Sometimes she wondered how she could have been so naive, thinking that going back to work would help. At first, it was fine. She already knew she was initially bound for desk duty before she even got there, which also meant being able to anticipate Lucifer's almost constant complaining about paperwork. The familiarity was comforting, up until the point he began to wonder out loud if this was yet another change to his Hell loop. The pen she threw at him was borne of years worth of tolerating form filling related whining, but in reality it also covered up the pain she felt inside at hearing him say such a thing.

But he still refused to leave her, and so for a couple of weeks, this was their new normal. In the end, he even buckled down, more through necessity than boredom, reasoning that the quicker they got to the bottom of the pile together, the sooner they could go back to the apartment and... spend time together, as he put it.

Not that it stopped him from trying to 'spend time with her' in the precinct as well. In the end, she'd resorted to bribing Dan with his latest favourite brand of sticky goo so he would go on the daily journey to the file room for her. One too many trips down there with Lucifer hot on her heels had proved testing on her patience… and her libido, to be frank.

Because for some reason, no matter what he believed about where he was or what she had in store for him... he still wanted her, and he wasn't shy about it either. It didn't help that she was so much more aware of him now. He hadn't exactly had much of a concept of personal space before; now it was even worse. His body was a scorching line of heat against her back, his voice a warm whisper ghosting over her ear, and his touch… well, even an innocent meeting of fingers as she passed him a pen across the desk was enough to send sparks across her skin.

It was a fact he took advantage of at every opportunity. Before they even set foot through the door on the day of her return, she had made it quite clear that they were to be nothing but professional at work. It was hard to remember that though, when he had her wrapped around him against the nearest hard surface of whatever space he had found away from prying eyes. The Devil had never cared much for rules, and a Devil that didn't think the world he was in was real cared even less.

Looking back, that should have been her first hint as to just how wrong things were going to go.

It started during an interrogation. Dan's latest case had hit a brick wall, and everyone in the department knew that Chloe and Lucifer had the best track record when it came to getting a confession. Of course, they didn't understand the reason as to why, but just as Chloe once had, they didn't stop to question it either. The two of them got results, and that was all that mattered.

As they made their way to the interview room, she expected that things between them would slot back into place easily, as though Lucifer had never been gone at all. Their dynamic outside of work certainly had; the to and fro between them as natural as it had ever been. At work, they had gotten their routine during interrogations down to a fine art; working together in almost perfect synchronisation as they manoeuvred their way around lawyers and criminals, both seasoned at dodging the techniques police officers used in these situations. But not their techniques. Because what human could ever prepare to be questioned by the Devil?

What do you desire? It never failed to fascinate her, the way people reacted to such a simple question. Four words, revealing secrets that might have never seen the light of day if not for him. Sometimes she wondered what she would confess, if his abilities actually affected her. She was pretty sure she knew the answer though, and she was definitely sure it was one he would like.

The success of their partnership though meant there were interviews where his otherworldly charms weren't required at all. Which when it came to documenting such conversations, was actually a good thing. Too many cases closed with suspects admitting their guilt after being asked the same question, time after time… well, surely that would cause someone to notice, somewhere down the line. And while she very much doubted such a thing would lead to the truth about Lucifer's identity, it would certainly cast suspicions over the duo. Cops might be more than willing to look the other way if it led to a conviction; outside parties, not so much. Lucifer knew that as much as she did.

Which was why it was such a surprise to see him march into the interview room ahead of her that day, fists slamming down onto the table in front of him. Their suspect almost jolted right off his chair, before inevitably being caught under the Devil's spell when he caught his eye. By the time she stood by her partner's side, the man's face was already growing slack, his eyes glazing over. "Tell me," Lucifer growled, leaning further forward as he towered over him, making looking away an impossible feat. "What is it you desired, hmm? What did you do?"

"I … I …" the man started, and she was tempted, just for a second, to let it pass. If he confessed, it was an easy result, a job done. Lucifer already had him on the hook... would it be so bad to let him finish? The thought was rejected as quickly as it came. This wasn't their case, and that meant sticking to procedure was even more vital than usual. The last thing she wanted was to put Dan in the position of having to try and cover up for their mistakes. It was bad enough she had to do it half the time.

Her momentary pause had given Lucifer the time he needed to push even harder. She could almost feel his power in the air, the atmosphere heavy as gravity seemed to thicken all around her. The pressure was immense, and suddenly she understood with perfect clarity exactly why so many people crumbled underneath the weight of his stare.

"Stop, please stop," the man pleaded, and his distress spurred her into action. She caught Lucifer's arm, expecting that to be enough to grab his attention. It wasn't. She may as well have not even been in the room. His focus was solely on the snivelling man in front of him, his determination to break him clear.

She tried again, roughly tugging on his elbow until he turned to look at her. His eyes flashed red, just for the briefest of moments, causing her to gasp out of instinct. Relief quickly followed, as she thanked… not God, but someone out there, that he had been facing away from the observation window at the time. "Lucifer!" she snapped, trying to keep her voice low enough as it wouldn't be heard. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious, Detective?" he said, not concerned with the volume of his voice in the slightest. "I'm getting on with things so we can put an end to this bloody charade already."

She could see it then, that barely concealed tension set into his shoulders. It wasn't boredom, or frustration; he was genuinely infuriated that they were having to do this, to be here. A waste of time, that's what he had called therapy. Now she realised that he wasn't referring to Linda's lack of ability to help him, but rather, believing he only had a limited amount of time each day, there were simply other things he would prefer to be doing.

Tightening her grip on his arm, she indicated with a finger to their interviewee that they would return in a minute, and dragged Lucifer out of the room. She was pretty sure that the shaken man wouldn't even notice their absence though, not with the way his eyes were fixed so firmly on the table, his body faintly rocking back and forth. The Devil willingly let himself be pulled around the corner out of sight, as happy as always to let her take the lead. Especially when…

"Getting forceful, Detective... I like it," he said, his tone dropping several octaves to a low timbre that caused her heartbeat to pick up and her breathing to grow shallow. His ire from just seconds before completely evaporated into thin air, replaced by something darker, more… primal. Somehow, without her even being aware of it, he had her backed up against the wall, his mouth dipping to her neck as he whispered, "Now this is a more productive use of our time, don't you think?"

His words were a bucket of cold water thrown over her head. She pushed him away with a huff, taking hold of her anger and clutching onto it with everything she had. "That's not why I made you leave that room, Lucifer, and you know it. What did you think you were doing in there? You know that's not how this works."

"Correction," he said, straightening his jacket and fixing his cuffs. "That's not how this used to work. All bets are off, now. It's not as if it makes any difference."

In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be back at her desk, her head in her hands as she massaged her temples, beating back the headache that was already threatening to form. "I think you should go home," she said reluctantly. "You're no good to the investigation like this." The interview would be tricker without him, she knew, but not impossible. She couldn't risk him losing it, not in the middle of the precinct. Dan would just have to deal with it.

It was as though someone had flipped a switch in him again. "No," he said, standing a little taller, reminding her a little of an officer reporting for duty. It was an image that made her frown. "No, I —I don't want to leave. I'll do whatever you need me to, Detective. Just say the word."

Damn those big brown eyes of his. To think that at one time she'd been concerned that Lucifer would be the one to have bad influence on Trixie; now, she was pretty sure it was the other way around. That wounded puppy dog expression had her little monkey written all over it. And, as much as she hated to admit it, it worked on her just as well. "Fine," she said, finally giving in to the urge to rub the side of her head a little, not that it helped. "You can stay. Just… play it by the book, okay?"

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am," he replied with a smirk, even giving her a mock salute. Not for the first time, she wondered if he could read her mind. Still, she couldn't help but smile at the sight. He could be such a dork sometimes. His smirk faded as she regarded him fondly, into something far softer. He stepped forward, reaching behind her shoulders. Before she had the chance to discourage him, he shook his head, before lightly pressing his lips to her forehead.

"No funny business, Chloe, I promise," he said, his use of her name giving her that same thrill it always did. She held back a moan of relief as he freed her hair from the ponytail she'd raked it into that morning, the tension in her head lessening slightly. As he pulled away, he briefly cupped her face, running his thumbs over her temples. "Better?" he asked, and she nodded with a happy sigh.

"Come on," she said, feeling the last of her ire abate. "Let's get back."

The rest of the interview went smoothly after that. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Lucifer didn't even need to ask for the man's desires again. The short few seconds they had interacted had managed to literally put the fear of the Devil into him it seemed; a confession spilling from his lips the instant they re-entered the room. As it turned out, it actually made a lot of sense that neither Dan's investigation nor Lucifer's powers of persuasion had managed to crack the case. While it was true that a complicated personality could provide a challenge for Lucifer, this lunatic took twisted thought processes to a whole other level when justifying his crimes. Not that it mattered, in the end. It was another case solved, and hopefully, another step closer to getting her partner settled back into work.

Except that it wasn't. For every step they took forward together, Lucifer seemed to take two, or sometimes even three, back again. It was exhausting, a near endless task of keeping an eye on him, managing his temper, finding new ways to draw him back from the edge when she needed to. All on top of trying to do her actual job. But he didn't want to stay away, and she couldn't find it within herself to make him. It was like this before, she tried to tell herself. He had always been quick to anger, difficult to work with at times.

She was lying to herself though, and she knew it. Perhaps that may have been true at the beginning of their partnership, but the Lucifer she knew back then was very different to the man she knew today. Or rather, the man she had known before he went back to Hell. This Lucifer… sometimes she felt as though she didn't know him at all.

Her lack of sleep wasn't helping much either. It wasn't as if Lucifer's nightmares were anything new, he had dozed off on the sofa next to her more than once only to suddenly jolt awake, his eyes wide and frightened, muscles coiled in preparation to fight off an enemy that wasn't there. But in bed, with her, she had thought he always slept soundly. Until now.

Now, he woke her at least once a night, every night. Sometimes, there was nothing she could do to help him, no amount of shaking or saying his name managing to break through the absolute terror that saw him scrambling at the sheets, sweat coating his forehead as he battled with his inner demons. Or at least that's what she thought, in the beginning. Until the first time he stopped screaming long enough to cry out, "Chloe… please… no!"

After that, she was done for. Even when she was able to calm him, she would lie awake for hours afterwards, staring at the ceiling as she tortured herself with images of what the Hellish version of herself was doing to him in his dreams. He may have declined to talk about it much, but she knew enough that her brain was easily able to provide her with her own version of a waking nightmare. Night after night, she tested every trick in the book to try and drop off again, but it was useless.

More often than not she would find herself reading case files in Maze's now vacant bedroom, anything to distract herself from the thoughts that haunted her. The sofa would have been more comfortable, but she was reluctant to go too far in case he needed her again, which he only seemed to do more frequently as time went on. Dawn would see her slipping back under the covers beside him, so he wouldn't be alone when he woke. So he could whisper that damn greeting all over again.

Oh, how I have missed you.

In truth, it was him that she missed. The old him. The him before Hell had gotten its claws into his brain. Oh, in so many ways he was still the same, still full of mischief, still as baffled with certain aspects of human behavior as he had always been. He remained her partner, her best friend, and the lover she had secretly hoped he would be, for longer than she would ever be willing to admit. But there was an undercurrent of despair there now, a black stain marring his soul that she didn't know if any amount of love could ever erase.

She saw it in the oddest of moments. Only a few days ago, she had caught him standing at the patio doors, staring into the backyard with what looked like... longing. It wasn't for the first time either. Given that there was a shortcut to the beach that way, it was easy to assume that's what he was daydreaming about. It was a place that was special to them both, after all. But despite asking him repeatedly if he wanted to go, that despair would flicker across his face and he would shake his head, his hand twitching towards the door handle before pulling away again.

The aversion was difficult to understand. He'd always loved to look out over the water, and she knew for a fact that the beach hadn't featured in his loop. There was no reason she could think of that he wouldn't want to go there again. And then the weekend came, proving that, actually, he had no objections at all. Trixie asked to go, and so go they did. Not that the Devil had ever been able to refuse her anything anyway. The only strange thing about that morning had been the way he stood by the front door, insisting they took the longer way around. But then when he smiled at her, and ducked his head to whisper in her ear, "The more time spent with you, the better, my darling," how could she say no?

That had been a wonderful day, but painful in its own way too. Lucifer wasn't the only one she missed. Dan was still being awkward with regards to the amount of time Trixie spent at the apartment with Lucifer there, not helped in the least by his behaviour at work lately. She couldn't exactly put up much of an argument when her ex accused him of being unstable, other than saying there were reasons behind it, and that they were working on it. Watching Lucifer with her daughter though, both lost in a debate over what constituted the biggest sandcastle, she knew without a doubt that he would never hurt her.

Trixie though? She wasn't old enough to fully understand, not yet. Dan hadn't exactly been shy with keeping his opinions of Lucifer out of earshot, and she couldn't even imagine what he was saying to her when Chloe wasn't there. As far as Trixie was concerned though, none of it was true. Her monkey had always seen the Devil for what he was; a good man. A man who made her mommy laugh, who snuck her chocolate cake whenever he had the chance, and who absolutely, categorically, sucked at Monopoly. But the consequence of that was, quite naturally, Trixie assumed there was another reason she was being kept away from the house.

And that reason was Lucifer. Just not in the way her dad had explained.

Her little girl felt replaced.

And she couldn't really blame her for feeling that way. Lucifer had come back into their lives, and everything had changed. With him glued to her side constantly, Chloe hadn't been able to spend one-on-one time with her daughter in weeks. But every time she even hinted at it, he would look at her as though she were planning to kick him out of the door any second. And so it would be the three of them once again.

All of this… it was getting to her. Some days, she felt like a zombie, merely putting one foot in front of the other as she limped from one problem to the next. She was tired of feeling like she was letting everybody down. Tired of fighting with Dan. Tired of hurting her daughter. Tired of being unable to find a way to save the man she loved.

She was just tired, full stop.

So far, Linda was the only one to notice. Whenever Lucifer or Trixie were in view, Chloe used what little reserves she had pretending to be fine. The problem being, that apart from the five or so minutes at the end of his therapy sessions, Lucifer was in view almost all the time. In front of Linda though, there was no hiding. The second Lucifer left the room, she would fold in on herself, letting the weariness take her for just a moment. "You need to look after yourself too," Linda would remind her. "Stretching yourself too thin isn't good for anybody."

Chloe never replied, never made promises she knew she wouldn't be able to keep. What was the point, when there was very little she could do about it? What other choice did she have, exactly? She had to keep going, to carry on as best she could. Lucifer had been abandoned by enough people in his life, and she refused to be another one on the list. There had to be another way, and she would find it, if she could just push through. If she could just keep ignoring one undeniable truth.

If you stretch something too far, it breaks.

…

The clap of thunder overhead almost managed to hide the sound of the front door slamming, one of Trixie's latest pieces of artwork drifting to the floor in its wake. Casting an irritated glare towards the latest security-deposit-erasing blade mark on the wall, Chloe kicked her shoes off and dumped her bag, shaking out her wet hair and steadfastly ignoring the drenched Devil in front of her, already in the midst of ridding himself of the jacket soaked through to his skin.

"Well, that was another evening squandered," he muttered, still taking his time to neatly fold the sodden clothing and place it on the kitchen counter. "I don't know why you keep insisting on doing this, Detective."

Breathe, she reminded herself, her fists clenching by her sides. Just breathe.

He headed for the kitchen cupboard where she kept his whisky, stored away on the highest shelf, away from curious hands. By the time she hung up her own jacket he had already poured two glasses, and was holding one out in offering.

She ignored it. She ignored him.

Trixie's bedroom door was wide open, showcasing the empty bed inside. Something twisted inside her chest at the sight.

"You're right," she bit out, unloading her badge and holster and dumping them unceremoniously on the table, safely setting her gun aside to lock away before bed. "Tonight was a train wreck." Because of you, her brain added helpfully, but she didn't voice it aloud. She couldn't. Not yet. Not until she could think clearly. This was a conversation they needed to have when they were both on an even keel, not wet through and pissed off from what had been a disaster of an evening. "I'm going to bed."

She'd barely taken a foot towards the stairs though before she heard him move, before she felt the warmth of him against her back. Her eyes closed as she tried to concentrate on staying calm, forcing herself to take a deep, stuttering breath. "Come now, Detective, I'm sure there are better things we could be doing than sleeping…" He ran his fingers across her shoulders, gently kneading at the muscles there. "Why so tense, darling?" he murmured into her ear, "The bad guy lived to be bad another day, didn't he?"

Her fingernails dug into her own palms as she tried to keep quiet. It was no use though. She felt it when the first crack in the facade she had so carefully built around herself appeared, felt it so intensely she was surprised she didn't hear it. Without even thinking, she whirled around to face him, pushing his arms away from her as she moved. More viciously than she intended, but unable to stop herself, she snapped, "Yes, Lucifer, he 'lived'. And he'll probably spend the rest of his days 'living' in an asylum, because of you."

And to her horror, he just… shrugged. "What does it matter? An imaginary man living in an imaginary world. It's Hell for all of us here."

Her shield splintered further. Shards of disappointment, rage and frustration began to bury themselves inside her chest, where she had denied them entry for so long. "Well, I'm glad being with me is so hellish," she said bitterly, before marching over to the breakfast bar and sweeping up the whisky he'd left there, downing it in one go.

"Detective, that's not what I —"

"I might not even be a detective for much longer if you carry on this way," she ground out, her fingers tightening on the glass. She didn't turn, couldn't bring herself to look at him. "You threw him into a wall, Lucifer. Who knows how many broken bones he has. And worse, you showed him your face! Your face! We don't even know if he's the murderer yet!" Reaching for the bottle, she poured herself another measure. "And now, we probably never will," she said under her breath, thinking of the lack of justice for the victim's family, of the potential disciplinary ahead, of the dissolution of their partnership.

Another crash of thunder should have covered her last words, but she knew he heard them. It was obvious by the hitch in his breath, by the way he took a hesitant step towards her, before stopping again. She waited, waited to feel the wrap of his arms around her waist, waited for his words to spin love and devotion around her anger until it vanished into nothing. But that never happened.

Instead, he walked around her, heading into the kitchen itself. His hand hovered over one of the drawers, before selecting the one below. "A blade, I think, tonight," he said, almost thoughtfully, opening the draw and skimming his eyes over the various tools available, many of which he'd added himself over the years, as he began to cook for them more often. "What do you think, Detective? I'm sure we can both agree I deserve it."

And that was it.

That was the point at which she shattered, when all the walls that had been keeping her together came tumbling down. "Stop it," she said, her voice small, breaking under the strain. He turned towards her, confused marring his features as he slowly lowered the carving knife he'd selected back into the draw. Her body trembled as he opened his mouth to speak, and she couldn't, she couldn't...

She couldn't take it anymore.

"Stop it!" she screamed. "Just STOP it!" Tears began to stream down her face unbidden, but she didn't even try to halt them, feeling herself sink rapidly into the utter despair that had taken hold of her. "Do you have any idea what it's like, Lucifer, to hear you say that? To know that you think —that you expect —"

Words left her as she gasped for air, the sobs suddenly wracking her body making it difficult to breathe. She barely heard the smashing of glass as her whisky fell to the ground, barely noticed it leave her hand in the first place. Almost on auto-pilot, she staggered towards the fireplace, instinctively seeking the comfort that only warmth could bring right now. Falling to her knees, she tried to concentrate on building the flames, tried to ignore the temptation to return to the only other source of heat in the room right now, the one that could normally comfort her like no other.

"Chloe —" he started, sounding much closer than she thought he was. Refusing to tear her eyes away from the flickering flames, she shook her head, and he immediately halted.

"I don't know what else I can do," she said quietly. "I keep trying… I do, but you… you just…" Her eyes burned from staring into the fire, and blinked the pain away, before finally looking at him. "Why don't you believe me?"

She wasn't sure if she had ever seen him looking so distraught. But the floodgates were open now, and the ache within her chest only grew worse as everything she had been trying to suppress came rushing to the surface. "If nothing is real then I'm not real…"

A full body shudder ran through her, and she paused, waiting the tremors to even out again before she spoke further. He took the opportunity to move closer, sitting down beside her. When she didn't move away, he raised his hand to her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away a tear. She leaned into his touch slightly, before pulling back with a sigh.

"And if I'm not real, then why do you even care?"

He stilled, his eyes searching hers. Whatever he was looking for though, he obviously didn't find it. "This isn't your fault, Detective," he said wearily, his hand falling back down to play with his cuffs. "None of this would be happening if it wasn't for me. I deser —"

Her anger sparked anew. "Don't say it," she said, pushing herself backwards away from him until she hit the sofa. "Don't even say it."

He stayed still, smiling sadly. "We both know it's true."

She wanted to slap him. To scream at him again. To do anything that might help bring him out of this, that might help bring him back to her. But it felt as pointless as he considered everything else to be these days. Everything except her. His entire world revolved around her. This wasn't just about what he deserved, but what he didn't. And still, even after all this time, even after everything that had happened between them, he thought she was the one thing he didn't deserve.

Her head snapped up to look at him. "It's not true," she said, pushing herself up from the floor using the cushions behind her, and righting herself on still somewhat shaky legs. He watched her curiously from his position on the floor, still not making any attempt to move towards her. "It's not," she said again, holding the back of the sofa for support as she stared down at him. "And I'm sick of hearing it. What you deserve is what we have, right here, right now. You. Me. Trixie. A family. I love you, Lucifer, and you love me. We can be hap —" She paused, taking a deep breath as she gathered herself. "No, not can be, we are happy. We're together. This isn't Hell. It never has been. Please, please, believe me."

He rose to his feet, far more gracefully than she, but remained silent. His eyes told her everything he refused to. Refused, because he wouldn't lie. Even here, where he thought the entire world surrounding him was a lie, he couldn't bring himself to lie to her. To tell her what she wanted to hear.

"Tell me you believe me," she begged anyway, tears burning in her eyes once more.

And still, he stayed silent.

And it broke her completely.

"Fine," she said, removing her hands from the sofa and dragging them through her bedraggled hair, pulling when she reached the knotted ends, the stingy pain helping to focus her fragmented mind. "Fine."

He never took his eyes off her, watching as she began to pace along the living room floor. "You think you deserve this," she ranted, reasoning through the problem in a way she hadn't done before. "For what, exactly? For sacrificing yourself? For doing the one thing, you always said you would never do? For protecting me? Charlie? Trixie?" She paused, waiting for her point to sink in. "Lucifer, you protected everyone. Even Dan."

She heard him harrumph a little at that, the corner of his mouth twitching in the ghost of a smile. But it was progress, and she'd take it.

As quickly as it came though, the smile vanished. "I still left," he said pointedly.

"So what?" she retorted, fire in her eyes as she glared at him. "It's not like you haven't done it before."

He winced, and she silently chastised herself. Wrong direction, Chloe. Abort. Abort.

"The point is, I survived. I'm still here, and I still want you. I still love you." His face twitched again, but not in anguish this time. No, it was something else. She was getting through to him, she was sure of it. Her breath caught, and for the first time in a long time, she felt the slightest glimmer of hope.

"Yes," she said softly, her eyes falling to the floor. "It hurt when you went back. Of course it did. I mean, I told you I loved you, and you left me. But... it hurts more that you think you should be punished for it. Lucifer, I —"

A whimper from the fireplace cut through what she was saying. Slowly, she raised her head to look at him, only to be horrified at what she found. Lucifer was still standing there, but barely, his entire body caved in on itself. He whimpered again, shuddering so hard that it bordered on convulsing.

She didn't know what to do. Frantically, she thought back over what she'd just said. Where had it gone wrong? Why had they ended up here? There was no time to dwell on it now though. For the first time, it dawned on her just how far out of her capabilities dealing with this was. He needed more than this, more than her, more than just Linda, even. But for now, they were all he had, and it was all she could offer him.

Her mind made up, she stole one last apologetic glance at Lucifer, before heading over to where she had discarded her bag, along with her jacket. He didn't even seem to see her, too lost in whatever nightmare had claimed him. After a quick rummage, she located her phone, and pulled up Linda's number, hoping her friend still stood by her promise to come when called. Quickly, she fired off a message, before dropping the phone back inside.

He needs you.

Cautiously, she turned to face Lucifer again, and took a few steps towards him. He stiffened as she grew closer, and she halted. Taking a steady breath, she reached down inside her, searching for the words she now knew by heart. The words she told him every day.

"Lucifer, it's okay. You're here. You're safe. I love you. I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you. This isn't Hell. You're home. You're home."

Something changed in the air, an electricity that had nothing to do with the lightning that flashes outside of the windows. When he looks at her, his eyes blaze with the fires of the infernal. For a second, she is captivated.

And then she blinked.

He was upon her in an instant, so fast she didn't even see him move. His body filled her entire vision, his large frame looming over her in a way that normally made her feel so safe. But not tonight. His face may not have changed, but she could still see the darkness there, a shadow crawling under his skin, begging to be released. Trapped helplessly within his gaze, she couldn't even look away even when the flames within flared to a brightness so great it was blinding.

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" he roared, the sound drowning out everything, from the rain outside to her own terrified gasp. She stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over her things still lying scattered on the floor, the blind panic gripping her achingly familiar. It was something she had only felt once before. That fateful day in a loft downtown, where her entire world changed forever.

And then, it stopped.

Everything stopped.

The fear, the anger, the adrenaline… it all faded away, until there was nothing left. Time ground to a halt, the edges of her vision becoming fuzzy as her senses slowed. Some part of her was aware she was shutting down, her mind protecting itself as it tumbled over the edge. As she became empty. Lucifer was speaking now, his eyes now a familiar brown as he reached for her. He took her hands, but she couldn't feel him, couldn't hear his voice over the buzzing in her ears.

She stared at their joined fingers blankly, until the sound of her name finally broke through. It was enough to make her jerk her hand away, leaving it hovering in the air strangely in front of her. She tilted her head as she looked at it, wondering at the strange lingering sensation of warmth upon her skin.

"Chloe?" he repeated, and she took another step backwards, lips parting as her racing thoughts settled into one repeated mantra inside her mind.

"I can't do this."

The words echoed into the silence of the room, and it took her a moment to realise she had said them out loud. Once they were out there though, once she heard her own voice saying them, more clearly than anything else around her, they became something more, solidifying into an undeniable truth.

"I can't do this."

The world sped up again, and suddenly she was scrambling along the wall for her jacket, her need to leave the only thing she could focus on. It clawed at her veins, pulled at her skin, too strong to be ignored.

As soon as she found it she shrugged it on, grimacing at the feel of wet material covering her once more. Lucifer was still talking, but she let it fade into the background, grabbing her phone and shoving it into her pocket. When she started to walk towards the patio, he tried to take her arm, but she spun out of the embrace before he could even connect.

"I'm sorry," she said, forcing herself to stare at the collar of his shirt. She knew if she looked him in the eyes, she would stay. And she couldn't stay. "I —I just can't."

When her hand touched the door handle, she didn't hesitate. The feel of the rain as she stepped outside was no longer a curse, but a blessing, a feeling of absolution that she so desperately needed right now. Even the first shiver didn't dissuade her, didn't make her think for a moment about going back inside.

But he did.

It was a mistake to look back, she knew that, and yet just as she was about to round the corner, out of sight from the apartment, she did. Lucifer stood there, silhouetted by the fire, his palms flat against the glass. His mouth was still moving, still calling her name, she thought. He banged his fists against the door when he saw her looking. Once. Twice.

And though a part of her heart longed to go to him, she couldn't.

All she could do was walk away.

And even though she thought he might…

He didn't follow.