Chapter Text

“Oooh, I know him… did some work for me back in…" Lucifer’s voice trailed off as he continued reading the cold case file.

“What?” Chloe looked up from the paperwork scattered across her desk, her attention caught by the tension in Lucifer’s voice. “Who do you know?”

He tapped a finger against the cold-case file he was reading.

"You don’t know who this is?" Lucifer held up the gray-scale post-mortem photo of a man’s face, expression slack in death, and with a single bullet hole marring his forehead. The victim looked to be in his mid-forties with a receding hairline, bulbous nose, thin lips, and a dimple in his chin.

"Should I?"

Lucifer looked back at the photo, brows furrowing as he stared at the image.

"Lucifer? You said you knew him?"

“Yes.” He placed the paper flat on her desk. "He was not a good person," he added.

“He’s the victim."

"I’m aware of that,” he answered, still frowning. “This is Gordon Bailey. I thought for sure he would be wanted by all sorts of law enforcement. He popped off his mortal coil in 1978, I suppose to your perspective, he died a long time ago, didn’t he?”

“Have you seen his picture somewhere before? How do you know of him?” she asked again, as she typed the name into her computer.

"He was a broker of information.” Lucifer thought for a moment, "and weapons and drugs, whatever his clients were willing to pay for. Sort of a pre-internet dark web. When I made my acquaintance with him, he was based out of New York."

"Okay." She didn't know exactly how old Lucifer was, but this case was from the seventies and certainly older than him. “So, did you read about Gordon Bailey in a true-crime novel?”

“No, Detective,” Lucifer answered, voice long-suffering and patient. “I told you, I knew him. I spent some time in New York in 1976.”

“You did business with him in 1976.” She repeated, nonplussed as Lucifer dragged her into what seemed to be yet another string of metaphors.

Chloe took a deep breath. What kind of crazy connection was he going to string together between himself and the case this time? Every time. Every single time, he managed to make whatever they were working on all about him.

“How old are you?”

“Very, very old. Immortal, remember?”

Chloe felt another partner-induced headache beginning to bloom behind her eyes. “Lucifer, enough. I really don’t need…” Chloe stopped herself from saying more.

“Don’t need what?”

Where was the line between working within his metaphor and enabling dysfunctional coping mechanisms? By playing along, was she doing Lucifer more harm than good?

“Detective?”

If she wanted to hear what he had to say, she was going to have to go along with it. “How did you come into contact with the victim?”

He eyed her warily and released a tense breath. “The broker was recommended to me to assist in locating a special item.”

“What kind of item?” she asked, plowing ahead.

“Something I needed.”

This was the same kind of evasion she got from him when they’d been tracking his stolen shipping container. She wasn’t about to forget he’d been hiding something that time, too, even though it only turned out to be cosplay wings.

“Lucifer, you have to give me more than that.”

“An artifact.” His voice sounded tight; he clearly didn’t want to be telling her this part of his story. “It was stolen from me first,” he explained. “Look up his name. Gordon Bailey. I’m telling you the truth.”

Results for the name were already populating her screen. Lucifer wasn’t wrong. This person had been the leader of an organized smuggling operation in New York.

Chloe tapped on the image icon to open the mug shot on file and scooted her chair to the side to give Lucifer room to slide in beside her. The mug shot showed a photo of a man with an uncanny resemblance to the John Doe in the cold case file. “You’re right; it looks like him.”

A glance at the on-line data verified everything Lucifer had said about the man’s criminal history. The fact he got it right didn’t feel nearly as surprising as it should have.

And, yes, Lucifer did look smug.

“Looks like he was working with the police near the end.”

“As a civilian consultant?”

“No, Bailey was a criminal informant. There’s a missing person report linked to his name… right around the time the body was discovered on the beach.” How had the man remained unidentified after all this time? What about dental records? Fingerprints?

The next question Lucifer asked caught her completely off guard. “Does it say anything about an offspring?”

“He had a child?” Chloe scrolled down the search results. “Yes... a daughter. Ruth Bailey; she was placed in foster care after her father disappeared.” She printed out the mug shot and clipped it to the file. “You’re definitely onto something. That was excellent work, Lucifer.”

His lips parted slightly as he was caught off guard by the praise. A moment later, his face lit up with a disarming smile. "Thank you, Detective. I'm glad I could be of assistance."

For all of Lucifer’s seeming confidence and outright arrogance, how often did anyone genuinely compliment him?

It didn’t take long for the moment to pass. The smile dropped from his face, and Lucifer broke eye contact with her first.

Lucifer stood up, his usual grace forgotten as his chair skidded out behind him. He straightened his jacket. "Snack?" he asked and then fled before she could tell him what she wanted.

Would she ever get used to his mood swings and weird metaphors? But, she reminded herself, they were just friends. Just co-workers. She utilized Lucifer’s skills as a resource. Beyond how it affected work, Lucifer’s past was none of her business.

And maybe if she kept telling herself that, eventually she’d start to believe it.

He came back a few minutes later with a bag of Cool Ranch Puffs. “Would you like some?” He held the bag out for her.

On impulse, she reached in and grabbed a handful.

The unexpected pilfering of his snack earned her a quizzical head tilt and an impressed smirk. Mission accomplished; mood lightened.

Chloe picked at the Cool Ranch Puffs from her cupped palm as he sat back down. “What you’re going to have to do next is figure out why the victim wasn't identified at the time.”

“Are we not working together?”

“Yes, of course, we are, but you found the lead, so this is your case. How about I’ll be your consultant?” It was unorthodox, but, hell, that summed up their entire partnership.

He regarded her carefully before breaking into a grin. “Do I get a gun and a badge? Are you going to start calling me Detective now?”

She smiled back, relieved to see his usual level of exuberance re-emerging. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. What do you think we should do next?”

He tilted his head a bit to the side, thinking. “Find who killed Gordon Bailey, obviously.”

“And…” Chloe prompted, resting her elbows on the desk. She knew he had good instincts when it came to detective work; he could do this.

Lucifer sighed. “We’re going to have to prove who he is, aren’t we?” And then encouraged by her approval and flipped through the file again. “Which means fingerprints and dental records. Nothing like that is in here, but it does indicate that the forensics were done.” He passed her the paper.

Chloe frowned down at the photocopy of the handwritten evidence order. The paper had been copied dark, and the printing on it was nearly illegible. “I can’t make this out, can you?”

Lucifer twisted the paper to look and shrugged. “Archaic scripts aren’t my forte.”

Chloe rolled her eyes.

“What now, Detective?” he asked, automatically deferring to her.

“You’re choice. Any evidence about this case is bound to be in deep storage by now. We can put in an order for the records, but without proper filing numbers, it can take weeks or months to get a response on a non-priority case. Or, we can go to the records building tomorrow and see if there’s anything we can dig up.”

She hated to think they already reached a dead end just as Lucifer found something interesting.

“Deep storage it is then,” Lucifer agreed.

1976, New York

Ruth Bailey watched from her bedroom window as Mike, her dad’s driver, dropped a new client off at the front door. Clients rarely came to the house, but when they did, her dad met with them in his office in the front room. 

A dark-haired man stepped out from the back seat of her dad’s car.  He stood for a moment, plucking at his sleeves and jacket, and then looked up.  Ruth ducked out of sight, her curtain swinging back into place as she let it go.  Her heart pounded at the thought of getting caught peeking. He didn’t know she was there, did he?  Her dad’s job was dangerous, and she’d been warned not to interact with his clients.

My clients are not good people; her dad told her every time she begged to sit in on one of his meetings.

But Ruth knew a secret. She knew how to spy on her dad’s meetings without being seen.  Under the table in her dad’s study, there was a vent. And if she crawled under the table and squished her face against the vent, she could see and hear everything in the other room. 

She had just settled herself under the table when something extraordinary happened. The client stood up and walked out of her dad’s office. This was odd for two reasons.

One, there was no one with the client to stop him from leaving, where had all her dad’s men gone? Where was her dad? 

And two, the door between the office and the rest of the house always stayed locked.  Clients were not allowed outside her dad’s office. How did this man open it?

Ruth darted out from her spot under the table in her dad’s study and out the door to the entrance hall, peeking around the corner to see where the strange man had gotten off to.  He was in the family room, staring at the piano. Her piano. 

The client sat down at it and lifted the fallboard cover. How dare he!

And then he played.

The sudden rush of sound was startling in the silence. Ruth glanced back toward her father’s office, expecting any second now to see her dad rush out to intercept his wayward client. Nothing happened, and the man continued to play.

Wow, he was good. He was way better than her piano teacher.

Not that it mattered. It didn’t change the fact he shouldn’t be in her family room.

Where was her dad? What would he think if he saw her standing in the doorway watching the stranger break the rules?

“That’s my piano,” she stated as she stepped into the family room, chest puffed up defiantly.

“Oh? Were you using it?”

“No.”

The client didn’t stop playing.

“Then I’m sure you don’t mind me taking a turn.”

“Go back where you belong,” Ruth ordered, stepping closer.

The man laughed. “Can’t say I haven’t heard that before.”

“Are you a client?” Maybe she was wrong; perhaps he wasn’t a client.

“I’m going to pay a large sum of money for a specific purpose. I suppose so, yes.”

“Why?”

“To retrieve a missing item. You seem young to be involved in the family business.” As he spoke the melody from the piano became quieter, but he didn’t stop.

She stood straight and squared her shoulders to look stern. “This is my house, and I can be wherever I want. What’s your name?”

“Lucifer Morningstar.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s lame.”

“I beg your pardon?” He looked down his nose at her, frowning. “I’m the Devil. My name is not lame.”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s no such thing. The Devil has horns and goat legs and carries a pitchfork. It’s just a story.”

“You’re right. That part is a story. But I am real.” He smiled. His gleaming white teeth reminded her of the wolf in Red Riding Hood, but she wasn’t afraid.

“Fairy tale characters aren’t good fake names.” Didn’t this guy know anything?

“I assure you, I’m no fairy-tale.”

Ruth laughed. He was weird, and, if he chose the name to make him seem scary, he wasn’t convincing.

She watched him start a new melody; the tune was a popular song on the radio, and she felt jealous he could play it without needing sheet music.

“Satan is a bad guy, but you don't seem so bad.”

“Do you play?”

“I take lessons.”

Lucifer paused. “If you wish this little meeting to stay a secret, I suggest you run now. I hear your father returning.”

Ruth saw no one, but she took his word for it and ran out of the room, Lucifer played louder to cover the sound of her steps as she ran up the stairs.

Chapter Text

Lucifer was already waiting, perched on the edge of her desk. He held two takeout coffees and looked like a kid ready to go on a field trip.

“You’ll be bored,” Chloe warned.

“No, I won’t.” Lucifer insisted, passing her one of the takeout cups.

“We’ll be looking through folders for lost paperwork. Are you sure you don’t want to take separate vehicles?”

“What for?” He sipped at his coffee, eying her over the top of his cup. 

“Just in case you want to leave early.” She tried to keep her voice casual, but she wasn’t going into this with high expectations. 

Either he didn’t understand her intention, or he ignored it. “You said I’m the detective on this case; I should be there to help solve it.”

They took Chloe’s car, but Lucifer, playing up his role to the fullest, insisted on driving. Worst-case scenario, if he changed his mind about leaving early, he was in for a hell of an Uber bill.

“It’s been nice having you around the precinct more,” Chloe commented vaguely, trying not to cringe at how Lucifer weaved through traffic.

“The unsolved mystery cases have been keeping me busy.”

Chloe nodded quickly. When she’d given Lucifer the cold case files, she‘d hoped it would lure him into coming into the precinct despite not having an active case to work on.  She hadn’t foreseen him taking the project seriously and coming in every day to work on it. “How are things at Lux?”

“Another night, another party, just as it should be.”

“Does it get tiring? Working two jobs?”  

“Hardly. You rarely ask me about Lux, Detective.”

She shrugged. “Who takes over when you’re away?”

“Take over what?”

“Running your club.”

“Well, I have employees for that.”

“So, what, you just bought the club to have a place to party?”

His eyes darted away from the road to give her a scathing look. “I made Lux. I didn’t buy it as-is. Did you know it was a fight club before I took over?”

She remembered a case involving a fighter working out of the location. “Cage fights, right?”

“Exactly. It was there that I made my final decision to stay in LA. It felt fitting to start a new life in the very place I chose to abandon my previous one. The deals I set up to get things going didn’t make themselves.”

“Hence, the lease agreement with your former landlord being written on a thong?”

“A completely legal and binding contract. Running a club isn’t unlike ruling Hell. I enlisted competent assistants to handle the mundane day-to-day tasks and management.”

“Anything to avoid paperwork?”

He laughed. “You humans love your paperwork. I’m playing a set at Lux tonight, as a matter of fact. One of my waitresses, Jenny, will make her debut singing appearance this evening. She has the talent but not the confidence, and I’ve given my word to accompany her.”

“Delilah started out working for you, too, didn’t she?” Chloe asked.

Lucifer’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Yes well, Delilah was already making a name for herself when I stepped in. I introduced her to the right people and…” He paused and sighed. “And that didn’t end well, did it? Perhaps interfering with Jenny’s career isn’t such a great idea, after all.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Did he really blame himself for Delilah’s murder? “It’s wonderful that you help people.”

“I don’t help people, Detective; I make deals.”

“What kind of deal did you make with Delilah?”

“The same as I do with most, a favor given for a future favor owed.”

“But what if you need something from someone who you haven’t made a deal with?”

He raised an eyebrow. “There is usually something I can offer on the spot that will satisfy.”

Chloe blinked. “Like you did with the judge to get Linda assigned to the cheater therapist case?”

“It got the job done, and the judge,” he answered with a grin. “Plus, you never know when a gavel will come in handy.”

“Gross.” She should have known better than to ask.

“I assure you; arrangements are always mutually satisfying.”

He pulled into a large parking lot and double parked in front of the building. “Is this a storage facility or a prison?” Lucifer asked, eyeing the office building warily.

“Architectural design isn‘t high on the priority list for public buildings.”

“Obviously not,” he said, frowning as he eyed the old brick building and its narrow slat windows.

It got even bleaker as they walked inside. Fluorescent lights illuminated dingy off-white walls and grimy tile floors.

Lucifer held back as Chloe stepped up to the reception desk to give her name and badge number. The middle-aged woman behind the counter squinted at Chloe’s identification.

“This is my partner-” Chloe began but Lucifer cut her off.

“Lucifer Morningstar.”

At the sight of him, Shirley, as her name tag identified her, raised her thinly drawn eyebrows above her thick glasses and twirled a short lock of maroon-colored hair around her finger. “I need to see your ID.” She leaned forward, exposing a line of cleavage and a polished rose quartz crystal hanging from her necklace.  

Lucifer presented a folded ID wallet containing both his driver’s license and a laminated consultant card with his name and photo on it.

Chloe frowned. The LAPD did not issue consultant cards.

Shirley would know that.

But instead of calling him out, Shirley accepted his bogus ID and jotted down Lucifer’s name in the logbook. As she handed it back to him, her fingers caressed the back of his hand.

“Your skin is so smooth...”

Lucifer grinned with delight. “It is, isn’t it?” he agreed. “I use an organic moisturizer-”

Chloe slapped the case folder down between them. “We’re looking for the forensic evidence report pertaining to this case.”

Stepping aside, Lucifer looked innocently bewildered by the interruption.

Shirley opened the folder and grumbled as she attempted to decipher the printing. “I think that’s an N and that’s probably a 9?”

Chloe glanced at the folder. That was her best guess, too. “We couldn’t figure it out either.”

“You’ll have to put in a request for records and maintenance, and they’ll do an in-depth search and analysis of the query. Someone should get back to you in about six months, or so.”

Lucifer stepped forward, leaning in. “Surely, Shirley, there is more you can do to help us than that?”

Chloe watched him, perplexed as ever, as he used his charm. It differed from when he worked his mojo on suspects to draw the truth out of them; his tone took on a soothing quality, almost melodic.

A slight flush spread over Shirley’s face and neck. “I- perhaps I could. I- I have some free time on my coffee break coming up. Perhaps- perhaps you’d like to join me?”

“I would be positively delighted to join you on your coffee break.” He broke eye contact and smirked proudly at Chloe before looking back to the receptionist. “Well then, that’s settled. Where might we find the files we’re looking for?”

Shirley’s eyes were shining, glossy, and softening; she put her work aside and stood up. “Let me see your case file again? Who was the original detective on the case?”

Chloe shook her head. “There’s no signature on the report; we don’t know who the case belonged to.”

Shirley sighed. “Then you’ll have to search by date. The clerks do their best, but sometimes there’s only so much you can do with the information you’ve got. You can either wait and apply through records and maintenance, or, if you’ve got a few hours… who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky.”

Chloe nodded, “That’s fine. We’re already here.”

“The boxes are arranged by year in quarters. These are the ones you’ll need to look through.”

With the codes in hand, they headed to the elevators. Chloe explained more of the layout of the building to Lucifer. “The offices on the upper levels are for transcribing the papers into digital, while, the lower levels are all storage. Hopefully, it won’t take long to find the forensic reports we need.”

The elevator opened to a long drab hall lined with numbered brown doors. The complete lack of distinguishing characteristics added to the institutional feeling.

“Isn’t this lovely,” Lucifer observed as he stepped out of the elevator, giving their new surroundings a critical look. “They put every effort into making this place as dismal as possible, didn’t they?”

“It’s efficient.” Chloe shrugged and stepped forward to check door numbers.

Lucifer didn’t budge.

“Are you coming? Lucifer?” Chloe turned and was about to reach out and pull him forward but paused. He stood, rooted to the spot, staring at one of the doors with a faraway look on his face. “What are you looking at?”

“There‘s a person in this room.”

“We’re not the only ones here doing research.” She tried to make light of it, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

“Lucifer.” Chloe attempted to catch his attention again, this time reaching out and grabbing his arm to break him out of whatever reverie he‘d fallen into.

He blinked, and a faint shudder ran through his body, but he focused his eyes on her. “Apologies, Detective. I felt like I was somewhere else for a moment.”

He joined her as they roamed down the hall, reading door numbers out loud as they passed.

“Here we are, L213.” Chloe swiped the card and a mechanical switch released; the door unlocked with a hollow click and she wrinkled her nose against the stale, dry air.

Chloe switched on the lights as they entered, and the fluorescents flickered to life. Several bulbs at the back continued to flash and buzz. Lucifer stepped into the room halfway, his body blocking the door from closing behind them.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“Yes.” He stepped in and propped the door open with a chair.

The room was rectangular, filled with narrow rows of metal shelving stacked with boxes. Sealed evidence lockers lined the back wall with two antique looking microfiche readers off to the side.

“The LAPD isn’t concerned about keeping up with modern technology, are they?” Lucifer commented grimly.

Chloe looked at the codes Shirley had given them, they found the boxes easily enough, and Lucifer reached up to pull them from the shelf. A billow of dust fell on his head and shoulders.

“The dust is as bad as ash, isn’t it?” he muttered, at a loss to find something to wipe his hands off on before regretfully sighing and sacrificing his designer pocket square to the cause. One by one, they brought the five boxes over to the table and chairs in the corner.

“There’s no order to these.” Chloe sighed, realizing the filing system resembled something akin to a kitchen junk drawer.   

Lucifer found amusement, though, making a game out of commenting on the worst crime scene photos he could find.

“A cement roller flattened this poor sod,” Lucifer said, holding up the photo. Chloe made a face because, gross.

His eagerness was short lived. Within an hour, the jokes were down to a minimum; Lucifer sat slumped about as far down in his chair as he could get, shoulders sagging, his normally perfectly coiffed hair mussed by running his hand through it.

“Why are there no bloody windows in this place?” he griped, taking yet another sip from his flask.

“For one, we are in the basement,” Chloe reminded him. “And they designed it this way to prevent photo-degradation. If you don’t want to stay, that’s fine. I can handle it on my own.”

“This is my case. What kind of detective would I be if I left you here to do the dirty work?” He sighed and sat up, squaring his shoulders. “If I backed down every time a task became tedious, I’d not have lasted long as Lord of Hell, would I?”

Chloe played along with the metaphor. “You didn’t last—you retired.”

He huffed a short laugh. “Yes, well, I was there for eons. We all have our limits.”

Chloe had five minutes of peace before Lucifer started clicking his pen.

Clicking it again and again. And again.

“Lucifer!”

“Hmm?”

“This.” She grabbed the pen out of his fingers and slammed it down on the table.

“It’s better than the buzzing noise.”

Chloe frowned. “What buzzing noise?”

“The infernal fluorescent tubes. You would think with all the technology available humans could come up with a light source that doesn’t buzz and flicker like a swarm of locusts at a rave.”

Flickering? Sure, the malfunctioning light at the other end of the room was flashing now and then, but she’d hardly call it flickering. “The one at the back? It’s not even near us.”

“Not just that one, all of them. For Dad’s sake, how do you read anything with all that going on?”

“The lights aren’t flickering, Lucifer.”

He stared at her., “You don’t see it?” He groaned and pressed his palms against his eyes for a moment. “I had no idea your eyesight was so inferior,” he muttered and continued working.

The next time Chloe looked at Lucifer, he had his head down on his arm.

“Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should take a break,” Chloe suggested.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and rolled his shoulders. “That is a good idea, Detective; I do have an obligation to fulfill.” He turned to go but then hesitated. “Will you be all right here on your own?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Leave this door open though, will you?”

“The doors shut and lock automatically. Knock when you get back, and I’ll let you in.”

He propped the chair back into the doorjamb. “Promise me you’ll leave it open?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He nodded, still unsure but satisfied as he walked out.

Fifteen minutes later, Chloe checked her watch. She checked it again after that — half an hour.

Did he leave without telling her? He wouldn’t do that, would he?

He took off to Vegas without telling anyone.

This wasn’t the same. He would have said something if he left.

Another five minutes passed. What kind of trouble could he get into? This was Lucifer. He could find trouble anywhere.

And what did he mean about having an obligation to fulfill?

She’d assumed Lucifer meant he needed to make a phone call.

But it felt off. What was it he’d said to Shirley?

I would be positively delighted to join you on your coffee break.

After which, the receptionist immediately agreed to help them.

No. It was just his charm that prompted Shirley to help; no deals were made. Not in specific words. No. He wouldn’t.

Except she knew he did. He even admitted to having sex with a Judge in exchange for having his therapist assigned to one of their cases.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She let the door lock behind her on the way out.

Chloe heard the hushed voices as soon as she got off the elevator.

“Your skin is so soft,” a woman said in a sultry tone. That was the receptionist’s voice, Shirley.

“Thank you, darling,” came Lucifer’s silky reply. “You have a very nice touch.”

Chloe steadied her shoulders and walked around the corner.

“Detective!” Lucifer grinned from where he sat behind the counter with Shirley, his hand splayed out on the table as she polished his nails. “Would you like your nails done too?”

Chloe cleared her throat. “You’re getting a manicure?”

He looked over at the clock. “Oh, I took a bit of a long break, didn’t I? Shirley, darling, do you mind-”

Chloe interrupted. “No, no. It’s okay. Just take your time.” She turned back toward the elevator. “I just needed some air,” She took a deep breath. “Yep. All good. I’ll see you back downstairs when you’re done.”

A manicure. Right. Chloe returned to the storage room and went back to work.

Five minutes later, the sound of the doorknob being jostled startled her.

“Detective!” The tone of Lucifer’s voice, even muffled through the door, had an anxious note to it.

“Just a second. I’m coming,” she called back.

The pounding started as she stood up, and before Chloe reached the door, the locking mechanism clicked, and Lucifer burst in. He rushed inside, eyes wide and scanning the room.

“Did Shirley give you an extra key card?” Chloe asked, looking at the door. Maybe the lock on the door malfunctioned…

“Chloe,” he started and stopped, blowing out a series of short breaths to regain control. “Detective, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Lucifer, what’s wrong?”

“The door was closed.” His voice faltered.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to put the chair back. Were you worried I’d lock you out? I wouldn’t do that.”

“What? No. You were locked in,” he stammered.

“These doors don’t lock from the inside.” Chloe reached for him, but he shrugged her off and resumed pacing the room. “Lucifer, it’s okay.”

“Never let a door close behind you when you’re alone.” he chastised as though that were the most elementary thing in the world.

“Slow down, what are you upset about?”

“The doors, Detective.” He turned to her again, hand combing through his hair as he tried to make her understand.

“Sure fine. If it means that much to you, no more closed doors, I promise,” she said and opened the door to prop the chair in there again. “Better now?”

“You don’t understand.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “But, why would you? This is just a storage room.”

Chloe frowned as Lucifer shifted, adjusting his shirt cuffs and clearing his throat.

She nodded. “Yes, just storage.”

“We should carry on with the work, yes?” he asked, offering a flash of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Are you claustrophobic?”

He bristled at the insinuation. “I’m not anything-phobic, claustro, or otherwise.”

“Okay.” Denial much? She thought about Lucifer’s penthouse; the absence of doors, the open-concept design, glass walls, massive windows, sheer curtains and a sprawling balcony. She’d always just assumed it was a style choice. 

“You don’t like enclosed rooms,” Chloe stated.

“No, not particularly. There’s not much to like. Especially in a place like this.”

That last bit had her looking up at him curiously. “Why not?”

“Well.” He spread his arms as though it was apparent. She didn’t get it. “It’s too gray and there’s nothing to distract from the infernal electrical buzzing. And…” He brushed dust off his jacket. “The ash gets everywhere.”

“Ash?”

“Dust,” he corrected, eyes determinedly avoiding hers. “I apologize for being away longer than I intended.” He displayed his newly buffed nails for her to see. “Shirley runs a nail salon from her house on weekends.”

“Oh?”

Lucifer’s posture relaxed as he continued praising Shirley’s manicure skills. “It’s a shame she wastes her talents in a dreary place like this.”

Despite his attempt to change the subject, Chloe wasn’t ready to let it go yet. “Are you sure you can handle this?”

“Yes, Detective, I’m fine. Thank you.” He forced a smile at her, his tone dismissive as he sat back down at the table.

Chloe finished her pile and looked over to Lucifer; he’d created several stacks as he sorted.

“Need some help with those?”

“Almost done. Did you know every person has different calligraphy styles?” He frowned. “How many alphabets are there in English? I’m familiar with just the Latin based printed and cursive varieties.”

“There’s only one alphabet,” Chloe explained, not sure if he was joking or being serious. “How have you been sorting the reports?”

He glanced back at the papers spread around him. “Penmanship styles.”

Her stomach flopped. Seriously? She’d have to go through his entire pile all over again.

“Aren’t there schools that teach proper penmanship?” Lucifer continued, oblivious to her dismay. “Some of these aren’t even semi-legible. He passed the top paper from one of the piles he’d made.

She picked it up and inspected the handwriting. “I can’t read it, either.”

“Just like some of the handwriting in the cold case file. But odder still,” he continued, “The author could write in the Latin alphabet; he simply chose not to.”

“What do you mean?”

He passed her another paper. “The pen-signatures are the same, see, the way it tilts down on the p’s and the crossed t doesn’t touch the line it’s supposed to,” he said, pointing out the similarities. “But this one is legible.”

“You know handwriting analysis?” she asked, studying the lines. Looking more closely, she could see what he meant. Not only was it legible, but the lead detective also signed it. Detective Shawn Fehr. The pen strokes matched the illegible reports exactly as Lucifer described.

“Lucifer, you found it.”

“Right.” He beamed at her. “What did I find?”

Within Detective Fehr’s files, they found the original case reports, and the list of evidence storage codes next to notations such as: Jane Doe-prints; John Doe-prints, Jane Doe-autopsy, etc.

Chloe spread out the papers. “You found the evidence storage codes. Let’s go pull the files.”

With the proper files finally in hand, Chloe compared the evidence reports they’d found with the case file. “This is it. Ella will be able to compare this to the records we have on Bailey, and if it matches, we’ll have a positive ID.”

1976, New York

Ruth was playing in the yard when the van arrived.

She shimmied up the tree to hide and climbed out along one of the thick lower branches, hugging the branch tightly to watch the men open the back of the van and carefully extract a wooden crate. It wasn’t a big crate; it looked like something one person should be able to carry easily, but it took two of them to lift it.

Her dad came out of the house and met them, “This is it, you’re sure?”

The men looked at each other, shifting nervously on their feet as they avoided looking at the thing they delivered. “Yeah. This is it,” one of them grunted, straining against the weight.

“Quick, bring it in.” He dad held the front door open for the delivery men to bring the crate into the house.

She climbed down and ran to the front window of her dad’s office, trying not to step on the flowers as she stood on her tiptoes to peek in. The sunny day made her have to cup her fingers around her eyes and press up against the glass to see inside. What would be in the crate? A statue? Jewelry?

The men lowered the crate to the floor and stepped away from it. He dad passed them a crowbar and a hammer. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it looked like they wanted to leave, and a moment later she had to duck into a bush as they left the house and got back in their van and drove away.

Ruth pressed her face back up against the window. Her dad was working at opening the crate himself now, pulling out nails and then using the crowbar to wedge open the lid.

She waited, hoping he would take out whatever was inside so she could get a better look. Something inside seemed to be glowing.

Her dad stepped back, hand over his mouth. He didn‘t touch whatever was inside. 

Ruth watched, waiting for him to do something, but he didn’t move. 

Her feet were cramping from being on her tiptoes so long. This was boring; nothing was happening. Eventually, Ruth gave up her spy mission and went back to playing in the tree.

Chapter Text

Chloe called Lucifer later that evening to let him know the fingerprint evidence they found in storage confirmed the identity of Gordon Bailey, and that they’d drive out the next day to inform the next of kin.

The alarm went off at seven a.m., and Chloe rolled out of bed, wrapped a robe over her nightshirt, and stumbled downstairs, only to find Lucifer already waiting in her kitchen.

“Why are you here?”

He grinned and placed a coffee mug on the table. “We have a long day today, do we not? As ‘designated detective’ on this case, it’s my job to see to it we get an early start.”  

“It’s way too early for this.” She sat at the table and started drinking from the offered mug, not surprised to find it perfectly blended with cream and sugar to suit her taste.

With a flourish, Lucifer produced a blue and white baker’s box and set it in front of her. “I brought bagels.” And from the label on the box he didn’t just get them anywhere, but from Abraham Bagel Café, with an assortment of cream cheese to go with them.

Then she cringed as she saw the books she’d left out on the counter the night before.

The Measure of Madness: Philosophy of Mind

Delusional Disorder: A Family Member’s Journey.

Borderline Personality Disorder: A Parent’s Guide.

Leaving Paradise: Growing Up in a Cult, Getting Out, and Starting Over

Chloe jumped up and collected the books into a pile, hoping to get them out of site before Lucifer could notice them.

“Is the child well?”

“What?”

Lucifer eyed Trixie’s bedroom door and then looked pointedly at the pile of books in Chloe’s arms.

“Trixie’s fine; it’s just research. For work.” It wasn’t a lie- she worked with Lucifer. Chloe stashed the books on the bookshelf in the living room and came back.

He accepted the explanation and Chloe sighed with relief. “Oh, speaking of work…” He pulled a folded, photocopied document from his inner pocket and handed it to her.

Chloe looked down at a Death Certificate.

“I took the liberty of pulling up some information about the detective on our cold case.”

“You’ve already been at the precinct?”

“It’s not like they close. Look.” He plucked the paper out of her hand and flicked the date. “Our Detective Shawn Fehr died less than a month after Gordon Bailey was found murdered. But he also worked with a partner, a Detective Ryan Granger, retired.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Phft, it’s not like I need sleep every day.”

“Right.” She frowned at him, he was joking, wasn’t he? Of course, he was. “Good work. But-”

“Which morning propaganda do you watch?” Lucifer asked, picking up Chloe’s TV remote and flipping through the channels.

She snatched the remote out of Lucifer’s hand and clicked the TV off. “Now you can go. I need to get Trixie ready for school.”

“But we-”

“Nope. I never asked you to break into my apartment. Out. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

And she expertly herded Lucifer out the door.

…

Chloe felt guilty two minutes after kicking Lucifer out. Not that he had the right to break into her apartment, but, she hadn't even thanked him for the coffee and bagels.

There wasn’t time to dwell on it. Chloe had to make breakfast, pack her daughter a lunch, and double check that her homework was in her bag. Chloe hated nagging, but it felt like every morning she had to say the same things over and over again. Are you dressed, did you brush your teeth, did you brush your hair, are your socks on?

None of it would be any easier with an audience. Especially an audience like Lucifer.

Come to think about it, it was entirely possible Lucifer didn't know what a normal routine was like for a child. If he grew up in a cult…

Chloe took a breath. She knew nothing about Lucifer’s past, and unless he opened up and talked to her about it, jumping to conclusions wasn't going to help anyone.

The hour passed quickly; Trixie ate a bagel for breakfast and insisted on having another one in her lunch bag, and then it was time to catch the bus. Chloe walked Trixie outside and waited with her until the bus came, giving her an extra hug and kiss before waving goodbye.

When she turned around to go back inside, she discovered Lucifer lurking just a few feet away.

Was she ever going to get used to him popping up like that? He fell into step beside her on the way back in.

Chloe started a fresh pot of coffee and prepared a cup for him. “Thanks for the coffee and bagels.” She slid the cup across the counter and passed him the last bagel in the box. “Sorry about earlier.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Perhaps I arrived somewhat early.”

“Yeah, somewhat,” she said and smiled over at him. “Mornings aren’t the best time to stop in unexpectedly.”

He tapped his chin, contemplating. “How many times have you kicked me out now?”

“How many times is it going to take for you to learn how to use a doorbell like a normal person?”

He gasped and looked affronted by the insinuation. “Normal?”

“Right. As if you’d ever be mistaken for normal. How about we go for ice cream after work? We could take Trixie out to the local Halo Top Scoop Shop.”

Lucifer grimaced. “Halo Top? If you want real ice cream, you need to try Franny’s Creamery. And it’s barely twenty minutes from your apartment. What time shall we meet?”

“Seven?”

He drew in a deep breath and smiled, shoulders relaxing. “Yes, seven it is then.”

“Go ahead and make yourself at home while I finish getting ready.”

By the time she came back down from brushing her teeth and tying her hair back, Lucifer had finished the snack. He helped her clean up in the kitchen and they were ready to go.

Lucifer headed straight for the drivers’ side, and Chloe followed his lead and settled into the passenger seat again.

“Do you want me to program Ms. Bailey’s address into the GPS for you?”

“That won’t be necessary, I already looked it up.” He turned onto the interstate and promptly started weaving through the lanes of traffic to find one that was moving at a tolerable speed. “Not quite the neighborhood you would expect the daughter of an international crime boss to be living.”

“Oh?”

“Her father lived on an estate. Ms. Bailey has a tiny mid-century bungalow two minutes away from a mega-mall. Los Angeles has everything anyone could want. It is far more interesting. Even Amenadiel would come to appreciate it if he gave it a chance.”

“He doesn’t like LA?”

“He can’t wait to go home.”

“Your brother is thinking of leaving?”

“That's been his plan from the start, hasn't it? And he expects me to be as joyful about it as he is. I found the Silver City intolerable even before I fell. I don’t know why everyone thinks I should be enthusiastic about returning.”

"'You're leaving?" Chloe asked as a knot of pain formed just below her sternum. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What? No. Don't be ridiculous. This is my home- Lux, Los Angeles.” He glanced at her and then quickly away. “I’ve no intention of going anywhere.”

Most of Lucifer’s metaphors about the Silver City were intertwined with one major figure. She couldn’t help but ask. “Are you worried your father will get involved?”

“I have no doubt He will be. Perhaps the only thing He and I agree on is that I not return to the Silver City.”

“You don't have to go anywhere. If someone is threatening you, I want you to tell me.”

Lucifer looked away from the road for a moment to glance at her. “Detective…”

“You're my partner; I'll always have your back. If you need help, I want you to let me know.”

“Chloe-” Lucifer’s voice faltered as he said her name, and he cleared his throat. “Detective,” he corrected himself, and even then, it took him a moment to continue. “I don’t want you anywhere near my family. Especially my Father.” He gave a quick shake of the head. “I mean, not for a long time. Decades, preferably. Until you must.”

“Right.” Chloe didn’t have a clue what he was going on about, but rather than continue exploring that rabbit hole, she changed the subject. “How did things go at the club last night?”

He paused and then smiled, shoulders easing as he answered. “Jenny was marvelous. We sang a duet. We’ll make it a regular thing until she’s comfortable enough to go solo. You should come by sometime and listen to her.”

“Thanks, I’d like to. Especially if you’re performing.” Chloe scrutinized Lucifer’s soft smile of surprise, taking advantage of being the passenger and having the opportunity to watch his expressions. “Don't look so shocked. You just invited me.”

“I didn’t expect you to be interested.”

“Why not?”

“Why would you bother coming to the club to hear me? You’ve heard me sing before.”

“Singing along to the radio or a quick rendition Eternal Flame as a ruse to draw out a suspect is hardly the same as hearing you perform at your club.”

His posture stiffened and then drooped. “A ruse?”

“Wasn’t it?”

He stole a quick glance in her direction. “Right, what else would it be?” And then he reached out and turned on the radio, effectively silencing all further chance at conversation.

Lucifer took the next exit and turned off the radio. “We’re about ten minutes away.”

“Lucifer, I think I should be the one to do the talking when we meet Ms. Bailey.”

“I wholeheartedly agree. As much as I am enjoying our temporary role play, I believe handling the grieving human is more your wheelhouse than mine.”

Lucifer pulled up to the curb at Ruth Bailey’s address. All the other houses were small and cute, maybe the odd garden gnome hiding among the flowers, but Ms. Baileys house stood out.

At first glance, Chloe noticed the white paint peeling away from the wood siding in twisted flakes. The rusty iron fence enclosed a small front yard of sickly yellow grass where only the weeds thrived, poking out in clumps and growing up to a foot tall. Chloe double checked the address; this was it.

An assortment of home-made wind chimes dangled off the front porch. Feathers, bells, and pieces of broken glass swung in the breeze creating a cacophony of jangling noise.

“At least it looks like she’ll be interesting,” Lucifer mumbled beside her as they made their way across the yard.

He crouched in the dead grass, pinching something between his fingers and bringing it up to his lips to taste.

Chloe grimaced as he touched whatever it was to his tongue.

"Salt." He stood up and meandered around the yard, pausing frequently to examine the pile of stacked rocks under the front window, and a bundle of sticks tied together in a cross like form with twine. “How very Blair Witch of her.”

Chloe frowned, "What do you see?"

He shrugged. "Nothing of significance."

"Out with it, what aren't you telling me?"

“Ms. Bailey appears to have a subscription to Medieval Homes and Gardens.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s a Believer, not in the Good News way, but in old myths all but forgotten to only a few.”

“You believe in that stuff, don’t you?”

“Only the parts that are real.” He grinned at her and mounted the stairs.

Maybe this wouldn’t be a problem, especially if he was in a mood to joke about it, and so Chloe tried to keep the mood light. “Are you going to need to be invited in?”

“No. I’m the Devil not a vampire. And anyway, all those stories are made up.”

“Vampires are stories, but demons and angels are real? No bursting into flames?”

“I didn't say vampires aren't real, only that they need not be invited in.” It was his turn to roll his eyes at her. “I'll be perfectly fine, Detective. I'm neither a demon nor an evil spirit; nothing here can harm me, even if it wasn't a complete fabrication.”

“No, but really, I know how seriously you take this stuff. Are you going to be okay with all of this?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Chloe nodded and shrugged. “No reason.” Because entering a house decked out in occult symbolism was exactly what the doctor ordered for Lucifer’s devil fixation.

At the door, Lucifer ran a finger over symbols scored in the wood, studying them with interest. The most prominent design seemed to be a hand with an eye at the center.

Chloe knocked on the door and waited, paying close attention to any signs of someone inside. She heard footsteps a moment later, and the curtain at the front window moved aside.

Lucifer saw it too and waved. The curtain swung closed.

“Really?”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows, “Just being polite.”

The front door opened a crack, and the darkness inside hid the woman’s face.

“Ruth Bailey? Hello, I’m Detective Decker. Could we have a word with you?”

“What is this about?”

“We’d like to speak to you about your father, Gordon Bailey.”

“My…dad?” she trailed off, and the door opened further. Ruth Bailey stood barefoot wearing faded jeans and an old ripped AC/DC t-shirt, her long gray hair braided at her shoulder. “Can I see your badge?”

Chloe held it up for Ms. Bailey to examine.

“Come in,” the woman said and stepped back, giving Chloe and Lucifer space to enter. The woman’s gaze locked on Lucifer, her forehead wrinkling in consternation. “Have we met?”

There was no time to answer. A timer went off in the kitchen and Ruth startled, looking back toward the other room. “I’ve got muffins in the oven.”

“Go ahead, we’ll wait,” Chloe urged her.

They stepped inside. Smoke curled upwards in a lazy spiral from an aromatic incense stick propped up on the coffee table.

Chloe looked back to see Lucifer make a face as he stepped inside. He stared down at the design painted just within the threshold, a pentagram decorated with symbols she didn’t recognize.

Lucifer raised his eyebrows at Chloe and then deliberately stepped into and out of the circle. At least he was still taking all the occult imagery lightly.

Masks hung on the walls, and there were three shelves of items covered in dust. A lot of the paraphernalia looked like it belonged in a museum rather than someone's home. Lucifer veered off and plucked a hardcover book off the shelf, reading the title and flipping it over before showing it to Chloe.

“The Evil Eye: Demonic Symbolism Throughout History. Looks like some nice bedtime reading.” He showed Chloe the back, a picture of Ruth Bailey including a brief biography. “Historian of religious iconography.”

It didn’t escape her notice when he became very focused on one item in particular. Chloe glanced over as she caught him reaching out to touch a stone statue carved into the shape of an erect penis. Of course, that would be what Lucifer zeroed in on.

“Knock it off, she’s going to be back right away,” Chloe hissed and elbowed him in the ribs for good measure. He pulled his hand away before touching the phallic statue, and though he turned to take his place at her side, his eyes continued to roam the room with interest.

Ruth re-entered the room just as Lucifer playfully nudged Chloe’s arm.

Chloe cleared her throat. “Maybe we could sit down?”

“Right, sure,” Ruth quickly picked up a pile of papers from the dining room table and added them to another pile of paper on a cabinet. Her eyes darted between Chloe and Lucifer. “You said this is about my dad?”

Chloe joined Ruth at the table, but Lucifer remained standing behind her.

“Ms. Bailey, we made a positive ID on a cold case. We identified your father’s remains.”

“You found him? How? When?”

“We linked his identity to a cold case from 1978.”

“1978?” she repeated. “That’s the year he was taken.”

“Taken?” Lucifer asked from behind Chloe’s back.

Ruth looked up at him, eyes wide. “Yes, taken,” she repeated. “How, um, how was he found?”

“I’m sorry for your loss. His death was ruled a homicide. We’re hoping with the new investigation we’ll be able to bring some closure.”

Ruth shook her head no. “No. He was abducted. The devil stole him from me.”

“The devil did what now?” Lucifer asked.

“Ms. Bailey,” Chloe started, hoping to head off disaster.

“He broke a deal with the devil, and the devil returned and..”

Chloe groaned inwardly. “Ms. Bailey-”

Lucifer interrupted her. “What purpose would the devil have for coming back for your father?” he asked indignantly.

“He said he would.” Ruth stared at him with wide eyes, swallowing visibly.

“I did not!”

“Lucifer,” Chloe warned, twisting to put a hand on his arm.

Ruth abruptly stood up from the table, her chair toppling backward, eyes locked on Lucifer. “It can’t be. Oh God. You're the same. It was you. The demon.”

“I’m not a demon,” Lucifer answered smoothly and smiled as though meeting an old friend. “I told you when we met, I’m the Devil. Do you still play piano?”

Ms. Bailey’s face turned ghost white as she gripped the crucifix around her neck with a trembling hand. “Satan, I command you to leave my presence with all your demons I declare that all principalities and powers and all wicked spirits are subject to me in the name of God.”

Lucifer blinked. “Well, that’s kind of presumptuous, don’t you think? No one commands me-“

“Ms. Bailey,” Chloe tried again, cringing inside at the mess this interview had become. She stood up and wrapped her fingers around Lucifer’s arm. “I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she said and placed her card on the table.

“Dispel the powers of darkness in this room and protect me from assaults of the Evil One. Banish the deadly power of Satan from this house…”

Lucifer turned back toward Ms. Bailey. “You need only ask politely-”

Chloe gave Lucifer another yank toward the door. “Ms. Bailey, my condolences. I’d like to ask you some more questions when you feel up to it.”

The woman was still whispering and trembling.

Chloe tightened her grip on Lucifer’s arm and steered him out, keeping her temper in check until they were out of the house.

“Lucifer. What the hell was that?”

“What was what?”

“That. You.”

“She blamed me for kidnapping her father. I did nothing of the sort.”

“I know it wasn’t you. Why would you even…” She took a breath.

“I made the deal with her father a full two years before someone murdered him; he tried to doublecross me in the deal we’d made, but he eventually gave me my item, and we settled the matter. Why would I come back for him when-”

“Stop. Just stop.” She couldn’t have this conversation with him while standing out on the street. “Give me my keys.”

Lucifer handed over the keys, watching her warily.

Chloe unlocked the doors. “Get in,” she said when Lucifer hesitated at the passenger side door.

“Detective…”

“You saw what we were going into. She’s obsessed with the occult, why did you instigate her like that? And what the hell was that about a piano?”

“I only thought to calm her down. When I met her, she had a piano and told me she took lessons.”

“How do you know that? Did you research her? Did you look her up on Wobble?”

“No. I told you; I met her. In person.”

Chloe nodded. “Right. You met her back in 1976, when she was ten and you came up from Hell to make a deal with her father to find your lost treasure.”

“Yes, exactly!”

Chloe rested her head down on the steering wheel. “I can’t talk to you right now.”

“Detective?”

“No. That’s enough.” She blinked a few times, willing the stinging, itching sensation behind her eyes to abate. She started the car and focused on driving. To his credit, at least he was quiet.

Chloe turned on the radio to help fill in the uncomfortable silence.

Lucifer was the first to bridge the gap between them. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and turned off the music. “My apologies. You’re correct. It was insensitive of me to respond as I did. I should have been more careful with her.”

“No. No, I’m sorry,” Chloe said instead. “As soon as I saw the place, I should have known what we were getting into. I know you’ve been struggling.” Chloe's chest felt tight, and she had to blink hard to chase the sting of tears from her eyes.

“Detective?”

Why did she do this to herself? She reached over with her right arm and placed her hand briefly on Lucifer's knee.

“I’ll figure this out. It will be okay,” Chloe said resolutely.

“Are we still on for ice cream tonight?”

A quick glance in his direction was enough to catch the look of hopefulness on his face. He really didn’t get it, did he? Chloe laughed wearily. How was this her life?

“Yes. We’re still on for ice cream.”

He smiled, looking relieved.

1976, New York

Ruth sat at her piano, playing the song her music instructor assigned to her: Mozart, A Little Night Music. Her dad sat in his recliner chair reading the newspaper and half listening. She fumbled on the notes. This was the part that always got her. But, when that happened her teacher said, take a breath, start that line again, and practice it again and again until you get it right. Ruth took a breath and was just beginning to go over the part she had trouble with when she heard the front door open and close. She looked up just in time to see her dad look up from his paper and rise to his feet.

He tossed the paper to the floor beside him and shouted, “How did you get in here? Get out of my house.”

Ruth turned around to see who he was talking to. It was the strange client, Lucifer. He stood at the entrance to the family room, casually leaning against the wall. At first, she smiled, thinking he was a friend, but he looked past her as though she wasn’t even there.

The way Lucifer stared at her dad scared her. The contrast between his relaxed posture and what he said next was even more frightening. “My patience is wearing thin.”

“I told you I’d contact you when I found the item.”

“Oh, but I heard you did find it. Didn’t your mother ever teach you never to break a deal with the Devil?”

“Get out now.”

“Or what?” Lucifer narrowed his eyes, then pushed away from the wall and took a step forward. “You’ll have your bodyguard evict me? Already too late for that I’m afraid.”

Still at the piano, Ruth pressed her elbows close against her sides, making her body as small as possible. She wanted to flee, but her body remained stubbornly frozen, barely daring to move enough to breathe.

Her dad glanced toward the entranceway where the front door stood open, and no one came rushing to their rescue. Her dad lunged for the table to his right and pulled open the small drawer, grabbing the gun hidden inside. He held it pointed at Lucifer. “You will leave here one way or the other.”

But Lucifer just laughed. “I don’t have time to play these games.”

“Ruth,” her dad looked over at her. “Run upstairs. I’ve some business to attend to.”

Ruth’s knees felt weak as she climbed off the piano bench and sprinted toward the staircase.

She didn’t go all the way up. She hid on the stairs until she heard her dad and Lucifer leave the family room. Nothing like this had ever happened before. No one ever dared threaten her dad, not until now.  Silently, she crept back down the stairs.

Her dad’s office door was shut, and she crept past it to his study. She crawled under the table and peeked through the vent into the office beyond. There they were. Standing across from each other. Her dad still had the gun in his hand, pointed at Lucifer.

Chapter Text

Ruth spent the day fortifying herself with prayer. She knew this day would come. As much as the social workers and psychologists had tried to convince her what she’d seen had been her imagination, she knew it was real.

Just as her dad had known it was real.

She should have recognized Lucifer Morningstar right away. He looked the same, didn’t he? Hadn’t aged a bit. But it was so long ago, and she’d only seen him twice. It wasn’t his human mask that was burned into her memories, it was the face of the monster she’d seen in her nightmares every night since.

Just thinking about the way he’d watched her that afternoon sent shivers of terror down her spine. His eye were pits of darkness, his mouth cruel and unfeeling. Even the air around him felt different… oppressive and dark. How could anyone mistake that creature for human? He flaunted his identity, proclaiming his name for all to hear. How were they all too blind to see the truth? The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing people he didn’t exist. But Ruth knew the truth.

Every artifact she owned was a talisman or a weapon. She’d been preparing for this moment all her life.

She knew he would come back, but the knock on her door came unexpectedly early. It was only six p.m..

But the number six had meaning. Six was the symbol of human weakness, the evils of Satan, and the manifestation of sin. Looking at it that way, the hour made perfect sense.

Ruth cautiously approached the front door and placed her hand on the doorknob. The cold metal felt like ice against her palm.

No more waiting.

Unconsciously holding her breath, Ruth opened the door. No one was there.

“Over here.”

She jumped and nearly screamed. Oh God, it was him- it. The voice came from the left. He pulled his hand away from the spinning glass windchime he’d been poking at and turned to face her, palms out, placating — an obvious deception.

Her heart beat loud and fast. Could he hear it? Could he smell fear?

At her continued silence, he took a step forward. “Are you alright.” His voice sounded kind, but he was the deceiver, what did she expect him to sound like?

What game was he playing? Did he intend to trick her into lowering her defenses? “You’re a monster.”

He combed his fingers through his hair. “Right. I can see you have some problems,” he gestured in a sweeping motion with his hand toward her house. “But I swear, they’re not with me.”

Ruth retreated inside but left the door open for him to follow. She had planned a long time for this confrontation. Inside, among her artifacts and charms, she would have the upper hand. He looked down as he entered, stepping through the pentagram painted on the floor just as easily as he had that afternoon.

“Interesting choice of decorations.”

Ruth watched him closely. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” he asked innocently.

“Pass through the devil's trap. You’re a demon; it should have power over you.”

He rolled his eyes and snorted a laugh. “As I told you earlier, I’m the Devil, not a demon. And anyway, that isn’t how these things work. You’re a historian, don’t you know the difference?”

She backed up against a shelf as he stepped towards her. “The great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world.”

“Really? You have the entire history of humanity to draw from, and that’s what you go with?”

“Why have you come here?”

“L.A. is as good a place as any, and the weather is fantastic.”

“I mean, why did you come for me?” She needed to keep him talking for as long as possible so she could mount a defense.

“You were distraught earlier, and I’d hoped we could talk, perhaps clear the air? Ruth, you were so adamant I was a fairy-tale, why all this?” he asked, looking around at her artifacts.

He was taunting her. Ruth squeezed her eyes shut. He was trying to manipulate her with his words and set her off guard. But she wasn’t defenseless, and she wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

“Ruth…” he began but paused as she reached back, finding the perfect weapon to arm herself with.

There it was, the small wooden box — a relic from an excavation at a monastery on the east coast of Ireland. Facing a Viking raid, the monks had buried their most treasured items, including this one. In a trembling fist, she held the box in front of her.

The Devil looked confused.

Okay, so maybe the box hindered the power. Ruth grappled with the lid, clumsily opening the clasp to reveal the item within. The saintly preserved finger of Saint Conchobhar, the monk who with the divine power to dispel demons with a touch of his hand. The hand this finger came from. She grasped the holy item as she would a weapon and let the box fall to the floor with a clatter. “Get back!”

The Devil blinked and then smirked. “If you want to finger me, I can think of more pleasant ways.”

Was the gnarled appendage gripped in her hand nothing to this monster? In despair she hurled it at him, it collided with his chest and plunked onto the floor.

“The holy power of Saint Conchobhar repels you!”

“I’m vaguely unsettled, but repelled? No.” He crouched down and picked up the sacred artifact to place on the end table to the right. “Ruth, what happened to you?”

“Get thee behind me, Satan.”

He laughed. “How am I supposed to get behind you if you’re backed up against a shelf? Don’t get me wrong; I understand it’s meant more metaphorically than literally, but-”

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, -"

He took a step back, was it working? She took a deep breath, ready to continue-

“I think you mean-“ he started saying and then shook his head. “Your pronunciation is terrible. No matter; it wouldn’t have worked even if you had a native speaker saying it for you. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” He paused as the sound of a text message notification chirped from within his jacket. “I know an excellent therapist; I could give you her card? Anyway, I have other places to be, so, perhaps we could chat later? When you’ve calmed down some?”

He was toying with her. She couldn’t bear the thought of waiting again, days, months, years, every morning waking up in fear knowing this might be the day her nightmares come true. She reached onto the shelf again, she had to finish this now, something had to work.

Ruth curled her shaking fingers around a Mayan sacrificial knife. A beautifully curved obsidian blade with a decorated bone handle. Even after hundreds of years buried in the rain forest, it had not lost its edge. Grabbing hold of the weapon she used it to slash at the Adversary.

He grabbed the blade in his hand, pulling it firmly from her grip and placing it to the side. “As much as I appreciate the effort, I’m immortal. Your collection, no matter how eclectic and fascinating it is, will not harm me. However, I would rather you not tear holes in my suit.”

She had more weapons at her disposal. Reaching out blindly, she felt the solid cold stone of another one of her collected artifacts- softball sized, easy to grip, heavy.

The Devil’s phone chimed again, and he looked away from her, reaching into his jacket to retrieve it, and she took the opportunity presented to her.

He must think she was too insignificant to be a threat. She strode forward and swung the artifact at his head, hitting him square in the temple. Even as she struck, she feared a repeat of her earlier attempts, would he be unaffected? She felt like she could barely breathe.

The Devil reeled under the force of the blow, skin split, and bleeding.

He- it- didn’t go down right away. It staggered back, its hip bumping the kitchen table.

“What- what is that?” The Devil blinked and, in confusion, brought a hand up to his head, fingers touching blood.

She wasn’t hurting a person; this was not a man. It was nothing more than a creature, a monster.

She swung again, but this time, the monster caught her wrist before she could deliver the blow.

No, she couldn’t let it win. Ruth struggled with all her might, screaming, “Monster! Murderer! You ruined my life!”

“I- what?” the Devil’s grip faltered and went slack, releasing her, a stunned expression on its face. But that wasn’t its face; she’d seem what the Devil looked like. It wasn’t human. She needed to guard against thinking it had human feelings, that it could feel pain like a man. It was a monster, nothing more.

“I saw you, I know what you are!” She wrenched her hand away. She swung out again before the Devil could recover, still aiming at its temple. She’d already wounded it. Blood dripped down its cheek and neck. She could do this.

“It’s all your fault!” she shouted as she swung again. It didn’t even attempt to defend itself this time.

“Ruth, no-” it said, and fell, legs giving out beneath it, falling to its knees, holding itself upright with one arm braced on the floor.

Ruth stood over it. Breathing heavily, she raised the artifact in both hands, ready to bring it down again.

Her grip on the statue was enough to turn her knuckles white.

“Wait…” It brought it’s hand up to stop her, but it was disoriented.

The blow struck true.

The monster fell.

Ruth sat, stunned. She had done it.

What now?

The only movement the creature made was the rise and fall of its chest as it breathed. Not dead yet. Was it possible to kill such a thing?

If she hit it enough times to smash its skull, would it die?

She knelt and raised her arms, using all her strength as she brought the stone down on the wound she’d delivered. Again.

How many times had she prayed for this moment, for the opportunity to defend herself, to find vengeance for her dad? This was it; she had won. She would never have to be afraid again.

She jumped back suddenly as the cell phone in its inner pocket chimed with another incoming text message.

She counted to three. She could do this. She had to end this. It would wake up and kill her if she didn’t.

She sat up on her knees. Stone statue clutched in both hands. Deep breath.

She stopped. Tears streamed down her face.

Blood dripped down from where she hit the creature at the temple, a deep gash steadily seeping dark red fluid down the side of his head, into its hair and pooling on the floor. She needed to remember it wasn’t human.

Why did it have to look so human?

She swallowed nervously and reached out to touch it, placing her hand on its chest. The body felt warm. She abruptly pulled away as the cell phone chimed yet again.

She lowered her arms, choking out a sob as she did. She had spent her life waiting for this moment, wanting revenge. And, and now that revenge was within her grasp, she couldn’t go through with it. God forgive her; she couldn’t.

The blasted cell phone in its pocket chimed again. The body remained still and unresponsive as Ruth reached into its jacket and pulled out the phone. The screen lit up immediately with the press of the button; no security. A popup notification revealed a chat conversation.

[19:12] Detective: We’re waiting, are you stuck in traffic?

As if it was just some regular guy and not the Devil. She looked at the apps on the home screen. There were a lot of games; Candy Crush, Farmville, Sex Words with Friends? Ruth glanced at the monster again, still unconscious.

She’d been so engrossed in snooping through the Devil’s phone that she failed to notice the monster had woken up. The cell phone fell to the floor with a clatter, and she grabbed the stone statue, holding the weapon aloft defensively.

One eyelid opened, slowly turning its gaze on her. “Bloody hell, is that a dildo?”

Ruth held onto the stone statue tightly. “Sumerian stone phallus, excavated from a temple in the city of Ur.”

The Devil groaned and brought a hand up to the wound on its head, touching the spot gingerly. “Well, they do say ‘he who lives by the sword dies by the sword’. Ow,” it said, slowly pushing itself upright.

“Don’t come near me!”

“Could you please not shout?” The Devil responded testily. It scooted back until it could lean against the wall.

Ruth licked her lips, heart pounding in terror. “What are you going to do?”

Blood covered half of its face, one eye swollen shut and covered in blood, but the glare it directed at her with its good eye was scathing. “I will keep a good distance between myself and that thing you’re holding for starters.”

She studied the creature a while longer. “What are you?”

“Late for an ice-cream date.”

“What?” She understood the words, but nothing made sense.

“And now there’s blood on my suit. I can’t exactly go like this now, can I?”

Everything felt strange and surreal. The monster was worried about ice-cream.

At least, it didn’t seem intent on killing her.

Ruth backed away to what felt like a safer distance across the room. “You ruined my life.”

“I’ve had nothing to do with your life,” the Devil answered petulantly.

“I saw your real face,” she whispered vehemently.

“Oh,” the creature’s eyebrows gathered in as its hands fell to its sides. “Oh,” it repeated, seeming to understand.

“You’re still bleeding,” she whispered, averting her gaze.

She sat down, the adrenalin rush from earlier had passed, leaving her feeling shaky.

“I was nowhere near your father when he was murdered.” The Devil said eventually.

“You didn’t take him?”

“Whatever happened, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Where did he go?”

“Are you asking if he went to Hell?” the Devil asked.

Ruth nodded.

The monster shrugged and then winced at the pain the movement caused. “I don’t know. It’s not like there’s a registry.”

“You’re the Devil.”

“Retired Devil.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“And get even more blood on my suit? I think not. Are you going to try and bludgeon me with that dildo again?” it asked and pointed at the stone statue.

“No.” She noticed now there was blood on it and grimaced.

“Then I’d like to get a closer look at it if you don’t mind.” The Devil tried to stand up but faltered, balance skewing sideways, and fell back down on its hip. It braced itself against the floor, taking shallow unsteady breaths.

Still unwilling to get too close, she gave the artifact a push across the floor.

The Devil squinted at the weapon with its good eye, picking it up and turning it around. “You said it was Sumerian? I’d say older. Much older.” The Devil ran its thumb over the stone shaft, almost caressingly, and then laughed. “It’s not terrestrial stone. How did you get it?”

The monster slid it back across the floor to her.

“I know a trick or two about how to get things.”

“The apple didn’t fall far from the parental tree, did it?” the Devil snorted. “Pass me a towel?”

“Oh, sure,” she said and stood; she brought out a few old towels from the closet. The monster used it to wipe at the blood on is face and neck. It wasn’t actively bleeding anymore, but the blood had dried to its skin.

Slowly, the monster tried pushing itself up to its feet again, holding onto the wall for support as it found his balance. The Devil looked at her intently.

She looked into its eye and felt the world tilt as it trapped her gaze… so dark, so… she felt drawn to it as the surrounding room grew distant.

“I didn’t kill your father, but I am responsible for the innocence you lost that night, and for that, I am truly sorry. I owe you a debt for not finishing what you started tonight with that infernal rock. You spared my life. What do you desire?”

“I want justice for my dad.”

The Devil nodded. “You have my word.”

1976 New York

Ruth’s dad held the gun steady in his hand. “You dare threaten me in my home?” he asked coldly.

"I am here for one thing only, and I will not leave until it is in my possession," Lucifer snarled. All pretense of civility slipped away like smoke in the wind as he strode forward.

Ruth cowered under the table in her dad’s study, face pressed against the vent to get a better view, unable to stop watching the horrible scene playing out in the other room. She flinched as the gun went off. Three shots. She saw the holes in Lucifer’s shirt, but no blood, and he didn’t stop walking forward.

So fast she could barely see the movement, Lucifer slammed her dad against the wall, pinning him in place with a hand to his throat.

Ruth couldn’t look away. How could this be happening? Her father was more powerful than anyone she’d ever met. No one dared to treat him like this.

Her dad, as strong as he was, seemed to be no match against the strength and anger of the man facing him.

“I’ll give you your money back,” her dad pleaded.

“I don’t need money; I need you to fulfill your end of our deal.” Lucifer lifted her dad in the air as though he weighed nothing. “The Torch was never meant for one such as you.”

It felt like the air grew thick and heavy, Ruth blinked, and tears leaked down her cheeks. If her dad had want Lucifer wanted, why didn’t he just give it to him?

“It’s mine. I need it,” her dad begged.

“Enough.” The client slammed her dad into the wall again, and as Ruth watched, Lucifer changed. His skin melted away, turning dark red, furrowed with scars and deep gashes. His eyes glowed, burning with flames.

Ruth held her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming.

The monster lifted her dad a foot off the ground as if he weighed nothing and slammed him against the wall again, his head cracking sickeningly against the expensive Italian moulding. As her dad struggled to breathe the monster hissed an angry growl, his voice sounding deep and guttural in contrast to how he’d sounded earlier, "Let's try this again, shall we? Where is my Item?”

And still, her dad resisted.

“Tell me where it is,” the monster demanded again, “Or I promise when you join the denizens in Hell, I will ensure your screams ring amongst the loudest for the rest of eternity.”

Choking, nearly unconscious, her dad gestured with the last of his strength to the vault across the room.

Chapter Text

Chloe had a speech ready in her head. It was all good and well for Lucifer to pull his shenanigans and act out his irresponsible man-child routine when it was just the two of them, but to play these games and disappoint Trixie was not even remotely okay.

This would have been their first… first what? Date? The more sensible part of her mind quashed that thought instantly. Friends, just friends. The prospect of having a romantic relationship with Lucifer had ended before it had even begun when he ran off to Vegas. She was not going down that rabbit hole again.

But friends, they could do that. She missed their easy camaraderie. She missed how he made her feel. The ice-cream ‘date’ had been her attempt to reach out to him, try and get things back to the way they were before. And it hurt all over again to be reminded it didn’t mean as much to him as it did to her.

A tall, non-fat almond milk latte with sugar-free caramel drizzle landed on her desk with a flourish. “Just how you like it, Detective.”

Chloe closed her eyes and took a breath. Was he really going to act like nothing happened? “How I like what? Being jerked around? Trixie was looking forward to seeing you last night and-” the rest of what she wanted to say died on her tongue when saw him. “Your face.”

He raised his eyebrows and plastered on a hollow smile, “Yes, everyone has one. I know mine is quite stunning-”

“Was it your brother again?” She stood up and stepped out from behind her desk, reaching up to touch his cheek; a smudge of concealer rubbed off on her thumb. A closer look revealed darker bruises beneath, and no amount of make-up could hide the swollen pocket under Lucifer’s eye or the laceration and swelling at the temple.

He winced and pulled away from her hands as she attempted to probe the area. “No, no, this had nothing to do with family,” he explained. “More of a misunderstanding, really.”

“What kind of misunderstanding?”

He rolled his eyes as she pressed on his chest to sit down. “I made an ill-advised stop on the way to your apartment. Suffice to say; it did not go as well as I’d hoped. But what I wanted to talk to you about is, I have news!”

“Were you in a fight?”

“What? No. No fists were involved. More of a sculpture. An artifact from the city of Ur, so I was told. Never mind that. About my news, Detective, Shirley from the records storage called me this morning.”

“Will you please take this seriously? Have you reported the assault?”

He frowned. “There is nothing to report. The altercation was entirely my fault. One might even say I deserved the punishment I received and perhaps even more,” he finished dismissively.

“You think you deserved this? Why? Lucifer, I need you to tell me what happened.” That was assuming he even wanted her help. Chloe wasn’t sure if he would talk or not.

He stood abruptly and paced. “I made a shameful misstep for which an innocent suffered greatly.”

“This is about the woman we interviewed yesterday, isn’t it? Ruth Bailey? Please don’t tell me you went back to her house on your own.”

“Okay, I won’t.” He attempted a grin, but it fell flat. “Back to Shirley-”

Without letting him finish, Chloe took Lucifer’s arm and pulled him aside into the glassed-in conference room for some privacy. “You saw how Ms. Bailey reacted to you. Why did you go back there?”

“She recognized me. I needed to talk to her.”

This again? “You needed to talk to a woman so obsessed with the occult that she thinks you are an actual demon.”

“I’m not a demon and have never claimed to be one,” Lucifer corrected her quickly.

“Right. You went to talk to her. What did you think would happen?”

“Not to be hit in the head with a celestial dildo,” Lucifer answered wryly. “She thinks I kidnapped her father.”

“She thinks the Devil kidnapped her father,” Chloe corrected.

“Yes, me.”

Chloe sighed. “How old was she when this happened?”

“Just a child.”

“Lucifer it wasn’t you.”

“I know; that’s what I tried to explain to her.”

“Did Ruth Bailey assault you?” None of this sounded like metaphors; it sounded like he believed what he was saying. Just like when he told her he thought God Johnson was his father.

“Everything is fine now. We worked it out.”

Chloe stood up and caught his arm to stop his pacing. “Sit down.”

“What? Why?” he asked, but he took a seat when she steered him to the chair.

She sat down across from him and placed her hands over his. “Lucifer, slow down, walk me through it.”

“I thought about what you said after we left Ms. Bailey’s home, and I wanted a chance to speak to her again, clear the air…”

Chloe listened.

“I wanted to explain that I had no part in her father's disappearance… To reassure her she has nothing to fear from me.”

“How did she react?”

“It didn’t go well. I mean, I assume not. I don’t remember all of it.”

Deep breath. “You lost consciousness?”

“Yes, but only briefly-”

She cut him off. “Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“I’m fine, Detective. All healed up.”

Right, and that's what the concealer was for. She touched his face, tilting his head a bit to get a better look at his eye. It was bloodshot, but the pupils were equal. “Headaches?”

“Perfect health,” he insisted. “Now, will you listen to what I have to tell you about Shirley from the dreary records building?”

“You gave the woman in the records building your phone number?”

He smiled, and she realized exactly how close she was to his face and leaned back. Lucifer sighed. “Please, Detective, can we focus? Shirley is quitting her depressing day job and pursuing her dream as a manicurist.”

“That’s great.” She deadpanned. “What-”

“But before she leaves her former profession, she agreed to do some extra digging for me, and she has. More case files with missing forensics reports have turned up, compliments of Detective Fehr.”

“So, he was sloppy.”

“Selectively sloppy. All these reports, seven that Shirley found thus far, featured unidentified bodies with a single gunshot wound to the head. Just like our Gordon Bailey.”

“Okay, I’ll look into it. I’m taking you home.”

“Ooh, and I didn’t even have to freeze Hell over?”

“To rest. And if you have any nausea or dizziness, I want you to call me.”

They left his car at the precinct, and Chloe drove, promising to pick him up the next morning.

Chloe called ahead to make sure Linda was available. Five minutes ahead.

“I was just about to go for-”

“Great, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Chloe ended the call and sped the rest of the way there.

Who could she talk to about this? She’d tried, first with Dan and then with Ella, and neither of them had been helpful.

Dan treated it like a joke:

“Have you noticed anything off about Lucifer lately?”

“Lately, as in since I’ve met him?”

“Thanks, Dan, you’re really helpful.”

And Ella… was Ella.

“Where is he? Does he need a hug?”

Which left Chloe with Maze and Linda. She already knew better than to discuss Lucifer with Maze; the complicated relationship those two shared was in constant flux. As for Linda, well, Linda was Lucifer’s therapist. There were professional boundaries that should be respected.

Who was Chloe kidding? Linda had recently helped Lucifer escape from a psychiatric hospital with a patient. She wasn’t about to feel guilty for putting the therapist in a difficult position. If Linda refused to talk to her, then fine. Otherwise… Chloe would take what she could get.

Linda greeted her at the door, holding it open as Chloe barged inside.

“This is unexpected-”

“I don’t know what to do.” Chloe threw up her hands, pacing the office.

“Okay. How about we start at the beginning. What is this about?”

“Lucifer.”

Linda’s gaze followed her back and forth across the room. “Chloe, I can’t-”

Chloe forged ahead. “How do I know if what I’m doing is right? I’ve been playing along, not embracing it, but, you know, not rejecting it either.”

“Rejecting what?”

“His metaphors. His Lucifer-ness. All of it.”

“It sounds like you’ve been trying to connect with him on his level.”

“But, am I enabling him?” Chloe sighed and flopped down on the couch. “We work well together. He has a way about him, you know? I don’t- I don’t want to lose that.” She felt like she was rambling and took a deep breath, trying to settle down. “But I don’t want to lie to him, either.”

“Do you think you’ve been deceitful?”

“No. I mean, he knows I don’t believe in any of that stuff. Or at least I think he knows.”

Linda stared at her and made a rolling motion with her hand to continue.

“And when he says things that are really out there, I challenge him on it. I don’t think he’s crazy. I don’t. But the way he talks about his metaphors, I’m not so sure he knows they’re metaphors anymore.”

Linda nodded, smiling tightly.

“His ideas are starting to affect our cases. First, it was the suspect at the psychiatric hospital, now it’s this woman he thinks he met forty years ago. You can’t tell me what he’s doing is healthy. He got attacked last night and he thinks he deserved it because he’s the devil. The Devil. Even just saying it out loud sounds crazy.”

“I know it may seem that way-“ Linda said with a nervous laugh.

Chloe shook her head. “Should I be worried? Is Lucifer… delusional.”

Linda squirmed in her chair. “Okay, let’s slow down. You’ve been saying you’re worried about doing the right thing, tell me more about what that means to you.”

“I’ve been going along with it and letting him keep-”

Linda held up a hand and Chloe stopped. “Think about what you just said.”

“That I let him keep using metaphors?”

Linda nodded.

Chloe took a shuddering breath. “That’s it, isn’t it? Knowing that he’s struggling, that he’s getting worse, I can’t justify enabling his fantasies like this anymore.”

Linda blinked. “That’s not what I-”

“I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Linda agreed readily. “But I think we should-”

“I know what I need to do now.” Chloe stood up. “Thank you, Linda.”

Chloe entered the interrogation room and took a seat at the table, her back to the large one-way mirror on the wall.

Ruth sat quietly. She was there of her own volition, having received a call earlier in the day requesting a follow-up interview regarding her father’s homicide. The woman sat on the edge of her chair, her back stiff, head down and staring at her hands while rubbing distractedly at her fingernails. She only looked up briefly when Chloe entered, and then furtively glanced at the door multiple times after as though expecting another person to come.

“Ms. Bailey, thank you for coming to the station to speak with me.”

“Is he here?”

“Who?” Chloe asked innocently.

“The Devil.” Ms. Bailey bit her lip. “Your co-worker.”

“My partner, Mr. Morningstar? You won’t be seeing him today.” Chloe stayed carefully neutral. Maybe Lucifer didn’t want to press charges, but Chloe wished she could on his behalf.

The woman across from her nodded and looked back down at her hands. “You have questions for me?”

Chloe opened the folder on the table, holding her pen ready. “What do you remember about your father’s disappearance?”

Ruth’s eyes darted around the room. “It was long ago.”

“Anything you remember might be helpful. Were you aware of what kind of business your father was involved in?”

“Yes. I mean, I didn’t know everything about it, but I knew he was a criminal, and what he did was dangerous.”

“Did any of his clients stand out to you?”

Ruth looked over at the door again and then back down at her hands before looking up at Chloe, for the first time meeting her eyes. “I remember him. That man you call your partner.”

Chloe stared back without wavering. “We aren’t here to talk about Mr. Morningstar.”

“I thought it was a fake name back then.”

“Mr. Morningstar is a civilian consultant with the LAPD. Ms. Bailey, Mr. Morningstar reminded you of your dad’s client. Why is that?”

“He didn’t remind me of your partner, that man is your partner.”

Chloe needed to put her feelings aside and keep the interview on track. “What do you remember about your father’s client?”

“You mean other than turning into a monster?”

Chloe rubbed at her face. This was getting nowhere. “Are you thirsty? I’ll get you some water.”

Ruth let out a shaky breath and nodded.

Chloe slowly stood up and walked out and ran into Dan as he exited the observation room.

“Is this woman for real?” Dan asked quietly.

“Yep. You should have seen her house.”

Dan shook his head. “She actually believes Lucifer is the same guy from forty years ago?”

“’Fraid so,” Chloe agreed and looked at the observation room door. “How’s Lucifer doing?”

Dan followed her line of sight and let out a breath. “She’s got him on her crazy train, but then, what else is new? But he’s behaving, for once, so that’s a plus. Do you think you’ll get anything useful out of her?”

“I don’t know, maybe. She was just a kid, but she’s made a story for herself out of it. Maybe there’s something in there that can help lead us in the right direction. It’s worth a shot.”

“Just don’t you start buying into all the devil stuff too.” Dan teased.

“As if,” Chloe scoffed and went to fill a glass of water and then headed back inside. She placed the water in front of Ruth.

“It’s okay, take your time. You were going to tell me about your dad’s client, what made him different from the rest?”

“That was the only time I remember my dad ever being scared of anyone.” Ruth took a sip and stared down at the glass. “I used to watch his meetings through a vent in the adjoining room. The client accused my dad of betraying him. He demanded what he came for, and if he didn’t get it, he said he’d torture him in Hell. Detective Decker, I’m not making things up. I know what I saw.”

“What did you see, Ruth?” Chloe kept her voice low, gentle. She needed to set her frustrations aside and let the woman talk.

“His face burned away, it was red and scarred, and his eyes were made of fire. The face of a monster.”

Chloe cleared her throat and tapped her pen against the notepad. It wasn’t real. “In stressful situations, sometimes our minds play tricks on us. A distorted image in a mirror or a flash of light can distort-“

“It wasn’t a trick of the light.”

“You were very young. Seeing your father threatened like that must have been terrifying for you.”

“Nothing was ever the same after that. We left New York because of it. My dad understood, he saw the face too, and it scared him so bad he quit all the illegal stuff. He wanted to do the right thing.”

“The man who you remember threatening your parents, did you ever see him again?”

“Not until you brought him to my door.”

Chloe nodded; she should have seen that one coming. “Can you tell me what led you to connect the incident you just told me about to your dad’s disappearance?”

“The night he disappeared, my dad argued with someone over the phone. The only other time I remember him being scared like that was back in New York. He was yelling something about a deal. And then he went out and never came back.”

“Did you tell anyone about the phone call?”

“I tried. But I was- my social worker took me to see a therapist.”

“What happened to you after that?”

“Foster care. I know my dad had money, but by the time I was old enough to do anything about it, everything was gone; eaten up by fines and taxes and lawyer fees and who knows what else. Fair game for the vultures, right?”

“Right.”

Ruth hesitated. “Maybe it wasn’t him. But then who was my dad talking to on the phone about breaking a deal?”

“I’ll do everything I can to figure that out for you.” Chloe closed the file and stood up. “Thank you, Ms. Bailey. If there’s anything else you remember, please call me.”

“Is he okay?”

“Who?”

“Your partner.”

Chloe stopped and looked back at the woman still sitting at the table. “Why wouldn’t he be okay?”

Ruth shook her head quickly and looked away. “No. No reason.”

Chloe nodded. “Okay.” And she walked out.

…

Chloe entered the observation room next door. Dan nodded to her and left, leaving her and Lucifer alone. Lucifer sat on the table, arms crossed in front of him, staring at Ruth in the room on the other side of the window. He watched as a uniformed officer entered the interrogation room and escorted Ruth out.

“I caused this,” he breathed.

Chloe hopped up to sit on the table beside him and waited.

“Not her father’s murder, I had nothing to do with that,” he quickly amended. “But she saw me that night. I had no idea anyone else was in that room.”

“She was just a child. We don’t know what she saw.”

“Exactly. A child should never be subjected to such a thing. It was my face; a monster.”

Chloe took a breath. “I’m going to hand this case over to Dan.”

Lucifer looked at her. “Detective, why?”

“I think you’re taking this case far too personally.”

“I gave my word to Ms. Bailey I would find her father’s killer.”

“Before or after she assaulted you?” Chloe placed her hand on Lucifer’s knee. “I’m worried about you.”

Lucifer looked down at her hand. “Whatever for?” He hopped off the table away from her. “What have I done that is so egregious that you’d allow a killer to walk free?”

“Dan is a good detective.”

“Not as good as you,” Lucifer insisted. “I need to see this case through, find the real killer.”

She shook her head, no. “It’s for your own good.”

He laughed, voice rising. “My good? Is this what you think? Who are you to dictate what is good for me?”

“I’m your friend,” Chloe insisted calmly, she’d known this wouldn’t be an easy conversation, but it hurt more than she’d anticipated. “You’ve been under a lot of stress. I know stress can make these kinds of things worse.”

“Make what worse?”

“Your delusions.” There, she said it.

“My delusions?” He laughed and cast a glance toward the ceiling before looking back at her. “After all this time, that’s the conclusion you come to? I don’t suppose telling you they aren’t delusions will do any good, will it?” Lucifer let out a long sigh. “If I give you my word that I’ll stop, that from this moment forward I will refrain from discussing certain topics with you, will that change your mind?”

Chloe’s heart ached. It had all seemed so much clearer when she’d been talking to Linda.  Was playing along with his quirkiness that bad? Rejecting his fantasies, or whatever they were, wasn’t going to change who Lucifer was; it would only restrict who he was around her.

“You would do that?” she asked him. “You would give up your metaphors just to keep working with me?”

“If that is what it takes, yes.”

“Lucifer, that’s not what I want.”

“Isn’t it?”

He was right. It was what she wanted, but not like this. Pretending his issues didn’t exist wasn’t the same as him getting better. It wasn’t about letting Lucifer use metaphors. She didn’t have the right to exert that kind of control over him. She didn’t want to.

Lucifer made a zipping motion over his mouth. “Do we have a deal?”

“No deals,” she said, and his face fell. “I don’t want you to change who you are. If we keep working together, I need you to be able to talk to me.”

“If?” he asked breathlessly.

Sometimes she worried that by continuing to work with Lucifer, she was putting her interests above her partner’s safety. But she didn’t want to stop working with him. She could handle it. What had she been thinking? She was overreacting. Everything would be fine.

“It’s fine. We’re fine. Forget it.” 

Lucifer stared at her, tilting his head to the side. “What are you saying?”

“We’ll keep the case,” She assured him. She was just going to have to make more of an effort accepting him for who he was, if she kept fighting his Luciferness, that wouldn’t be good for anyone.

Lucifer clapped his hands together, his grin wide and eyes sparkling as he faced her. “Lovely. Then I propose we find out who made that call to the Bailey household the night before they popped off, because it certainly wasn’t me.”

“How do you propose we do that, Detective?” Chloe asked, forcing her doubts aside.

Lucifer raised his eyebrows and snorted with amusement. “Perhaps there was someone close to Gordon Bailey, someone still alive, who knew more about his going-ons than Ruth did.”

Chapter Text

Lucifer went directly for the missing person reports that had been filed at the time of the Baileys’ disappearance. 

“Who reported Gordon Bailey missing?” he mused aloud, flipping through the pages. “Ah. A… Sylvia Hudson called in the initial missing person report. The nanny.” 

At the sight of his frown, Chloe offered some guidance. 

“Try interviews for more associates, and we’ll start compiling a list.”

Lucifer smiled and flipped a page. “That’s a brilliant idea.” He reached across her desk and grabbed a pen and a scrap piece of paper. “Did you find out anything more about the extra reports Shirley dug up for us?” 

“Only that they were assigned to Fehr and his partner Granger.” Chloe peeked over his shoulder. 

He flicked the paper and twisted to smile up at her. “Oh, here’s one, this name here. Mike Alvero; he worked as Gordon Bailey’s chauffeur. He must have been close with the family to come all the way to LA when they made their move.”

“Mike Alvero… how do you know he was in New York?”

Lucifer hesitated; eyes locked on hers. “I’m not sure you want to know.” 

“Tell me anyway.”

“Because that was where I met him. Mike-the-driver brought me to the Bailey residence for our first meeting.” 

“Okay.” Ignoring the fact Lucifer couldn’t possibly know who worked for Bailey back in the seventies, she searched the name. “Here. He did time in New Jersey for larceny. And his name is flagged here in LA too.”

Lucifer leaned over her shoulder, “Is he alive? Do you have an address?”

“There is a warrant out on him for… parking tickets.”

“The professional driver has parking tickets?” he grinned. “Where do we find him?” 

“Last known address is from over a year ago, but we can check on it just in case. Maybe we’ll turn up a lead.”

“No need, detective,” Lucifer said already walking away with his phone in his hand. 

She debated stopping him but held back.  He found a relatively quiet corner and glanced over to her as he talked, then called another number. The smile that appeared on his face looked predatory as he hung up a second time and returned. 

“I know where to find our driver. Shall we?” 

Chloe grabbed her keys off her desk and tossed them to Lucifer. “Let’s go.” 

Lucifer caught them easily and led the way out to her car. Before starting the vehicle, he paused, his mood turning serious as he stared at her intently.  "Detective, I’m having trouble understanding what transpired earlier. You wanted to stop working with me; why did you change your mind?"

“I never wanted to stop working with you,” Chloe insisted. “This case is taking a toll on you.”

“What is it you’d like me to do?”

“I don’t want you to have to hide who you are around me. Your metaphors, they’re your coping mechanism, and it’s not fair for me to take that away from you. Whether you feel safe talking to me about your issues or not, they’ll still be there.”

“So, you don’t want me to change who I am?”

“No. I don’t want you to change,” Chloe confirmed. “Not for me.”

“And yet you think I’m out of my tree.”

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Nutty as a fruitcake?”

“I didn’t say that either.” She snorted at his word choice. 

“Mad as a march hare?”

“None of those things.” Chloe bit her lip. “But if you get hurt because of me, I don’t think I could forgive myself.”

“Don’t. Don’t ever feel guilty on my behalf. Why would you worry about something like that?”

Did he really not know? Chloe searched for any hint of teasing in his expression, but he looked sincere and baffled.  “Because I care about you.”

He swallowed awkwardly, and his gaze shifted away from her eyes. “I… care about you too, Detective.”

“I know.” Chloe nodded and Lucifer cleared his throat. “Are we okay?” she asked.

Lucifer nodded. “If you are, so am I.”

He looked fixedly back at her a moment and then sucked in a quick breath of air and looked away again.

Lucifer started the car and pulled out of the lot. He set his eyes steadily on the road. “Our Mike-the-driver runs an operation out of a warehouse near the docks.” 

“What kind of operation?” 

“A chop shop, so they told me. He still has a thing for cars.”

“Is your information reliable?”

He thought for a moment. “If it isn’t, I’ll be having words with my contact. Do you recall the talk we had along the way to meet with Ms. Bailey, when you said you would lead the interview?”

“And then you tried to explain to her you’re the Devil? Nope, doesn't ring a bell.”

He laughed wanly. “Right. Well, this time, it will be best to allow me to take point.”

“You think I haven't talked to criminals before?”

“We’re only here to ask questions, remember?”

“Okay, fine. It’s your turn to conduct the interview.” 

“Thank you.” 

Traffic flowed smoothly, and Lucifer pulled up to an old brick warehouse close to the railway tracks. Graffiti tags marked the exterior walls, big white block letters covering half the front, accompanied with various smaller tags and crude designs. 

Despite the derelict appearance, the building was far from abandoned. Various cars were parked along the street, and two men loitered by the garage door to the right, idly leaning against the wall smoking in the shade.

The men looked over at them and flicked away their cigarettes. 

“They knew we were coming.” Chloe warned just loud enough for Lucifer to hear and he nodded. 

Lucifer stepped forward. “Hello,” he drawled confidently to the men glaring at him. “Inform Mr. Alvero that Lucifer Morningstar is here to speak to him.” 

The men didn’t move. 

“Well, go on then. We don’t have all day,” Lucifer prompted, waving one hand in a shooing motion. 

One man finally turned and entered through a side door. Lucifer tapped out a cigarette for himself and stood downwind of Chloe to have a smoke. His entire demeanor had shifted as soon as they exited the car as he started playing a different role. Chloe watched him in fascination. There was nothing of her goofball partner standing beside her now; rather he exuded an air of silent danger. 

Traffic on the street was sparse, only a few trucks rumbled by. 

When the side door opened again, the man waved them in, “Come on, the boss is waiting.” 

Lucifer started ahead but Chloe grabbed his arm. “I don't have a good feeling about this.” 

He leaned in close with his mouth close to her ear. “Do you prefer I go alone?” 

He wasn’t even joking. No way. Chloe quickly followed. The man who had stayed outside strolled behind her, taking up the rear. They walked into an open storage area where various cars were in stages of dismantlement. An office area was off to the left and to the side was a door and a stairway leading down. 

An older man wearing a Dodgers cap stood beside the railing; his eyes flicked to Chloe and then back to Lucifer. He waved his men away to get back to work and spat on the floor.  “She a cop?” He eyed Lucifer critically. “Wasn’t aware you traveled with a police escort.” 

Lucifer stopped and offered a smile. “Hello, Mike,” he greeted him back and motioned toward Chloe. “This is my partner, Detective Decker. We have some questions for you.”

The man’s face turned red, and his fists clenched at his sides. “You snitch, you fucking snitch. You ask for a meeting and bring a fucking cop to my house?” 

Chloe stepped to the side to ensure Lucifer didn’t come between her and Alvero. If Alvero tried anything she would be ready.

Heedless of the danger, Lucifer advanced on the man slowly. The way her partner moved with coiled tension set Chloe on edge. Lucifer didn’t need to say anything, and Alvero looked anywhere but at Lucifer as he tried to avoid eye contact. 

“Okay- okay, sorry, what do you want to know?” Alvero offered placatingly.

“You worked for Gordon Bailey.” Lucifer said. “Both in New York and in L.A. before he went missing.”

“Mr. Bailey? That was forty years ago.”

Lucifer tilted his head and took another step forward, teeth bared in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You were close with your boss. Close enough to accompany him from New York to Los Angeles.”

Alvero braved a look at Lucifer and scratched restlessly at his arm. “Is he- is he back? What’s any of that got to do with you?” 

Chloe watched Lucifer’s shoulders twitch. “I need to know who Gordon Bailey worked with at the time of his disappearance.” 

“Did he send you?” 

Lucifer took another step forward, shoulders back and head forward. His voice lowered in tone. “I only want an answer to my question, Mike.”

Alvero took quick panicky breaths and looked past Lucifer, waving, a gesture Chloe recognised as a clear signal for someone to act now. 

And Lucifer, his attention fixed on Alvero, seemed unconcerned about the threat. “Lucifer,” she warned, hand already moving to palm her gun.

At her warning Lucifer turned, his eyes widened. Chloe glimpsed the man behind her wielding a crowbar. The tool whistled through the air as it careened in a wide arc aiming for her head, but then Lucifer was there. His arms embraced her tightly as he shielded her with his body, enduring the impact against his back. 

Chloe struggled to break free of her partner’s protective hold as her instincts raged against being restrained while facing an assault. 

Before another blow could strike him, Lucifer caught the arm of the man swinging the crowbar, redirecting the force of the intended blow into their other attacker with enough force to knock him out. 

Chloe broke free from Lucifer’s protective hold and stumbled backward.

She watched as Lucifer stared into the man’s eyes, his eyes reflected the red tint of a nearby vehicle as he added a sudden, deliberate, yank to the trapped limb. The man’s shoulder joint dislocated with a sickening, pop, and the crowbar fell to the floor. The attacker sank to his knees with a muted scream, but Lucifer didn’t let him go. Not yet.  

“Lucifer,” Chloe called out, she felt frozen in place. The look in his eyes as he contemplated his next move sent chills down her spine. 

It was her own fault what happened next. Alvero used her distraction to make his move. Too late, she felt his hands on her, shoving her towards the stairs, her boot slipping off the first step.

There was nothing to grab onto.

A choked scream escaping her lips as her fingers brushed against Lucifer’s coat.  The fabric slipped through her fingers and she fell. 

There was only enough time to dread how much this would hurt when she hit the ground.

But it wasn’t the ground she landed on. She landed on her stomach, chest to chest with Lucifer. How did Lucifer end up beneath her?

The door at the top of the stairs slammed shut and metal screeched against metal. 

Chloe took several deep breaths, trying to force air back into her lungs. 

The only light came from an old emergency exit sign glowing red.

“Lucifer?” 

She rolled off him and collapsed on her back at his side. Shit. She continued trying to regain control over her uncooperative lungs. She reached over to her partner, her palm resting on his abdomen. 

His hand touched hers as he drew in a sudden raspy breath. “Detective? Are you hurt?” 

Chloe sat up, worried about him; they'd hit him with a crowbar, and then he'd fallen down the stairs with her, taking the brunt of the impact. “I’m fine. Just catching my breath. You?” 

He took a deep breath and pushed himself up, wincing as he stretched. “Did I hurt you?” 

“I’m okay. You didn’t answer me. Are you hurt?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her and offered her a hand up, gently brushing dirt off her back. Chloe pulled out her cell-phone and turned on the flashlight to cut through the semi-darkness and aimed it at Lucifer.

I’ll be fine, wasn’t the same as, I am fine. She knew Lucifer’s evasion tactics well enough by now to know when he was skirting the truth. His shirt had come untucked in the attack and she quickly pulled the edge up and saw the bruising along his lower ribs before he brushed her hands away. 

“Perfectly sure,” he insisted and tucked his shirt back where it belonged.

At least he was up and moving. There wasn’t much she could do for him down here, anyway. Chloe pushed her concern aside and refocused on the task at hand. She climbed the stairs and tried the door. “They locked us down here.” 

“Oh, let me have a try with that,” Lucifer offered and stepped up beside her. 

“The door is locked, Lucifer, it’s not just going to-” Or it was. He placed his hand on the door handle and gave it a twist. The lock clicked, and the handle turned. 

“It must have been stuck.”

“Or, I’m the Devil.” He grinned and pushed… the door only moved a fraction of an inch before banging against something blocking it on the other side. 

Without reception to her cell-phone, she couldn't even call for back-up. Chloe sighed and headed back down the stairs. “There has to be another way out.” She followed the hallway. It led to storage and a boiler room, but no other exits. 

Tracing her footsteps back the way she came, she heard metal creaking, and then a loud thump as something fell on the other side of the door. Was Alvero sending his men down after them? She pulled her gun as she rounded the corner, but it was just Lucifer.  He stood at the top of the stairs, holding the door open and grinning down at her. 

“Detective, if we hurry, we can still catch Mike Alvero before he gets away.” 

“Lucifer! Get away from the door until I clear it.” Damn it. He knew better. Weapon held ready, she ran up the steps and nudged him aside. 

The men Lucifer had incapacitated earlier were gone. The area was clear, but Chloe wasn’t ready to take any chances. 

She spared a moment to glance at the door. The door had been made of steel, but it was bent and twisted. It had been secured on the outside by a plank of wood now broken into several pieces on the ground. 

“Must have been rotten?” Lucifer offered for her as an explanation. 

The wood was not rotten, but it must have been weak in exactly the right places to allow it to break so easily. “Or you’re the Devil,” Chloe joked along with him. 

Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up and he smiled. “Really?”

Chloe snorted. “As if. I’m taking point, don’t get in front of me.” 

“I wouldn’t think of it.” 

She checked her phone, she only had one bar, but that would be enough. She made the call for back-up as Lucifer tapped his fingers on the hood of a Bentley, broadcasting his impatience. Chloe ignored him for now, his annoyance with procedure was nothing new. With that done, she gestured toward the offices, wanting to search that area first. They didn’t have to look far. The sound of metal filing cabinet drawers clanged from within the first office they came to. Chloe looked at Lucifer and nodded at the door. Following her unspoken directions with practiced ease, Lucifer backed up against the wall and reached for the office door, swinging it open for Chloe to enter. 

“Freeze.”

“How did you get out of-” Alvero stammered and dropped the files in a flurry of paper as he raised his hands. 

Chloe entered and sidestepped to ensure her back wasn’t to the door, cautious of the fact that the two other men were still unaccounted for.

“Hello, Mike-the-driver. What was your plan?” Lucifer asked, stepping inside, his voice low and more of a growl than Chloe was used to. He edged past her, getting closer. “Kill us, hide the bodies?” 

Alvero backed up against the wall. “No, I just needed you out of the way, I swear. Someone would have found you, eventually.” 

“You seem bothered by the idea Gordon Bailey has returned. What is it about your former employer that has you so frightened you’re ready to abandon the tidy little operation you’ve built here? There is something you’re hiding. What is it?” Lucifer stepped closer, and Chloe watched as Alvero stared into Lucifer’s eyes…

“I don’t-”

Lucifer licked his lips. “Go on…”

The man shivered, then his face went slack as he got drawn into Lucifer’s mojo. “I can’t let him find me.”

“Who?”

“The boss-I mean, Mr. Bailey. All I ever wanted was to have my own cars.” 

“What does that have to do with Gordon Bailey?” Lucifer asked. 

“I just wanted to be free.”

Lucifer blinked and took a step back. “What?” 

Mike Alvero took shallow breaths, his chest heaving. “I didn’t want to follow him; I had no choice.”

“You had a choice. You have free will. Why didn’t you use it?” 

“There were consequences to crossing the boss. I knew what he’d do to me if I defied him.”

“And that’s why you killed him?” 

“He’s dead?” Alvero asked in a hushed voice. 

“For decades.” 

“All this time…” Alvero shook his head, “He always said if I crossed him, he’d come after me. I didn’t kill him. When he didn’t come back, I grabbed everything I could get my hands on and stole the BMW. It was the first thing I did in years without him telling me to do it.”

The sound of a tool clattering on the floor in the garage area drew their attention. Chloe glanced at Lucifer; he clenched his jaw and abruptly stalked out of the room. 

“Lucifer, stop,” she hissed as he walked out. Damn it. 

She handcuffed Alvero to the old radiator against the wall and patted down his pockets. The man was still slightly dazed by his conversation with Lucifer; she needed to use that before it could wear off. “Was Bailey working with anyone before he disappeared? A new client? Old acquaintances? Someone with a grudge?”

“No, Mr. Bailey was different after New York. He wanted to go legit. He even worked with the cops. I never thought he’d turn into a snitch. He even made me cooperate with them. I thought maybe he took off to avoid them, you know?” 

“Do you remember any names?” Chloe pressed. 

“Ranger or Fair or something like that? It was a long time ago.” 

A man screamed out in the warehouse. She needed to find Lucifer. After double checking that Alvero was secure, she headed out into the open area. Chloe found the men cowering behind a gutted Lexus. One of them sat crying in a puddle of… urine. The other crouched muttering to himself, cradling his injured arm. 

Police sirens heralded backup, and Chloe gratefully handed the scene off to the uniformed officer, alerting another uni that Alvero was cuffed in the office. “Have you seen Lucifer?”

“No, Ma’am.” The officer answered. 

She headed outside, phone already in her hand and dialing his number. She spotted him leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette. His cell phone rang from within his jacket pocket, but he ignored it. 

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Chloe asked, stepping up to his side. 

Lucifer frowned and pulled out his phone, scoffing when he saw her number and swiped the screen to accept the call. “Hello, Detective, how can I help you?” 

Chloe ended the call and Lucifer rolled his eyes. 

She leaned in close enough that their shoulders pressed together. “So, I saw you ran into the other guys again.” 

He nodded. “I may have happened across them.” 

Chloe left it at that. 

After a moment Lucifer frowned and looked over at her. “Usually, you have more to say. Not re, re-thinking anything, I hope?”

“Why would I do that?”

He flicked the cigarette away. “You don’t appreciate when I disobey your orders.”

“Sounds like a Tuesday to me. Something bothered you in there. What was it?”

“You want to be my therapist now?”

Chloe shook her head. “No, just your friend.”

Lucifer looked up at the sky and then quickly to the side. “Mike-the-driver said he was still waiting after all these years. If Gordon Bailey were still alive, he would be what? Eighty? Older? And the man still lived in fear…”

“It’s a long time to wait.”

“What’s the point? Ms. Bailey was waiting for the Devil to come for her, Mike-the-driver was waiting for Gordon Bailey to get him. All for nothing. I never spared a thought for Ms. Bailey. She spent her entire life dedicated to studying evil on earth, blaming all her problems on me, and I had not a thing to do with it. Gordon Bailey died decades ago, and Mike-the-driver crafted his life around the fear of his return, shackled by his own imagination. What if…”

“What if, what?” Chloe asked. 

Lucifer looked up at the sky again and then down at the ground and shook his head. “It’s not possible.”  

“What isn’t possible?” She pressed.

He looked at her, blinking, his eyes meeting hers.  “What if all this time I’ve been...” he started to say but his voice broke and he couldn’t go on. Chloe reached out and entwined her fingers with his before he could pull away.  

“Would you like me to drop you off at Linda’s office?” 

He pulled away and forced a smile. “That won’t be necessary. I have an appointment in the morning. It will keep.”

Chloe cleared her throat. “Alvero told me Bailey had a deal with the detectives he was working with. Said he thought he remembered their names were Ranger and Fair. Sound familiar?” 

Lucifer looked at her, his posture visibly relaxing as he turned his mind back to the investigation. “Granger and Fehr, our detective partners. Gordon Bailey was Detective Fehr’s consultant?”

“Informant,” Chloe reminded Lucifer. 

“Then there was no excuse for Bailey’s body to remain unidentified.” 

Chloe nodded. “We need to talk to Fehr’s partner, Detective Granger.”

Chapter Text

Chloe waited for Lucifer at the precinct. He messaged her after his therapy appointment to let her know he was on his way.

It was a relief to see Lucifer perfectly coiffed and composed when he walked in. Chloe held back from asking if he was okay, not wanting to seem overly concerned or smothering.

“Ready?” Chloe asked, waiting for Lucifer to demand the keys, but he made his way to the passenger seat of her car, not even offering to drive. She hoped this didn’t mean he was withdrawing from the investigation, or her. It was probably nothing; she didn’t want to read too much into it.

They got caught in a traffic jam on the interstate, the car’s air conditioning barely able to counteract the oppressive heat outside as the traffic crawled forward without even a breeze to cool off.

Chloe leaned forward and stretched, grimacing at the feel of her shirt sticking to her back with sweat. The sun beat down on her side of the car, cooking her arm through the window.

Lucifer flicked the vents on the passenger side of the car to aim in her direction.

“Aren’t you hot in all those layers?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m hot, am I?”

She couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. “Let’s try not to stroke that ego too much.”

He grinned. “You’re always welcome to stroke whatever you like.”

“You never stop, do you?”

“I’ve got legendary stamina.”

“I just bet you do.” Chloe laughed. “There’s a turnoff up ahead. How about we grab some lunch? Maybe the traffic will clear up by the time we’re done.”

Lucifer let out a sigh of relief, as fed up with the nearly standstill traffic as she was. “Wonderful idea.”

She found a Smoking-Butts Food Truck beside a shopping center and pulled in there, happy to get out of the car and air out the feeling of her shirt and pants sticking to her skin.

Lucifer, as usual, seemed unbothered by the heat, even in his triple layered suit.

“Don’t you ever sweat?”

“I’ve spent most of my life in much warmer temperatures than this,” he said and then turned to her, eyes zeroing in on the beads of sweat on her forehead.

Chloe swiped a hand across her brow. Not sweating was a medical condition, wasn’t it? “Do you ever get heat stroke?”

“No, but you do, don’t you? Perhaps we should get out of the sun?”

They spent the next couple of minutes looking over the BBQ menu and ordering. The picnic benches in the parking lot had umbrellas, and she selected one where they could both be in the shade.

Their conversation turned to normal things after they got their meals, and Lucifer filled her in on some recent gossip around the precinct. Tristan, one of the uniformed officers, had left his wife and was dating Marla from narcotics, and Richard from evidence was recovering from his prostate surgery.

“Dean from the cold case unit wants an update on our progress with the Bailey case,” Lucifer added nonchalantly.

“Oh?”

“Mm-hmm,” Lucifer said and sucked the ketchup off a French fry before popping it into his mouth. “Imagine his surprise when the make-work project he handed you turned up an actual lead.”

“He said that to you?”

“Well, I had to ask nicely.” Lucifer leaned forward and took a bite of his burger.

Chloe put her burger down. “Lucifer-”

“Oh please, you’ve never asked me to go through cold cases before. I had my suspicions as soon as you plunked the box of files at my feet.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She was the one fidgeting this time, rolling up the corners of her burger wrapper.

He stared at her intently. “I assumed you had your reasons.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Chloe leaned forward, moving in closer. “Care to share some theories?”

“Not particularly.”

“Why not?”

“Because it is generally a good idea not to ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to.”

That didn’t sound good at all.

“You’re right. I gave you a make-work project.”

He nodded. “As a distraction.”

“No. That’s not it. We don’t have an active case right now; I wanted an excuse to keep asking you to come into work.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m sorry. I know you have Lux, and that takes up a lot of your time, and you’ve got things to do outside of working with me, but I didn’t want to lose you-” Chloe coughed, and the words tumbled out in a rush. “I didn’t want to lose your skills.”

“My skills are at your service, as always.” He smiled at her, almost shyly.

Chloe couldn’t help but smile back.

The traffic jam from earlier cleared, as much as L.A. ever did at least, and when they got back on the interstate, it finally felt like they were getting somewhere.

They arrived at Detective Granger’s house in the midafternoon. It was a nice neighborhood, firmly middle class, nothing overtly pretentious or run down in sight.

“Well, isn’t this Stepford?”

Chloe glanced at Lucifer and frowned. “What?”

Lucifer scoffed. “Neat little houses with neat little lawns, everyone pretending to be perfect and proper.”

“It’s the suburbs.”

He rolled his eyes. “They waste their lives doing things they don’t want to do so people they don’t care about won’t think poorly of them. There’s no character anywhere, no individuality. At least Ms. Bailey’s house was interesting.”

They walked together up to the door, and Chloe rang the bell.

“Detective Granger?” she asked as an older man opened the door.

He was stooped, his back hunched, and shoulders curled permanently forward, as he shuffled back from the door. “Officers?” he asked, rubbing his hand on his bald head.

“I’m Detective Decker, and this is my partner, Mr. Morningstar. I spoke to you this morning.”

“Yes, yes, come in. What is this about?”

“We have questions pertaining to a cold case file we’ve been investigating,” Chloe explained. As she entered the stale smell of years of cigarette smoke overtook her, and she coughed.

“Apparently only concerned about outer appearances then,” Lucifer commented, and Chloe elbowed him. He wasn’t wrong. Though the outside of the house was maintained; inside was a different matter. The walls were a dingy yellowish color stained from years of smoking, the furniture might have been new in the 1970s and hadn't weathered time well.

“Cold case? The city isn’t giving you enough crime to keep you busy these days?”

Chloe ignored the comment. “Are you familiar with the name Gordon Bailey?”

“Should I be?” Granger pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. Chloe took the chair beside him, and Lucifer remained standing.

“He was your consultant,” Lucifer reminded him.

“Criminal informant.” Chloe corrected.

Granger shrugged and lit a cigarette. “So, we had a bunch of scumbags inform for us over the years. What should I remember about this one in particular?”

“He was murdered,” Lucifer informed him.

“And?” Granger blew smoke in their direction. Chloe suppressed a cough, not willing to give the man the satisfaction of seeing her react.

“And,” Lucifer tensed, narrowing his eyes at the old man. “He was your case, and you didn’t identify him.”

“I don’t appreciate what you’re implying.”

Before Lucifer could respond, Chloe interrupted and took over. “Sir, we aren’t implying anything. We’re only looking into some discrepancies in the paperwork.”

“No doubt. That would have been my partner. Shawn hated paperwork and was never any good at it. What discrepancies?”

“Mislabeled forensic evidence, unsigned and incomplete reports.”

“If it wasn’t signed, how do you know it was ours?”

“The handwriting matched,” Chloe informed him.

“Well, that was Shawn for you, always a fuck-up.” The old man laughed, then braced an arm against the table as he was overcome with deep wet sounding coughs. He pulled a tissue out of his pocket and spit into it before tossing it into a bucket under the table.

Granger stubbed his cigarette butt out in the overfull ashtray on the table and tapped a new stick out of his box to light up.

“Didn’t come as a surprise to me when he got shot; he was always reckless.” Granger took a long drag on the fresh cigarette, blowing it out again in Chloe’s direction.

Lucifer plucked the cigarette out from Granger’s mouth and crumpled it in his hand, letting the broken pieces fall to the ashtray after. “He was your partner. Weren’t you supposed to have his back?” Lucifer asked.

Granger leaned back, undisturbed by the loss of his cigarette, and eyed Lucifer carefully. “Partners are a resource, not a marriage. Wasn’t my job to look after Fehr. He wasn’t all bad when we first partnered up. The trick was pointing him in the right direction.”

“You used him,” Lucifer said.

“How so?” Chloe asked at the same time.

“He got the job done; that was the important thing. Good for my career,” Granger answered.

“There’s nothing wrong with using a resource,” Lucifer agreed.

Chloe frowned and looked at him; his voice sounded off, and she didn’t like where this line of thought was leading them. The last thing she wanted was for Lucifer to internalize Granger’s messed up version of a partnership.

Granger laughed. “So long as they stay resourceful.”

“Exactly.”

“Not exactly,” Chloe interjected. “You need to trust the person you’re working with.”

“Detective Granger,” Lucifer cut in. “It sounds like Detective Fehr was a burden. It must have been difficult working with him closely for so long.”

“I’m sure there were more than enough advantages to balance out the odd inconvenience,” Chloe added pointedly. She placed the crime scene photo of Gordon Bailey on the table. “Do you recognize this man?”

With the interview refocusing on Bailey, Lucifer drifted away from the table and started exploring the room.

Granger picked up the photo and squinted at it, eventually taking a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket and putting them on. “Yeah, so?”

“He was your CI.” Chloe took back the photo. “Why didn’t you identify him?”

“Why bother? He was a smuggler, got what was coming to him if you ask me.”

Lucifer spun around from where he had been peeking at a set of mismatched and chipped china dishes. “Gordon Bailey may not have been deserving, but his daughter had a right to know what happened to her father.”

“That’s what criminals do; they drag their families down into the shit with them. None of that’s on me.”

Lucifer stalked closer, leaning in with his hands on the table. “You are responsible for the fear she lived with, the lack of closure—never knowing what happened to her parent, why he abandoned her and never came back...living every day with the dread of the unknown looming over her head like a thundercloud. Do you know what that’s like? Waiting endlessly for the end to come, to know everything you’ve built and care about will be taken away?”

He wasn’t talking about Ruth Bailey anymore. Chloe reached over and placed a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, hoping to pull him back. Her partner sat down, but he wasn’t any less tense.

Granger didn’t seem phased by the accusation. “They were criminals, they didn’t deserve more than what we gave them.”

“They?” Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “There was more than one, then?”

“Do you know how many lowlifes are out there who get off scot-free? They deserved to be punished. I only wanted…”

Lucifer smiled, eyes now focused only on Granger, his face intent. “What did you want?”

“To be a hero.”

“A hero?” Lucifer leaned in and frowned.

“For getting rid of the criminals the system let go. You should have heard the guys in the precinct every time another one of those scumbags ended up in the morgue. They loved it.”

“Oh! You killed them?” Lucifer grinned and slapped his knee in triumph.

Granger blinked as though waking up, but that didn’t stop him from talking. “Gordon Bailey came to us, claiming he could help out. And he did; he knew everyone, even in LA he had connections I could never hope to have without him. But then, he figured out I was getting rid of them. He refused to work with me after that.”

“He broke your deal,” Chloe added quietly.

“And what about Detective Fehr?” Lucifer asked. “He was the one who wrote the reports.”

“After we got rid of Bailey, I needed to tie up loose ends. Fehr didn’t like how I handled the situation. He was erratic, I didn’t know what he would do. So, I had to get rid of him too.”

Lucifer stood up. “You used him, and when he was no longer useful, you disposed of him.”

The tone of Lucifer’s voice reminded Chloe that she needed to talk to him soon, but when she looked over to him, he had already backed off. This was neither the time nor the place for her to sort out his issues.

“Ryan Granger, you’re under arrest for the murders of Shawn Fehr, and Gordon Bailey. You have the right to remain silent,” Chloe said as she snapped the chrome-plated cuffs tightly around his wrists. “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney....”

Chapter Text

Chloe woke up the next morning to her daughter leaping onto her bed. Trixie pressed her face right up against hers and sang, “Breakfast is ready!” 

“What?” Chloe rolled over, placing her hand on Trixie’s arm to slow her down. “You made me breakfast?” 

“Not me,” Trixie giggled, “Lucifer.”

Right. Who else would be making breakfast in her kitchen? Chloe sat up and rubbed her face, squinting against the morning light and trying to catch up. “What is he making?” 

“Pancakes; he asked me to come get you,” Trixie said, hopping up and running back downstairs. 

So much for sleeping in on a weekend. Chloe rolled out of bed and threw on an oversized t-shirt and shorts before heading downstairs. 

Chloe paused at the bottom of the stairs, unsure how to proceed. She knew she should be upset about Lucifer breaking into her house again. How many times did she need to explain to him that entering someone's home without permission wasn’t acceptable behavior? But she wasn’t just someone, was she? She was his partner, and more and more she was developing a new understanding of what that meant. Lucifer would never be a normal work-partner. She peeked around the corner to see Lucifer busy in the kitchen and smiled. He wore an apron to protect his suit, with his sleeves rolled up, and his jacket draped over a chair. He rearranged the whipped cream and strawberries on the table and then switched them back after adding a bowl of blueberries.  He eyed the table critically before rushing back to the stove to flip the pancakes.

Trixie plucked a blueberry from the bowl and giggled when Lucifer caught her at it.  “Maze is a terrible cook,” the little girl whispered. 

“That’s because Maze has no taste,” Lucifer explained, “And prefers all her food burnt. Trixie, do you have friends?”

“I have friends.” Trixie laughed.

Chloe stayed out of sight, feeling only a little guilty for eavesdropping.

“Are you good for them?” Lucifer asked.

“I’m good to my friends.” 

“How do you know you’re not a burden to them?”

“What does a burden mean?” Trixie asked and grabbed another handful of blueberries.

Before the conversation could go any further Chloe chose to come out from around the corner.  

“Detective, there you are! Just in time.” He looked over to her, smiling and wiping his hands on a towel.

Chloe felt stuck on words, and in the silence, Lucifer’s smile faded. Lucifer looked at the table and back at her, uncertainty clouding his features. “Don’t worry, I’m aware of the early hour.” The smile resurfaced, not quite making it all the way to his eyes. “I won’t be staying.”

He picked two plates from the cupboard and brought them to the table along with the larger serving plate of the pancakes he’d made.

“You’re angry I entered your home without permission, am I right? But I brought ice-cream. I’m keeping my word.”

He then returned to the fridge and opened the freezer to pull out a box of Franny’s Creamery ice cream and set it on the table with the other toppings.

Chloe stepped around him and brought a third plate to the table. “Lucifer, come sit down.” 

He still looked confused. “But you-”

Chloe took his hand and gently led him to the table. “Thank you for breakfast. And the ice cream.”

“Oh,” he exhaled and then beamed, laugh lines emerging around his eyes and mouth as he smiled. Lucifer’s posture relaxed as he untied the apron and set it aside to join them at the table. 

“You’re up early.” Chloe watched Lucifer load every topping available onto his pancakes.

“Hmm,” he dug into his mountain of ice cream and berries and took a big bite instead of answering. 

Trixie gobbled down three pancakes with just as much topping as Lucifer had on his, all the while chatting about her part in the upcoming school play. “I’m the tiger; I get to wear a cool costume and growl and everything. Maze has been helping me practice my roar, wanna hear?”

“Not particularly,” Lucifer answered, but Trixie demonstrated her roar and he scowled. “Oh really, now? And did Maze tell you what that word means in her language?”

Chloe frowned; the growl was a word?

“You will come to the play, won’t you?” Trixie asked hopefully, looking up at Lucifer. 

Lucifer glanced at Chloe then back at Trixie before answering. “And that would mean something to you?” 

Trixie grinned. “I want you to be there.  Mom, please can Lucifer come to my play?”

“If he wants to. Trixie, if you’re finished, go clean up.” 

Trixie took her dirty plate to the sink before running off to play in her room, leaving Chloe and Lucifer alone at the table. 

Lucifer still looked bewildered by the invitation. 

Chloe lightly brushed her fingers against his arm. “She likes you.” 

“Dad only knows why.” 

Chloe couldn’t help but roll her eyes.  “Trixie is a good judge of character.” 

“Does this make up for the ice cream outing I ruined?”

“Yes. More than makes up for it. But you know you didn’t have to do this, don’t you?”

“I wanted to keep my word.”

Chloe watched him, thinking back on the question she’d overheard him ask Trixie. “Lucifer, you’ve never been a burden to me.”

“Thank you, Detective,” he averted his gaze and fiddled briefly with his rolled-up shirtsleeves. “I recall you saying I’m useful. Something about eggs, isn’t it?” 

“No. Okay, maybe a little, but that’s not all. What we have, it goes beyond being work partners. We’re friends. It’s special. I’ve found it difficult sometimes being a woman on the force, there aren’t that many of us, and I’ve never felt accepted by a lot of my co-workers. But working with you, I don’t feel so alone anymore. We’re a great team, and our solve rate is the highest in the department. I don’t need to worry about who I can trust, because I know that no matter what happens, I can count on you to have my back.”

“Yes, always,” he agreed readily.

“And I hope you know,” Chloe continued, “I’ll always have yours.”

He regarded her for a minute longer, lips parted. He looked so… Chloe’s thoughts drifted to the moment they’d had on the beach, to the feel of his lips on hers. 

But he lowered his gaze to focus on the food in front of him, and the moment passed.  “Out of curiosity,” he said and plopped another pancake on his plate and loaded it with ice cream. “What would it take to make a believer out of you?” 

Chloe raised her eyebrows. “Are you going to try evangelizing me?”

He snorted. “Dad, no.”

“Evidence, I suppose.”

“Do you believe in anything supernatural? Many humans enjoy a good ghost story.”  

She stifled a laugh and shook her head. “Definitely not. Haven’t you ever watched Scooby-Doo?” She could tell he didn’t get the reference. “There is always a rational explanation.”

He continued anyway. “Do you believe monsters exist?” he asked in a hushed voice. 

Chloe took a sip of her coffee, considering the question. “I believe sometimes people can seem monstrous.” 

“Not people. What if you were to see one? A real monster.” 

“It would have to be a convincing monster.” 

“More than a sasquatch footprint and a tuft of hair?” 

“It would have to be way better than that, something that can’t be faked or explained away. Have you been binge-watching X-Files again?”

“This isn’t about a television program.”

“The truth is out there,” Chloe teased.

“That was one time.” Lucifer laughed. “And, for your information, shapeshifters do exist.”

“I thought we would have a real conversation, not talk about fantasy and science fiction.”  

This time it was his turn to roll his eyes. 

Chloe smiled as he added whipped cream and berries to his already mountainous heap of toppings. How had Lucifer become such an essential part of her life?

It was crazy to get involved with someone like him, but she couldn’t help herself.  The way she felt when she was with him was worth the risk, and she wasn’t about to give him up without a fight. For better or worse, he was her partner, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.