial but I am worried it’s the same thing as the other three.” 

“What other thing?” Lucifer asks, his tone dead serious and something lacing his voice. Chloe can’t figure out his tone. 

“Well, the other three bodies, Penny, Brandon and Sophia were all killed in the same way. Autopsy couldn’t find a single trace of drugs or anything but their hearts were solidified, hardened with not a single drop of blood in it.” Chloe relays. 

“Exactly, it’s as if someone just squeezed all the blood from his heart with bare hands. But it is scientifically impossible given there were no cuts in the body.” 

Lucifer stays silent as he crouches down in front of the body, bringing one hand to bring down to the man’s chest but not touching, just hovering a few inches above from the skin. Ella glances at her questioningly but Chloe just shrugs and lets him do whatever he is doing. Lucifer’s methods have always - well, most of the time - made a break in the case and she is at the end of her wits here. 

A few moments pass with him at the same position and just when she is about to interrupt, he stands with a grim frown and glances up. His frown deepens. With a frown on her own face she follows his gaze. 

He is staring at a crow, sitting on a telephone line. Well, more like a… raven, perhaps? She can’t really tell the difference. “What are you looking at?” 

“That raven… interesting.” He muses absentmindedly. And Chloe feels as incredulous as Ella looks. 

“That raven is interesting.” She parrots, “When you have a dead body in front of you.” That sobers him up and he looks down, flustered for a bit before he coughs and fiddles with the cufflinks. He looks almost nervous and that doesn’t sit well with Chloe. Something is wrong. 

His reaction to the entire thing is… weird. 

“Detective, a word?” He says but then without waiting for an answer he drags her by her elbows away from Ella and the body. When they are away from everyone’s earshot, he turns to her. “You need to tell me every detail of this case.” 

“Okay? But did you find something useful? I mean anything at all? I would literally take anything at this moment.” Hope brims in her chest, maybe bringing him was the best idea she has gotten lately. 

“This poor bloke’s soul was obliterated.” He says, all serious and grim and for a moment Chloe is tempted to laugh and ignore what he said with a label  of his typical Luciferness. But he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t show any signs that he is joking and that sobers her up. 

“What do you mean obliterated? Isn’t.. That normal?” 

He takes a deep breath, “No Detective. When a mortal dies his soul crosses the threshold of either the Silver City or my realm Hell. But this chap’s soul is erased from existence completely. No Hell, no Heaven, nada, zilch.” 

“Holy shit!” 

“Exactly.” 

Chloe narrows her eyes as a thought strikes, “Wait, but how do you know that?” 

“I can feel souls.” He shrugs like he is discussing weather like Chloe’s brain is not turning into scrambled eggs. 

“You can feel souls.” She repeats dumbly. How many abilities does Lucifer even have? 

“I can feel where they have gone and where they currently are. Since my connection to my kingdom - well, the former kingdom is stronger the feeling is more dominant if a soul is marked for the underworld and even if it isn’t, well I am still technically an angel.” 

“And this.. I can’t believe I am saying this, but this soul hasn’t gone anywhere.”

“No, I am afraid.”

“But how is this even possible? Like is it really even murder… is this some supernatural voodoo crap that I don’t know of?” Her heart thums in her chest as she scrambles for logic but logic has gone to a nice, permanent vacation, it seems. 

Lucifer raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, “Voodoo…crap?” 

She scoffs, “You know what I mean.” 

His mouth sets into a thin line as he contemplates his answer while Chloe stares at the distant body being bagged and moved in a gurney, Danish Amin, completely erased from existence. How does it feel to not exist? To just vanish into nothingness… That went dark, quickly. 

“I can’t be sure, honestly. It is weird for a soul to get obliterated until it’s been stabbed or slashed by Azrael’s blade. But in this case, it’s not even that given that the body is unharmed.” 

“Who or what is an Azrael’s blade?”

Lucifer waves a hand dismissively, “It’s my sister Azrael’s blade. The Angel of Death is no peach.” 

“Angel of Death is a chick?!” She is pretty sure her eyes are bulging out.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “Focusing on the wrong detail here, Detective. Point is it’s not Azrael's blade and I would know it if it was, trust me on that. I am sure it’s safely guarded by Ra-” He clenches his jaw for a second before speaking, “By Azrael and besides, Uriel and Azrael were pretty close at some point, he would guard the blade as well.” 

O…kay, then. “But if it’s not Azrael’s Blade then what is it?” 

“I am not sure. I am unaware of any other celestial objects that can do this and solidify one’s heart. I would have to ask Amenadiel, he would know that but I don’t know if he would even hear my prayer.” 

“He can hear your prayer?”

“Yes, if he is not frolicking on a cloud or wanking himself blind.” He grunts in annoyance. 

“But.. Amenadiel is on Earth. At least as far as I know.” 

Lucifer scoffs, “Why would he be on Earth…wait, how do you know him?” 

She barely manages to hide her flinch at that. He doesn’t remember her meeting his brother - who is totally an angel - and him staying on Earth. Her gut sinks and a lump grows in her throat. “It’s not important right now. But Linda has his number… I think. They seem pretty close.” 

He nods somewhat hesitantly. “Okay, you go back to the precinct to do whatever you do and I am going back to the club..Lux and check some of my resources.” 

“That’s for the best I think. I will keep in touch with you and anyways this is not something you would wanna do. We have to inform his family members, right? Come on, I will drop you at Lux.” She pointedly ignores the impersonal way of him describing his nightclub. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember it at all, but it still hurts. Her Lucifer loved Lux and always spoke about it with so much glee and fondness - his first establishment on his own, he was so proud. But this Lucifer doesn’t know the significance of Lux, yet.

She doesn’t let her feelings show. 

↟ནઢ

This is the toughest part of her career. Informing the family and friends and asking questions despite their grief. Chloe worries her lips between her teeth as the mid-aged woman cries and cries and cries in front of her. Informing Mrs. Zoya Amin wasn’t easy. At first she was in denial but with the crippling moments passing, with her sitting at the interrogation room of the LAPD, her resolve crumpled into despair as the truth finally settled in. 

“I am so sorry, Mrs. Amin. Please take your time.” She soothes, handing her a bottle of water which she refuses to take. 

“I just don’t know how this happened! Who would even do this to my Danish?” Mrs. Amin hiccups between sobs, “He wasn’t supposed to die today, he wasn’t even supposed to go to freaking Van Nuys!” 

“I am sorry.” She says again. The truth that Danish’s soul is non-existent now rankles within her, shakes her very core. Earlier when she hadn’t believed about Heaven and Hell, it didn’t matter to her about any soul. Now though… “I am really sorry to do this, Mrs. Amin but can you tell us what happened? Why did he come to Van Nuys or anything?”

“We were supposed to go to the court today. To file a separation period.” The woman sniffs, “We were having marital problems and we decided to end it rather than stretching and we had an ugly fight yesterday too. He was very upset and went out for some drinks, I don’t know exactly. But he returned home last night! We slept in separate rooms but I know he was there last night!” She sobs, “But when I woke up, he was acting weird as if he wasn’t really there, like he was just functioning without his mind. I asked him if he was alright but it’s as if he didn’t even hear me. And then, he left the house. Hours before our court visit and now… he is dead.” She breaks down. 

Chloe’s mind gears as she takes in the information. This does sound like some weird magic or spell acting on Danish. Does magic even exist? “I apologize for doing this ma’am, but can you tell me what you were doing this morning?” 

“I was dropping my kid off at school.”

“Okay we need to corroborate that-”

The door flies open as Pierce pokes his head inside, “Decker, my office. Now.” 

And when Chloe finds herself standing in the office and Pierce giving her the news of how this case has been handed to the FBI, it doesn't really come as a surprise but it also terrifies her. If this case is really supernatural then it’s out of the FBI's league as well. But she can’t really argue with her boss without any solid argument and the truth is she doesn’t have any evidence to prove that she can even solve this case. Lucifer is helpful but with his memory problems, she isn’t sure if he would be 100% forthcoming - and the thought itself is painful enough to stab her chest. So she agrees with the Lieutenant, hands over the files and paperwork. With the case gone off, she flees to Lucifer’s penthouse feeling crazy and exhausted and hungry. But she needs to talk to Lucifer and know what the hell is going on and come up with a plan for a side, unofficial investigation. 

But when the elevator door opens, Chloe believes that finally she has gone mad or delusional or even both. Because standing in front of her, at the bar isn’t just Lucifer, but two Lucifers. Both facing each other like a mirror. 

“ What the fucking hell?!!!” 

Chapter Text

↟ནઢ

“Lucifer, what…?” 

Chloe can’t finish the question, her thoughts jumbled. For a moment everything slows down, the hushed, suffocating silence pressing down as even her shallow breaths sound as loudly as an explosive. The rhythmic ticking of the clock at the far end of the penthouse wall matches her heartbeat. Everything is slow, slower than normal. The two men standing in front of her are still as statues facing each other, like the two kings - Black and white - on the chessboard, stiff and waiting for the gamer to begin the game and she feels like a spectator standing outside the periphery of the chess-board, watching the scene unfolding. 

Someone is saying something but the words don’t reach her ears through the foggy wool of discombobulation and it takes her time to even notice that she is the one speaking. One of the men eyes her, fringes of worry peeking out of the mask of blankness and she feels weightless. Her mind is blank but thoughts are going overdrive and everything is breaking down. 

“Detective, you alright?” Someone shouts and the illusion breaks. Time moves faster and the lifeless tapestry of blankness she painted for a few seconds is snatched away like a rug under her feet and the chains of reality grasps at her, grounding her to this overwhelming vision of two Lucifers. 

Unable to piece together two coherent words, she nods shakily and Lucifer, the one standing behind the bar, sighs in relief. Her legs feel like jelly, wobbling but she can’t move, not one bit. The other… Lucifer completely ignores her presence, his entire attention on the one standing in front of him. And now that the initial, detached shock fades, her detective instinct kicks in as she takes in the scene properly. 

The doppelganger wears a black, full-sleeved, leather suit, hugging his body like a second skin. The front of his torso is covered with a v-shaped black…scaled? Breastplate and Plackart look like they are made from scales of snakes or something else. Either way, it looks heavy and resistant to any and all attacks. His biceps and forearms are protected by a Rerebrace and Verbrace made of silver. His right Rerebrace extends up to his right shoulder, covering it up and supporting it almost like a sling. While he doesn’t wear any gauntlet, his fingers and palms are protected by a sheen silver net. He wears black leather trousers and knee-high leather boots. Chloe eyes the man, the warrior, dubiously and inevitably her gaze lands on his waist where a long, medieval sword is sheathed. He looks exactly like Lucifer, the stubble and the chiseled jaw identical. Except for his hair and eyes. While Lucifer has always made a point of straightening his hair and fixing the locks with a ridiculous amount of gel, this man-angel’s? - hair is a mess of tangled, unruly dark curls falling on his forehead. It’s adorable to some extent and knowing that Lucifer has the same curls in his vulnerable moments, Chloe’s heart tugs painfully. Another point, she notes dutifully, is their eye color. While Lucifer has a warm, mahogany gaze, this man’s eyes are complete black pools of darkness and danger. The coldness he is radiating chills her to the bones and she takes an involuntary step back. 

Calling this man in black as trouble won’t be far-fetched, Chloe thinks faintly. 

“Detective,” Lucifer calls and her gaze snaps to him. He isn’t looking at her, his eyes are fixed at the doppelganger with an intensity that can burn deep holes but his voice is directed at her, tone somehow softer than his gaze. “I suppose it’s time for a little introduction. Detective, meet Michael, my twin. Michael, Detective.” 

“Your… twin.” Chloe parrots, eyes narrowing. He’s never once mentioned having a twin and said twin is standing here…. Wait a minute! “Hang on, Michael as in the…”

“Yes, yes.” Lucifer scoffs, “The archangel Saint Michael. All in flesh, the prick.” Chloe’s jaw hangs open as she looks at the twins. Michael, for his part, shifts his glance at her lackadaisically and goes back to ignoring her. Annoyance sparks inside her. 

“Well, it’s kind of you to show our admittedly handsome face after all these millennia and remind me that I had a twin once upon a time but now you can sod off quite well, Michael,” Lucifer states, nonchalance dripping from his voice, expressing bemusement and heavy disinterest as he shoves his hands into his pockets, walking towards her only to stand in between Chloe and Michael. Oh. He is creating a buffer, protecting her, Chloe realizes. 

And seems like Michael realizes the same thing because he scoffs, annoyed and equally bemused. “Don’t you worry, Lucifer.” He spats his name like an insult, “I won’t harm your little pet. You can play with her all you like, I don’t give a flying fuck. I am not here for her.” 

Chloe is about to retort for having called a ‘pet’ but Lucifer beats her to it, wedging himself even more between the two of them. “Oh? Color me bored then. And she is not a pet. Watch your tongue.  I am neither interested nor in the mood to listen to your voice, mmkay? Toodles.” 

“Funny, cuz we have the same voice… which is unfortunate but we all know how much of a narcissist you are, aren’t you. And I assure you, Satan, I have the least interest in talking to you but I suppose duty calls.” Michael drawls, shrugging one shoulder casually. 

Lucifer laughs but it’s bitter and humorless. Standing behind him, Chloe can see how tense his shoulder lines are and how very slightly he is trembling. Lucifer may act nonchalantly but he is not unaffected by this meeting. Michael is his twin and he hasn’t seen him for millennia, not after his Fall, she assumes. She tries to imagine how it would be to meet a sibling after infinite years, letting the resentment and anger grow and grow and grow…. She can’t imagine it. She also can’t imagine what Lucifer is feeling at the moment. He is tense, stressed, and maybe hurt but she knows that’s not all of it. She feels an overwhelming urge to reach out and soothe his pain away but squashes it down. Right now, Lucifer is handling himself as a king and any kind of touch would be unwelcomed, she supposes. Instead, she clenches her fist at the sides. 

“And what does the duty entail, eh? What did old Daddy tell his lackey to do this time?” 

Ouch, the insult stings even if it’s not directed at her and she can only guess Michael’s reaction to this. Chloe is almost impressed and definitely relieved when Michael doesn’t succumb to his rage and smites them. He remains stoic, the only signs of his anger being the clenching of his jaws and the tightening of his grip on the hilt of his sword. 

“I won’t tell you that because it’s only known to family, which you absolutely are not. Anyways, what I will tell you is that you have to do a chore for the host. It’s not a deal, nor a favor we are asking. We are superior to you and we don’t do favors. So you will do what we are asking and you will do it without any questions asked.”

Okay, Chloe might not know what Lucifer is thinking but she definitely knows this won’t incite a positive reaction from the original rebel. And to prove her point just in time, he cackles. Loud, maniacal, and angry. The sound, itself, is so inhuman and demonic that the hair stands on her neck and her brain urges her to take a step back and hopefully run to the elevator and never come back. 

He is the Devil, run. He is the Devil, run. He is the Devil, run. Her mind chants and yes, it would be so easy to run away and hide in her sanctuary and never look at this celestial craziness again; to pretend that everything is ever the same. 

She doesn’t run. Taking a step forward, Chloe gently places her palm on his shoulder. She isn’t sure if she’s done the right thing given Lucifer is wound up like a live wire beneath her hand, muscles tight and trembling but her touch calms him down a bit and he relaxes infinitesimally, so she takes it as a win.

 Throwing a grateful look over his shoulders, Lucifer focuses his attention on the other twin again; this time the faked nonchalance evaporating like Methanol and the anger simmering beneath exposed and laid bare. “No.” He says, clear and enunciated.

“No?” Michael, who is very clearly a dick, asks with nothing but raised eyebrows as if he has just asked Lucifer to pass the salt and he refuses. 

“Are you having hearing troubles? Because if so then maybe I can look for an otolaryngologist. Clearly, your slavery would be in danger if you can’t hear properly.” Chloe can’t see Lucifer’s face but she can hear the smirk in his tone, the same, edgy cruel hardness he shows to the suspects they chase every day. 

This time Michael is clearly rattled, “Cease this nonsense, Lucifer.” He bellows. 

“It’s you who started it-” 

Another flap of the wings disturbs the serene environment of the ping pong purgatory of insults and the three of them startle by the presence of yet another angel by Michael’s side. Chloe inches her hand towards the holster secured into the waist, slowly reaching for the service weapon - of course, they can’t be harmed by mortal bullets but those can provide a pretty distraction, if necessary - while Lucifer presses his back more firmly to her front, shielding her away from his siblings. 

From what she can peep from behind a protective archangel, the other angel is not a warrior. Because, unlike Michael, this one wears a plain blue robe adorned by simple gems and complemented with a silver waistband and wrist gauntlet. His shaggy blonde hair is straight, reaching to his shoulders as he runs a hand through them and watches them with piercing green eyes. He is clean-shaven that complements his charms with a chiseled jaw and plump lips. Holy shit, do all angels look this good? 

“Hey bro!” He calls out and Lucifer cringes. 

“Ugh, not this again. What on earth are you doing here, you wanker? And don’t call me ‘bro.’” He calls out and the other angel jumps in glee. She almost rolls her eyes at his antiques but thinks better of it at the last moment. Although, Ella would be overjoyed to meet someone just like her. 

“Aww Luce! But I like calling you bro, man. You are my brother, aren’t ya?” He says but Lucifer scoffs.

“Not for a very, very long time, Raphael.” He growls and the other angel looks properly chastised, averting his gaze away from the Devil. Now, Chloe gets Lucifer’s aversion to Ella’s nickname of ‘Luce’. Clearly, it reminds him of his siblings and oh boy, he doesn’t like them at all.  

“Cease this banter, immediately,” Michael commands, clearly annoyed and impatient. “Raph, what are you doing here?” He asks. 

Raphael shrugs, apparently unaffected by the heavy atmosphere. “I wanted to come with ya. Carry out Dad’s last or-”

“Raphael,” Michael warns grimly and he immediately snaps his mouth shut. But the damage has been done because Lucifer straightens.

“Dad’s last what?” He asks, taking half a step forward. 

“Nothing you need to be concerned about.” Michael dismisses but Raphael just shakes his head and grabs the other’s wrist. 

“I think we should tell him, Mikey.” He says, “He deserves to know.” 

The twin scoffs, wrenching free of Raphael’s grip, “So, he can plot against our family again? Hit us when he thinks we are vulnerable. He is a serpent, Raph. We can never trust him.” 

Lucifer flinches. And Chloe’s temper flares like lava but before she can give the dick a piece of her mind, he murmurs, “Detective, don’t.” His voice is barely audible but she hears it. “You don’t know my siblings, they will not tolerate your presence and I don’t want you to get smote. Please, keep quiet, I will handle this.” 

“But-”

“Chloe, please.” 

She sighs and swallows her anger back. Lucifer is right; his siblings are massive dicks and unpredictable and it’s like walking the land with minefields in it; she needs to tread carefully and anger might not be the best reaction at the moment. She needs to trust Lucifer in this. 

Satisfied that Chloe will do what he said, he turns his gaze to them. Lucifer whistles, “I am still here, you know?” 

“Luce, we have news for you,” Raphael says.

“Raph, don’t.” Michael steps forward. 

“But he is family too!”

“He is not. What he is, is an abomination!” Michael shouts. 

“Mike, that’s not fair!”

“He is the reason everything is happening!”

“We can’t be sure of that, Mike! We don’t know that!” 

“He is a killer, Raph!” 

“He didn’t have a choice-” 

But apparently, that’s Lucifer’s limit too because, in a flash of a second, he abandons his position as Chloe’s guard and throttles Michael by his collar. In the meantime, Chloe’s mind goes dizzy. What…what did they mean when they said Lucifer is a killer? She can’t… can’t think anything past that. Surely, they are lying. There is no way that Lucifer would kill someone and yes, he tortured souls back in Hell but souls are already dead, right? Yes, of course, that must be it. They are lying and Lucifer, who doesn’t lie, will confirm the same. 

Lucifer, on the other hand, looks absolutely pissed, his eyes burning with Hellfire and mouth turned in a snarl. “Say that again, Mikey, and I will kill you, this time.” 

Michael snarls back but doesn’t even try to free himself from Lucifer’s grasp as if he is allowing himself to be held like that. “I am sure you will, brother. That’s what you are good at. Fratricide.” 

“Mike, Luce…just calm down!” Raphael tries, his panicked gaze bouncing between the two brothers, and Chloe’s heart hammers so loudly that she can hear it like a ticking bomb. The two of them ignore Raphael completely. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Lucifer growls. 

“It means that you are a killer, Lucifer. You killed Uriel, nay, obliterated him with Azrael’s blade.” 

Chloe forgets to breathe.

A series of complex emotions pass through his face as his grip on Michael falters before it settles on absolute, unadulterated fury. “You lie!” He bellows. 

“As usual, blaming and deflecting, drowning in pathetic denial. You can’t even own up to your own crimes, Lucifer. You are a killer, you killed your own brother and the entire Host was witness to this. And what did he even do? Follow up on a deal that you broke? And for that, he was erased from existence. You selfish, little shit-”

“ENOUGH!” Raphael roars, his hands lit with blue flames as it feels like the entire penthouse shakes with the effect, startling the twins into silence. It’s disorienting to see an angel so giddy with joy a moment ago turning into this dangerous nuclear bomb waiting to explode the other moment. “Both of you, step back! NOW!” He orders; after some terse moments, Lucifer finally lets go of Michael, taking a big step back but continuing to look at the twin with hateful eyes. 

Chloe doesn’t waste a moment as she barrels into Lucifer, wrapping her arms around his waist from the side, pulling him close, and offering him whatever comfort she can. He holds on just as tightly if not more, folding his arms around her shoulders. He deserves this comfort, even needs it. He is shaking and Chloe thinks it’s not just the anger but also hurt. He is hurting badly and there is nothing she can do to help him except to glare daggers at the two angels, who ignore her and her glares completely. Typical. 

“Geez Mikey, I warned you not to do that!” Raphael continues, glaring at Michael, his hands turning back to normal. “He doesn’t remember any of it! Pulling out memories without care can be harmful to the victim!” 

Lucifer stiffens. So does Chloe. “How do you know about his memory issues?” She asks her first question since their visit. 

Raphael glances at her, an undetectable emotion passing through his gaze. “Chloe Decker.” He acknowledges. 

Beside her, Lucifer scoffs, “Answer the Detective’s question, Raphael. How do you lot know about my memory issue?” 

Michael rolls his eyes but Raphael looks properly chagrined. Chloe knows that look, she has seen it in all the suspects who are found guilty. The puzzles click together and the result is terrifying. 

“Because you are the ones who are causing it, aren’t you?” She states, not a question. Pulling away from Lucifer’s embrace, she steps in front of him. Enough is enough. “You are making him forget his most cherished memories, you are the reason he is forgetting his friends!” And then, her eyes widen as another realization sinks in, “You both kidnapped him, didn’t you? Dumped him in the desert!” 

For the first time, Michael smirks, “I am getting why Lucifer is fascinated by you, Detective. You have quite the brain.”

“ Don’t call me that. Only Lucifer gets to call me Detective.” She snaps. 

“Okay, let’s just calm down-” Raphael starts but,

“Shut up!” all the three speak in complete unison. The angel snaps his mouth shut. 

“Why?” Lucifer growls from behind her and she can practically feel his menace rolling off him in waves. He steps by her side, hands clenched into fists, “What was the goal, huh? To make me lose my memories so that I can go back to that obedient angel dear old Dad wished I was and do his bidding? To remove the memories of my Fall and everything after that so I can go back to the Silver City and prance around like the naive being that I was, getting manipulated by the prick of our father?!” 

“Luce, I-”

“Quite presumptuous of you to think that you would even be allowed to step foot in Heaven, Lucifer. No. The goal was not to remove all your memories and neither do we want you back as Samael that you once were. You are no Samael, you will never be my twin or him again.” 

Lucifer flinches but Michael forges on. “The goal was - is - to make you forget Earth.” 

Lucifer blinks, stunned.

And her stomach drops to the floor. So, she has been right all along. Lucifer has been fading but not completely. He is forgetting just the memories on Earth but remembers everything before his vacation to Los Angeles. And knowing his life prior to this, she feels how cruel this really is. Lucifer’s life before Earth was filled with despair, hopelessness, and pain. He was lonely, hurt, and angry and she can’t possibly imagine there would be any single happy memory of him in Hell. Whereas, on Earth, he has friends, people who care about him dearly and he is - was - happy, struggling to learn their values and emotions and getting in touch with them too. He has grown into a better person in these three years, known himself better and this is the life he desires which is being ruthlessly snatched away from him without his consent. This is no better than rape. 

“What?” He says dumbfoundedly. 

“Yes. The universe is at threat and apparently, you’re the only one Father wants who can fix this but we can’t compromise billions of lives because of your stupid weakness and desires of Earth. They are shallow, selfish, and pathetic. We wanted to remove those things before we can use you as our resource.” Michael finishes his rant with a self-satisfied grin 

Use as a resource… Doesn’t anyone consider Lucifer as a person anymore? The way they are treating him at the moment… She clearly understands why he has so many self-worth issues. Lucifer has been conditioned to believe that his worth lies only in his usefulness. For this, the concept of loving or helping somebody unconditionally is so foreign to him because nobody has ever done that to him. Nobody has ever wanted him enough to see his worth as he is. He grants favors, fulfills desires but nobody has ever fulfilled his and she can now understand why he feels his own wishes are not worth fulfilling. And now, getting called a tool? … are they even his brothers? 

And the reason Michael presents is the dumbest one she has ever heard, her temper reaches its pinnacle, anger and hurt flowing through her veins and that does it. 

Two things happen at once. One, Lucifer shouts, “ That was your fucking reason?!” and two, she pulls her sidearm, emptying the entire clip all at once at Michael. Loud, simultaneous bangs cut through the air of the penthouse as he staggers back by the impacts. Distantly, she realizes what she has done might be considered blasphemy but she doesn’t fucking care. Her body is trembling with pent-up frustration and she is openly panting by the time she finishes shooting. 

A stilted silence falls over as the three angels gape at her with mixed reactions, Michael looks annoyed and partly pissed while Raphael is panicked and Lucifer is grinning. 

“Who the fuck are you to speak to Lucifer this way? He is not some tool that you can use, he is his own person, with his own thoughts, feelings, and emotions! You don’t get to snatch any of these things away from him, you moron! You come here bouncing insults at each other but the one line which could have actually mattered, a simple ‘Would you help us, Lucifer?’ goes unsaid, and instead, you force him to help you and on top of that insulting him when you are the asshole here. I don’t care that you are immortal or a fucking archangel but if you don’t change your attitude, I will find a way to kill you.” 

“Quite the sailor mouth you have there, Detective.” Lucifer breathes in her ears and despite the obvious glee in his voice, when she glances up at him, there’s awe and wonder written all over his face. He is awed that someone would even defend him against two idiotic assholes who don’t even consider him as their brother. Ignoring the ache in her heart, she pushes a smile on her face and grants him an eye roll. He beams for a moment. 

At first, nothing happens. But then Michael grins and it’s so like Lucifer, it’s kinda creepy. “Adorable that you think you can hurt us. Father has made you one of a kind, clearly.” 

“Don’t you dare speak to her this way!” Lucifer snaps but Chloe’s mind sticks at Michael’s tone. He says it like he knows something that she doesn’t. And it’s not a general ‘God made all of us’ kind of a tone but more cryptic yet definite. She feels like she is missing a few rather large pieces of a puzzle. 

Huh? “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

As her answer, she only gets a glance over and it’s unnerving. He doesn’t say anything though. 

“You will reverse this now, Michael. I am not joking when I say I am sick and tired of your petty games and manipulation. I will not help you. Fix your own damn mess and return my memories.” 

“Sorry Luce, but we can’t. It’s done. And it will only end once you have no recollection of anything on Earth.” Raphael looks down, guilty. 

Chloe gapes at them, the incredulity of the situation only emphasizes the cruelty which has been imbibed on Lucifer. They made this blunder and played with Lucifer’s life for absolutely nothing! And now he is suffering. 

“Have you lost your bloody marbles, both of you?! Or did being slaves of Heaven affect your intellect as well? You both have gone completely insane. FIX THIS!” He roars the end, his Devil face flashing out for a moment before he reins it in.

“You are the Devil, so let’s make a deal. You help us and in return, I will think about giving your memories back. What do you say, Satan?” The bastard smirks and Lucifer loses it. 

Chloe doesn’t get to do as much as blink before Lucifer is there in front of Michael. Super speed, her brain provides helpfully. He curls his fist on Michael’s collar and throws him towards the balcony. The other angel breaks through the glass windows and lands in a heap, where the rain of shattered crystals pours down his body. 

“Mikey!” Raphael shouts in alarm, as he rushes towards the angel. Lucifer is panting like crazy, eyes wild and red with fury and teeth bared in an animalistic snarl. He doesn’t take any step forward though, clearly waiting for his twin to get up. 

Michael, on the other hand, lets out a grunt and stands up on his own, blatantly refusing any assistance by Raphael. He brushes off the lingering glass pieces and throws a look of pure hatred at Lucifer. 

Chloe’s stomach churns. This isn’t gonna be good. 

“Still the same old Lucifer.” He hisses, “Anger and pride will be your downfall.” Michael cracks his fists and neck, assuming a fighting stance and that’s all the invitation the Devil needs. Lucifer barrels towards Michael, throwing punches and kicks but the warrior dodges off easily. 

Oh damn, oh damn, oh damn… Chloe is panicking. Two archangels are fighting in front of her and she doesn’t know what to do. She mourns the loss of her bullets wishing to shoot them more than anything. Will the Earth get blown away by their wrath? Oh no, what will happen to the universe? They are totally like nuclear bombs right? Can they explode? 

And Chloe what the fuck are you thinking?! They are nothing of that sort.

What if they are? 

Her panic breaks the limit when she catches the glance at Raphael who is literally bouncing in alarm and fear. This definitely can’t be good and she might not know the answer but clearly, Raphael does and at this point, she needs answers. She jogs towards Raphael, who is evidently giving the two angels a wide berth at the balcony. 

“Hey, you!”  Chloe shouts over the noise of punches and grunts, “Make them stop! They shouldn’t fight like this!” 

Raphael sputters, his eyes wide as he stares at Chloe. “Are you kidding me? Am not gonna interfere between the Demiurges. I will get obliterated, lady!” 

“Demi-what?” 

“De-mi-ur-ge.” He enunciates, “Two halves of the power vortex. Lady,  this isn’t the fight of Devil and Angel. Both of them are angry enough to burn down Earth and they both are equally potent.”

“I fucking know that! Hence the ‘make it stop’!” She thinks of banging the angel’s head on the floor or the nearest wall because at this moment she can’t think of anyone being dumber than he is. 

Meanwhile, Lucifer and Michael have unfurled their wings, the stark contrast of black and white mingling together as they collide. Michael is bruised, bloody and clearly nursing a broken arm but Lucifer doesn’t look much better himself. His left eye is swollen shut, blooming with a purplish hue, clearly on its way to a black eye. His lips are split, cheekbone and nose bleeding heavily and a small chunk of his hair missing from the front of his scalp and oozing blood from where it has been ripped out by Michael. His suit is in tatters. And Chloe thinks she spots a golden glow swirling in Lucifer’s eyes. What? 

Dammit! “Make it stop!” She yells at Raphael again.

“I can’t! They are nearing the demiurgic energy and if any external force stops them at this point, they will more likely to be set off and obliterate the entire plane of existence!!” 

“ What?!” 

“Yes! They are archangels, Lady. And that too the first pair and the strongest in Heaven… and Hell.”

“Looks to me they are fighting with only hands and wings.” 

“Demiurgic energy is like an aura, it isn’t visible to the human eye but I can see it whirling around them.” 

“So, we can’t make it stop?” She breathes past the chilling grip of fear that strangles her throat. 

“No,” Raphael replies, firm yet apologetic. 

Michael flings Lucifer halfway through the penthouse like a ragdoll and he crashes on the already destroyed coffee table and the ruins of manuscripts. His left-wing, crazy sharp, grazes the Italian leather of his couch, slicing it into two. 

Holy shit. 

These wings are just not wings, they are weapons! Lucifer’s right-wing sweeps away the television, shattering it, and lands just a few inches away from Chloe’s leg and she thanks someone above for keeping her leg intact. 

Lucifer grunts, “Now look what you have done!”He gestures wildly at the ruined couch and the other furniture but Michael looks nowhere near guilty. Instead, he unsheathes his sword just a bit as if to telegraph the outcome of this fight to Lucifer as a warning, 

“Yield now, Lucifer, and I will be merciful.” 

“Oh like the time you were merciful when you broke my wings twelve times and pushed me off heaven’s edge?” 

The stony-hardness on Michael doesn’t dissolve into a victorious smirk as Chloe expects but remains just that. Unreadable and unreachable when he finally whispers, “Exactly.” 

With a yell, Lucifer charges at Michael with renewed hostility while Chloe remains frozen to the spot, swallowing bile after bile down her throat yet not being able to look away. The Devil scratches, bites, punches in the air and there’s a kind of desperation in his movements like he can’t think strategically. Like he is acting on pure instinct and rage. The rage and betrayal of a brother being abandoned by his twin and a child being thrown out of his only home, ignored and beaten down for eons. She senses the hurt in his anger, the utter pain with which his eyes are glazed over, frantic and crazy. Lucifer is lashing out in whatever way he can and Chloe’s heart breaks as she blinks her stinging eyes. 

But unlike her, Michael isn’t so sympathetic. He is strategical, studying Lucifer’s erratic movement, going for defense until Lucifer wears down. Soon, Lucifer’s movements go sluggish with exhaustion and Michael strikes like a vice. Grabbing both of his wrists, Michael twists them. A horrible crunching sound accompanied by Lucifer’s agonized cry echoes at the penthouse and Chloe screams. 

“Lucifer!” Directing her gaze at Michael, she pleads, “ Stop, you’re hurting him! Please stop!”

And of course, her pleas remain unanswered but when she makes a move to stop them herself Raphael holds her back. He grabs at her shoulder with a firm and heavy grip while Chloe squirms to get away from his hold. 

“Let me go!” 

“Chloe, you wouldn’t want to interfere with them, trust me!” 

“Shut up and lemme go!” She twists again but Raphael won’t budge. She kicks at his shins with all her power and he lets a faint ‘rude’ but other than that he is as if a stone pillar. Chloe curses the chain of the most imaginative and vulgar slang she can think of. 

“Please, understand, Chloe Decker! We can’t kill a human according to Father’s will and if you interfere, you will die!” 

“Lucifer would never do that to me!” She insists because Lucifer won’t. She knows in her soul that he will do everything in his power to protect her and at this moment, she will do what she can to protect him. He is hurting and she just wants to hide him away from the world and his cruel siblings.

“We don’t know that!” 

She sees red. “ You don’t know that!” 

Their bicker is costing a lot of time because when Chloe looks at the fighting siblings and her heart drops when she sees that Michael has already twisted Lucifer’s arm by his back, holding them with one hand while the other is locked in a half Nelson choke. Lucifer wheezes, his face already going red due to the lack of oxygen while his wings flap wildly but Michael doesn’t release his grip. 

“Let him go!” She twists and shouts but Raphael is still fucking holding her and Michael pays her no heed. Lucifer glances at her, his eyes are panicked but they have that same veil of adoration he has reserved for her. Tears roll down her cheeks, “Please, let him go.” She wails again. 

Just when she thinks  Lucifer’s about to faint from the choke, Michael abruptly shoves him down the floor. He goes down with a grunt and some massive gulps of air. The twin quickly grabs at his Humerus bones and pulls. 

Lucifer yells.

Raphael shouts, “Mikey stop! Don’t do this to him!” and Chloe cries out. 

Michael doesn’t stop. He pulls and pulls until two audible cracks followed by crunches stop Lucifer’s yelling. He is delirious with pain, eyes unseeing and clouded and he doesn’t seem to be here. When Michael pulls back, Lucifer remains pliant on the floor, mouth opened and saliva dripping down the side as if he can’t even swallow. 

My wings are sore. 

He has said this morning and now, his own twin has broken them once again, recreating his Fall. The silence that befalls around them is heavy, stilted, and impenetrable. Chloe can’t utter a word while Raphael is too shocked to even break the ice. Only Michael’s heavy breaths pierce the silence like pins and needles. 

“I-I just-” Now, Michael stumbles for a response. As if, he doesn’t understand why he did what he did. As if, he was too angry to care for his brother’s pain and scream. He looks at Chloe, his expression for the first time since his visit is open and scared. Chloe feels nothing but hatred for that expression. She wants to throw Michael off the balcony but he is still standing on a very, very pale and delirious Lucifer and she just wants Michael as far away from him. Very quickly, averting his gaze from Chloe, Michael looks at Raphael…

And then, in a flash of black, he is gone.

And so is Lucifer. 

Raphael releases her and before she can even piece a word together, he shoots an apologetic smile at her, the bastard, “For what it's worth, I am sorry, Chloe Decker” And the next moment, he is gone too. 

Chloe looks around the penthouse, the smashed balcony, and the traces of blood and gore everywhere. She can still hear the crunch of his bones breaking and… and it… how can she even function after that? Lucifer is literally taken hostage by his two brothers after one of them has broken his wrists and wings. He needs to be rescued, he needs her. But she is shaking all over, her vision is spinning as the tears just won’t stop pouring out of her eyes and she can’t… she can’t. 

So, when the elevator door dings open, she can’t help but flinch at the sound, frantically moving to grab a broken splinter of wood from the floor, anything as a weapon but her eyes land on only Maze. 

She looks around the penthouse with wide, furious eyes and then at Chloe, the concern visible, “What the hell happened here, Decker?!” She hisses and that’s it. Chloe can’t take anymore.

Doubling down, she lets out all the bile of her throat, heaving as she paints Lucifer’s Italian marble with the puddle of her vomit. 

Chapter Text

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The vomiting doesn’t last long given that Chloe skipped her lunch this afternoon. But the after-effect is already making her more nauseous than she was. She sits on the bathroom floor of the penthouse, her head in her hands, swallowing convulsively as she tries to calm her rapidly beating heart down in order to not suffer a heart attack.  The tears that flow constantly from her eyes are more to do with the shock of what happened than her nausea. She can still feel her adrenaline pumping through the veins, blood roaring in her ears, even if the room seems to be tilting. Head rush. She guesses. 

It’s like crashing from a drug-high, and not in a good way. She feels lightheaded, dizzy, and her stomach hurts, and she can’t breathe without sobbing. She misses Trixie, she misses Lucifer, and she can’t do anything because she is just so tired. Fatigue surrounds her like a thick blanket, and she just wants to fall into it. She is sore, emotionally drained, and  it feels like she could sleep for a month and not wake up. 

She can’t remember the last time she had been so drained, and given that she is a cop, that is telling something, alright. Every blink is like washing her eyes with acid, it’s burning so much. She must have looked a sight if Maze appeared panicked while carrying her to the bathroom. The demon had been rubbing circles on her back as she had retched everything, hovering like a mother hen until Chloe had asked for some space. She just needs some time alone. 

Or maybe some time with Lucifer. 

Get it together, Decker. 

Lucifer is gone, his wings are broken, he is beaten to a pulp by his twin who also happens to be an archangel, and someone who can actively destroy the entire universe with the snap of his fingers. She can’t even believe she is having this monologue right now.  God, how is this her life? Lucifer is the Devil, and his relationship with his family - Heaven - is so complicated, his siblings hate him just as much as he hates them, and they are the ones who kidnapped Lucifer, and now making him forget his Earth memories… somehow with… magic? 

She dearly mourns the loss of normalcy from her life. But then again, when had her life ever been normal when it came to Lucifer? 

Get it fucking together, Decker! 

Is it just last night she got to know Hell, Heaven, Demons, God exist? And only this morning that she was ready to run away from Lucifer because this was all too much for a human to handle? And then this afternoon she saw Lucifer’s Devil face, which was - holy fucking terrifying - but it was just him. And now she saw this celestial clusterduck… She thinks she understands now why mortals aren’t allowed to know about the Divine. Their single family drama can be a catastrophe for the entire fucking universe. The entire day has been going on for ages , and she just wants to hit her pillow and stay right there for the rest of eternity. 

Eternity. Fuck, now this has an entirely different connotation, how she even supposed to handle all of these stuffs together? There is a constant throbbing pain behind her eyes. She rubs her temples tiredly, feeling like her brain might explode with this ache. Faintly, she realizes her lungs are burning as black spots dance across her vision. 

Oh.

She can’t breathe. 

She wants to call Maze from the living room, but the only sound that escapes her mouth is a broken whimper. With shaky legs, Chloe attempts to stand up, grabbing the side of the porcelain commode like her life depends on it. The attempt costs her a lot, her vision going dark for a moment before recovering. 

Just fucking get it together. 

She is openly panting, desperate to get some greedy gulps of air but her lungs are failing her. She just needs to… she needs to get Maze, have a plan of action, and rescue Lucifer. Yes, and then he will be here, and they can think of other problems then. She just needs to do that..

I need to breathe…

“Ma..” Her voice is nothing more than a rasp; her legs are buckling as she makes it to the doorway. Sweat breaks out on her brow, dripping to her eyes…

“Decker?” Maze is calling out from the living room. Yes, she just needs to answer her, and then… then, 

Maze’s face swims in front of her vision, but she can’t focus, “Decker, what’s happening? Talk to me!” Her voice pierces through the fog in her mind. 

“I think…” She gasps, “Am havin’ a panic…” 

With one step, her eyes roll back, and the darkness hits her as she crashes on the ground. 

__

Chloe ebbs between sleep and wakefulness. Her dreams are quite restless but she doesn’t remember them. It’s as if she is being torn by her conscious and subconscious, a fretful battle between her anxiety and exhaustion. Faintly, she feels the texture of warm silk against her skin, and a heavy weight around her body, comfortably grounding her. 

She hears voices… muffled and faint, but it’s as if she is underwater and everything is distant, disoriented and fragmented. She forces her mind to work, but it won’t budge. She tries to open her eyes but they are stuck together, sleep weighing down on her like a heavy boulder. Her mouth feels bitter, tongue stuck at the roof of her mouth. It’s disgusting. Her throat feels like rubbing against dry sandpaper; it hurts to swallow her spit. 

She must have made some noise because a cool hand rests on her forehead. It’s nice, the coolness against her hot skin. She doesn’t open her eyes but a straw pushes open her lips, and in an instinct she pulls. Cold water fills her mouth like a wave of relief. She is greedy enough to gulp some more before the straw is withdrawn. 

“Slowly. You will choke yourself.” 

That voice… she knows that voice, it’s very familiar and yet she can’t quite guess… 

Some detective you are. 

As if sensing her distress, the hand on her forehead moves soothingly to her hair, caressing it. “ Ssh, it’s okay. You are safe. Sleep, Chloe, you need it.” 

The pull of oblivion is strong and this time Chloe lets it pull her, embracing the darkness eagerly, and soon she no longer knows anything. 

___

Chloe is at a beach. No, not any beach. It’s their beach. A sense of calmness washes over her as she gazes out at the ocean, taking in the massive blueness as it mingles together with the sky at the distant horizon. It’s peaceful, and it’s exactly what she needs right now. 

A presence stands beside her. Chloe knows exactly who the presence is. Turning her head, she sees him. Wearing the impeccable blue suit, a small smile turning his mouth upwards as he shifts his gaze from the ocean to her face. His eyes light up the way they do every time he sees her, and that warms her heart. 

She doesn’t know why she is doing it. But for this one time, she doesn’t feel any inhibition with him. Lucifer is standing right beside her, his presence warm and comforting, and she feels deeply for him. 

She remembers the last time they were here. The feel of his soft lips against hers, the hesitant hope in his eyes and the warmth of his embrace - they are something she can never forget. Things have gone downhill since then. He has pulled away from her, and she has closed up. The friendship which once had been too deep is now fraying at the edges with insecurity and hesitance. She doesn’t like that. She doesn’t like that one bit. 

He is Lucifer, and she doesn’t want to pretend with him anymore. Isn’t pretending a form of lying? And Lucifer hates liars. So, she won’t lie anymore. Not to him, and not to herself. 

And what’s the worst thing that can happen? It’s not like she is not already suffering with all the pretenses and boundaries in their partnership. Willing her heart to be brave, she takes his hand in hers, intertwining their pinkies together. She doesn’t dare to look at him, keeping her face trained on the ocean, until she feels his thumb swiping against the back of her hand in a loving gesture. When she looks at him, he is smiling, a faint blush painting his cheeks and ears red. 

“I like it when you blush.” She blurts out. Any other day, Chloe would feel mortification but not today. Now, she only feels brave. 

“You do, don’t you?” He murmurs softly, turning to face her. Chloe smiles a little at that, admiring the look on his face. She has never seen him so open, so vulnerable before her. 

“I love your smile.” He confesses, almost drunkenly. An innocent, boyish smile lighting up his face, and God, she loves him. “I love making you smile.” 

“I love how you are the only one who can do that.” she says. 

He doesn’t say anything, just looking at her like she is his universe. This is perfect. They are perfect like this. 

“I think I am in love with you.” Chloe confesses, baring her heart out for him. Pulling out desires is his forte, but for her Lucifer is her desire. 

His smile freezes. 

Her heart drops. 

This moment had been so perfect. 

It’s unbelievable how quickly his dazed, happy, open expression turns into a pained resignation. “You shouldn’t.” He says. 

Tears sting her eyes. She refuses to let go of his hand. “Why?” 

“Because I am not worth it.” 

“You are.” 

“Detective-”

“What are you not telling me?” Her voice shakes, throat choked up with unspoken emotions. She can’t go through this loop once again. Earlier, she had let go without explanation, this time she wants them. 

“Please understand…I..” He looks visibly paler. 

“Then explain. Lucifer, please, let me in.” She begs, suddenly very desperate. Her heart twists, sending shards of pain in her chest. 

“I.. I am fading.” He says. 

Silence. 

It’s as if everything is still. And then it happens. It’s subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. But Chloe sees it, her heart thumping loudly. His body fades a little, and then some more. 

It hits her then. He is really vanishing. Disappearing quite literally. Lucifer looks down at his own body… and smiles, albeit a very sad smile. His suit is now faded, and Chloe can see through him, the sand, horizon and everything. 

“I don’t have much time, Detective.” He chokes out. Chloe grasps at him, trying to cling to his fading body, but she can’t. Her hand just… passes through him. 

“Wh…?” 

“It’s okay. You will be alright.”

“Please, don’t leave me.” She whispers, tears rolling down her cheeks as Lucifer leans forward to kiss her. She doesn’t feel his lips, doesn’t feel the weight but she can feel a tingling where he kisses her. It’s featherlight, just air, but it’s full of assurance, warmth, and love. Chloe closes her eyes to savor the feeling. When she opens them, he is gone. 

___

The dream leaves her hollow, empty. She can still feel the tingle on her lips, a phantom pain of heartbreak and the utter numbness following it. It leaves her hanging between wanting to cry and just dissociate from her emotions. Chloe feels more tired than ever, as if the dream has sucked out the last bit of her hope and happiness like a hungry Dementor, feeding on her pain and despair. 

When she opens her eyes, tears cling to her lashes, dripping down the corner and into the pillow as she realizes she has been crying in her sleep. Rolling on her back, she takes some time to calm down, focusing on the surroundings. This is no doubt Lucifer’s bedroom. It is dark, sans the faint moonlight that befalls through the gigantic floor to ceiling glass windows. A heavy blanket is wrapped around her securely, and she gratefully sinks into them more. How long has she been asleep? The darkness outside tells her that it would be for hours. 

Moving her gaze from the window to the nightside, she notices the glass of water and the tablet of Advil kept neatly. She is grateful for it, her head is killing her. It takes her a moment to recall everything, getting free of the clutches of the dream and focusing on the reality instead. 

Shit. 

Lucifer. He is missing. He is hurt, Michael and Raphael took him, and she needs to find him. Where is Maze? She had been here when Chloe passed out, right? It couldn’t have been her hallucination, could it? She needs to get up, and she needs to keep herself together, Lucifer needs her. He has been needing her for hours and here she was sleeping! What kind of a friend is she? 

Before panic threatens to overcome her, voices outside interrupt her train of thought, and she stills. There are multiple voices outside now, and thanks to Lucifer’s ‘no-door’ policy, she can listen to them very clearly. She stills, focusing on the words, and absently gazing at the ceiling. 

“--portant. I saw them with my own damn eyes. My siblings are restless, manic. It’s like they don’t even care about the laws anymore.” She knows the voice anywhere. That’s Maze. But what worries her is the fear in her voice; of course the anger is there, but it’s barely concealing the terror in her voice. 

“Demons are rogue creatures but they can’t act on their own. They need orders to survive.” The deep, rich voice says. Amenadiel, then. He sounds worried too, and wait… are they discussing Demons? Instead of Lucifer? A sudden spark of anger hits her gut. Amenadiel is Lucifer’s brother, he should look for him. 

And then, realization hits her. They don’t know. 

Neither of them have been there when Michael took Lucifer. Maze came after they were gone, and Amenadiel clearly was here after she fainted. So, of course, they don’t know about the chaos that happened earlier. Her gut sinks. For some reason, she thought they would start searching for him. 

“And I haven’t given them any orders as far as I recall. Are you sure it’s not one of our siblings?” 

She freezes. No…

That…

The voice, the perfect accent…. “Lucifer…” She breathes out. He is here, he is safe. She can’t get out of bed fast enough. She needs to see him, she needs to know he is okay. 

“I don’t think anyone else among our siblings can order the entire horde of de-” Amenadiel’s voice cuts off as Chloe stumbles down the short stairs in her haste. 

There. She releases a sigh of relief. 

Lucifer is standing beside the ruined couch, in a fresh shirt and pants, she notices. His hair is wet, curls hanging on his forehead - he has clearly showered. There are cuts all across his face, but they are healed enough to look like a week old scars. Her eyes immediately land on his wrists by his side. They look fine, not swollen or red. They are healed. Amenadiel stands a few feet away from him, Maze is lounging near the almost destroyed bookshelf, beside Linda, who is in her wheelchair. 

She doesn’t care that she has missed the reunion. Without a second thought, she launches herself on Lucifer, who staggers back at the impact with an amused ‘oomph’ but catches her quite easily. He holds her tightly, nuzzling her hair while she presses her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. This feels like home. He feels like home. 

She feels him pressing a kiss in her hair before pulling back slightly without releasing her. “You are okay.” She fists at his shirt, feeling the heat radiating off him. 

“I am fine, Detective. Truly.” He circles his fingers around her wrist, gently pries them off of his shirt and lifts them to his lips, pressing a kiss on the inside of each wrist. Her face feels hot at the sweet gesture as she steps a little back. And of course, he, being Lucifer Morningstar, notices the blush immediately. Bastard.  He chuckles amusedly. 

“How?” She can’t help but ask. 

The easy smile on his face fades, leaving an anxiousness in its wake. “Oh, um.. Raphael healed me, actually.” He shifts foot to foot, suddenly nervous. “Michael took me to one of Raphael’s Earthly infirmary. We… talked .” He spits out the word like it’s venom, lips curling in bitter disdain. “Well, he talked and I mostly listened, given my… condition.” He grimaces. 

“And then Raphael healed you.” Her incredulity drips from every word. 

“Yes.” 

Oh. Nice. Healed by one of his abusers while the other one forced him down to the condition where he could do nothing except to listen. Did she ever mention how fucked up his entire family is? 

“Okay…” Chloe feels like a bobblehead given how vehemently she nods. Change of a subject. Yes, that’s what she needs right now before her head explodes with the unvented anger coursing through her veins. Taking a few steps back, she observes everyone. Wait… “How long was I out?” 

  “A few hours.” It’s Maze who answers her. “You passed out. I thought Linda might be able to help, so I brought her here.”

“And I also mentioned that I am not that kind of a doctor!”  Linda nearly squeaks out but Maze simply ignores her.

 “Apparently you know about us, huh.” Maze glares at Lucifer. “A little heads up would have been real good.” 

To which, Lucifer just raises his eyebrows, “Really? And pray tell when exactly would I have told you that? When I was unconscious or when you disappeared from my sight?”

“I didn’t disappear, you prick. I was bounty-hunting - literally doing my job. A simple text - ‘Hey Maze, Chloe knows.’ would have been good enough!” 

Lucifer merely scoffs at that, pointedly fixing his cufflinks, “Come now Mazie, never thought of you like the emotional one. Where did my demon go?” 

But Chloe doesn’t miss the way his jaw ticks. He is uncomfortable with the situation, not being able to control it. And Lucifer simply needs to be in control after everything that’s happened earlier. 

Maze, though, remains completely oblivious to the discomfort of her oldest friend. “I am not emotional, Lucifer. You are a dickhead. Didn’t you have the decency to even text me about a significant development between our mutual friends?! You are lucky Chloe is standing here right now or I would have gutted the hell out of you.” 

His eyes flash briefly, not anything like the one she saw earlier in the car but enough to point out who the Devil is in the room. Chloe fights the urge to step back. Her irrational fear won’t do any good to Lucifer’s already fragile mental state as well as the situation unfolding here. 

“Maze.” Amenadiel warns meekly. As expected, he gets ignored. 

“You are not to be questioning my actions, Mazikeen,” Lucifer growls out at last. 

Chloe blinks. That is…. so condescending to say to a friend. But then again, Lucifer and Maze are no normal friends that one sees. He is the Devil and she is a demon. And she has seen them interacting in this… medieval form early in their partnership. Of course, she had thought of it as some creepy deviant foreplay, but now she realizes it had been just the way they interacted. Like a king ordering his minion….. Which is also true in their case. 

But over the course of the years, their interaction had also changed on the basic level. Lucifer has started giving Maze respect, while Maze has become a little bit more emotionally mature…. Little bit. But now… 

And then it clicks. 

Oh. 

Oh fuck. 

A gut-sinking feeling of dread settles inside her. Lucifer is back to being treating Maze as one of his demons and not friends. 

Which means that he must have forgotten the progress in their relationship.

He must have forgotten everything they went through together in the past few years. 

And that also explains why Lucifer is suddenly so uncomfortable with her being this straightforward. Past Lucifer would not have a Maze so openly defying him. Because for him, he doesn’t even remember the equality in their relationship. 

For him, Maze is back to pouring drinks for her boss. 

A lump closes her throat. The sickening reminder that Lucifer will soon forget his Earth memories punches the breath out of her lungs. Chloe looks at Linda in alarm, who has mirrored the same stricken expression indicating that the therapist, too, has come to the same deductions. 

Maze gapes at him.  Right, she doesn’t know about Lucifer’s condition. But before either Chloe or Linda can jump to handle the reins, the demon explodes. “Are you fucking kidding me?! After everything, you say that to me?  You selfish, feathery bastard!” 

Lucifer’s eyes change then, from brown to the hellish red. Oh damn.  “Don’t forget your place, Mazikeen. I am still your king.” 

“Lucifer…” Chloe tries to warn but the word gets drowned out by Maze’s furious,

“No. You are not.” Chloe doesn’t comment on the hurt that flickers through Maze’s eyes before she covers it up with anger.

Lucifer blinks. “You are still my demon, Mazikeen.” 

“Not anymore. I am no longer under your oath! Did your sorry ass forget that too?” Maze’s statement is supposed to be sarcastic but both Lucifer and Chloe can’t help but to flinch at that. Lucifer covers it up by striding to his bar, and pouring himself a glass of whiskey while Chloe bites her lips.  

 Chloe glances at Lucifer, noticing the way he focuses on the golden liquid twirling inside the amber glass in his hand, a deep scowl sitting on his face. He doesn’t speak and Maze’s anger blunts out a little. 

“Lucifer?” She asks. Maze is greeted by silence, as tension frays thick in the atmosphere of the penthouse. 

Chloe’s heart twists a little. 

“What?” Maze now chuckles, a bit nervous now. “You forgot the severing of oath?” The demon looks back and forth, trying to figure out what the hell is happening. “What is happening?” 

“Maze…” This time it’s Linda who tries to de-escalate the situation but Maze is getting agitated. 

“No! Tell me! What am I missing? First, Lucifer acting like all kingly and now everyone’s looking at me like I have cooties or something…  What the fuck is going on?!” 

She needs to tell this. Knowing Maze, Chloe just knows she will do something totally destructive but she needs to tell her. But not without Lucifer’s permission. She looks at him only to find him knocking the drink back and slamming it down the bar. 

“Right, tell her what you may, Detective. I am out for a smoke.” With that, Lucifer strides off the penthouse and to the balcony, leaving a pin-drop silence behind him. 

“Well?” Maze taps on the bar after a few moments of silence. 

Chloe sighs. This is going to go swimmingly.

↟ནઢ 

It doesn’t, in fact, go swimmingly. Seven shattered whiskey glasses, a broken artesian wall tile, and infinite curses later Maze finally calms down to the point where she doesn’t pounce off to murder Michael, Raphael, and the entire Heavenly host. Amenadiel and Linda have taken the reins in preventing Maze to go into a murder haze, and Chloe after a silent glance at the trio has decided to calm another person down who hasn’t yet appeared after his excuse of ‘smoke’. 

She finds Lucifer against the balcony rails, a cigarette loosely dangling from his fingers, smoke curling above and mingling with the open sky of LA. For a brief moment, her heart stops as Chloe’s pessimistic brain conjures up the image of a delirious Lucifer, bleeding out on the balcony floor while Michael stands on top of him before she tamps down the memory. She can’t afford another puking session. Swallowing the bile down her throat, Chloe stands next to him, taking a moment to look at him. 

With dropped shoulders, tense jaw, and an anguished faraway gaze, he looks defeated. Lucifer might not be injured but he is hurting. There’s a tremble in his hand as he takes a long drag of the cigarette and lets out a small puff of smoke. He won’t look at her.  Seeing him like this… without the usual glee that makes him him, Chloe can’t take it anymore. 

It must be so terrifying to know that you are losing your memories, piece by piece. The mere thought of her not being able to remember Trixie or Lucifer or Dan the next day stabs at her heart like a spear. What must he be going through? 

Lucifer sighs when she curls her fingers around his forearm, squeezing it gently. Anything to make him feel not lonely in this. 

“You shouldn’t be dragged into this mess, Detective.” He says quietly, “You should go home.” 

He is hurting, she reminds herself. Squashing down the spark of annoyance, she squeezes his arm again, “I am not going anywhere, Lucifer. I told you today, I am with you. And I am. I am not leaving you alone in this.” 

“I disgust you.” 

Chloe frowns. Where has that come from? “What are you talking about?” 

He sighs again, “Earlier when I asked Mazikeen to treat me with respect, I saw your expression. You were… disgusted by me. By my command.” 

Oh. Well, she was taken aback by the condescension of the interaction but she had thought she hid it well. Apparently not. “I wasn’t disgusted by you, Lucifer. I could never be disgusted by you. But yes. That interaction unsettled me a bit. That’s not how one talks to a friend.” 

“But that’s just it! I… I have forgotten about her being my friend. All I remember of Mazie is that she is my general, my right hand, and Hell’s best torturer. And you don’t talk to demons like they are friends, Chloe. Hell is not a playground. Any kind of insubordination was not tolerated but that also goes against everything I stand for. Free will. But give the demons their free will and the whole Earth will suffer their wrath. I just…” 

“I understand, Lucifer. You did what you thought you had to do. Hell is your job, no matter how shitty the job is.”

“I have never given a rat’s arse about what others opine of me. I have always acted the way I desired to but for some reason today… I felt…” He searches for the right word. “I felt… ashamed. Every one of you was looking at me like I did some heinous transgression when I only just ordered Maze as I did for eons. I don’t like this feeling.” 

“You may not remember it, Lucifer. But I know deep down, you still consider Maze as your friend, us as your friends. And we mean something to you, our opinions thus mean something to you. But there’s no need to be ashamed. Everyone here is a friend, and we all think highly of you. You are in a difficult situation, and it wasn’t that unexpected for you to relapse a bit. It’s fine.  I think you are judging yourself too harshly.” 

Lucifer scoffs, “You would too if you’d known the extent of what I had inflicted in Hell.” 

“Well, did you enjoy it?” 

That gives him a pause. He takes another drag of the cigarette, “I enjoy doling out justice.” He answers. 

“Justice and cruelty are different.” 

“Not in many cases, No.” 

“But they deserved it.” 

“Yes.” He breathes. 

“And you wouldn’t do any of it to someone innocent?” 

“Of course not! I would never!” He states vehemently, wide eyes pleading her to trust him. She flashes him a small smile of reassurance and he relaxes a bit. 

“See? That’s the difference. You are a good man, Lucifer. Yes, you are the Devil. But you are also the man I have-” fallen in love with, she doesn’t say, “- grown to care about. It pains me to see how little you think of yourself, Lucifer. But as I said, if you don’t believe in yourself, believe in me. I have been a cop for more than thirteen years, and I know what’s evil, I have seen evil and monsters in my job. And you are not one of them. You are just… a punisher. In that sense, you and I… we’re not all that different.” He opens his mouth to protest but she beats him to it, “I like giving out justice to people who deserve it. This is why we clicked so well. This is why you became a consultant for the LAPD. This is why we are the best partners ever. And this is why I will never leave you.” ”

“I don’t deserve you.” 

“I think you do. I think we deserve each other.” 

He chuckles, “Are all normal partners this stubborn?” 

She grins at that, butting her head on his shoulders gently, “We are not normal, are we?”

“I suppose not.” 

In the nightlight, he looks…angelic, that’s the one word for it. The moon illuminates his features like a halo, his chiseled jaw, cheekbones. His eyes darken as he stares at her when she licks her lips. “We are… incredible.” She leans forward, looking up at him through her lashes. She can feel his warm breath on her skin, small puffs of air before his breath hitches at their proximity. His eyes drag down to her lips before moving up to her eyes. 

“I couldn’t agree more.” He breathes out. 

“You know why I think we are the best partners ever?” She asks throatily, seeing the way his eyes bounce between her eyes and lips. 

“Why?” 

“Because I trust you more than my life. And I know you do the same.”

“I do.” 

“You will catch me if I fall?” They are so close that they can breathe each other’s air.

“I will never let you fall, Chloe.”

“Promise?” She whispers.

“You have my word.”

 He mumbles before their lips press together. They melt together, fitting like a jigsaw puzzle as their mouths work together. In that kiss is the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment . She presses closer, thinking of all the better times they could have had this, where he would not have been losing his memories and parts of himself. She tries to deepen the kiss but-

“This is so gross.” A drawn-out American accent - a simulacrum of Lucifer’s voice - shatters the moment like crystals as Chloe reels back as the flutter of wings cut through the peace of night.  Her eyes harden as she takes in the asshole warrior standing rigid in front of them. 

Lucifer tenses behind her, “Like you would know anything about pleasure, you billion-years old virgin.” 

Michael stands stoic, the blankness of his face impenetrable. “It’s time for you to control your vileness and do something about the deal.” 

“What deal?” Choe’s mind is reeling from anger. She wants to punch the bastard. 

“You haven’t told them about our chat, Lucifer? Well, that’s to be expected from a snake like you.”

“Michael,” Lucifer warns. 

He rolls his eyes then, “Very well, you tell them, but stop this sentimental crap all at once.” 

From the corner of her eyes, Chloe sees Maze pouncing with two demon blades in her hand just in time as she strides in front of him, 

“You sick son of a bitch!” Chloe wails before punching Michael hard on the face. 

Chapter Text

↟ནઢ

Pain. That’s what he remembers, that’s what he is accustomed to. The fall, the burning into crisps, and then shattering into Hell’s atmosphere only to lie there, broken and paralysed like a ragged doll - used and thrown away. 

He remembers the feeling of helplessness, the way his eyes won’t stop leaking - both blood and tears, mingled together as an accurate amalgamation of the fear and hopelessness he is feeling. The way his own body won’t listen to him, the way every intake of breath hurts, he doesn’t know if it’s from the physical pain or just the crushing loneliness and betrayal - 

“Hey, Luce?” 

He whimpers, trying to shift a bit, the crushed gravels from Hell’s ground aggravates his already burnt back, and he prays to be unconscious. Because if he isn’t, the memories that assault him are way more painful than-

“You okay, bro? I healed your injuries, you should be feeling fine by now.” 

What is that voice? It’s wrong. Hell is supposed to be empty, supposed to be soulless except for the darkest one that’s him. The voice pierces through his haze-induced mind, sounding, dare he says, concerned? But that’s impossible. Nobody is concerned for him. One has to care about the other person to get concerned, and he knows for a fact that no one cares about him, no one at all. And why would they? He is a monster. 

After all his own brother has turned against him - every single one of them, his twin included. And what kind of a being remains alone in his time of need? Someone utterly unlovable, someone- 

A hand is touching his forehead, it’s cool. He likes it. But - how? Who is there besides him in Hell? Someone? Hope flares in his chest. Maybe he is not alone. 

“He is dreaming. It’s better to let him rest.” They say, and he can’t understand what he is dreaming. How can a person dream when he is in pain? 

“We don’t have time!”

“There’s nothing else we can do! And am not gunna let ya pull that stunt again, I warn ya.” 

He is so tired of following the invisible creature’s words, he just wants to lie there for a bit. He just wants to… 

He loses the battle with consciousness. Perhaps it’s better this way.

Someone is slapping him gently. It’s bloody irritating, not to mention the fact that every jolt is like stabbing needles to his skull. He is not certain where he is or what he is doing here, the last he remembers is Michael breaking his wings in front of the Detective. Again. Bloody bollocking bastard. He will toss that pillock off the balcony the next time he sees him. 

Opening his lead eyelids is another battle altogether. He just doesn’t want to open them at all, just wants to sleep for the rest of his eternity but this damned person is still slapping him and he just…. Lucifer strikes at the offending hand like a vice, resulting in a surprised yelp from the person - GOOD - and simply batting it away. 

“Well, someone must be feeling better, then.” The tone comes out mocking although there is something else edged with it( - concern? But that’s not even possible), and Lucifer sighs, immediately recognizing his own voice (but not quite) with the different accent. 

Forcing his eyes open, Lucifer glares at him, “What do you bloody want with me, you pillock?” Where is that balcony to toss the bastard when you need it? 

Michael shrugs casually, “Just to make sure you don’t go to your evil ways and listen to someone other than yourself for once.” 

“Oh yeah? Make me.” 

“Your wings are paralyzed, Lucifer. You can’t fly out from here.”

“I will walk then.” 

“Not if your back is paralyzed too.” 

Well, there goes his plan. Brilliant. Looking around he recognizes the room like some kind of healing center? Not quite a hospital but with a bed on which he is currently disposed of, a saline stand, and a few test tubes of divine herbs from what he can gather. Yep, one of Raphael’s infirmaries then. 

“Didn’t know Raphael had one of these on Earth.” 

“You know nothing about our family, Lucifer. You haven’t known for eons.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes, ignoring the sharp pang in his chest, “Is there a point to this conversation? Or do you just like to bore people?” 

Any familiar resentment on Michael’s face seems to evaporate, leaving only business-like grim seriousness. The expression doesn’t sit well with Lucifer, he has known his twin from the beginning of time; Lucifer knows when Michael makes that face (unfortunately), “What? Is Judgment day tomorrow or something?” 

“It can be if not prevented.” He replies shortly. 

Lucifer lets out a long, hearty peal of laughter despite his head pounding like it’s being beaten by a jackhammer, but it soon dies when he sees Michael scowling. “Oh.. you are not joking.” 

“Why would I be joking about a matter of such dire consequence?” 

“Maybe because you are a buzzkill,” Lucifer grumbles under his breath. “So, is that why you are taking away my memories? Because of… what? That I might be the cause of this end of the world situation?” 

“Believe it or not, Lucifer, you are the reason why it’s happening.” Michael sneers at him.

Anger licks the hot inside of him, “Yeah? And why would that be? Because I am the Devil? Is that it?” 

“Not because you are the Devil. But because you started it.” 

It takes everything in him to not let his skin melt away and show his twin the scarred visage of who he really is. The anger bubbles up beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm him. It has to be a lie, a voice that is not that steady, supplies. For some reason, he doesn’t believe the voice. Instead, he growls out low, “Okay, I will bite, how did I cause it?” 

If he didn’t know better, he would have said Michael’s eyes flashes gold at the question, “Oh, allow me to paint a pretty picture for you then, snake. And after that, we are going to make a deal because apparently, the Devil doesn’t break his deals.” 

Lucifer lets a dark smile slip on his face, “Careful Michael, an archangel making deals with the Devil, what will Dad say?” 

Something flickers in his eyes, too quick for the Devil to understand but Michael doesn’t take the bait like he expects him to, instead he smirks back, “Father has a plan. And for that, I am ready to do anything.” 

Lucifer cringes at the show of this blind faith. He had rebelled for this very reason. Too much faith in anything leads to destruction. Of course, nobody has even cared to know why he has fought tooth and nail and accepted his fate to burn for eons, but Lucifer takes pride in his reason. He takes pride in knowing the difference between right and wrong all by himself and not because someone else has labeled it right or wrong. He has learned the hard way, that’s for sure, but at least he has learned something. 

But in front of him, stands his mirror image. His twin. The exact opposite of his mentality. For Michael, everything is right if God orders and every innocent is a sinner if he defies their bastard of a father. For Michael, everything is black and white. And the worst part is, that he doesn’t even care about his own twisted point of view as long as he has his father to lean on. This toxic dependency… Lucifer doesn’t know how Michael will even function without God.  

Why do you care? 

He is not your twin. Not anymore. 

(But he…) 

There is no ‘but’ here. 

We were once the closest. 

Well, not anymore. 

“Do you really want to know what’s happening, Lucifer?” Michael snaps and only then does Lucifer realize that he has been silent for far too long. 

“Will it matter if I say ‘no’?” 

“Father is gone.” 

It takes a minute to register what Michael said, and when it does…

The bottom drops out of Lucifer’s world. This… this cannot happen. 

He just… “... What?” He breathes out, his voice is thin, brittle, and he doesn’t understand. His first instinct is to scoff, deny everything and go back to the ignorant Devil that he was. He has the urge to cover himself with his wings, but they remain spread out as dead weight, paralyzed. He can’t even move. Shit. 

 Michael remains stoic, his expression blank. Lucifer isn’t fooled though. Michael shares his own face, he knows what strain looks like on his face. His twin doesn’t take back what he said, he doesn’t even elaborate.

That’s when it hits him. Michael is not lying. Michael never lies.  Despite being the opposite, his twin shares at least this nugget of habit with him. 

Michael is not lying. 

That means… 

“Gone?” He dares to whisper. Maybe it’s not what Lucifer thinks it to be. Maybe a misunderstanding? Anything apart from what Lucifer dreads it to be. But Michael opens his mouth and shatters the illusion. 

“I believe for humans the appropriate word would be ‘died’ but for us, He is eternally non-existent now.” 

Something more breaks within him. One more whip to his already shattered soul and Lucifer thinks this wound just might be unfixable. 

God cannot die. That’s… 

It’s not grief that just chokes his throat or slithers behind his eyelids as the all too familiar heat, but anger. An anger so thick and intense that it hopefully overpowers the grief and sadness that Lucifer denies to acknowledge. 

For millennia, Lucifer has imagined what it would be like to meet his dad, how he would scream and yell at His face, punch him for what He has put him through. He has dreamt of the day he would… reunite with his creator in some way or another, maybe he would get an apology that he has craved like an idiot dying without water. The anger, the pain, the humiliation have been what kept him going on days when death seemed to have been a mercy, the days when even opening his eyes would be for just dripping tears. Lucifer has lived through Hell - quite literally, that is - and his father has done nothing except to maybe laugh at his expense. And yet, there was one flickering hope that maybe, just maybe there was a chance of… redemption, clearly, he was wrong. 

Now the bastard is gone. With that, the anger too, his last savior, snuffs out like a candle. 

  And now, Lucifer feels… numb; not the pleasurable numbness that he feels after his trip of drug-induced haze, but like the icy tendril of a confusing and chilling emptiness that threatens to consume him whole. He doesn’t like this feeling. He doesn’t like feeling so vulnerable. 

“H-” Lucifer clears his throat against the growing lump, “How?” 

It’s like a switch being turned off, because Michael’s blankness evaporates in a second leaving behind cold fury… directed towards him. “It’s because of you, Lucifer.” His twin spits, voice full of venom and so much hatred that Lucifer can’t help but flinch under the accusation. 

Really? Really?! “Are you fucking serious right now?!” Lucifer booms in disbelief. “ People choose to do malicious things around the world, oh it’s the Devil’s fault; World is coming to an end, it has to be Satan, now God dies and it’s my fault again?! I have never done anything to you ,lot, ANYTHING! Like I don’t sit on your shoulders and tell you to do things! STOP BLAMING EVERYTHING ON ME!” He distinctly hears several windows shattering from the impact of his voice. His plain, unblemished skin melts away to be replaced away by the scarred visage of the Devil as he lies on the bed, simmering in his wrath. 

“You are evil, Lucifer. You tore apart our family, and I regret ever calling you my brother.” 

The words hit him like a dagger, piercing his heart and twisting it to make it even more painful. So much for someone who would ever understand him. So much for the promises they made to each other once they were close. 

Lucifer laughs. It’s nowhere near joyous or humorous but just a desperate, even hysterical release of the intense push and pull his emotions are stretching him to be. “Well get in line, brother.” He spits out the mockery of endearment just to annoy Michael. What else is new? Everyone he ever showed fission of affection hates him now. He is used to this. 

Chloe doesn’t hate you. 

The tiny voices whisper but he refuses to believe. She is just a mortal, humans and their emotions are temporary. She will hate him too sooner or later. 

Michael frowns at his hysteria, clearly not expecting Lucifer to react like this but keeps quiet while Lucifer laughs it out. By the time he settles, he is just exhausted. Not only physically but emotionally exhausted. He wants out. And if going through a deal is what gets him out of here, then so be it. He wants to see Chloe, so bad. 

What’s the point? She will hate you too. 

Better to leave her before. 

“What do you want from me, Michael? Just tell me and let me go.” Lucifer sighs. 

Michael’s frown intensifies, eyes flickering with an emotion Lucifer doesn’t quite understand (He does but he refuses to believe it). His twin clears his throat, “As unpleasant it is for me to accept, Father’s last order was you.”

“Me?” 

“He asked us to seek your help.” 

“He, the God almighty, who banished me to Hell, asked you to seek my help. The Devil, the fallen one, the disgraced son?” He parrots, disbelief painting every syllable dripping from his tongue. 

His twin grimaces, “Yes,” he says tightly. 

Lucifer is pretty sure his jaw has dropped open. “Why?” 

Michael shrugs, “Who knows?” 

“Apparently dear old dad.” He grumbles, and for a fleeting moment, a miracle happens. Michael’s lips quirk upwards before he reigns in his expression. 

“Lucifer, help us. And we will see if we can do anything to gain you access to heaven given you don’t do anything to piss the host off.” 

Lucifer raises his eyebrows in surprise, “What happened to the evil twin brother?” 

“We will keep you under constant surveillance. You will be allowed back into heaven but you will never be a part of the family. You will not be welcomed there.” 

Lucifer chuckles tiredly, then, “You all are brainless pillocks.” He wants to rub a hand on his face but his paralyzed body won’t cooperate. Instead, he just turns his head towards a broken window by the side of his bed, looking out at the horizon. Freedom. “I don’t give a broken feather about getting back to heaven. I will never set foot in that place, so don’t worry about big, bad Lucifer coming and waging a war up there.” 

He misses the surprised little ‘o’ Michael’s mouth forms at his reply, “Well then, what else do you want?” 

“I suppose giving back my memories is out of your league?” He looks back at his twin. As expected, Michael looks uncomfortable. 

“That’s a one-time deal. Zadkiel suggested it, and Father nodded an affirmative, so we went with it. Raph doesn’t know how to give back your memories.” 

“Hmm..” Lucifer hums. He should have known. Nothing in his eternal life has ever been his. Not even his memories. “Well then, I don’t have anything particular as of now. You owe me a blank cheque that I will cash later. And mind you, I will cash it.” 

Michael seems to contemplate it, and then a determined expression crosses his face, “If it doesn’t breach our ethics and duties towards Heaven, we will give what you desire when you ask for it.” 

“Come now, say it properly.” 

He takes a sharp breath, “....We have a deal, Lucifer.” 

“Splendid. Now, un-paralyze me, you pillock.” 

↟ནઢ

The first sight that greets Lucifer when he lands rather unceremoniously - damn Raphael and his half-arsed paralyzing power - is that the penthouse is destroyed. He feels a tinge of sadness at the sight, sure he might not have any memories about the place but there is a strange connection that binds him to this Lux and the penthouse. He doesn’t quite understand, but nowadays he is able to feel things. That’s something Lucifer thought he had lost the ability eons ago. 

Even earlier this morning when he saw the…. Daniel, was it? Lucifer felt a strange twinge of kinship with the man. He doesn’t remember the forensic scientist of the LAPD but he does remember the warmth that kindles in his heart in her presence, and Chloe…. well, the tiny flutters his heart experiences whenever he sees her is a novel experience. He doesn’t want that feeling to end, ever. He wants to experience more with Chloe. She knows who he is, and yet she hasn’t run for the hills, and she wants him in her life. These are the things he hasn’t ever known. He has known rejection - an understatement, really; has known vilification, pain, torture, anger… but what Chloe makes him feel, he hasn’t felt like that ever. 

He doesn’t want to forget the feeling. He doesn’t want to forget Chloe, his apparent life in LA, his friends - the Devil has friends now, would you look at that? But Lucifer knows he will forget. He will- has-  forget the best memories of his long, hopeless life, and soon he will forget the most important person in his life and with that, the feeling of home, and belonging will also be snatched away from him like a rug under his unstable feet. 

That’s what always happens with him. 

That’s what he is used to. Redemption hates him. And now apparently, happiness hates him too. 

Lucifer clenches his jaw, then shakes the thoughts out of his head. No time for going into that particular rabbit hole of self-loathing. He looks at the torn, stiff, and bloodied trousers he is wearing, grimaces. His shirt is gone, leaving the upper half of the body bare. He liked that shirt. And of course, just like everything in his life, the shirt also falls apart. If only dear old Dad-

He steps into the penthouse and the strong smell of disinfectant hits him, followed by hushed conversations coming from the bedroom. 

“She is under a lot of stress, Maze.” That sounds like Linda. 

“But whyyyy? I mean I go for three days and Lucifer disappears, Chloe faints, shit happens. What the hell is even going on?!” And that is his demon. He doesn’t understand why his demon would need to talk to Linda Martin, but then again, he doesn’t understand a lot of things these days. 

He climbs the stairs delicately, not intending to disturb the conversation, and stops dead in his tracks. Chloe is sleeping on the bed, wait, that’s not the right word. She is unconscious on the bed while Mazikeen stands by the bed, a concerned frown painted on her face - another novelty for his Mazey, and beside her, in her wheelchair is Linda. 

And it’s Linda who sees him first, “Lucifer! You are okay!” Her relief is palpable at the smile she shoots at him. The room is dark, only just illuminated with the moonlight but his celestial vision enables him to see clearly. 

Maze, on the other hand, is not that pleased to see him, “Where the hell did you fuck off to? I have news for which I cut my bounty short!” 

Lucifer ignores her. She is a demon, talking too much is her birth quality. Instead, his eyes train on Chloe lying still on the bed. Fear grips his heart like a vice, “What happened to her?” He was not there to protect her, he was not there…

“I think she had a panic attack. She was under a lot of stress.” Linda tells him gently. 

That… makes sense. Chloe is going through a lot, and it’s all his fault. If he had not been this overbearing burden and a black hole in her life, she would be happy, stress-free and her life would be free of this celestial mess. His fists curl by his side.  His face must give his feelings out, or maybe Linda is a mind reader because she catches on his train of thoughts,

“It’s not your fault, Lucifer. This is just the situation.” 

“The situation that would not have been created if not for me, The Devil.” He scowls. 

“Who gives a fuck about whose fault is this?! There are important things to know!” Maze whisper-shouts at both of them, promptly storming out towards the destroyed bar.

Linda looks at him apologetically. Again, Lucifer can’t understand why. “I will go talk to her. Explain everything to her…. Are you okay? What happened?” 

“Perfectly fine. And Michael happened.” He tells curtly, as he moves to sit at the edge of the bed, just this short of touching Chloe. His eyes scan her for any external injuries, not finding any. “Will she be alright?” 

“She just needs sleep.” 

“Hmm.” 

“I… sorry, Michael?” Linda seems to be hanging on to that. But Lucifer isn’t in the mood to discuss his twin brother right now. Not when Chloe is unconscious just in front of him. 

“My twin. Heaven’s commander, pompous arse. And yes, he is the one who threw me from Heaven, the tales are appropriate about that. And also yes, we both hate each other.” 

No, we do not. 

We do. 

But do you really hate him?

Yes.  I do. 

Linda keeps quiet for almost half a minute before she asks, “Are you sure you are okay, Lucifer? Meeting your twin after this long…”

“I am not in a session, Doctor!” He snaps, glaring at the doctor, and then in a softer voice, he continues, “Can I have a moment alone, please?” 

Understanding dawns on her face and she nods, wheeling out to the living room through the balcony. Lucifer waits for privacy before focusing his attention on Chloe. She looks so vulnerable, fragile lying like this. Her cheeks are gaunt, going starkly against her ashen-pallor that it tugs out the eons-old fear of being left alone. What if she doesn’t get better? What if it’s something deeper than just stress? What if… 

“I am terribly sorry, darling..” His voice is choked, thick with emotions coursing through his veins he can’t even recognize. But he can’t stop the words flowing from his mouth. This beautiful human sleeping in front of him is more than he can ever deserve in his immortal life, and she is suffering because of him. “I don’t think you can hear me, but I need to say it out loud before I lose my nerves. I don’t remember a lot of things,” he lets out a shaky laugh, blinking back the sudden heat behind his eyelids, “hell, I don’t even remember how I met you or how someone like you can tolerate me in your life, but I remember how I-I feel around you, about you.”

“Chloe, you… you are such a wonderful, kind-hearted person, kind and compassionate enough to bring the Devil in your life, and I have only wreaked havoc in return, like the poison that I am. You don’t deserve the pain I bring to your life… I am so, so sorry. I know for sure, I never intended to hurt you, but if I ever have, then… well, the list of apologies is growing steadily, I suppose.” He chuckles weakly, pushing an errand strand of hair from her forehead to tuck it behind her ear. “I might not even remember you tomorrow, but… trust me, I never want to forget you. You told me this morning that I will find you… and I want to believe that, I do, but then again…. What if I don’t? I don’t care about forgetting Earth or Los Angeles or anything, really.. I care about forgetting you.” His voice cracks, but he goes on, “I don’t want to lose you. Not you too.” 

“Anyways, I just… I just wanted you to know, I care about you. More than you can ever imagine. And I will do everything in my power to stay… to stay with you. But even if I don’t, just know that there was this one Lucifer Morningstar who wanted you more than anything in his life.” 

Lucifer checks to see if his emotional rant has woken her up, but Chloe is still soundly asleep. His heart does a little flip, embarrassment hitting him in full force. Gosh, what is he, a teenage boy? He clears his throat, starting to get up only to feel a tug at his stiff, ruined pants. 

Heart lurching, he snaps his head down.. 

Oh. 

In her sleep, Chloe has unknowingly fisted his trousers, clearly seeking out his comfort even unknowingly. She is seeking him. Warmth fills his heart and a soft smile slips into his face. Leaning forward, he presses his lips to her forehead. He gently pries away the fist from his trousers, squeezing them to offer the comfort she strives to seek and slips into the bathroom. 

When he is out, freshly shaved and showered with a new shirt and trousers on, Amenadiel is also present in the living room, surveying the broken furniture with narrowed eyes. At the bar - or what is left of it, Maze is downing his apparently-ten thousand dollars whiskey like it’s water. What a waste. He does have an appreciation for the finer things in life, while Linda is still silent by the library, observing the situation perhaps. 

“What happened, Luci?” 

As if Amenadiel even gives a shit about him. But he does look genuine in his distress, which is an oddity itself given it’s been eons since Lucifer has seen that look on the darker angel’s face, especially for him. 

“Michael.” He replies, keeping the maximum of the information to himself. Trust doesn’t come easily to him, and towards Amenadiel, it’s an absolute no-no. But instead of mollifying his brother, Amenadiel stiffens up in alarm. 

“Why would Michael come to visit you?” 

He shrugs as his answer, “Wouldn’t you know, God’s warrior?” He sneers. 

Amenadiel flinches. 

But why would he flinch? He is a pompous arse, not caring about anyone and anything except God, who is gone now. Maybe that’s why he is upset? Now that God is gone, whose lackey will he be? He still can’t wrap his head around that nugget. 

His dad is gone. 

Eternally unavailable. 

He won’t even have a chance to…. 

To what? 

He doesn’t even know. 

Probably meet him someday? Even getting to hear him, once? 

He will not get anything… The black sheep won’t get its redemption. 

Lucifer shakes the thought out of his head, he can’t think about what he lost. He can’t think about…. God. And definitely not on the way his body aches with heaviness. 

Amenadiel must have known about dear old dad’s death. He is basically the firstborn. No wonder he is jittery. 

“Hey! I got news too.” Mazikeen explodes suddenly. “Demons are roaming the Earth, Lucifer.”

“Oh, splendid!” He murmurs, desperately wishing for a bloody drink. “But if you remember, Mazie, I banned possession eons ago.” 

“I fucking know! I encountered one in Brazil. My brother says they don’t follow your orders anymore.” 

And now that catches his attention. “Explain.” 

“The demons have a new leader, and now they wanna overthrow you as their king and follow it as their lord.” 

“Are we in danger?” Linda asks.

“Well, then we need to find the demons and punish them, won’t we?” He replies instead of answering Linda. 

“Can the demon and Michael be related?” 

“Michael hates demons, Amenadiel.  He won’t even approach them. It’s someone else.” 

“Then why was Michael here, Luci?” 

“Oh, bloody hell! He is the reason behind my current…. predicament.” Amenadiel’s eyes widen, while Linda just sighs.  

“What predicament?” Maze questions. 

He ignores her, instead, grabbing a drink. Oh, the whiskey is good. The conversation carries on, and he zones out in places, until Chloe rushes to the living room, latching onto him as soon as she spots him. He wants to hold her forever, nurture her, and cherish her. But then, Maze makes an utter fuckery of things. When he orders her, everyone looks at him with such disgust, that he physically recoils, feeling ill at himself. 

What did he do wrong? 

But Chloe is there to make everything better, and to his utter bewilderment, she kisses him. He wants that moment to never end only if his twin brother wouldn’t have the spectacular timing. 

And then, Chloe punches Michael. 

At that moment, Lucifer realizes how madly in love he is with this woman. 

Yes, the Devil is in love. How maddening.