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"Her name's Lexi, if you must know. A soon to be judge's ex wife. Long story" he says, his tone almost haughty as he replies to her question regarding the name of his sudden "duty". She doesn't even know why she asked, or why she even cared in the first place.
He sounds like he's bragging– no, scratch that– he's definitely bragging, and it gets on her nerves immensely.
Ever since he'd been back from Las Vegas with his two-days long stripper wife, it's like Lucifer made it his own personal task to disappoint her every chance he got.
Hell, it's almost like he was doing it on purpose; rubbing his rendezvous in her face simply to show her how much of a debauchery-only man he was, which she honestly failed to comprehend; if he's changed his mind and has decided that a relationship isn't something he actually wanted, he could've simply said so.
Sure, It would've hurt her feelings a little bit– ok fine, probably more than a little bit– but in the long run, she would've accepted it. It sure would've been more honest than whatever petty game he's playing now. Not to mention it would've saved her the two weeks wondering what she could've done wrong or if something had happened to him.
What's worse is that whatever it is that he's doing instead, it's affecting their partnership, which despite all his quirks and oddities that came with it, is something that she'd really grown to rely on.
Perhaps that had been just her then? Maybe working with him may have been a genuinely big deal for her, but not vice versa? After all, he did mention that he enjoyed the 'hard to get' chase more than once.
Could it be that when he saw he was getting close to crossing the finishing line of the chase he no longer found the appeal in it?
The mere thought of Lucifer continuing to be her partner solely in hope to be able to get in her pants someday made her chest tighten painfully, Which hardly made sense since technically, that had been the case at the beginning of their partnership's journey.
But still, things have chanced abundantly since then. They changed.
When she looked at him, she no longer saw some sleazy and quite honestly, slightly creepy club owner who wouldn't leave her alone. He had become as a present part of her life. A source of trust and security that she very much cherished, potential romance involved or not.
Or at least, that's what she thought back then. Now however, she wasn't so certain.
She felt like the man she was growing fond of had left and had yet to come back, leaving her with an imposter.
Woefully, she began to wonder if it might've been the other way around all along.
If Chloe had to be honest with herself, it hurt to envision that it could've been all a facade on his part, a way to get her guard down.
Frankly, it felt somewhat wrong too, almost unfair. Because despite how confusing and insufferably unreadable he could be, he's always been by her side, so much to the point of bringing harm and danger upon himself repeatedly.
Could she really doubt that someone like that actually cared?
But then again, how is she supposed to trust a man who went from trying so hard to prove himself as 'boyfriend material' to ghost her, come back married and then proceed to disregard their every meaningful moment he himself as claimed to be significant as mere friendship in just a few weeks?
Everything he did and said was just so infuriatingly inconsistent that at some point, she couldn't help but begin to suspect he just pretended to care until he had confirmation that he'd finally managed to woo the apparently first woman who didn't fall all over herself at his sight.
Maybe the harsh truth was simply that working together has been nothing but a pastime to him, a personal challenge for his own personal amusement.
Well, if that's how it really is, then screw him- says a bitter, but mostly hurt voice in the back of her mind.
For all she cared, he could sleep his way from Los Angeles to the entire globe and never set foot in her life again if that's how he really thought it to be. She's not gonna chase after him and beg him to stay, that's one thing for sure.
It's not like she needs him anyways. Yeah, she did enjoy working with him, she won't lie about that. He also provided different points of view to things, made her see everything under a different light, which she found amusing. But that certainly didn't make her depend on his assistance.
She was a good detective before him and she's gonna be a good detective despite or even without him at all.
Enough with this.
She've got no time to deal with whatever her partner may or may not feel. She already got enough on her plate with a whole other frustrating man, aka the new boss with the adorable habit of acting like a passive-aggressive dick for no apparent reason.
Who, speaking of, has suddenly decided to ride along with her on her way to Jerry Blackcrow's camp to monitor her.
Marcus Pierce had every single individual in the department wrapped around his finger the moment he stepped a foot into the precinct. The guy was pretty much a rockstar in the field.
She's also heard more than a colleague fawn over the man also. And yes sure, he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes– on the contrary, with his light, ash blonde hair and greenish eyes, his height and shape all summed with the "mysterious, reserved man" aura, it didn't really come off as surprising that could have pretty much anyone swoon with ease.
Too bad he revealed himself as a pretentious jerk the moment he opened his mouth to introduce himself.
Seriously, have all the men that cross her path collectively agreed to piss her off just for the sake of it?
Well no matter, she's not gonna let that or him get to her. This is her case, her career and she sure as hell won't let this man sabotage it just because she rubbed him off the wrong way for whatever reason.
It didn't matter how popular, well respected and charming he's considered in the upper planes. If he's got an issue with her, that's not her problem.Therefore, she won't let it mess with her career.
She tells him as much on their way to Blackcrow's camp.
Chloe expected him to either scoff mockingly or dismiss her as he always did. What she hadn't seen coming however is him complimenting her, even going as far as calling her his best detective.
He's not messing with her is he?
Given, Pierce was surely far from the jokester type, but the absurdity of it all made her wonder nonetheless.
Why on earth would he belittle and limitate her every chance he got if he deemed her to be one of– no– the best in the department?
She's about to ask him to elaborate, but the startling noise of a wooden door smashed open halts her.
"Decker, gun!" Pierce's deep voice pierces through the air, startling her into full alert.
There it stood Jerry Blackcrow, rifle in hand and a rather unfriendly look in his eyes.
Looks like she was right about him being the killer after all.
She would be much more ecstatic about the personal victory against the Lieutenant's judgement if it weren't for the very much guilty ex con currently pointing a weapon at them.
Hurriedly, she makes to reach for her gun, but the moment her fingertips get to it, she's suddenly being enveloped by the Lieutenant's biceps before she can even manage to get it out.
He's probably trying to shield her, she comes to realize, and while she appreciates the sentiment, he's completely limiting her movements by doing so.
What baffles her the most however, is the fact that he still hasn't pulled out his gun yet either. He's just.. standing there.
"Lieutenant what are you doing?! That man is armed, let's hurry and respond before he gets to fire at us!" Chloe prompts him. He ignores her, which frustrates her immensely.
It's almost as if he's hoping to get shot, but that's simply absurd.
But then what the hell is he doing? Why is he not firing back? Is he trying to get the both of them killed or what?
She attempts to ease his hold on her again, but it's no use. Blackcrow's incessant shooting summed with the fact that Marcus Pierce was an highly well-built man made it nearly impossible for her to free herself.
In a matter of seconds, the area around them was practically covered in a shower of bullets, effectively keeping the both of them in place.
He moves her to push her down to the ground, and from there on it all goes downhill.
It happened in the blink of an eye really.
The incessant shooting come to an end, Blackcrow's car's tires screech against the asphalt is the last sound before it's nothing but dead silence. That and Pierce's grunts.
They're both on the ground, his body's laying on hers as he groans in pain. He's been shot about four or five times, she couldn't really tell.
Truthfully, she could tell nothing at all.The only thing she did know however is that it was not the heavy body pressing her down that was making her breathless.
She's been shot too.
She doesn't exactly know how or when but the lancinating pain in the area of her sternum is enough to testify that there's a bullet in there somewhere, and the fact that she can't tell whatever it's near vital organs worries her tremendously.
With a slight move of her head to the side, she watches her blood join Pierce's and merge into the giant pool of red they were laying on. Dread fills her over.
Definitely not a good sign.
In the meanwhile, Pierce's body has gone completely still. She could no longer feel his chest raise and then fall against her own. He laid beneath her motionless. He's not breathing.
That's when the harsh reality hits her like a slap in the face; there is no getting out of this. Neither of them have called for backup, nobody will come to her rescue quickly enough. It's just a matter of time until she follows straight after Pierce.
Panic spreads in her chest as she feels her heart somehow slow down and accelerate simultaneously.
She doesn't wanna die. Not now, not like this.
She's getting more and more dizzy, her sight reduced into one huge blur. Her spinning mind starts to wander, getting lost into endless thoughts and what-ifs.
The face of her daughter appears in front of her inner eyes on its own accord. If she doesn't make it, she'll never get to see Trixie again, read her a bedtime story and hold her in her arms. She's gonna leave her like her dad did her. She'll be out of her life and fade into a wistful memory. The thought makes her want to scream in despair.
No. She has to hold strong. She must stay awake and not give in to the pain and dizziness threatening to take over.
Or else, she won't ever manage to get out of here. If she doesn't, she'll never see Dan again or Ella, Maze, Linda and all the friends she never thought she'd have.
She won't get to see Lucifer again- the realization hits like a lighting.
Her chest aches terribly at the prospect.
It's somewhat ironic really. How everything she was so upset over merely an hour prior now took a backseat.
None of it matters anymore. All she does know is that she doesn't know what she'd give to see his smiling face right now.
Closing her eyes, she could almost hear him call out her name– or better yet, her job title he claimed was endearing– in that British accent of his. The thought of that warmth, the one that only that smug, yet so sweet smile of his alone could provide was somewhat soothing.
The pain however– both physical and not– begged to differ, growing so intense she could spend an eternity crying her soul out and yet, not a single tear drips out. She lacked the strength to do even that.
Her whole life, she's truly never felt weaker.
All of sudden, just out of nowhere, she feels the Lieutenant's limp body snaps back into a panting, groaning mess once more, startling Chloe out of her internal torments.
What the-? She could've sworn he wasn't breathing until a few minutes ago. Hell, he's been shot twice as much as she has, anyone should've supposedly stopped breathing by that point.
She wants to yell at him, tell him to hurry and just do something but once again, nothing comes out of her, save for a weak, almost imperceptible whimpers.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for things to go this way" she hears him mutter absently into her ear.
Chloe has no time to question whatever that means, because the moment he struggles his way up to his feet, she can practically feel herself start to drift off.
She tries to fight it, but it's a lost battle from the start. With the only source of pressure to her wound now gone, the blood loss has gotten rapidly and significantly worse.
At that point, she no longer saw, heard or felt anything surrounding her. It was as if she was drowning.
She could feel herself slowly descend into blackness. It was if she was sinking into deep waters; you go lower and lower until the surface is just a far memory and you start to lose each of your senses until you feel nothing but cold.
She doesn't get to see Pierce– now fully back on his feet– stand beside her, walkie-talkie in hand as he calls for backup, nor does she hears the distant echoes of serval sirens on their way.
Her gaze is pointed up to the stars in the night sky as they slowly lose their glow like lightbulbs turned off each by each.
She simply watches, helpless as darkness invades her vision completely, swallowing her whole.
He's let her down.
Comprehending human emotions has never been Lucifer's strong suit, but that much even he could tell.
Disappointment was written all over her flawless features as he presented the motives behind his premature departure. He could also spot what looked awfully like... resignation.
Usually, the Detective showed her disapproval with a little scolding, or one of her adorable eye-rolls. The 'he said-she said' in their banter being basically their partnership's brand that he found oh so endearing.
Lately however, she hardly reacted to him anymore. Almost as if she simply gave up. As if she'd realized he simply wasn't worth the effort.
And for that he should be relieved, right?
After all, that had been what he's meant to happen ever since he's discovered the truth behind her origins: free her from his father's clutches and give her free will back. And what better way than her realizing he simply wasn't worth concerning over?
And yet, he doesn't feel relieved in the slightest. On the contrary, the burning anger in his heart was threatening to incinerate every fiber of his being. All of it directed to his Father, obviously.
A whole existence lived in a miserable, empty void filled with faceless bodies until he met her; This captivating woman, so extraordinarily brilliant he could hardly believe she was real and now it's blatantly obvious why she was that way; the bastard must've always known she would've captured his heart the moment he laid eyes on her, did he not? After all if there was one thing God knew is, well- everything.
Curse him and his omniscient arse.
As if banishing him and vilify his name for all the rest of eternity was not nearly sufficient, he created a brand new way to hurt him when he went out of his mysterious ways when he made Chloe Decker specifically to mess with his heart and head.
He will never forgive him for this affront. Never.
His hatred filled thoughts come to an halt when his phone starts ringing. Lucifer makes out "Detective Douche" on the Caller ID, flashing unexpectedly.
Odd. Daniel hardly ever contacted him. Usually, he went straight to the Detective when in need of further work-related consultancy, which he'd argue was pretty much always the case, his role practically useless without her assistance.
He sincerely will never understand how he and the Detective are ranked the same professionally. Competence, skill, intelligence and pretty much everything that mattered wise, the Detective was light years superior to Detective Douche.
Oh well, he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. With his sour mood, he could use some lifting, and what better way to raise one's spirits than pocking some fun at the Douche?
"Hel-lo Daniel. To what do I owe the displeasure of hearing from you? Did you catch a glimpse of your reflection while passing by a mirror and now you want me to comfort you? I can offer a few selfies as eye bath " He mocks smugly.
And then just like it had appeared, the grin on his lips fades away completely the moment the man on the other hand speaks. It's right there and then that Lucifer learned that dying might not be the only way an heart had to stop beating.
••••
The way to the hospital was all a blur, so much that he hardly remembers whenever he took the Corvette or used his wings.
"Chloe Decker. I need to see Chloe Decker. Where is she?" he blurts out, startling the woman at the receptionist desk.
"I'm sorry sir but I can't let you in right now. There is too many visitors for that patient and the capacity is currently full. May I suggest for you to wait here for now and- hey! Sir wait, you can't- " He grunts in frustration, brushing the woman off completely.
Lucifer dashes forwards, not sparing a single glance to the lady engulfed in a scrub double her size or the other staff members trying (and failing) to keep him in place.
He races through the building's levels like a madman. Another lady he presumes to be a nurse– he hasn't turned around to check– is chasing after him.
She's talking, probably saying something about how he couldn't be there for some nonsensical reason he couldn't care less about.
He needs to find the Detective. He needs to make sure that she's fine this instant.
She has to be.
His endless wandering through the greyish halls resemble eeriely to Hell- actually no, scratch that, this is way worse than Hell.
At least he had nothing to lose nor care about down that miscreants-filled land. Here, on the other hand, he has everything. Everything he could've only dreamed of and longed to find all embodied in one person.
As he continues his desperate search, he passes by the umpteenth waiting hall, stopping dead in his tracks when he spots a familiar face. There's Daniel nearby the entrance, talking to one of the doctors.
With long strides, he's in front of the men within seconds.
"Where is she?" He demands immediately, taking the both of them by surprise as their gaze shift on his own panic filled one.
"She just got out of the operating room. We've managed to stabilize her for now, but her condition remains critical nonetheless"
"For now?!" He asks in outrage and disbelief.
"As I was telling your associated here, Miss Decker has lost a significant amount of blood. To be entirely honest with you, you're lucky there was still a pulse when she got here" he says sternly.
At his words, Lucifer's heart sinks to his stomach.
This is all his fault.
He's been so fixated on showing up his Father that he couldn't even be there for the one bloody person who mattered everything to him.
No matter what he does, it always ends up hurting her.
"Oh, I almost forgot to mention. The man with Miss Decker. He's also affiliated with the police?"
"Yeah, that's our Lieutenant. Why?" Dan interjects.
"Well, I'd say your boss was graced by God himself" the older man claims.
Now that catches Lucifer's attention.
"Whatever do you mean?" He inquires.
"Well, Mr. Pierce arrived practically drenched in blood, and despite his protests about not requiring any assistance, we managed to detect like six bullets in serval areas of his body, yet there was no severe damage anywhere. He's healthy as a fish. Truthfully, I've never seen anything like it" the doctor states.
Lucifer frowns in puzzlement. Could one really be that lucky to get shot six times without a scratch? Then again, the good doctor did mention he'd been covered in blood.
"While that's crazy, I'm not really surprised. Guy's a rock, he looks like he could be made of steel" Dan comments, to which almost Lucifer scoffs.
What a ludicrous point.
If anything, he is the one who could actually be made of steel as he is the actual celestial being. The Lieutenant on the other hand is human, therefore it's simply impossible for him to be invul-
And then it hits him.
The sudden change of Police Chief from Olivia Monroe to Marcus Pierce, that dreadful tattoo on his upper arm but most particularly, its placement. It all checked.
Excusing himself, he makes his way towards Mazikeen, who has recently arrived along Linda and his brother. They must've temporarily put whatever tension between the three of them aside for the sake of the Detective.
Based on the glint in the demon's blackish eyes, he can tell she's heard enough to knows she has come to his same conclusion.
"Maze dear, do you happen to have one of your children in handy?"
••••
Lucifer finds him licking his wounds on one of benches nearby the area. Silently, he makes to approach him.
"You're here." Pierce acknowledges blankly before he could make his presence known. "I'm sorry for what happened to Decker. It really shouldn't have gone that way" he says.
His pathetic attempt to appear upset over it only serves to fuel Lucifer's anger further.
Without warning, he surges forwards, pulling the demon blade Maze has so graciously lended out of his suit jacket and thrusts it right in the middle of his chest.
The other man stumbles backwards, evidently taken aback by the sudden attack. A few coughs of blood get spattered here and there until he falls over the bench, ultimately landing stiff on the ground.
In the meantime, Lucifer simply watches, his expression impossibly impassible as he takes a seat on the bench. Unbothered, he pulls out one of his cigars, lights it up and then draws on, savouring the intense smell of smoke rosing up to his nostrils, which he inhaled deep into his lungs as he observed the struggling impostor at his feet.
As expected, panting and coughing restart within a few minutes.
"Well, welcome come back to you, Lieutenant. Or should I say, Cain."
Still stumbling, he grips the wooden bench and plops his way back up to his previous seat. "How did you find out?"
"Oh no, no, no. I'm the one who asks the question here. Now, you better tell me what you want or else.." he leaves the threat hang in the air.
Much to his irritation however, the man looked anything but intimated. "Or what? You'll kill me?" he replies lamely. His provoking, almost mocking tone, causes Lucifer's eyes to flash red.
Furiously, he takes ahold of his thick throat, wrapping his hand around it and squeezes impossibly hard. "Do not fret Cain. You may not be able to die, but you're certainly not immune to pain. And I promise you won't know anything else if I find out you're behind what happened to the Detective"
"Please. What reasons would I even have to hurt Chloe?"
"I don't know, you tell me. You're the police superior who just happens to be the first murderer in humanity so excuse me if I'm having an hard time buying the little tale about your sudden appearance being just a funny little coincidence "
"You're right, it's not. I know you're the Devil. That's what brought me to go back working in Los Angeles"
"So that's what it was all about? A favor? You could've saved the effort of your charade and just come to Lux to seal a deal with the Devil"
Pierce shakes his head no. "A deal with you wasn't in my interests. I already knew you can't do anything to help me"
"Well then what is it that you bloody want then?!" He nearly shouts, his patience growing thinner and thinner by his evasive demeanor
"To check."
"Check what?" he presses through clenched teeth.
"You. Your vulnerability around Chloe Decker, to be more exact. I know she makes you mortal"
"And how could you possibly know that?"
"I have my sources." He says simply, his brief, nonchalant answers aggravating the Devil even further.
And then once again, everything that has happened in the last few weeks since 'Marcus Pierce' entered his and Chloe's life comes crashing down on him.
His kidnapping and dumping in the middle of a desert, the sudden return his wings, the disappearance of his Devil face..
"You're the Sinnerman" Lucifer gapes indignant.
He doesn't respond, and he doesn't even need to. The infuriatingly stoic expression on his face is enough of a confirmation.
"You bastard." He hisses venomously, tightening his grip on his throat as he watched his skin reach every existing shade of blue.
"It was nothing personal ok? I just needed you distant for a few days to verify my theory" He coughs out.
"I swear to Dad if you don't spill it out already I'll-"
"Ask me what I desire." The man demands suddenly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Ask me." he presses, undeterred.
"Fine" the Devil concedes. "Tell me, Cain. What is it that you truly desire?"
As he puts his mojo to work, he watches as the man's hard expression grows slack "I.. I just want to die" he reveals earnestly.
Lucifer scoffs incredulously, almost derisive. "Really now?"
"From the beginning of time, I've watched every form of humanity come and go while I've been stuck in place for millennia. I'm exhausted. I need to be able to die. Roaming the earth forever.. it's torture."
"Well yes that's why it was denominated a bloody curse in the first place. What I'm still not hearing is how the Detective is related to any of this."
"Just think about it, Lucifer. If she makes you, the Devil– an immortal– mortal, then who's to say she can't do the same with me?"
"Right. And how did that go anyhow? Oh, now I remember; you're here intact and she's there, on a hospital bed, enduring an agony that you should be experiencing!"
"Clearly there must be something I missed in the equation. Perhaps physical proximity isn't enough for it to work. Maybe if I try-"
"You'll do no such thing. I'm warning you, Cain. You better stay away from her from now on, or else I assure you death won't be necessary for you to discover Hell"
"You don't understand." He presses, undeterred.
"Don't I? Because from what my comprehension skills have gathered based on your little sob-story is that you shamelessly used the Detective and purposely endangered her for your own benefit." he fires back, poisonous snark tinting his every word.
"I didn't mean for her to be harmed. I mean it. I only needed her to be near me but she was never supposed to get caught in the crossfire, it just happened."
"'it 'just happened' ?" He repeats in outrage, his grip on the man's jugular tightening once more.
"She is not a puppet whose strings you can pull on whichever way best fits you. Right now she's suffering immensely and it's entirely your fault. You're a coward, Cain. And you deserve every bit of the pain my Father has served for you" he concludes cruelly.
"You-"
"Enough. I don't want to hear one single more word from you. Now, if you'll excuse me-" ruthlessly, he extracts the blade from his chest, ignoring his grunt of pain as he does, "sorry sonny. I'm afraid this one isn't a gift" he muses pointing to the blood-soaked demon dagger in his hand.
"Disappear, 'Lieutenant'. For your own sake. Because if something is to happen to the Detective tonight, immortality will be the least of your worries" he promises darkly.
••••
As soon as Lucifer gets back at the hospital's hall, he's met with pure chaos.
He finds Maze throwing threats in the air, claiming that she'd ' kick some ass' if someone didn't get there and talk already' while Daniel was pacing restlessly from one corner of the room to another. Miss Lopez was going back and forth in attempt to reassure the both of them, although her own panic was rather hard to miss.
"What's going on?"
"W-we don't know. One moment one of the medics was telling us everything was fine and then a nurse called him for an emergency and they rushed her back in surgery" she explained, the concern in her voice doubling his own.
The fact that Miss Lopez, the epitome of optimism par excellence, was so worried and uncertain fed to his fear immensely.
A different doctor was emerging from behind the white doors, wearing an impossibly grave expression, one who held anything but good news.
His stomach drops the instant he realizes the man's coming their direction.
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
Surely it can't be what he's assuming. This is a hospital, a place full of humans whose lives are currently on the line. He could be heading to one of those.
And yet the the closer the man got, the bigger the sense of foreboding in his gut grew.
"You're all here for Chloe Decker?" asks the doctor addressing to the apprehension-ridden group, to which they all nod fervently.
"I know this is a difficult time sir, for all of you. But please be assured in knowing that our medical staff is doing their best to assist your friend" starts the older man
"But how is she doctor? Has she woken up yet?" asks Daniel in visible distress.
The man gives a polite shake of his head. "There's no updates on that front, no. The patient is still under E.R.'s intensive care" he reports sternly.
"But your colleague said she was just out of it?"
"Miss Decker has endured a profound blood loss, one that has caused severe internal bleeding and therefore hemorrhagic shock. She's being treated by our most competent personnel. As of now, I'm obliged to inform you that the patient's conditions currently remain highly critical."
The words hit Lucifer square in the chest, a suffocating sense of dread and terror gnawing at him. He felt like his lungs were enveloped by ice-cold chains threatening to tear it down to pieces.
This isn't real. This can't be really happening.
He's been so bloody obsessed with showing up his Father that he lost sight of what– of who really mattered. And now, thanks to his negligence and idiocy he might lose her forever.
Suddenly, the room begins to look like it's shrinking, his head spinning until he can barely see neatly anymore.
He can't bear it. Cannot stay here and idly listen helpless as the person whom means the most to him leaves him to the one place he'll never be able to follow.
Without another word, he sprints with long strides, making his way among the hospital staff passing by, leaving what he doesn't have the strength to possibly endure pending.
"Lucifer!" he vaguely heard the sound of his friends' voices call out, all merged into a distant noise. He spared none of them a glance. All he knew being that he could no longer breathe until he got out of there.
He does the one thing he knows best when met with unpleasant emotions.
He withdrawals himself.
Doctor Linda would call it avoidance, refusal of dealing with a frightful situation. Those are the annoyingly therapist-terms she'd use if she were to be here now.
He chooses not to find out by ignoring her attempt to contact him. In fact, he's been ignoring her calls for hours now, same for Amenadiel, Miss Lopez and surprisingly Maze's ones as well.
He refuses to talk to anyone. Right now, all he wants to do is drown his senses in every alcoholic in his possession until he manages to go numb, even if just for a mere instant. In fact, he heads straight to the bar area as if he were on auto-pilot the moment he steps into the penthouse.
He's being a coward, the very thing he accused Pierce of, he's well aware, and yet, there was absolutely nothing he could do to help himself.
The whole night, haunting scenarios starring Chloe not making it never cease to torment him. No matter the amount of alcohol, smoke and drugs he consumed.
The very thought of an existence without her was unfathomable to grasp. Even attempting to imagine staying on earth was impossible for him- not even going back to Hell would do nothing. What would the point be anyway? Anywhere he'd go, he'd be tormented by the thought of her and the cruel reminder that it'll only stay as that: a mere memory, an unaccessible fantasy he could never reach, not from the pit of damnation he's bound to.
Like an unfortunate sod trapped down the bottom of a well, he'd be forever stuck looking up the remote firmament, knowing he'd only be able to watch.
It hurt too much, way more than he's able to stand. So much that during a certain time before sunrise, Azreal's blade crossed his mind. For a moment, he wished he hadn't thrown it into his mother's universe. Had it been still here, he could've had at least the option of putting an end to that misery for good.
As he pours himself a shot, he feels the bottle shake in his hold. It's his own hand that is trembling, he realizes. It makes him feel all too weak. Now more than ever, he's gotten the indisputable proof of how powerless he really is.
It makes something inside of him snap.
Seemingly having reached a breaking point, he sends the crystal piece flying, smashing it into a thousand pieces against the hard floor. Overtaken by a blinding, suffocating rage, he practically runs out to the balcony.
"This is all your fault, you egoistic, manipulative bastard!" He accuses furiously at the dimly illuminated sky.
"It's because of you that monster is still among humanity. It's because of you and your rubbish fucking punishments that he involved her in his sick delusions to get rid of a curse you casted. It all always comes back to you doesn't it?!" He shouts.
"You put her on my path, made sure that I'd-" he breaths in for a moment, swallowing the heavy lump forming in his throat, "-that I'd feel the way I do, only to mercilessly snatch her away from me. Because casting me out, shunning me down to Hell wasn't enough for you was it?! You just had to find the ultimate way to destroy me for good"
"Well congratulations. I've learned my lesson now. But she.. she doesn't deserve this. She shouldn't have to pay a price that is not hers to weld and you know it. So direct your anger at me if you must, or at Cain, but leave her out of it" he says, his angry outburst slowly turning into a desperate plea.
"I'll become whatever you wish me to be, but leave her out of it. She has a life, a child that needs her. I need her" he begs desperately, his voice now reduced to a breathy murmur. "Just, please, please Dad. Save Chloe"
As per usual, his plea met with nothing but an all too deafening silence.
It causes his ire spike up once more.
How utterly moronic of him to think for even a second that the prick would actually respond. The one and only time he deigned to concede a sign of life had been during the chase of Malcom Graham and that had been the case simply because he needed him to cast mum away from earth.
Now that there's no gain in it for him, no IOU that requires him to serve as one of his pawns and do as he pleases, why would he concern himself with his most rebellious son. The traitor, the disappointment, the fallen one.
If not even his most favorite and obedient warrior has had the graciousness of his favor, why would he obtain it?
In the end, it didn't matter whenever one's the apple of daddy's eye or the family's black sheep. In his eyes, they will never be his children.
They're all nothing but pawns on the chessboard of his master plan, each and every action he's taken so far only ended serving as a reminder of that.
Well, if it's the banished, unworthy son that Father so badly wanted to carve, then that's who he shall be. After all, he's already known as the embodiment of pure evil, a ruthless torturer. It's only fair that he actually acts like it.
And he happens to know perfectly well just who to start with.
••••
It didn't take Lucifer much to put two and two together.
After all, it was quite an elementary conclusion to draw; Jerry Blackcrow was a declared ex-con, one recently busted for murder with a statewide APB on his back. And like any jail discard that's been re-caught in dirtier dirt, he must be on the run, meaning he's most definitely headed to a stash somewhere on his way to flee. In fact, he catches him in the act of doing just that.
"So this is where the Firehawk Path leads. A soggy stash of coke-dusted twenties in Marina del Rey and a boat ride to Mexico" he mocks as he appears, startling him out of his frenzy escape.
"How did you find me?"
He scoffs. "My prized pupil mentioned using her dad's beach condo as a stash house. I simply figured her partner would have access to such information"
"What do you want, Mr. Morningstar?" asks Blackcrow, not even bothering to turn around as he does.
"To hear you tell the truth. About how it was all a farse. A scam to delude desperate parents into believing you could lead their malevolent offsprings to redemption" he says simply.
"I did a lot good for those kids!" he argues defensively.
"So it turns out I was right about people not changing. Just wrong about who" he muses coldly, starting to make his way towards the man who still hasn't turned around once.
He must sense the danger because as soon as he steps closer, the muscles on his back tense visibly. Lucifer can practically smell the stink of fear off of him.
"I warned Emily but she wouldn't listen to reason. It was her own fault, she left me no choice!" he justifies lamely, which only serves to enrage Lucifer further.
"What about the woman you shot hm? Was she also 'not listening to reason'? Was she also the one at fault?!" The snarky sarcasm in his tone slowly beginning to turn into something much darker, angrier.
"She was just in my way man" franticly, he gets down to grab his rifle. "I'm not letting anyone send me back to jail!" He exclaims, expecting to be pointing his weapon at the man he knew to be standing a few feet away, yet is only met with the sparkling view of the port as soon as he turns around.
Blackcrow looks around in confusion. Appalled by where he could've run to in such a limited amount of time.
He didn't spend much wondering because said man was once again standing behind him, his eyes wide with a burning hatred flaming in them.
"Jail will feel like heaven compared to your punishment" he promises. Almost at speed light, he's disarming and lifting the man off his feet, a deadly handgrip on his throat as his body dangles off the ground. Before he can even react, Lucifer tosses the man , the impact so harsh it damages the wooden pier underneath them.
In no time, he's kneeling over his bruised body, his tall hovering over the now terrified man as his left hand finds its way back around his throat. "The only fault the woman 'in your way', has is being way too good to be crossing paths with rotten miscreants like you" he hisses in anger.
The iron grip on Blackcrow's jugular clenches, preventing him from giving any verbal response other than pained grunts and laments.
Restlessly, he smashes his fist into his face, again and again until his nose is gushing blood, painting his knuckles a deep red until Lucifer's vision is flooded by it. At this rate, he's likely gonna either bleed out to death or , yet Lucifer can't bring himself to stop, a blinding rage swallowing him whole.
This human stain deceived so many by hiding behind the facade of a savior, he ended a kid's life. And now he's gonna lose Chloe, his Detective, because of him.
He's culpable of so much pain, took so much away and he doesn't even feel guilt about any of it. He deserves nothing but suffering, an immediate eternity of it.
An hatred-filled heat pumped through Lucifer‘s veins, his blood boiling and burning under Lucifer's skin as he felt the Devil in him raise up the surface.
"Lucifer stop! You're gonna kill him!" Amenadiel's deep, righteous voice pierces through the salty air of the port.
"And what if I do? After all that's what it's really all about: once evil always evil am I right?"
"You are not evil, Luci. You punish evil" he argues. "Your words, remember?"
For a moment, Lucifer hesitates, his brother's words sinking in.
It's true. He's never identified with the image humanity has painted of the Devil throughout time; an evil soul-eating monster that exists solely to drag them to an eternal damnation. Those were just artificial tales born to portray him as scapegoat, an easy loophole to clean their sin-drenched hands and put the blame of their every abomination on him.
He's never laid a finger on anyone who wasn't already in Hell. And even there he let his demons do most of the job. Because that's what it's always been to him; a job.
But then he looks down at Jerry Blackcrow's battered face and it all rushes back; His lies and the pathetic motives behind them.
The bastard didn't even think he was in the wrong whatsoever. He only saw his crimes as necessary measures.
Just like Cain.
The thought of the first murderer sets his blood ablaze. Slowly, he glances up at Amenadiel. "Thank you for the reminder, dear brother. I am a indeed a punisher. And this little maggot here happens to deserve nothing but that" he concludes, delivering one last punch straight to Jerry's already broken nose, effectively knocking him out.
"Lucifer-"
"Why is your purpose to always defy me?!" He snaps.
"You just said it yourself that I am a punisher of evil. Well I am doing just that, inflicting punishment to evil, so why are you opposing?? How is it that every single thing I do is never bloody the right one?!" he shouts in frustration, the loud rasp of his outburst scaring off the seagulls nearby.
Furiously, he walks towards Blackcrow, who had yet to regain conscience. "Look at this human" he demands, pointing his blood drenched hand at the passed out man at their feet.
"His hands are dirty with the blood of an innocent girl and he still dares to feel sorry for himself! When it's no one but his own bloody fault that kid's life got stolen from her. It's because of him that the Detective, that she-" his voice falters, losing all its temper.
He gets back on his feet, his right fist in drenched in blood and the silver shimmering of Lilith's ring consumed by deep red.
"It doesn't bloody matter he isn't in Hell yet. He deserves this penance and you know it. This man you are him has unjustly deprived someone of their life, how is it fair for him to keep his?"
"It is you that I'm trying to protect Luci."
"Are you now? Tell me brother, is it really my well-being what your apprehension is meant for, or your task?" He fires defensively.
Despite Amenadiel's iron facade, he doesn't miss how he flinches, his words stinging right where it hurt.
"I should be dragging this vile mortal in the depth of Hell as we speak. I should be beating him and Cain both into one pulp over and over for the rest of their insignificant existences. "
"Cain?" Amenadiel again speaks at last, appalled by the sudden mention of one of the very first humans in existence.
"Oh you haven't heard the news? It turned out that not only dear old Lieutenant Marcus Pierce is none other than Cain, first murderer in history, he's also responsible for-"
Again, the words fail to leave his mouth. He can't even bring himself to say it.
It was pure agony.
"Please, at least tell me that she's happy" he blurts out suddenly, his tone drenched in misery and anguish. "Tell me that you've seen her and that she's with her father camping on one of that dreadful bore of a place or something, anything that can make it make sense"
"..I am back from seeing her but Luci, Chloe isn't in Silver City. That's what I came to talk about."
At those words, a strange mixture of panic and anticipation fill his body.
For a brief moment, hope builds up in his chest. But then that brief glimmer shatters just as abruptly as it'd appeared, making space for a much darker prospect.
Unbidden, his mind conjures images of the cold, desolated but at the same time all too inhabited place he knows as his former home.
His breathing grows ragged. That couldn't be, could it?
No, that could not be possible. She is so special, truly good- as he'd told her that day on the beach. She didn't deserve to even know what that wretched place looked like, let alone be in it.
And yet, the more he thought of it, the less inconceivable that presumption became. His father's cruelty knew no limit, especially when it came to finding brand new ways to hurt and manipulate him.
His eyes widen in horror as he lets the atrocious prospect sink in, revulsion spreading in his brain like a wildfire as he pictures his beloved Chloe going through the horrors of Hell and its guilt-fueled loops.
What if he made sure to have her there?
What if it was his sick and twisted way to ultimately force him back to the underworld? What if that was the infamous master plan all along? To create this beautiful, marvelous woman and make sure she'd cross his path, knowing that she'd become his everything, that he'd be willing to burn over and over if for her, only to use her very existence and the feelings he knew he'd have to his advantage and control him.
A millions thoughts were running through his mind, one more dreadful than the previous.
Amenadiel however, sensing his brother's growing torment, put an end to each one of them; "Calm down, Luci! Chloe's not in Hell nor is she in any other realm because she's right where you left her. Here, on earth." The other angel explains, watching as his Lucifer's dread-filled gaze lights up in astonishment.
"S-she's ok.. she's really ok?" He breaths in awe, his heart practically pounding in his ears.
"Yeah Luci. Chloe is fine. She woke up a couple of hours ago" he affirms with a soft, assuring smile. "She was asking about you actually, hence my search for you"
"She's ok!" He exclaims, letting out a sob of disbelief and laughter, falling to his knees as a mixture of relief, joy and exhaustion take over his body.
"But that doctor... he said?"
"I don't know what to tell you brother. Chloe's tough, perhaps those humans simply underestimated her might. Or maybe there's more to it. And maybe, just maybe, Father doesn't loathe you the way you think he does"
Lucifer blinks, not feeling like arguing on that one.
He has no time or desire to ponderate on his father actually playing a part on the Detective's miraculous recovery or not and whenever it might mean if he did. Quite frankly, he couldn't give less of a rat's arse about whenever his 'mysterious ways' stroke again or not.
Right now, all he cares about is that she is still here. Why or how isn't important. All that matters is that the woman he feels so intensely for is right where he can be too.
He needs to see her immediately.