Death at the Precinct
Chloe Decker is shot at the precinct
see the end for additional notes
this darn thing didn't want to be written, so all mistakes are mine, sorry if it's a pain to read
Curled up on her favourite chair, Chloe was nursing a glass of her best scotch, which didn't say much of her taste but a lot of the current state of her bank account. Eyes locked on the fire, she blinked occasionally when embers fizzled out, while she worked to make sense of what had happened. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe there was something to save. Or maybe Dan will never be husband material and it'll never work. She couldn't deny they had a moment, something sweet that reminded her of the guy she had fallen in love with. To push him out of her life had been, was, she corrected, the hardest thing she ever had to do. It was a painful experience, especially now that he was doing everything right to win her back. That he was finally on board with the Palmetto case, it was the icing on the cake. The kiss was what it was, a kiss, she shouldn't read too much into it, she was acting like a teenager. To kiss him back contradicted everything she'd been fighting for these last months. She needed some normalcy in her life, not the vague promise he'll try to make it up to her.
To be honest, being partnered to Lucifer was the closest brush she'd had with normalcy lately. Despite his egregious honesty and devil-may-care attitude, and against her better judgment, Lucifer had been growing on her. Her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She writhed out off her comfortable position, and took a look at the caller ID. Speaking of the devil, she smiled, undecided whether she should answer Lucifer late call. She didn't remember he ever called her that late before, or ever, for that matter. It was some kind of progress, considering he might have actually chosen to come knocking on her door, or worse just walk in like he owned the place. Curiosity kills the cat. She hit IGNORE without a second thought. Whatever existential imaginary crisis Lucifer was going through right now, it will have to wait until tomorrow. Probably nothing his dominatrix bar tender couldn't deal with. She huddled back on the chair and closed her eyes. The front door opened with a bang. With a yelp, she hopped to her feet and crouched reflexively. Her hand reached for her firearm, the firearm she had safely locked away inside her closet hours ago. She grabbed the poker, tiptoed to the kitchen on her bare feet holding it like a baseball bat.
"Detective, why don't you answer your phone?" Lucifer bawled, waving his phone at her in disbelief. "You had me worried for a moment."
"Lucifer, what are you here? We agreed you can't barge in my house like that, especially not in the middle of the night. And please, keep it down. If Trixie's awake, I swear I'm going to kill you!" For some idiotic girly reason, she glanced at her feet, glad her bright red nail polish wasn't chipped. She pushed the idea in a safe corner of her mind and gave her attention back to Lucifer.
"Please refrain from killing me, I haven't quite sorted out my immortality issues." His burning gaze roamed over her pyjama pants and spaghetti straps camisole. "It's barely ten, hardly the middle of the night," he said with a predatory grin. "As for Beatrice, trust me, no divine miracle here, children are heavy sleepers. Still going to assault me?" he dared her, waving a hand at her menacing stance.
"Lucifer, you have to stop breaking into my house," she winced, eyes squinting. Even to her ears, it sounded exactly like the opposite.
"The door was not closed." She glared but put down the poker. "You know me, love, I'm completely harmless to you and Beatrice."
"Don't pet name me, you alien twat."
"Harsh!" he protested. "And for my defence, I did call you."
"From my front door," she huffed. "How did you get inside anyway? Forget it, I really have to get an alarm system installed."
"Detective, you seem flushed. Were you expecting someone else?"
"I wasn't expecting anyone, and definitely not you. And it's none of your business anyway," she added in haste. God, she was like an open book. To expose her personal life to Lucifer, and fuel his obsession? She was pathetic, really. "It's not enough to spoil my mornings, now you want to turn my nights into hell?"
"Hell? Oh, dear," Lucifer looked insulted, "not if I have a say in that."
She reached for the poker and he held his palms up in surrender. "I apologize if I offended you, surely it was not my intention, Detective, it is though-provoking indeed." He took a deep breath and frowned. "Really, is anything the matter?"
"Oh god yes, Lucifer, you are!"
"Don't drag my father into it, it's complicated enough as it is. Calm down Detective. Even I can see you're quite distraught."
"Perfect! Can you take a hint and leave now?"
"First, let's take a moment to address the purpose of my visit. Me," he pointed his index fingers to his chest with a jaunty air.
"Seriously?" she protested half-heartedly.
"I was hoping you could help me with something."
"Hope being the operative word," she said, putting the kitchen island between them. "Lucifer, it doesn't work like that, I can't talk right now, I have a lot on my plate. Whatever it is, it can wait," she said, checking him for physical injuries. "I mean you're not harmed, are you?"
"Of course not, why would I? Listen, now that we have established my presence does not endanger you or your child, do you propose to threaten me all night with whatever that ugly metal rod is?"
"All night, really? Get out Lucifer!" she said, shooing him away with the poker.
He shoved his hands inside his pockets. "Have you been drinking?" he asked, leaning in closer. "I could use a drink myself," he leered.
"Ask and you shall receive, is it what it is, Lucifer? I'm not a charity, go now!"
"As a general rule, I never dabble into apocryphal scriptures, especially not the ones generated by the cronies of my father's illegitimate spawn, thank you very much."
"Are you listening to yourself? You sound like a mad man."
"I must insist, there are more pressing matters."
"Like what? To respect my privacy?"
"To have a chat with you of course. You are my friend, obviously, and I am in great need of advice."
Chloe rolled her eyes. "If I listen to you, you swear you'll leave me alone?"
"You have a deal Detective." She tilted her head. "What? Do you want me to cross my heart and hope to die, because it won't be happening."
"Okay Lucifer, one drink and you're gone," she said, leading the way to the living room.
"Thank you, Detective," Lucifer said so quietly in her back she barely heard him.
He sat on the coffee table, facing the fireplace. She took a glass from the console table, poured a scotch, handed it to him, and settled back on her chair. She should have heard him out right away instead of dragging out the conversation. It was obvious from the start he'll manage to say his piece. She took a sip and observed him above the rim of her glass, realizing how beaten he looked, all bravado gone. That was new. She's seen him petulant, out of line, outrageously funny, passionate, but beaten wasn't something she would have associated him with. For some reason, she felt upset. "I'm listening," she offered.
He swirled absently the amber liquid in his glass. "Fire," he said to himself, briefly glancing in her direction, "it reminds me of home." His stare went back to the flames. At some point, she could have sworn his eyes turned red for a split second. Maybe he was afflicted with some kind of genetic heterochromia, though it didn't quite add up. It wasn't something that could be switched on and off on demand. She witnessed it once already. It made her shoot him, a mistake she wasn't willing to make again.
His head sank to his chest and he exhaled heavily. "I fired Maze," he finally said. "You have to understand I have known her for millennia. As far as I recall, she was always my friend, and a fierce ally."
"Millennia? You know it sounds a little excessive, even coming for you."
"It is, right? Who might have predicted I would ever part ways with the daughter of Lilith," he muttered. He took a slug of his drink, made a face but didn't comment.
She resisted the urge to stroke his arm. No contact, and you'll be just fine, she thought, not sure it'll be enough to keep her away from him. He radiated pain. "What is it? A cult? A heavy metal band?" she tried playfully.
"She betrayed me, Detective. She disclosed my seeing Dr Linda to my brother."
"And it's a secret why?"
"Amenadiel will not hesitate to turn Dr Linda against me or use whatever information I shared with her during our sessions."
"Despite her weird ethics, I'm sure Dr Martin would never share information about her patients. And Lucifer, you don't strike me as someone who can't handle a family feud. Whatever your brother's up to, it can't be that bad."
"No, it is worse."
"I'm happy to live as far away as possible from my family, but let me tell you, yours can't be as toxic as mine."
"You want to bet?" he scoffed.
"Come on, it's ridiculous! Pay them a visit and get it over with, like, I don't know, next weekend? I can go with you if it helps. And Trixie. She's great when it comes to defuse family drama." What was she doing? She was supposed to fix her marriage not visit her eccentric partner's family for the weekend. What if they lived in London? She'd need her passport.
"Totally unpractical," he said, before her train of thoughts induced a panic attack. "There's business involved. You may not be aware that my brother is currently handling my affairs. You've seen Lux, I can assure you I always keep my operations pretty clean. Unfortunately, there is no way to know what he has done with the place since I left," he shook his head. "I'm afraid his approach is far more judgmental than mine, given he's taken after my father," he gave a forced laughter.
"Yeah, he mentioned you changed career recently. What kind of business are we talking about?"
"Let me think, import would qualify, I guess," he answered.
"Like in organized crime?"
"Oh, no, nothing so bleak, though it is debatable. Rather import slash extortion, if you will." Her eyes went wide. "Anyway, this job requires finesse, expertise," he continued, unfazed by her body response to the revelation. "Needless to say, my brother lacks both, and no doubt compensates with a show of wrath and mere brutality."
"Your brother? The gentleman I met at the auction, you're kidding right?"
"Bloody hell," he boomed, "I am not. Suffice to say my dear brother wants me back home where I belong," he air quoted. "He will stop at nothing to make me yield. I wonder how he got to Mazikeen. He must have pressured her in some wicked ways."
"You have no idea."
"How can I help?"
"Well, detective, short of leaving this plane of existence altogether to retreat to a place where they have no hold, you cannot. That is exactly the problem, they are everywhere."
"Are you okay? You sound, err… confused."
"I am telling you I put you and Beatrice at a terrible risk. It is a rampant sensation, which ranges deeper than orgasm to a quiet voice breathing in my ear. I wonder what is the old man plan," he added, all the sass gone.
"Is your father involved in this… business?"
"Of course he is, that's the point. It makes me think that everything I took for granted before was wrong," he confessed, getting moody again.
She couldn't help shuddering. "You're not serious?" she gasped, while she tried to picture Lucifer alleged entanglement in the mob. Marlon Brando's face flashed before her eyes. This was totally ludicrous.
He turned to her, stern and wistful. "Oh, but I am. Make no mistake, Detective, my brother is devious and deceitful. He came after me time and again, and as of now, failed. The prospect of hurting me by proxy makes it all the more appealing to him now. I don't want you to be in the crossfire."
"Let's say I believe you, hypothetically, why would he come after me, it doesn't make sense, Lucifer."
"Because he knows I care about you."
"I thought you didn't care about anything but yourself," she deflected. "He knows I'm married, right?" she said, trying to keep at bay her conflicted feelings.
"What has it got to do with anything! It doesn't change how I feel," he spat, sounding peeved. "I cannot guarantee your protection at all times. It makes me infer he sent back coma boy to taunt me."
"Okay, that's enough." She stood up, and took his glass away. "You sound like a lunatic, Lucifer, you've outdone yourself tonight. I say we call it a night. I need some sleep."
"Only if you let me stay."
"Excuse me?" she almost choked.
"We are not going to share a bed, obviously," he said pointedly. "When I win you, there will be no trick. I will because you want to." She rolled her eyes. "That said, a cot shall suffice," he said with a flourish.
"Damn right, it will. I happen to have a couch with your name on it. I wouldn't want your death on my conscience, and clearly you're too drunk to drive back to Lux. Give me your keys." Great! What was she doing?
He obeyed with a smirk. "You could call for a cab," he provoked her.
"Don't tempt me. I'll get you a blanket."
"I'll make breakfast," he shouted.
She was back with the blanket. She thrust it into his chest. "Good luck with that, unless vodka qualifies for breakfast," she chuckled. "Good night Lucifer."
Chloe woke up with a start to a ruckus of people and silverware. Eyes closed, she made an attempt to process what had happened earlier. Dan cutting corners and getting cosy, and the fact she actually enjoyed it, checked. Brash, carefree Lucifer falling apart and confessing to his mafia past, checked. This was a small consolation that she wouldn't have to wake him up, she thought, listening to her partner bark orders in the kitchen. It'll save her an additional awkward moment. Everything was happening way too fast. She wasn't sure she could handle them both. For starters, it would mean she knew what she was doing. At this point, she had absolutely no idea. She still cared for Dan, but if she was being honest, she wasn't in love with him any more. That part of their relationship had been broken long ago. And as incongruous as it might seem, she considered Lucifer a friend… with a twist. She had yet to define what the twist was. She sprawled on her bed, enjoying her last moments of peace before confronting Lucifer. There was no point in trying to dither, she was as ready as she'll ever be. It was time to rip off the band aid.
She padded to the mouth-watering smell coming from her kitchen just in time to see Lucifer shooing off what suspiciously looked like a bunch of grand hotel kitchen helps in their whites. It was impossible he heard her coming, and yet, he swirled on his feet to welcome her with one of his rare genuine smiles.
"Good morning Detective. You were right, I was unable to find anything in your fridge to put together a decent breakfast. I took the liberty to call in a favour from an acquaintance of mine."
Chloe took in the fine table cloth, the silver dome covers, the china platters, and an exquisite Wedgwood tea set. "A favour, huh? What's all this Lucifer?"
"Full Monty, of course."
Her eyes went directly to his crotch. She averted her eyes, and went beet red. "What?!" she managed, her hand combing through her hair in a futile attempt to hide her embarrassment and failing miserably. He couldn't make her spit her deepest desires, but he didn't have to, she said to herself. This guy was really the devil.
"Oh, I can see why you're confused," his smile widened. "I wasn't referring in any way to that movie, my bad," he purred, apparently enjoying her sullen stare. "I swear I don't intend to remove any piece of clothing," he trailed, "unless you want me too?" She tipped her head, eyes narrowed. "All right, definitely a no." He inhaled deeply. "This is a traditional Full English," he said, his hand waving to the table, "fried backed bacon, poached eggs, grilled tomatoes, black pudding and pork sausages, baked beans, and bubble and squeak with hash browns. Toasts and salted butter. To accommodate your American taste, I asked for fresh pressed orange juice and a large pot of horrible coffee."
"Lucifer, you can't do that, it's way too much."
"I'm afraid I was rather glum yesterday. It is a peace offering, or an apology, if you will."
She chose to let it slide. She didn't have it in her to go back to their conversation. Not before getting her fix of caffeine first. "Do you ever sleep?" she asked instead, nibbling on a strip of bacon. Lucifer was as immaculate as ever, not a hair out of place, flaunting his signature stubble like a badge of honour. His tux looked like it was fresh out the dry-cleaner's. She came closer and took a whiff of a perfect mix of cologne and tobacco.
"I'll 'ave a nice cuppa meself," he smiled broadly, changing his thick accent into something definitely more street, "and a ciggy on the porch. Come on Detective, you would not want your spawn to starve, would you? Where is the little devil?" he said with a wink.
"Trix!" she yelled. "It's okay, you can come out now, you weasel."
The little girl appeared from under the kitchen island, her hair spiky. She embraced Lucifer with glee. "Is this breakfast?" she squealed.
"It is indeed, get on with it child, dig in."
Surprisingly enough, to share the lavish breakfast with Trixie and Lucifer turned out to be more pleasant than she anticipated. It almost felt domestic, a term she never imagined appropriate when it came to her womaniser of a partner. It was no secret her daughter entertained the idea Lucifer was her mother's rebound guy. To his credit, despite his proclaimed dislike of children, he looked quite taken with her daughter who blatantly adored him. Great, more problems with Dan, if it was even possible, she thought, realizing it would actually be nice to spend some not work time with Lucifer. Lucifer barely ate, but poured himself large quantities of a dark tea that smelled like heaven. He spent the whole time tapping out a strange rhythm on his pricy lighter with his cigarette, his mind plainly occupied otherwise.
"Okay Trix, time to get ready," Chloe said after a while, almost feeling guilty for having to rush her to school. Trixie beamed at the both of them and disappeared to her room. "What am I supposed to do with the leftovers," she asked him with a pout.
"Easily solved. I'll arrange it to be delivered to the soup kitchen of your choosing."
"Who are you Lucifer? The more I know you, the more I don't. And please, just don't start with your I'm the Devil act again, okay?"
"Aren't you feisty this morning Detective," Lucifer answered playfully. "Don't you have to get ready yourself? Should you need my help, I promise to give you my undivided attention."
"You never stop, do you? I'm serious Lucifer."
"We should discuss this later in the privacy of your car away from the little one's ears. Don't we have a case to solve, criminals to put behind bars?"
"Oh God! For the last time Lucifer, there's no we. As a matter of fact, I'm drowning in paperwork right now. It means no ride today, in case you're wondering."
"No ride, I see." His eyes twinkled with mirth. "Are you quite certain that I cannot be of assistance? Help you with your files or release this pent-up tension, perhaps?"
She felt her cheeks burning. Desperately working on some witty repartee, she realized she had none. For some devious reason, she felt flattered.
"Mom, I'm going to be late, where's Daddy?"
When Trixie came back running, Chloe glared her disapproval at Lucifer, and turned her exasperation at her ex. "Yes, he is, pumpkin," she said, rolling her eyes. "But he's running late, I'll take you."
"I can be a substitute for Detective Dou… Detective Dan," Lucifer offered. "I do know where to take her after all."
"Oh, you would?"
"I presided over Hell, surely I can arrange to take Beatrice to school."
"Mum, please! Can Lucifer take me, pretty please."
Chloe chuckled. "I'm not sure your dad would approve but okay, Lucifer can take you."
"Fantastic, I will be back in a jiffy, Detective," he said.
"No speeding, right, promise me."
"I won't let anything happen to her, you have my word." Trixie laced her fingers through his. "Let's go little human, as soon as your mother is back to her senses, I'm sure she will provide you with your lunch bag," he teased, "and hand me back my keys."
On his way back to Detective Decker's, Lucifer felt happy. Yes, not only did he feel something, but this particular feeling was extraordinary fulfilling. He stepped on the gas, humming to himself. "Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name, what's puzzling you is the nature of my game, oh yeah…" The air went thick and vibrated, and the world came to a halt. "Oh, bloody hell, Amenadiel, what now?" he shouted. He stepped out of the car to face his brother. "Don't you have some Ass to kiss, some lost souls to take care of?"
"Luci, Luci, Luci… why are you still here? Don't you want to opt for this easiest way and forgo your pseudo human life on your own accord or…"
"Or what? You'll kill me or have someone do your dirty work for you? Come on, Amenadiel, bring it on, I know you want to!" he fake punched him.
"Aren't you tired of… in your own words, shag Detective Decker senseless? I give you she's a pretty little thing, I can see the attraction."
Lucifer stopped short of jostling him. "Don't you dare touch her or I swear…" he spat. He wagged his finger dangerously under his brother's nose.
"You'll make my life Hell? Very good, I knew you still had it in you. Be sensible Luci, you don't belong here, you know you've been away too long already."
"Am I having a senile moment or haven't we been over this already. I do belong here now. You do what you have to. I won't budge."
"As you please, brother. When it's too late, don't say you didn't know what was coming," Amenadiel snarled before taking off in a whirl of raging feathers.
Lucifer came back behind the wheel and headed back to Chloe's more worried than he was ready to admit. He cannonballed inside her house in his usual way, the door bursting open by force of sheer will and found it empty. Vexed she'd left without him, his first move was to wreak havoc. He took out his phone instead to call the hotel and arrange a fast redistribution of their breakfast. While he was waiting, he paced up and down like a caged lion until he was collected enough to venture to her room. It was a mess, just like he expected. The bed was unmade and he toyed with the idea of lying down for a second. He straightened his back with a scoff, and turned back to the kitchen. Not being in control was mind boggling. Why was she so special that he couldn't get her out of his mind? People don't have power over us, he thought, that's what Dr Linda said. Where did that leave him? She was attractive, but he could handle more attractive, he pondered. And yet, he was attracted to her like a magnet, obnoxiously overprotective, and yes, jealous of Dan, at least he could admit it to himself. In fact, he was jealous of every guy that came in her close vicinity. On the other hand, he liked her to be his friend. From what he had gathered flipping through magazines in Dr Linda waiting room, men and women being friends was an impossibility. Some kind of planet thing. He wiped her forehead. The invasion of the kitchen helpers was a welcome distraction. When they were finished, he closed the door behind them and dropped onto the couch. There was a note, tucked under a funny shingle, painted pink and blue.
"Lucifer, I have to go to the station. Urgent. Sorry. Later, Chloe."
He chuckled. She knew he was going to break in again. He was becoming way too predictable. He grinned, realizing it was a fair acknowledgment of their unspoken connection. Positing she was probably safe at the precinct, he took his time to go back to Lux to change. He avoided to cross path with Mazikeen for fear of sending her back to Hell after meticulously beating her to a pulp. She still had a purpose, like tending to the club's affairs, for one thing. He couldn't be bothered with petty responsibilities, not now that Detective Decker was in danger. Amenadiel was a worthy foe not be bargained with, he knew that much. He had not doubt he could take him out anytime of his choosing but Chloe was a Human, hence fragile. Gritting his teeth, he managed to keep his fury in check. He changed into a more casual attire than he was used to, eyed a Lalique bottle of Macallan 'M' from 1940 he had snatched from a wealthy buyer at an auction in Honk Kong two years before but didn't indulge, and headed to the station. His eyes searched for her as soon as the lift doors opened. The floor was in its usual state of disarray. For the umpteenth time, he marvelled at the human capacity to have anything done while making their best at achieving nothing than talk a lot of hot air. He nonchalantly walked to her empty desk, exchanging smiles and pleasantries with the female staff doing their best not to rub themselves against him. While it did great for his ego, it did not alleviate his concerns. Where was she? Locked in some closet with her ex? Perhaps the ladies room he mused, his eyes scanning the bullpen. A flurry of activity reached his ears and he turned around to face Chloe and Lt Monroe coming out of an office. As far as he could tell, their exchange was of the heated sort. Monroe looked up from her files, saw him, and immediately turned into goo.
"Mr Morningstar," she cooed.
"Lieutenant, aren't you ravishing today," he obliged her. He kissed her hand. She practically passed out. Her free hand flew to the back of the next chair. Eyes unfocused, she inhaled deeply. Chloe bit her lip, and winked. "Thank you," she mouthed silently.
"What are you up to, this morning?," he purred, still holding firmly the lieutenant's hand. "Hopefully something really bad I can help the Department with," he added, sending Monroe in a state of utter confusion.
"Lieutenant Monroe and I were discussing the way to handle a shooting on Sepulveda. Maybe you should tag along, Lucifer, I could use a hand," Chloe said, eyes sparkling.
"Of course, it would be my pleasure, Lieutenant."
Monroe was ogling him, panting. She nodded absently. "Thank you Lucifer," she stuttered before retreating to her office, stumbling over her heels.
"Shall we go, Detective?"
"Let me take my coat," Chloe nodded. "My car is in the parking garage," she added, darting to the elevator. "Thank you. Ever since Monroe realized she might be up for this promotion, she's been a real bitch."
"Happy to help," he followed her inside the car and pressed B3.
They rode downstairs in comfortable silence, Chloe flipping through her files and bouncing on her feet with childish energy. For the first time since his last encounter with his brother, he felt serene. His gaze scrutinized her profile, committing it to memory. A smile reached his eyes. Resisting the urge to touch her face, he simply held out his arm when the car stopped. "After you Detective."
She smiled and rushed outside. A short burst of gun fire echoed in the basement and she was down. Lucifer threw himself at the shooter with a roar. He grappled the lapels of his biker jacket, and lifted him up, in full Devil mode. The shooter's eyes went wild, and a wail escaped his ski mask. "Let me go, he made me do it, he made me do it! I swear!"
"Indeed," Lucifer sent him crashing against the concrete wall. The man's body ricocheted over the hood of a car, and slumped down. Oblivious of the unconscious assailant, Lucifer ran back to Chloe and took her gently in his arms, blood dripping on his jeans from too many bullet wounds to count. She managed a smile, eyes panicked and unfocused. He stroke her face, uttering nonsensical words under his breath to soothe her.
"I'm going to die," she said with absolute certainty. Her eyes rolled inside their sockets. Her body felt heavier. Lucifer's hand reached to her neck.
"No, no," he whispered in her hair. His howl covered the blaring car alarm. "Amenadiel, show yourself, you bloody coward!" he screamed.
But time didn't stop. Nothing happened except Chloe's body sagging against him. He took her in his arms, and stood up. He closed his eyes. He could do it. He was the Devil. He had no use for cars or any means of human transportation. The air hummed around them. When he opened his eyes again, they were back at the penthouse above Lux. He sat down on the couch, holding her close and raised his head to the ceiling.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned, but to my defence, I meant every word I said. You are indeed a cruel manipulative bastard. Chloe does not believe in You, but my friend does not have to be punished because she refuses to follow your rules. You want me. You want to restore the balance, and I will. I will go back to Hell if she lives. Send your enforcer. My friends do not deserve to die. Amen." He waited for like what seemed an eternity. "And if she dies, I will go back to Hell," he said through gritted teeth, eyes in the air, "and wreak havoc upon Heaven."
The air thickened around them. Amenadiel appeared. He clasped his hands before him. "I got your message," he said, looking more repentant than Lucifer had expected.
"Did He make you kill my friend, brother?" he spat, his rage simmering dangerously close to the surface. "Did he!" he yelled.
"Collateral damage," the angel shrugged, "the stupid cop was supposed to kill you."
"A cop? Coma boy?"
"So you were there when they unplugged him?"
Amenadiel nodded again.
"And you simply could not resist, could you? My Father lets a priest, a good man, die, but He lets him live? Why?"
"It's only temporary. I needed someone to kill you. He wasn't supposed to miss."
"And yet he did. What do you have against him?"
"You want the long or the short version?"
"You watch to much TV, brother. I want the truth."
"The truth, you will find out eventually, Luci. I screwed up and Father is willing to give you a pass because of it. For now."
Lucifer scowled. "What about Detective Decker?"
"She'll live. Take her to the hospital. Her vitals are weak, but she'll survive."
Amenadiel sighed. "Okay. But it's going to cost you."
"Is it a threat?"
"Oh, no, it's not. Corruption runs deep in this city. Our Father thinks you can help."
"I am the Devil, not the Punisher."
"Lucifer Morningstar, private investigator, His words. You must admit it has a nice ring to it."
"Time will tell. Remember one thing. I'm not sure she likes what you'll find."
And with that, he was gone. The fabric of time restored, Chloe moaned and changed position on his lap. Lucifer tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, waiting for her to come back to her senses.
"Lucifer?" she said, her eyes closed.
"Am I dead?"
"No, you're not."
"How come?" She squirmed to sit up. "I was shot! I'm pretty sure I died in that basement… What am I doing here, what happened, why am I not in a hospital?"
She checked her clothes and found them ruined and covered in blood. Her face turned paler than it already was. She stood up, her coat fell to the floor, her fingers flied over her breasts to undo her blouse. Lucifer grabbed her wrists.
"What are you doing, Detective? As much as I would enjoy you stripping down for me, I urge you to think it through." She tried to free herself. "I assure you, you are not harmed in any way. I saw to it."
"You saw to it? What does it mean? I was shot when I got off the elevator, for crying out loud! I saw the shooter, -male, 6', Caucasian, wearing a ski mask. His firearm was a six-gun, and he emptied all six chambers on me. I fell down and you… I mean it was like a roar," she said sheepishly.
He let go of her wrists and averted her stare.
"Lucifer, what happened back there?"
He went to the bar, retrieved a bottle of scotch and two glasses.
"You might want to sit down."
She complied. He handed her a glass that she placed carefully on her lap.
"I told you I never lie," he started, his voice soft and slow.
She nodded. "Yes."
"Promise me you will not panic?"
"Whatever," she shrugged. "Let me have it." He glowered at her. "Okay, okay, I promise!"
He sat beside her, put his glass down on the coffee table, and turned back to her. "You were dead."
She chuckled uncomfortably. "Come on!"
"Look at me. You. Died," he said again, his voice a quiet rumble. "Long story short, as a favour, my Father agreed to let you live."
Her fingers clenched on the glass. "Who are you?" she managed in a strangled voice. Quivering, she scooted as far away from him as possible. Lucifer impervious to bullets, coaxing dark secrets out of reluctant witnesses, throwing them like a wisp of straw through security glass, or holding them three feet up in the air without breaking a sweat, scarred Lucifer devastated at the loss of his wings… Each and every moments she had questioned her senses when her partner had done something impossible became crystal clear. She was supposed to be a detective, and a good one at that, how could have she missed all the clues? "No, wait, don't answer that," she said, holding out a finger. "You told me, right, the first time we met. All the bullshit about us humans, immortality, the all shebang, it was the truth, right? You really are the Devil."
He nodded and raised his glass. "Bravo Detective!"
She frowned. "We're friends, right? Can I ask you something?"
"What's the deal with the accent?"
His eyes went red, but she barely flinched. "Aren't we cheeky today, Detective!"
"Come on, spit partner." He went into full devil mode. She shrugged it off. "Oh, stop it please, I know you won't hurt me. I know you like me," she sing-sung. "And when you're finished, I want to know exactly what happened in that parking garage. Because I'm pretty sure that the guy who shot me, it was Malcolm," she stated matter-of-factly, taking a large gulp of her scotch.
* after watching the preview for episode 1x10, it made me think, why not (probably totally AU and way too early to really happen at this stage of the show, but indulge me)