Work Text:
Finally catching up
For the first time I see an image of my brokenness
Utterly worthy of love
Maybe I've done enough
And I finally see myself
Unabridged and overwhelmed
A mess of a story I'm ashamed to tell
But I'm slowly learning how to break this spell
And I finally see myself
-Sleeping At Last, “Three”
It was a late Friday night when he arrived.
He didn’t know how he managed to nail the timing on the first try, but it was just a bit past midnight and not a conscious human was in sight. Tucking his wings away, he quietly let himself into the darkened apartment and looked around at the clutter that sprinkled the downstairs living room.
There were old, deflated balloons from a celebration of sorts—clearly from some time ago—forgotten and shoved in a heap in the corner of the room, evidence of infant paraphernalia strewn about, and laundry of all kinds split into piles on the couch. Upon closer inspection, it seemed the piles had a purpose: Chloe, small human, and—ah, yes, smallest human-angel baby.
Rifling through her laundry pile, he was pleased to see an abundance of color-coordinated garments; no child of his should ever meet the light of day in a clashing ensemble. The horror. He marveled at how ludicrously small everything looked. Was it possible that Rory could ever have been this…tiny? Coming across a pair of small socks, he tried and barely managed to stretch them around two of his fingers.
Well, these are bloody pointless. Why do babies even need socks? Or shoes? he wondered. They don’t even walk. They’re just layabout potatoes.
A piece of fabric sticking out near the bottom of the pile caught his eye, so he gripped and tugged, causing the rest of the laundry to topple over.
The purple blanket he held, curiously resembling the shade of his favorite, purple-lined suit, had embroidered white stars scattered around the name Aurora, with the initials CDM, BEDM, and LM close by. Perplexed, he furrowed his brow as he tried to work it out. No, that was impossible. Chloe Decker Morningstar? Beatrice Espinoza Decker Morningstar? His stomach swooped at the thought. The Decker legacy was something sacred. They would actually want his surname alongside their precious family name?
Knees wobbling, he sat on top of the strewn laundry as the wind was knocked out of him. The blanket felt so soft, he couldn’t help but hug it to his chest and gently bury his face in it. He half hoped it would smell like her, so that he could at least pretend he’d managed to be in the same room as her for a second, but it carried no lingering scent. It smelled like clean laundry, the same fresh, bright detergent Chloe had always used, that when mixed with her unique fragrance, created a heady scent he’d come to associate with warmth. By the time he’d met her, he’d been cold for so long, there was nothing he could do but let himself be completely enthralled by her.
Of all the ways he’d imagined this visit could go, that he would be blindsided and emotionally compromised by a child’s blanket had not made the list. There was such a big part of him woven into it like a divine tapestry—his name, his found family, his history and a point of pride—pieces of him for her to carry with her other than his soulful brown eyes and megawatt smile. He’d assumed his presence in her life would be completely absent—save for a few kind words and stories from her mother. He should’ve known better. He should’ve expected better, especially when he had a soul like Chloe’s to keep his memory alive.
He’d resisted doing this as long as he could. Amenadiel would pop by occasionally with news from Earth so that he would still feel tethered to the life he’d left behind; every time he did, it would chisel at Lucifer’s resolve bit by bit. His mind would busy itself with thoughts of Earth, undermining what he was trying to accomplish in Hell. When he learned of Chloe’s promotion to Lieutenant just a few months after being reinstated, the swell of pride he felt warmed and bloomed across his chest; he would have given anything to see her stunning smile and celebrate with her, to tell her how proud he was of everything she was accomplishing.
When Amenadiel had interrupted a therapy session to inform him that Chloe had given birth, he'd kept his composure long enough to choke out a ‘thank you brother’ through trembling lips as Amenadiel sent him a commiserating smile. Once he’d left, Lucifer dismissed his patient back to their loop with a sharp wave of his hand and fell to his knees, euphoria and grief flaying his heart raw in equal measure. He’d nearly caved that time; the impulse to say ‘consequences be damned’ clouding his every waking thought, but Rory’s plea haunting his every dream.
Eventually, he requested that Amenadiel lengthen the time between his visits, to only come bearing news of major events—for his own sake—and threw himself into his work instead.
Navigating and dissecting the hell loops for the souls he was trying to save had been enlightening; it gave him endless ideas on how to approach their complex layers of guilt once he deemed them ready to sit across from him. Exploring loop after loop of guilt-ridden parents, however, perpetually punishing themselves for some missteps in their child’s youth—an important missed event, a heated argument and some careless words, some irrevocable action—felt like he was torturing himself. By the time he gave in and decided to go topside, he was surprised he’d held out so long.
Maybe he wouldn’t get to see her, and that was okay. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake lest the daughter he had met and loved ceased to exist as she was. He just wanted to feel close to her, close to Chloe, close to his family; he needed the strong, indelible reminder that no matter what the future held, far from now, there was a future to be had for all of them—one where they would be together.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, or when he started crying.
All of the justifications he’d made for his covert visit were washed away with the sobering reality that he was actually there, in a time and place he should not be, in a selfish attempt to soothe the ache he carried, if but for a single moment.
And it hadn’t even worked.
Seeing evidence of a life well-lived and celebrations gone by, how time kept moving on without him, only served to drive the knife in deeper. He never lied—‘unless it’s to yourself,’ the ever perceptive Doctor would say, and this had been one of those times. He didn’t need the reminder he’d supposedly come looking for; every day of his existence in Hell, carrying out his purpose (albeit satisfyingly) and keeping his promises, was enough. Clarity was easier to come by when you weren’t being crushed by the weight of your decisions. What he needed was to walk away and remember how he felt here, in a place that was no longer his to call home—if only he could find the will to get up.
This had been a mistake.
A gasp came from the landing on the stairs. “Lucifer?”
Startled at the voice, his head snapped up to meet Chloe’s shocked expression. Panic coursed through him as he stood up quickly and brushed the tears from his face; this was exactly what he didn’t want. This couldn’t possibly fare well; he wasn’t meant to have this—not now.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking down at the blanket clutched tightly in his hand. “I must’ve…gotten carried away and lost track of time. You weren’t supposed to know I’d been here.”
A flash of hurt on her face was replaced by a sad sort of understanding. “That’s okay. I’m just really surprised.” Her voice was gentle and barely above a whisper as she stepped towards him slowly, as if speaking much louder or moving too quickly would scare him away. “Is this, um…is this real?”
Dropping the blanket onto the couch, he finally looked at her then, and a small smile curled his lips as he subconsciously gravitated towards her. Her messy top bun, disheveled long shirt, and navy blue sweatpants were such a welcoming, comforting sight. Once he reached her, he lifted his hands to her face.
“It is very real, Detective.”
Closing her eyes, she took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ve missed your voice so much. I’ve missed you.”
He kissed her softly, tentatively, familiarizing himself again with lips he’d claimed so many years ago. They were as sweet and silky as he remembered. Deepening their kiss, he couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped him, breathing her in like he’d finally come up for air for the first time in millennia.
“I’ve missed you, too. More than I could ever say.”
Once she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him to her, he let out a little happy sigh of relief. They swayed together, letting the quiet envelop them like a warm blanket. This was what coming home felt like. How could he have ever planned to come here and avoid crossing paths with her? To avoid relishing in her affections, her touch, her scent? The detached, distant Lucifer of a few hours ago was a lot stronger than the one that stood before her now, and he hoped she didn’t fault him for it.
“How many years has it been for you?” she asked, her fingers brushing across his face gingerly.
“Twenty-five, thirty, perhaps?”
”Thousand?!”
“Hmm. Longer maybe? To be honest, I’m not really sure. I stopped counting a long time ago. I’m supposed to help the tortured, not join them on the couch, so…” he chuckled bitterly.
“Oh my—oh my god.”
“Mmm, not quite, if you recall,” he replied in a clipped tone he immediately regretted. He didn’t want her to think that he lamented the choices they’d made—they were only unbearable at the worst of times. “Sorry, I’m feeling a bit out of sorts.” He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist in apology.
Her eyes remained kind and admiring as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Nodding towards the variety of balloons in the corner he asked, “How long has it been for you?”
Her mouth curved into a small smile. “It’ll be three months in a couple days.”
“What I wouldn’t have given—”
“I know. Me, too.”
After all this time, he was relieved to find they still didn’t need words to speak volumes.
“How…how is she? Is she happy? Is she healthy?”
“She’s perfect.” She planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “She isn’t too fussy. A little devil, for sure, though. Takes after someone I know.”
That earned her a genuine smile. “All of my best qualities, then,” he said with a wink.
“Do…you want to see her?”
His eyes flicked up to meet hers. Chloe looked pained at what he could only assume was the hopeful expression that washed over him as he considered it, the implications of every move, every decision, always weighing heavily between them now. It would be a balm to his soul to see his daughter for the first time, but his plan was crumbling the longer he spent here. You can only bend the rules so far before it all breaks apart; now he was struggling with the same internal anguish he’d tried to keep Dan from facing all those years he’d left him in purgatory.
Resigned, he nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Come with me. She’s in my room.” Chloe grabbed his hand, motioning for him to follow her upstairs.
Hesitating, he glanced at Trixie’s bedroom door before looking back to Chloe. If anyone saw him, if anyone knew he was there, just how many butterflies would he be crushing under his Louboutins?
Following his train of thought, she assured him, “It’s just us. Trixie’s not here.”
Mollified, he slowly followed her up the stairs to her bedroom, every step becoming heavier with the promise of repercussions.
“She’s so…small. Are we sure this is the same scowling Hot Topic poster child we met?”
Chloe paused, her brows drawn together as she studied him. “Wait a second… Have you never seen what she looks like? I thought Amenadiel would’ve shown you a picture or something whenever he visited!”
“I…asked him not to. Visit, that is—except to deliver the really important bits. It was making me… Well, the bastard was always interrupting my sessions, wasn’t he? You’d think with his omniscience he’d know when I was busy,” he deflected. Chloe had enough to cope with during all of this; she didn’t need the burden of knowing how he was managing on top of that. “The last time I saw him was the minute she was born. That was…an interesting day.”
“Oh, Lucifer.” Scratching lightly at the nape of his neck, she asked, “Do you want to hold her?”
He inhaled sharply and briefly screwed his eyes shut. YES! his soul shouted.
“No, I—I shouldn’t.”
“It’s clear you want to, why not allow yourself this? You’ve come all this way.”
Because I fear I will never leave again if I do.
“I don’t know how to hold her; I might muck it up. Besides, she’s sleeping. No use in disturbing her.”
“Don’t be silly. I can show you. Besides, you’ve held Charlie plenty of times.”
He heaved a sigh, wishing she would let it go. “It would just be too…” Unsure of how to finish that sentence, he let it trail off.
She finally seemed to understand, grabbing his hand in hers and rubbing her thumb soothingly over his knuckles.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Lucifer pulled her into his side. “Chloe, there’s just so much I want to say…”
“Me, too.”
They sat together for a while in comfortable silence, the air thick with unspoken want, peering through the bars at Rory’s sleeping form.
“I can’t believe you gave me a daughter. Never mind one so perfect.”
“No,” she replied, tipping his chin towards her, “we made a daughter, together. She is the best of both of us, remember?”
“Could you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Would you mind terribly…taking pictures the old fashioned way? Just a few to, well, document some of the earlier years that I’ll…that I’ll miss. Technology doesn’t travel across realms very well. In the future—the far future, I can retrieve them, or Amenadiel can fetch them for me. For us.”
“Of course, Lucifer. Of course, I will. In fact, you know what? Hold that thought.” She rummaged through the top drawer of her dresser until she found what she was looking for. “I have a lot of pictures from the past couple of months, and I know I have copies of almost all of them that you can have.” She handed him the photos as she shuffled through the duplicates to set them aside for him to take.
Lucifer huffed out a small laugh at the first photo. “She’s even tinier here. And so…bloody pink.”
“Crazy, right? And I mean, even though no one’s newborn is ever really all that cute…you can call me biased, but I thought she was gorgeous the second they placed her in my arms.”
A pang in his chest—one of the few exploits in life Lucifer hadn’t experienced, and he hadn’t been there.
“How long after…was this taken?”
“It was right after they cleaned her up and weighed her, so I’d say maybe five, ten minutes?”
“Ten minutes.” He glanced between the picture and the three-month-old in the crib in front of him. “She’s changed so much already. How can she be even more beautiful?”
Another pang—a not-so-subtle reminder of what he’d missed, and all that was yet to come.
“Did it hurt?” he asked in a serious tone. “Please, tell me…you weren’t alone?”
She ran her hand up and down his back as she assured him, “I wasn’t alone. Linda was there, the only other person who really knew what to expect when giving birth to an angel baby. She held my hand the entire time and calmed me down. Way, way down.”
Pained to have missed it, but relieved that she hadn’t been alone, he silently thanked his dad for Linda. Regrouping, he flipped to the next photo.
“That’s everyone who was waiting here when I got back from the hospital,” she explained.
“‘Welcome to Earth, Rory,’” he chuckled, reading the custom sign that had greeted Chloe when she’d arrived. “I quite like that. Oh, and Carol was here. Are he and Miss Lopez…?”
“Yep, still together, going strong. They make quite the crime fighting team.”
“Though I bet they’ve got nothing on us, darling. We set the standard, after all,” he grinned as he bumped her shoulder.
“No doubt about it,” she said, mirroring his grin. “They’re living together now and everything. So far so good.”
“Really? Good for her. And him. Quite glad he didn’t turn out to be a murderer. And Maze, Eve?”
“Bounty hunting together—haven’t changed a bit. Still crazy about each other. Believe it or not, Eve and I have grown a lot closer. Whenever they’re in town, she hangs out here and helps me with Rory and Trixie. She’s so great with them and it’s…really nice, actually, to have that support. Linda, too. Those of us with celestial and immortal babies gotta stick together, you know?”
Guilt carved itself into his features. “If I could be the one to…” The words continued to escape him. Frustrated with himself, he tried to continue. “I would have been there—"
“I know, baby,” Chloe soothed, rubbing his back, saving him from voicing what she already knew. “I know.”
With a clenched jaw, he studied the picture of his found family a bit longer, taking in their happy smiles, memorizing every detail. “You look positively radiant here.”
A blush spread across her cheeks. That he could still affect her so easily, and with nothing but the simple truth, would always be endearing.
“I think you’re going to really like the next one,” she teased in a lighter tone.
“Oh? Is it naughty? Something for my eyes to feast on when I’m all alone?”
“No, silly. Although…Maybe that could be arranged.”
He hummed suggestively and wagged his eyebrows at her, earning him her trademark eyeroll, much to his delight. Flipping to the next picture, his breath caught in his throat. “My girls,” he whispered once he’d recovered, so softly that Chloe almost didn’t hear him.
“This was a week or so ago. They already have Halloween decorations for sale, can you believe it? We saw these at the store, and they had tiny ones that fit Rory, so of course, we just had to take a picture. And before you object, they didn’t have white angel wings, we looked. We did what we could with what we got.”
Staring back at him was a selfie of Chloe, Trixie, and Rory. His vision started to blur as he noticed the plastic devil horns adorning their heads, complete with a tiny matching pair for Rory. He traced a finger around each of them as his eyes softened.
“How...is Trixie doing?” The last time he’d had to leave without saying goodbye she’d been well and truly hurt, and this time had arguably been far worse. He hated to disappoint her, and it was just as heart-wrenching for him to be apart from her as it was Chloe and Rory.
“She’s good, better. Started a new school and made a bunch of new friends, and she got into a STEM program for middle school kids with help from the foundation you set up for Ella. She’s still very much into space,” she laughed. “She’s created some new drawings of you and Dan, they’re on the fridge. She misses you, you know.”
Nodding his head slightly, he bit his lip as he swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “Will she grow to hate me as well, then?” His eyes were burning. He didn’t dare look up.
“No, Lucifer, no. She would never. She fell in love with you the moment you told her your name, do you remember that?”
He let out a quiet laugh. “What I remember is sitting on a bench beside a little toothless termite, who whispered, like the Devil? as if it was an insider secret. She wasn’t scared, she didn’t question it—she never even doubted me. She just introduced herself and that was that.”
“And then you bullied her bully—”
“Technically, I didn’t bully her, I just told her there’s a special place in—”
“Don’t even bother, mister.” Lucifer snapped his mouth shut in a smirk. “Point is, once you…did whatever you did…it was done. You’d won her over. She’s been #TeamLucifer ever since. And nothing will ever change that.”
He hoped Chloe was right, and that if she ever did harbor any anger towards him, that one day she’d come to understand why he’d had to leave again.
“You know she refers to you as her ‘Step-Devil’? I was honest with her this time, about where you went. It was hard for her, losing both you and Dan. But she’s a strong little girl, and I think knowing where you are helps give her some semblance of peace in the end.”
Step-Devil… What could he even say to that? The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. He mourned the loss of watching Rory grow up while having failed to properly appreciate Trixie herself as a child. He was too occupied with sifting and evaluating a slew of newfound feelings and dodging her attack hugs to realize she’d grown into a teenager overnight.
Now he was going to miss nearly her entire adult life, and what an utter waste that was. She was (and would always be) the urchin that softened him and Hell’s best torturer out of sheer stubbornness, kindness, and purity—and that was worth its own place in his heart until the end of time itself.
The tears escaped of their own volition this time, with him powerless to stop it. He was so tired of this emotional onslaught—of languishing in the pain he’d only brought upon himself by coming here. How could something like this feel so nourishing and devastating at the same time?
This had been a mistake.
“I can…have this?” He looked askance at her through watery eyes. “I can have this?”
It was about more than just a picture. This was the life he wanted, the family he wanted to be a part of, and his double meaning did not appear to be lost on her.
“Of course, you can, Lucifer,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him. “It’s yours. It’s always been yours. You can take it with you.”
“Chloe,” he breathed, his face scrunched up in pain, “I should never have come here. It’s too hard.” She hugged him tighter as she felt him start to shake. “Daniel felt it. He knew. It’s just too hard.”
“Maybe you can visit?” Chloe ventured after a few moments, a hopeful glint in her eyes.
Lucifer tensed as he averted his gaze. This whole night had blurred the lines they’d so carefully and painfully set, and every time they got harder to see, the hole in his heart—born the day he left—only grew in size.
“I can’t do this again,” he whispered into the space between them. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not? We can make it work! At least while she’s still small and can’t remember anything. And maybe even after!” Lucifer could see the gears turning in her head already. “If we’re careful, if we plan it properly, we could at least spend some time together, and it wouldn’t have to—”
“Because, Detective,” he insisted, “being here with you, with her, the only thing I can think about is, ‘how can I fix this’? ‘How far can I bend the rules’? ‘What can I change and still get to have it all’? Because I had one divine, perfect day where I had it all, and I want it again, Chloe…and I know I can’t. Not now. Not yet.”
She didn’t appear convinced, like those same gears were still turning, trying to refute what he was saying and come up with alternatives; but she didn’t get to contest how those alternatives made him feel.
“Please, don’t ask me to be okay with living a half life where I have to stay hidden in the shadows. The thought of that…that something would be better than nothing, that I’d always be on the outside looking in—it’s somehow even more unbearable. It’s all for her sake, yeah? For my sanity, and even for yours, I just can’t.”
This seemed to quell the frenzy he’d seen building behind her eyes. They held each other for a few moments before the similarity between their embrace now and the last time they’d seen each other became too apparent, and he pulled away slightly to look at her. Tears were quietly trailing paths down her cheeks and his chest felt far too tight; for a moment he wondered if it was possible to self-actualize a heart attack from pure grief.
Cradling his face in her hands and brushing her lips against his, she whispered, “Stay?”
His conflicted gaze met hers, desire exposed so plainly within his eyes—but everything in him screamed at him to go. When he didn’t respond, she drew back and cleared her throat.
“Lucifer, thanks to our friends, our family, I have such amazing support here. It’s difficult without you, because I will always want you here, because you should be here, but it isn’t your fault. I’m good…really, I am, and I need you to know that. I’m not truly alone, I was ridiculous to think I would be. But you…” She held her hands up to her mouth as she tried to compose herself. “You are. I think about you on that tall, lonely throne, and it just breaks my heart.”
She placed her forehead on his and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re here right now. Just allow me this, please. To make sure you’re okay.”
He needed this just as much as she did, and they would not get another chance at a second goodbye.
”Please,” she begged. “Just for the night.”
Every boundary he’d convinced himself he’d maintain before arriving here, he’d crossed—at first by accident—but it was just too difficult to keep from reaching out and grasping at every lifeline she offered him, his restraint weakened to nothing but a fraying thread. How could he refuse her?
He uttered a breathless ‘okay’ and she kissed him tenderly all over—his lips, his nose, his forehead, the freckle she loved under his left eye, and the one in the hollow of his throat. It was an intimacy she knew he’d always craved, deprived of for millennia, and that she was always willing to give him so freely.
With her words echoing in his mind and her every touch, the guilt he’d felt for leaving fell off him in pieces. He had to let go of the thought of tomorrow, to embrace the reality of the moment and just give himself to her, to feel her over and under every inch of his skin if he could manage it—another lasting imprint to be made on his soul to carry back with him until the end of her days.
She took the photos from him and set them down on the dresser with the others, placing them somewhere he would see and remember to take them. They undressed each other silently, reverently, hands trailing across familiar planes. When they fell into bed, it wasn’t with their usual fervor, though he was starving for her; instead, it was heavy with the weight of sacrifice and love, their limbs tangling, connecting bodies that felt like they were made to always come together.
Later, as they lay entwined, their breaths caressing each other’s lips, she asked softly, “How’s work going?”
His eyes lit up. “The last patient I saw is a real piece of work.” Thinking about the session he’d had just before leaving Hell, he was nearly vibrating with the excitement of sharing it with her.
“Who are they? Wait, can you tell me, or is there, like, a patient confidentiality thing?”
Surely there was a moral line drawn somewhere that he shouldn’t cross; however, this was just as much her accomplishment as it was his.
“Oh, bugger it, I’m not a real doctor. It’s Freud. Sigmund Freud. Can you believe it?” Chloe’s jaw dropped as she choked in surprise.
“He’s only been down there for bloody eternity. But during my millionth tour of his loop I finally saw a flicker, an aberration in choice and behavior—and that was my way in. Can’t believe I’ve got him sitting across from me now.”
He sent her a smug smile, but it wavered as he recalled their last session. “He’s going to take me a long time. He’s erratic and arrogant. He answers my questions with more questions until we’ve veered completely off-topic. I have to speak in metaphors to keep him engaged long enough, and even then he only listens to about a fourth of what I say and hears only what he wants to hear, filtered through his own myopic lens.”
“Wow…” Chloe bit back a grin. “And none of that…sounds familiar?”
“Not really,” he said with knitted brows. “Should it?” She merely shrugged as she tucked her lips between her teeth. “I might consider having Amenadiel deliver a message to the Doctor for some advice…if I can muster the courage.”
“Well, that’s a good idea. I think you’d blow her mind.”
Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her palm tenderly and held it to his heart. “He’ll be a tough nut to crack, but I’ve freed just over a thousand souls in the time I’ve been there.”
“Oh my—Lucifer! Way to bury the lead! That’s amazing. That’s amazing!”
He preened at her praise; the fact that she considered the effectiveness of his work more impressive than whosoever graced his couch made his chest feel full.
“I could do better; I know I could. But it does give me quite the rush. It feels right. It’s quite the novel and addictive buzz. Almost makes up for the subpar quality of the alcohol, anyway, although I’m working on that.” Pausing briefly to consider his next few words, unsure of how they’d be received, he added, “Eventually, when I think his various punishments have run their course and he’s perhaps finally humbled himself enough to be ready to listen… I hope to try my hand with Michael.”
Chloe gauged him for a few moments as the silence stretched, her eyes darting between his in quiet contemplation. “I am so proud of you,” she said resolutely, awe in her voice and her eyes full of love. “The strength alone that level of empathy and mercy requires. I never doubted your capabilities for a second. What you’re doing for those people, Lucifer, what you’re willing to do for him…it’s incredible and brave. It helps make it all worth it. To make this all worth it.”
“Well, a woman much smarter than me once said, ‘It’s not cowardly to fight for a single soul.’ And who better to fight for the souls of the broken than their poster child?” Eyes shimmering, he brushed a few strands of hair from her cheek. “I couldn’t have done it without your faith in me, Detective. You know, when I freed my first soul, it was a particularly tough one. It took me a while… I was unsure of myself and how to go about it all. And then when he ascended…you were the first person I wanted to share it with. Just wanted to tell you all about it.”
Wiping an errant tear from his eye, she gave him her most captivated expression. “Why don’t you tell me now?” Teasingly, she added, “And by the way, it’s Lieutenant now.”
“Quite right.” He skimmed his thumb across her jawline. “Undoubtedly the best Lieutenant that’s ever graced the halls of the LAPD. I didn’t get the chance to tell you this earlier, but…I am so incredibly proud of you and the work you’re doing here, all that you’ve achieved. Your own strength and tenacity are, and have always been, inspiring.”
Cupping her cheek, he kissed her tenderly, and the way her lips were so pliant against his made his soul ache. His lips brushed across her cheek until they reached the shell of her ear.
“But you’ll always be my Detective.”
A couple of hours later, Lucifer heard a small whimpering sound. It hadn’t appeared to have woken Chloe yet, so he slowly disentangled himself from her and peered over the edge of the crib. Rory gazed up at him with big brown eyes to mirror his, her mouth poised in a silent cry.
“Oh, I’ve seen this before. You’re about to scream your head off, aren’t you? Well that just won’t do; your mum needs her rest.”
Before he’d realized what he’d done, he’d reached into the crib and gently picked her up, cradling her against his chest just like he’d held Charlie so many moons prior.
Oh, well that came quite naturally, didn’t it?
It appeared that the dulcet tone of his voice and the comforting way he’d cradled her against his chest had stemmed the impending infant cry, at least for the moment. After a couple of minutes of slowly rocking her back and forth, it was evident she had no intention of going back to sleep. He decided to take her downstairs in the event she broke out into a full-fledged wail.
“Right…I don’t quite know what to do with you.” A slow blink and a yawn was his only reply. “I’ll take that as permission to do as I please.”
Holding her up to face him, he bore his eyes deep into hers, like the first time they met when he realized she was something more. That spark of recognition he’d noticed then, so long ago and yet so far from now, was still there—just as strong as the first time.
“You know, I’ve never mojo’d a baby before. I wonder if it would work. I suppose they’d just babble unintelligibly. Do babies even have desires, besides eating and sleeping? Well now you’ve gone and made me curious, and I can’t even test it on you.”
With one arm, he moved all the strewn laundry all the way to the end of the couch, grabbing the purple blanket adorned with her name. He lay with his head on the opposite armrest, with Rory wrapped and warm in her blanket on his chest. She was so small against his long frame he had to laugh, causing Rory to gurgle pleasantly.
“Ah…you must like the vibration when I speak, hmm?” His reply came in the form of another happy gurgle. He momentarily wracked his brain for things he could ramble on about to keep her pleasantly lulled by his voice but came up empty. Then it occurred to him—there, in the comforting sound of silence, he knew what he wanted to say.
“My darling girl. I am so sorry for everything that awaits you,” he began softly. “You will be full of sadness, you will be angry, you will hate me, and oh…oh, that breaks my heart.” His breath shuddered as he gently kissed the crown of her head. “But I live knowing that one day…one day you’ll know everything, and I’ll be able to see you again. I can’t wait for that day.
I want to teach you and tell you about so many things, like the stars. Whatever these human spawn detention centers will teach you about them will undoubtedly be insufficient. I look forward to showing you what I’ve achieved with the gift of clarity and purpose you’ve given me. I work tirelessly to make you proud of me, darling, to show you it wasn’t all for nothing.
The next time I see you you’re going to be so big, so different. What I wouldn’t give to see you grow and become your own person. But I could never change you or blame you for your choice. I would remind you to take care of your mum, but I already know you do, and that you do it well. You will never be alone with the family we’ve made here.
I hope you know that there is nothing you could ever say or do that would make me love you less. My darling Aurora, you are pure light. Don’t give in to the darkness. Remember: Be better than me. Always be better than me. I love you, and I’ll see you soon. As a beautiful, strong, and wise girl once told me, it’s but a blip in our eternal existence.”
This had not been a mistake.
This had been a restorative and welcome reprieve. He’d had the privilege of doing something he never thought he’d be able to do; to say things he never thought he’d get the chance to say.
Rory had quieted and was breathing deeply. Not wanting to disturb her by moving too much, he took a minute to compose himself and get his breathing under control, and then began to sing softly.
When you're down and out
When you're on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you
I'll take your part
Oh, when darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Sail on silver girl
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
Oh, if you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Lucifer lost himself in the music for a while, his heart clenching at the memory of that perfect moment, when he and Rory had finally found themselves on common ground. He sang until the rays of first light broke free, streaming through Chloe’s blinds. Slowly he got up, careful not to disturb the sleeping Rory nestled against his chest. Once upstairs, he kissed her button nose and placed her in the crib, still wrapped in the purple Decker-Morningstar family blanket.
Looking over at Chloe’s peacefully sleeping form brought a smile to his face. He felt utterly exhausted; the thought of another tear-filled goodbye with her would be excruciating and threatened to mar the therapeutic night they’d just had together. An idea sprang to mind and he grabbed her phone from the nightstand before heading back downstairs.
A few minutes later he returned, slipping the photos she’d set aside for him into his jacket pocket. In their place, he left her phone—still dimly lit with many voicemail notifications from an unknown number—and a simple note that read:
My Detective,
These are for you.
For the next time you miss my voice.
For the next time you miss me.
-L
P.S.: Some Most of these are not for delicate urchin ears.
He crouched beside her, just letting his eyes drift over her, taking in the fluttering of her eyelashes as she dreamt, the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing kept to its soothing rhythm. There was a specific kind of comfort he only ever felt in the early morning when he’d wake up beside her and she was still fast asleep. It was a picture he’d return to over and over again until he could relive it.
Leaning over, he kissed her forehead and breathed her in one last time. He felt lighter than the first time he’d left, knowing for certain he could do this now. This was the path he’d chosen to travel, and he knew he’d choose it again and again, armed with the rare privilege of knowing where it led.
Before leaving, he set a note atop his pillow on the other side of the bed, his side, knowing she wouldn’t miss it. It wasn’t enough, but for now, it was what they had: the promise of what was to come. And he always kept his promises.
My dearest Chloe, Detective, Lieutenant of the LAPD, and fearless love of my life,
There were things I wanted to say before I left, then and now, but I fear I will never have enough time until time is no longer relevant to us, so for now all I can say is—
Thank you.
For loving me when I made it difficult and showing me what it is to love someone else unconditionally. For your unwavering faith in me, I assure you it is the only thing that kept me standing upright more times than I could count. For giving me so many things I didn’t know I would ever want. For making me a father and raising our daughter, making her the most lovely, headstrong, witty, selfless angel I could have ever hoped for. For making me a better man and allowing me to fulfill this purpose, enduring this with me, despite how painful it is for the both of us. I have never felt so focused, so complete, and it appears I have learned to share after all—because my sown path to success is yours to reap.
Who would have guessed that the Devil falling in love would lead to saving the damned?
You are my strength, and I can only hope to be yours.
My love for you, for our family, is what sustains me. It’s what will always keep my fire burning.
I waited billions of years to feel alive, and then I finally met you; I can wait a bit longer for you to join me. What’s a few more years in the rearview mirror when eternity awaits? Until then, my love, when I can hold you again—you never need to look very far, for I am with you always.
Your partner in all things,
L