This is my first post/story. These characters don't belong to me; they belong to the writers and folks at Fox working on Lucifer. I'm kind of new to fanfiction in general, so please leave me a comment and tell me what I can improve (or what you liked)! Thanks! [Trixie, Lucifer, mentions Maze-Future setting.]
-HybridVigor999

Chapter 1

Out of habit, my eyes scanned the perimeter and categorized threat levels. 30 yards away, an old man took off his hat, revealing thinning white hair. His wife's name was engraved on the concrete bench he sat on every Thursday at 3 pm. He had a routine I'd memorized, first through the scope of a high powered rifle. He came to talk to her for a bit, and then he'd read a book-sometimes aloud. Unlike him, I didn't pay my respects on a regular basis, or in a recognizable pattern. What I definitely did was due diligence. I'd watched and figured out, to the best of my abilities, the rhythm of life amongst the dead at Forest Lawn Cemetery.

When I did come out from behind the scope to trace my fingers over my father's name in stone, I knew it was safe. As long as I refrained from prayer, I would draw no attention. Not today.

My raincoat was a thrift store find, as were the ecru silk blouse and muted gray trousers. I even picked out sensible navy pumps, a pearl necklace and carefully coordinated (not matching) earrings to finish off the illusion of a normal, busy business woman. Plus, the trousers covered some pretty strikingly long scars on my legs from thighs to calves, where a demon once dug trenches into my flesh before finally catching my ankles. That had been a close call.

Nothing set off my spidey-sense as I walked the few blocks to the main gates. The serene beauty of the landscape interrupted only by sculptures and headstones was picture perfect. The sun shone, and no one gave me a second glance as I reached my destination.

I brushed an errant leaf from my father's tombstone. No, my first father-my biological father, not the other one. We'll get to that soon enough.

"Daniel Espinoza
1978-2023
Devoted Father, Faithful Servant"

After tracing his name with my fingers, I pulled open the paper shopping bag I'd brought with, and pulled out a small plastic to-go container with a generous slice of chocolate cake. Mom and Dad finalized the divorce when I was 8 years old, but he'd been there for me through thick and thin until he died. For us, chocolate cake was Switzerland and Christmas and a white flag rolled up in one.

Detective Espinoza was far from perfect, but he was my dad. And I missed him. I got my light brown complexion and dark hair from him, as well as my sweet tooth. I blinked back tears as I used the plastic silverware to place a piece of the cake onto a paper plate.

"Here you go, daddy. Cheers! I'm still alive, and the world is intact-so far. I miss you."

I placed his serving on top of his headstone with a fork, and turned around to sit so I could lean my back up against the carved rock. I took a bite of triple fudge, and closed my eyes, feeling the traitorous tears run down my cheeks.

"Do you know how ridiculous you look right now, darling? Really, it's embarrassing." And there he was with that sardonic British voice. My other dad, the devil himself.

He appeared so suddenly, I hadn't even heard him walking up. Which meant he probably hadn't walked. Considering he'd re-embodied nearly the full extent of his arcane powers after we lost my mom, it didn't surprise me as much as it once would have.

I opened my eyes and tilted my head up to see his face. He was a tall, rakish man, dressed to the nines in bespoke suit and shining wingtips. The only mark that decades of living on Earth had left on him were the threads of silver laced through his raven-black hair on either temple. Life with my mother had given his corporeal form enough humanity to age intermittently instead of remaining in stasis. I thought he secretly cherished any outward signs that reminded him of their time together.

Their love was, as I remember it from a child's perspective, the stuff of pure delight, desire, and romance-a cartoonish trickster prince and my self-saving-princess of a tough detective mom.

"Dad! What are you-" I finished the bite of chocolate cake, wiped my eyes, and set everything aside, quickly scanning the area.

"Don't worry, poppet. No one should see us. I've taken care of it. Feel free to gorge yourself on the cake and have a good snivel, as long as you don't wipe it on me." He shuddered in disgust.

"It's been a long time since I've snotted up any of your suits, Lucifer. I don't even get carded anymore. Seriously, what are you doing here?" I stood, brushing off the seat of my trousers. The old man had opened his paperback already, giving no indication he saw a tall, dark man suddenly appear beside me.

"I didn't want to let you visit Detective Douche's grave by yourself. Even though it has no real meaning, since he's not actually here and where he actually IS, he can't hear you or partake in cake-"

"DAD! Remember the rule?"

"Right. No violating the privacy rights of the dead by divulging where they went and all that. That's really a bother, don't you think? You're the adopted daughter of Hell. Shouldn't that come with some perks? Don't you want to know where-"

"NO!"

"Have I ever told you that you never look more like your mother than when you're making that exact expression and saying 'no' to me?" His dark eyes quickly gained a liquid sheen as he blinked hard and turned his back to me. I stepped up and gently put my hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid the scars where his wings used to be.

"You miss her as much as I do. I wish there was a place where we could go-"

Two decades ago, Lucifer would have thrown my hand off, and whirled to face me in his outrage, his voice shaking the earth. Though immortals learn lessons at their own glacial pace, proximal mortality and love and raising me had tempered him enough that when he interrupted me, looking at me over his shoulder-eyes glowing like embers-it was with a quiet but intense voice.

"No grave. No headstone. No crypt. We've discussed this before, and I won't have it. She's not dead, and I'll never stop looking. For either of them. End of discussion."

"I'm not a teenager anymore. The romantic notion that we would never stop looking for her... I outgrew it. Look at me, dad." I gestured to myself with open hands, palms out, fingers splayed.

Lucifer's red eyes faded back to their black coffee color as he turned back to face me.

"My lovely daughter," he murmured, a hint of sadness in the tilt of his lips.

"I'm almost as old as mom was when you two met. You forget that I'm not immortal. I don't have all the time in the world, and I MISS HER AS MUCH AS YOU DO. My heart is just as broken and incomplete, but I'm old enough to know that visiting a grave isn't for the one who's gone-it's for those who remain. What is it you've said over and over? Humans are so fragile? Well mom was human, Lucifer. What are the chances after all this time... I know you have your ways of knowing, but if you're so sure that she's not in heaven or hell, then where on earth is she?"

"I don't know, Beatrice. But I'll concede that if you arrange some false tribute to my Chloe's death, I will refrain from destroying it, for it WILL offend me greatly. That I promise you."

"I don't want to go to my own grave having never been allowed to truly mourn the loss of my own mother-which, by the way, is what I'm trying to do right now with my father. What are you doing here?"

"I didn't hate Dan, luv. And I felt your sadness, and decided to pop by and see my only adopted progeny in a rare moment away from her sharp pointy things and tedious 'End of Days' battle…" He rolled his eyes and did finger quotes at the end.

"Right, because hunting escaped damned souls, exorcising demons from innocent mortals, and facing off against YOUR father's winged enforcers is just some quirky hobby I picked up along the way. Look, I'm done. It's been really touching."

I turned to pack everything into my bag. Then I spotted the slice of cake on the paper plate resting just on top of my late father's gravestone. This one's for you, daddy, I thought with a gleeful mischief. I scooped a handful of cake up and smeared it on both hands, blocking Lucifer's line of sight with my body as he talked.

"It has been touching hasn't it? I offered you comfort and paid my respects to Detective Douche. They should put us on a Hallmark card-OH MY FATHER ABOVE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

He and I both shrieked as I turned with gooey hands and latched onto him, pinning his elbows to his side in my bear hug, making sure to rub as much cake onto his fancy suit as I could. Peals of laughter erupted from deep in my belly as he squirmed with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Trixie Decker Espinoza Morningstar, you're lucky I'm cloaking this area and no one can see or hear us, you cheeky little minx! And I won't bother sending you a bill for this suit because you can't afford it on a librarian's salary anyways." With his arms still pinned, he muttered down at the crown of my head. I sighed and gripped him a bit tighter until I felt him relax slightly.

I sighed with my face against the buttons of his shirt. He awkwardly patted my back with one hand. Then he disengaged and stepped away, looking for all the world like an offended cat who'd been spritzed on the back with a spray bottle.

"Right. I'm leaving now."

"Bye, Dad!" I chirped, feeling a thousand times more cheerful than I had in months.

"Before I go, I took the liberty of bringing along your essentials, since Maze told me this area was going experience a significant breach of the Hellish variety, and I wouldn't want you to be caught off guard."

He reached behind a large headstone and pulled out a familiar army green tactical duffel almost as long as I was tall. He placed it at my feet, and I didn't bother picking it up. I knew what was in it, and I'd need to unzip the whole length the get my swords and sheath harnesses out from under the long rifle case.

"Aren't you pushing it a bit? You and Maze? Y'know-Thou shalt take no direct action…?" I flicked chocolate off my fingers, and knelt to rub my hands off in the carefully manicured lawn.

"Rules are meant to be broken, and if you can't break them, you should at least try to bend them, darling. Besides, I'm just bringing my daughter her belongings like a dutiful father. It has nothing to do with the Cataclysm or the rules or the war...Right?"

"Sure, dad, whatever you say. If you get in trouble with The Man Upstairs, don't come crying to me though…"

"After what you did to my suit? You should be much more sympathetic to my hypothetical punishment for attempting to be a good Samaritan! I'm off. Pop by Lux on your next day off, or Mazikeen will take it out on me."

"I will. I'll see you then."

"Stay safe, Trix."

I watched as he slipped sideways into reality and disappeared, his last word fading in an echo. I never got used to that. It was unsettling, especially since he'd never done any teleporting all the years I was growing up. Not until after my mother was taken…

Then I got a really bad feeling as I looked around. The old man's book lay abandoned on the bench where he'd been sitting. Oh no…

I ducked just in time to dodge a chunk of someone's grave sculpture as the, now possessed, old man hurled it at my head from several graves away. Guess my break is over, I thought as I tore the long duffel zipper open as fast as I could.

Another day, another demon...