Chapter 1/2

Chloe Decker is the department pariah twice over.

First because of Malcolm and now because of Marcus. The worst part is nobody even liked Marcus (with the ironic exception of herself for a time), but they liked the intense scrutiny of IAG even less. Internal Affairs reviewing all her past cases may be a slap in the face. But the first time she heard the whispers, the words land a low punch in her gut and bowl her over.

First "Palmetto bitch" and now this. It's something mined from the most hackneyed and basic Hollywood script, Marvel notwithstanding: "Black Widow." Either way, their message can't be clearer. Steer clear of Decker, or your career's over. Look at Espinoza. Or worse, you'll end up dead like Lieutenant Pierce.

Focus on the job, she tells herself. She may be exiled to an island of cold cases, but it's no reason to slack at her duty. Work hard and get results, her father used to say. No one can argue with results. But despite her best efforts, it's all too clear her new reputation is spreading through the ranks. Much like before Lucifer came into her life, conversation grinds to a halt as soon as she enters the room.

Perhaps it was a fool's errand to hope everything would blow over. Cops placed under the microscope always circle the wagons, especially when there's a clear line to be drawn between "them" and "us." But there's no telling how deeply Marcus sank his claws into the precinct. Or how far the corruption from his criminal organization seeped into the Holy Fraternity of Brothers in Blue. With no other outlet, the restless flow of ire naturally diverts in Chloe's way.

Tensions run high with hair-trigger tempers abound. The entire situation–hell, the entire department is a powder-keg. Only a matter of time before someone lights a spark to it. Detective Rodriguez decides to immolate himself over a few delayed lab tests. He has no right to speak to Ella like that or impugn her work ethic, which is beyond reproach thank you very much. And Chloe? She's never been one to stand aside and let bullies take potshots.

"Shut up, Decker, and mind your own fucking business," the taller detective snarls. He steps into her space, trying to use his height to intimidate her.

Chloe narrows her eyes and glares. Her ten-year-old daughter is better behaved than this so-called adult. "Gladly. As long as you remember to never speak to Ella like that again."

"Or what? You'll shoot me too? Is that why Morningstar's not around? Has the Black Widow added another to her body count?"

Hearing her new moniker pulls the rug from under her, but it's the mention of Lucifer that lays her low. All oxygen vacates the room, making it impossible to breathe. Her world blurs around the edges, whittled down to Rodriguez' smug expression and the cruel curl of his mouth. His lips move but she can't hear anything over the blood roaring in her ears. For a moment, Chloe's transported to a marbled rotunda surrounded by Marcus, his henchmen, and numerous automatic rifles poised to kill.

Not before I kill Lucifer... But you don't have to die, Chloe. Step away from him.

Air falters in the passage of her lungs, and her head spins. She can't escape the fact she is a necessary ingredient in Marcus's deathtrap. Lucifer can die in her presence.

Gradually, Chloe returns to the present and finds a scene of mounting tension. Ella stands wedged between herself and Rodriguez, jabbing one rebuking finger in his face and shouting choice words in Spanish beyond Chloe's bare-minimum comprehension. Rodriguez responds in kind, his tone guttural, low, and threatening.

Whatever he said has Dan rocketing out of his chair and barreling their way. "Hey, Rodriguez, back off!"

Now she's really glad Lucifer's not here to pour gasoline on an already volatile situation. He also would've smote Rodriguez where he stood for daring to speak to Ella as he did, and Chloe wouldn't have objected. Much.

When Rodriguez continues in Spanish, he looks Chloe straight in the eyes as he speaks. He can say nothing good at this point. Dan's face turns deep red, and he balls his hands into white-knuckled fists. Chloe doesn't need a translator because the words "traidor" and "homicida" stand out clearly. She knows what some of her fellow officers suspect, that she was a part of Pierce's organization and killed him out of either greed or fear. She recoils, freshly horrified by the suggestion as if hearing it for the first time. But then like a dog beaten too many times, her hurt snaps its jaws, preparing to tear its abuser to pieces in retribution.

Ella, however, beats her to the punch during those few short beats of shellshock.

Literally.

"Pendejo!" She roars and slaps Rodriguez with an open palm.

A shockwave ripples through the bullpen with the three of them dead in its epicenter. Then chaos erupts. Two other officers jump Rodriguez to wrestle him back, even as he hurls "maldita perra" and other expletives at Ella. Dan catches Ella mid-dive with her arms stretched out in a clawing motion and pushes her behind him in a protective gesture.

"What the hell are you people doing?" Captain Kern emerges from his office like a dragon roused from its slumber, halting everyone in their track with his thunderous expression.

His gaze darts around the circle of near combatants, lingering a second more on Chloe until she bristles under the scrutiny. Kern is one of the old guards out of Gang and Narcotics and essentially took a pay cut to babysit homicide. Already humorless to begin with, he never shies away from the fact he's only here as a favor to someone in the top brass. He wears his uniform, rank visible on his shoulders for everyone to see, to the precinct every day. He may play no favorites, but he also has no sympathy for any of them, least of all Chloe.

"Well?" Kern folds his arms across his chest.

He's also an outsider and no one in the bullpen is eager to rat someone out even for a few brownie points. For several seconds that feel like an eternity, nobody speaks. Rodriguez throws off the two officers pinning him and shrinks back. Coward. A bright red spot has bloomed across his left cheek in testament to Ella's strength. Getting hit by a woman half his size must wound his pride so.

Without relinquishing his death glare on Rodriguez, Dan replies on all their behalves. He grits his teeth so hard that Chloe will be surprised if he doesn't require dental work afterward. "Nothing, Captain. It was all a misunderstanding. Isn't that right, Rodriguez?"

Chloe hardens her stance. If Rodriguez even thinks–

Rodriguez sweeps one beady-eyed gaze around the circle of cops, before snapping at Ella, "Get me those lab results as soon as they're in, Lopez." He stalks away without waiting for a dismissal.

"Get back to work!" commands Kern. The finality of his tone brooks no argument.

Everyone scurries back to their desks and assigned tasks. After taking one look at Ella, Chloe, with Dan hot on their heel, herds her into her lab, shuts the door, and draws the blinds. Ella stands glued to where Chloe left her, body quivering and thrumming with rage. Chloe has never seen her this angry. Not even when Charlotte died. Not even when they found out about Pierce.

"Ella, it's okay," she says soothingly. "He's gone. He'll think twice before he talks to you like that again."

Ella whips her head around and gapes at Chloe. "And what about you? I won't let him say shit like that to you, Decker! They can't really think you killed Pierce because you what? Wanted to take his place? Take his money?"

Chloe shrugs. "Thanks, but it's best not to go down that road. You'd be fighting more than Rodriguez."

Ella looks to Dan for confirmation, who shifts uncomfortably but nods in agreement. "Since when? Why is this the first time I'm hearing about it?" she demands.

"Since Pierce died." Dan glances at Chloe out of the corner of his eyes. It's a poor attempt to hide his show of concern. No doubt he's been hearing the whispers long before they came to her attention. "I tried to get them to stop..."

At least that's an improvement over Palmetto. But Chloe knows from experience nothing stops determined, wagging tongues. They'll stop once they either tire of her or find a new target to fixate on. Until then, she can only ride it out.

She can also quit, but she won't. She will never give those bastards the satisfaction.

"Assholes!" Ella exclaims and throws up both hands. "I should've kicked him in the cojones."

Chloe snorted at the mental image of Rodriguez bent in half and clutching his crotch. It'd serve him right.

"Next time," Ella says mostly to herself and drifts toward her computer.

Chloe shouldn't encourage her. They were all lucky this time. But she doubts anyone will be quick to mess with Ella in the future. And as for Chloe? She's always fought her own battles.

-x-x-x-

Stares follow Chloe for the rest of the day. She should be used to this by now, but every sidelong glance and hushed whisper stabs and sticks in her spine until she can pass as a pincushion. Gritting her teeth, she buries her head in the paperwork, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. No matter what she might see, her anger has reached its boiling point. When her shift is finally over, she flees the building without a backward glance.

Or like a bat out of hell, she thinks to herself in a rare bout of humor. Damn, Lucifer's rubbing off on her. Yeah, best go home, spend time with Trixie, forget this total ass of a day, and call Lucifer later. Sounds like a plan. She gets as far as relieving the babysitter and having dinner with her daughter before her doorbell rings. She answers her door to reveal her ex.

"Dan? What's wrong?"

Dan peeks over her shoulder and waves to Trixie at the island counter. "I'm here to take Trixie to see the new Marvel movie. We're also going to have a sleepover too, aren't we, pumpkin?"

"Avengers!" Trixie screams and bolts into her room for her things.

Chloe glances at her phone on the coffee table. Both its screen and the LED light are dark without any notifications. A familiar irritation, one she's well acquainted with from the early days of their separation, surfaces. "Why didn't you say something earlier? It's a school night. And didn't everyone die in the last movie?" she snaps in rapid fire.

"Only half of them died." He waves off her concern, but her growing ire digs its stubborn heels in and refuses to be dismissed. "She laughed when Gamora died. Said she should have kicked Thanos' ass because Maze would have. Trixie'll be fine."

Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose. "Dan–"

"Go with it, Chlo. Look, I'm doing someone a favor and I get to spend time with my daughter."

"What? A favor? For who?" she asks with growing alarm. Surely, not for Lucifer. She doesn't think either man have spoken to one another since the Incident.

Her interrogation is cut short by Trixie racing to the door. The expectant look on her daughter's face cools Chloe's anger into annoyance. When Trixie flashes her well-practiced puppy dog eyes and needling "please," Chloe caves. Trixie's schoolbag is packed with homework, an appropriate change of clothes, and her karate gi for tomorrow's class. She had been in her room for less than five minutes, meaning she had packed well before Dan's arrival. Whoever was responsible had conspired with her ex-husband and daughter behind her back.

Who? Why?

Before Dan shuts the door, he stares pointedly at Chloe. "Have fun tonight."

Left to her own devices, Chloe is adrift. She clears the counter, puts the dishes into the dishwasher, and picks up around the living room. Every so often she looks at her phone, waiting for that green light that'll indicate a waiting message or the screen to light with a new call. She picks up the phone several minutes later and considers making the call herself. But to whom? Unable to decide one way or another, she chucks her phone on the sofa. It bounces twice on the cushion.

A series of knocks pounds on her front door, causing her to jump. Now she's fairly certain she can eliminate Lucifer as a suspect. He almost never knocks, preferring to make himself at home without any announcement. As she approaches the door, she can hear several female voices conversing on the other side. It's Maze, Ella, and Linda. Chloe blinks and then gawks at them.

"Yo, Decker," Maze stomps into the apartment without an invitation.

When Chloe steps aside, Ella and Linda echo the greeting and shuffle inside. Ella has traded her jeans and t-shirt with brightly colored drawings for a sequined tank-top and leather jacket. Linda dons a skirt a smidgen too short for professional purposes. And Maze? As usual, Maze favors more skin than clothing.

Dan's last words come to mind. Now they sound more like a warning than encouragement. "What are you guys up to?"

The three of them exchange a look before responding in unison, "Tribe night."

"It's a Thursday night," Chloe points out dryly.

Ella huffs. "Thursday Smhursday."

"Ellen's right. Thursday's just as good as any day to drink." Maze says blandly while picking at her nails.

"What they mean to say," Linda butts in with a stern expression. "Is that you experienced an extremely toxic situation at your workplace today. It'd be beneficial to both you and Ella to have your own safe space for the night. We can vent or talk about whatever you want."

"I'm here to drink and fight anyone who wants to start trouble," Maze deadpans.

Chloe sighs. "You guys arranged for Dan to take Trixie for the night."

"That was between Lopez and Espinoza. I gave Trixie the heads up and roped in Linda."

"You're talking with Trixie again." The news warms her heart. Maybe her daughter and the demon are patching up their relationship at long last.

Maze shrugs nonchalantly, but the casual gesture doesn't fool Chloe or Linda, judging by the therapist's tiny grin. "We're texting. Now let's get this shitshow on the road. Decker, upstairs. You are not going out in that."

Chloe looks down at the day's outfit, a high-necked blouse and pressed pants. She had yet to change out what she wore into work. Before she can protest, the three women herd her into her bedroom with what can only be described as unholy glee. But given the present company, what more can she expect?

-x-x-x-

Miracles of miracles, they return to the tiki bar of first Tribe Night fame and aren't immediately thrown out. But they receive their fair share of dirty looks, so it's clear the staff still remembers them. Maze orders a drink on Chloe's behalf, a Mai Tai she shoves into Chloe's reluctant hands. When the other option is a lap full of rum, it's better to go along with whatever Maze's planned. Well, except for that slinky dress she tried to force Chloe into. Even if it did look amazing combined with the pair of thigh-high boots Ella dug out of the back of her closet. Thanks to Linda, Chloe escaped the ordeal in skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder top with bell sleeves, hair hanging loose and ends curled over her bare shoulders.

Drinks in hand, they stake out their place at an open high top.

"Okay, Ellen, rumor has it you decked a guy at the station." Maze demands.

"I didn't punch anyone!" Ella protests. Then she quietly muttered into her tall-glassed Zombie. "Just slapped him. Ya know, a little."

"Well, don't skimp on the details!"

Rodriguez is a recent transfer into homicide, arriving near the tail end of Chloe's engagement to Marcus. Even from day one, Chloe had pegged him as "rude." Turns out he had been talking down to all the forensic techs, Ella included, for weeks. He constantly demanded priority for his cases and lost his temper when results didn't support his conclusions. According to Ella, Rodriguez's a nightmare to work with.

"You should've decked him sooner." Maze stirs her straw in a lazy circle. Which is pretty tame as far as Maze advice goes.

To Chloe's surprise, Linda nods in agreement. "What? I'm off the clock. This man sounds like a bully, and sometimes a swift kick in the groin is the only message that gets through their thick skulls."

Maze cast an admiring look at the therapist. "Speaking from experience, huh?"

Linda smirks, bringing her electric blue cocktail to her lips. "I can neither confirm or deny."

"I have cousins like that. Machismo at its finest. Still, I gotta count myself lucky. Kern could have written me up..." Ella winces, unable to complete the thought.

The mention of paperwork has Chloe perking up with a thought. "HR! You should file an HR complaint. If Rodriguez has beef with as many people as you said, enough complaints might get him censured. Dan and I would both back up your claims."

"Forget HR!" Maze leans into Ella's space, smiling like a shark. It's a wonder her knives don't also make an appearance. "Point him out the next time I bring a bounty into the station. I'll set him straight."

"Aw, thanks! That's so sweet, Maze!" Ella throws her arms around the other woman and wrestles her into a bear hug.

Maze freezes up, shooting both Chloe and Linda a look that screams "make her stop." Instead, Chloe and Linda howl in laughter and clink their glasses together. After another minute of hugging, Maze glares and mimes a throat-slitting action over the top of Ella's head. Chloe rolls her eyes in response. But Linda finally takes pity on Maze, distracting Ella with a question while extracting Maze from the other woman's death grip.

Chloe sips her Mai Tai, letting her mind wander. She drifts idly from thought to though, starting with if Trixie's having fun on her impromptu movie night to her current cold case to whether Rodriguez will let sleeping dogs lie. Chloe can try to force the issue, but she has so little standing in the department. She's nearing the seven-week mark of being benched with no end in sight. Bile rises in her throat. Are the higher-ups trying to force her resignation through sidelining her? They can't. They wouldn't dare. Except they would, and it wouldn't be the first time.

A snap yanks her from her dark reverie. Ella, wearing a full-bodied frown, lowers her hand from Chloe's face. "Earth to Decker. What's eating at you?"

Chloe shakes her head to clear the cobwebs collecting in her headspace. Maybe she should have eaten more than a few mouthfuls of dinner, but the day's events left her with little appetite. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

"You're not still thinking about Rodriguez said to you, are you? Cuz it's a load of crap. That asshole doesn't know the first thing about you!"

It'd be one thing if it's only Rodriguez. Rodriguez is new. He knows and has seen little of Chloe or her work. But Rodriguez is not alone in his suspicions. Those hostile to her during the Palmetto Incident were as quick to turn on her, but even they don't come as a surprise. The deepest cuts are inflicted by those she thought knew better: the desk sergeant who now ignores her every time she passes, Officer Chow who used to ask after Trixie and share stories about her own son...

"Really, Ella. It's nothing I haven't heard before."

Not knowing how much Ella had heard through the grapevines, Chloe launches into a detailed explanation of the Palmetto case and what happened after Malcolm "awoke" from his coma. Every so often, she finds herself leaving off Lucifer/celestial-adjacent details she's learned since. Judging the measured look Linda gives her, the therapist has caught onto her editing. Maze drinks and flirts with several of the bartenders and other patrons, only interrupting with a few well-timed quips about Dan's involvement (those still sting) or Hell. Both Linda and Ella listen closely, enraptured by her tale and outraged by her treatment.

"Okay, but that still doesn't excuse the bullcrap they're saying now!" Ella bangs her fists on the bar.

Linda's eyes widen in horror. "It gets worse?"

Ella nods grimly.

Chloe is mildly impressed by how quickly Ella has come to grips with the current rumor mill, despite how oblivious she had been prior to today. As Ella recounts the new litany of sin attributed to her, Chloe sinks in her seat and takes deep gulps of her cocktail until only amber dregs and a cherry linger at the bottom of her glass. Anger and an unwarranted sense of shame burn hot in the back of her throat. The first she can abide by. The first she draws power from as a backup generator when the stares and whispers drain her otherwise. But the second diminishes her, chipping slowly at her armor until she's fatally exposed. She wants nothing more than to silence that traitorous little voice. Her hands move automatically, flagging down a bartender for another cocktail.

"This is the very definition of a toxic work environment!" Linda bellows at the end of Ella's explanation. "What the hell is your boss doing?"

"Considering their last boss was a literal crime boss, don't think they should depend on the authorities to set shit right." Maze drawls dryly.

Perhaps it's inevitable that the conversation turns to the root cause of their present problem: Marcus Pierce. Fucking Cain. To this day, his very name fills Chloe with a stinging betrayal second only to the loathing boiling her blood. Because every time she turns over one of their past interactions in her head, she uncovers a new angle to view his manipulation: from the way he undermined her with seemingly offhand comments to how he sometimes herded her along with all the grace of a bulldozer. Until there's not a single, so-called affectionate moment left to take at face value. Rendered mute, she clutches her drink tighter, struggling to not throw it.

Lubricated by rum and tequila, venom spills from Ella's lips with surprising ease. "It's all that bastard's fault. It's bad enough he was this evil criminal mastermind. But he killed Charlotte and turned you into the station outcast. Pierce has a lot to answer for."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Hell's taking care of him." A feral light shines in Maze's eyes.

"Good." Ella tucks her crucifix pendant under her shirt with trembling hands. "He deserves to burn."

Chloe catches herself mirroring the other woman, reaching for her bullet necklace and nodding along.

"Why, Ellen," Maze purrs. "I never knew you had it in you."

"Best not underestimate me then."

"I'll toast to that!" Linda raises her glass.

Chloe sloshes her cocktail to Linda's. "Hear hear!"

One drink flows into the next. They toast to Charlotte's memory and curse Cain to damnation for eternity. Chloe swears at her colleagues, fair-weathered at the best and two-faced when there's someone to kick while they're down. Screw them. She doesn't need their approval. They don't get to judge her for success or failings. She does the work because she wants to and does make a difference. They don't know what hard choices were dumped at her feet, catching her between angels and demons and immortal psychopaths.

When Chloe finally runs out of steam, sagging into her chair, Ella queues them up for the karaoke machine. Something about channeling their anger in a productive manner. Linda is quick to agree. The song Ella has chosen is one Chloe recalls fondly from her days before entering the police academy. She throws her chair back to join her friends on stage for Christina Aguilera's quintessential girl-power ballad.

"So what do we do girls?" Linda holds her microphone close and croons. "Shout out loud..."

Ella slides into the call and response, pumping both fists into the air. "Lettin 'em know we're gonna stand our ground!"

"So lift your hands high and wave 'em proud. Take a deep break and say it out loud. Never can, never will, can't hold us down!" Maze and Chloe join in to finish the chorus.

Sweat beads down the side of Chloe's face, her chest heaving to catch her breath. Her heart pounds in her ear, wild and victorious. It doesn't happen, but that tiny part of her that craves the limelight and validation, nurtured during her early acting days, basks in the rousing round of applause. "Thank you, LA!"

Chloe retrieves her cocktail from where she set it on the stage floor. Together, the four of them stumble off the stage and back to their bar stools.

Ella's already staring longingly at the karaoke machine again. "Think we should do Dangerous Woman next? Oh! Oh! No, I know. Bad Girls!"

"I don't think I know either of those." Chloe scrunches her nose in deep thought.

Linda nods slowly in agreement, sagging against the bar. "Me neither."

Ella's jaw drop. "Seriously?! Bad Girls? MIA! Live fast, die young! Bad girls do it well!"

Chloe shakes her head. She hasn't kept up-to-date on pop music since her teen years.

"You two are hopeless," Maze sneers.

"Shut it," Chloe snarks back. "You've only been here what? Seven years?"

"Yeah, so? I didn't spend 'em living under a rock. You gotta live it up, Decker."

"But you still love us, Mazie!" Linda swings her entire body like a baseball bat and throws herself at Maze. Chloe half-expects the demon to drop Linda, but Maze hefts the other woman back into her chair before pulling the stool close.

"Uh, wow," Ella giggles. "The doctor is sloshed."

Linda turns her wide-eyed stare, almost bug-eyed under her glasses, on Ella. "You would too if you've seen half what I have. Angels and demons and getting fried by the Goddess of all creation."

"Don't worry, Linda. No one's going to hurt you again. I won't let them." Maze swings a possessive arm around the doctor's shoulder.

"Yeah, I know. Twelve people and four miles." Linda sighs as her head falls to the crook of Maze's neck.

Adorable, Ella mouths silently. Chloe can't help but agree.

"You too, Decker."

Chloe startles when Maze addresses her.

"I won't let assholes like Cain get close to you or Trixie again."

Chloe swallows past the lump in her throat. "Thanks."

"What about me?" Ella whines, leaning against Chloe's shoulder with a puppy-dog expression.

"Sure, you too, Lopez." Maze shrugs.

The more Maze pretends to not care, the more she actually does. She's like a kid in that way. But after everything they've been through in the past few months, Chloe vows to not take her former roommate for granted again. That Maze would extend the same protection to Ella shows how far they've all come since their first Tribe Night.

"This sounds like the sort of thing we should seal with a blood pact." Chloe chuckles. Three heads whip around to gape at her with varying degrees of horror and fascination in their eyes. Unable to resist another dig, she adds, "What? I did say next time. This is next time, right?"

When Maze stabs her freaking demon blades from HELL into the bar, they're told by management, in no uncertain terms, to leave and never return.