You promise me heaven, then put me through hell…

...

48 hours. It had been over 48 hours since she'd seen him, truly seen him, for the first time. Since then, radio silence. He was trying not to worry, trying to pretend he wasn't checking his phone for the thousandth time. Calling her was out of the question. He'd promised to give her space and a promise was just another word for a deal as far as he was concerned.

And he always kept his deals.

It didn't happen how he'd planned it of course. Not that he had planned it exactly, not really. But when did anything go the way he wanted it to anyway?

72 hours ago, for just few minutes, everything had been perfect. He'd finally given into his feelings, his Father be damned. When he'd kissed her the world itself had fallen away until there was only the two of them, lost among the bright city lights. It felt like flying.

All it had taken was a phone call to bring them crashing down. The chain of events that followed had spiraled out of his control, so much so that finally he'd had no choice but to reveal himself.

She'd been shocked. He hadn't expected anything less. It was the wonder in her eyes though that bothered him. Fear he could have understood. It was as familiar to him as punishment, as anticipated as pain. Awe however, was not. It had been eons since anyone had looked at him that way. It left him feeling... undeserving.

He had wrongly assumed she would prove to be as unaffected by his angelic side as she was by the rest of his devilish charms. Another cruel irony put in place by his Father no doubt. Susceptible to the angel he was but immune to the devil he is.

Bloody wings. Even now he longed to release them, to soar, to be free. But every time he did, every time he gave in it was another reminder that free was something he would never be, not really. But the urge to use them remained. It was no different to wanting to use your legs to run, your hands to hold, he supposed. Except that for him unfurling them out of instinct had changed everything, forever. He just wasn't sure exactly howyet.

Because his wings weren't the only thing she'd seen that fateful night.

Again, he glanced at his phone. The screen remained dark.

...

Chloe sat at her work station, her head in her hands. The past two days had been an endless overwhelming blur of questions and confusion. Despite her exhaustion she'd forced herself to go into the precinct, willingly throwing herself into a pile of mind-numbing paperwork. Anything to distract her for a while, anything that would help her put off the inevitable.

As the hours wore on the department grew increasingly empty, until eventually Chloe was left alone, her solitary desk lamp the only thing fighting against the encroaching darkness. She'd always preferred being here at this time of night when she could, the usual hustle and bustle nowhere to be heard. It gave her time to think, to work without distraction. Because just like now, he wasn't here.

Everything had changed. The silence was no longer comforting, it was unnerving. Now that she knew the truth, she'd found herself unable to stop thinking about the past few weeks. Flirting in the hallways, stolen kisses in the evidence room; there were reminders everywhere of the worst mistake she'd ever made. The lieutenant's office was empty now, and once that would have meant her heart was too.

Instead, it was full of another.

She refused to go on like this. Her mind was so consumed with trying to understand that there was very little room left for anything else. She had a responsibility to her daughter, to her job, to find a way to put all this behind her and move on. And there was only one way to do that.

He'd invited her to the penthouse when she was ready. She wasn't sure she ever would be ready. The station felt like the better option. Familiar... safer. It made no sense to feel that way, she knew. He hadn't hurt her in all their time together, he wasn't about to start now. But she couldn't help it.

It was time. Time to do what she'd been dreading all evening. Time to finally get an answer.

She had to know.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she picked up her phone and dialed.

...

"We need to talk. Meet me at the station?"

He'd done it again. One second he was in the penthouse, overjoyed to hear the sound of her voice, and the next he was in the parking lot at the precinct.

Idiot. Anyone could have seen him, and right now the last thing he needed to be dealing with was yet another human with an existential crisis.

Still, he couldn't wait to see her, which apparently was part of the problem. His wings seemed more inclined to listen to his heart than his head these days.

He spotted her as soon as he entered the department, her long blonde hair hanging over her shoulders as she sat writing something at her desk. Questions for him, he presumed. Hurriedly he headed down the stairs, a wide smile upon his face as he exclaimed "Detective!" with his usual exuberance.

Did she just flinch?

No, she couldn't have, it must have been a trick of the light. He'd arrived here too quickly, that was it. She just hadn't expected him yet, he'd startled her that's all.

Perhaps it would be prudent to take some advice from his ex-wife and start acting 'as if' again. It wasn't like it hadn't worked for him before.

"So what have you got for me this evening, hm?" he asked merrily. "A grisly murder? A missing spouse? Or just some friendly Q&A between partners? Consider me a devil at your disposal."

She lifted her head and his smile vanished. Her eyes were red raw, the pallor of her skin indicating how very little sleep she'd had since he saw her last. Just as he was about to voice his concern though, she rose from her chair.

Without so much as an acknowledgement, she turned and walked in the direction of the interview room. Stopping just short of the doorway, she glanced back at him as he heard her say quietly, "Please follow me."

He waited until her eyes finally met his, raising an eyebrow at her as if to say "Really?"

In response she simply opened the door and indicated he should move inside.

Very well then, if this was what she needed he would acquiesce. In truth there was really very little she could ask that he wouldn't do.

Nodding his agreement, he willingly walked towards his own interrogation.

...

She followed him into the room, closing the door behind her and making sure to lock it. At this time of night it was unlikely there would be anyone still in the building, but she didn't want to risk being disturbed regardless. Grabbing a chair she dragged it over to the corner, the sound grating as it scraped across the floor. He must have realised her intention, because the next thing she heard was, "Detective, let me..."

She glared at him.

"I got it, Lucifer," she said sharply, standing on the chair and reaching up to disconnect the security camera. "Take a seat, please." He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender and did as he was told, something which was almost as surprising to her as finding out he had wings.

"So how shall we begin, Detective? Am I to play the witness or the suspect? Tell me, do I get to wear handcuffs? I promise not to escape this time if you chain me to the table." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

The unwelcome urge to laugh bubbled up inside her. She resisted it, pushing the feeling back down deep. Focus wasn't something she could afford to lose right now. "This isn't a game, Lucifer," she replied sternly.

Sitting down, she took a moment to consider the man opposite her. Everything about him gave the impression he was totally at ease, his posture relaxed as he leaned back in the chair, completely comfortable in his surroundings. Completely comfortable with her. And yet there was something guarded about his expression that betrayed all that. Chloe Decker made the Devil nervous, it seemed.

"As you wish, Detective." The levity that had been in his face before had disappeared, a trace of apprehension in its place. "I assume you have questions for me?"

"Just the one actually."

...

One?

That couldn't be right. Linda had plagued him with queries for weeks after he'd showed her the truth. This didn't sound like his Detective at all. Perhaps the shock had affected her more severely than he'd thought?

A long forgotten discussion with Daniel drifted into his mind, the product of a poorly made decision to try and impart his wisdom regarding relationships to the Devil one night. "If you remember one thing, buddy... let it be this. Nothing good ever comes of a conversation that begins with "we need to talk."

A strange sinking feeling began to develop in his stomach. He covered it with a smile, throwing his hands apart widely to indicate that he was an open book. "Well should you change your mind you may ask me as many questions as you like Detective. By all means, proceed."

He watched her swallow nervously before she answered. "I may... ask for clarification if I need to." Her eyes flickered to the notepad in front of her, the pen she was holding tapping repeatedly against it. He wanted to reach across, to take her hand and calm her movements, but something told him that wouldn't be welcomed at present. That he wouldn't be welcomed.

Visibly she composed herself. He braced in preparation for her question.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

His smile grew as he breathed a sigh of relief. This he had expected, and so naturally he had his answer already prepared. He had, after all, never lied to her.

Before he had a chance to lead with that though, the Detective corrected herself. "No, that's not quite right is it? You did tell me, nearly every single day. That was always the truth." The emphasis on the word did not escape him.

"Let me rephrase. Why didn't you show me?"

Ah. That was slightly more complicated.

...

They were less than five minutes in and she already wanted to wipe the smug grin off his face. That, at least, was familiar. She could tell she'd thrown him slightly off balance with her question though.

Lucifer being Lucifer, however, he recovered quickly. "If you recall, I did try to show you. Twice in fact."

He had? She cast her mind back, searching for a moment of weirdness amongst the considerable pile Lucifer had built over the years. A moment that might have actually meant something more.

Why is it not working? I don't understand.

Eyes narrowing, she ventured her guess. "The lab?"

He nodded. "Not my finest moment I must admit. Rather embarrassing really. I've never failed to perform before, I can assure you."

That earned him an eye roll, her first of the evening. And probably not her last. "And the second time?"

"Come now, Detective, surely you haven't forgotten shooting me? The evidence is right there around your neck."

She sat back in her chair, stunned. "You wanted to show me even then?"

He shrugged. "You didn't believe me. I simply thought it might make our working relationship better if you did."

"We weren't even working together back then, Lucifer." A smirk appeared on his face that couldn't have said "Weren't we?" more clearly than if he'd spoken it out loud.

"So what changed?" A pause. He gave her a small, tender smile as he answered.

"We did."

He was looking at her the way he had before, on the beach, on the balcony. Those moments when he was so very open, so completely honest with her about how he felt. If only he'd been as open about everything else, maybe she wouldn't be here right now, doing this.

She had to not let it affect her. What she needed to know was important. More important than almost anything. She couldn't move forward without it.

It was time to steer the conversation back to where she wanted it to be. "The lab, the warehouse, then. What happened? Why didn't you-"

"I'll stop you right there, Detective," he said, holding his hand up at her as if he were directing traffic. Or school children crossing the road.

Now there was an image.

"Less of a didn't, more of a couldn't, really. I was, shall we say, unaware at the time that something had been taken from me, on both occasions."

She stared at him, obviously waiting for him to elaborate. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"At the warehouse, my immortality. The laboratory... my true face."

She couldn't stop the shudder that ran down her spine and she knew he'd spotted it too, judging by the way his eyes quickly fell to the floor. She took a slow, deep breath. It was okay. It was only Lucifer in front of her, just Lucifer. The same Lucifer she'd always known. Or at least thought she'd known. Not... whatever that had been.

"You were immortal?" Stupid . She was asking him to confirm things he'd already told her, things that already knew to be true.

Always the truth. Point of pride for me, Detective.

God knows how old he actually was.

Oh. God would literally know, wouldn't he? This was going to take some getting used to.

He humoured her though, giving a nod in confirmation. "Technically I still am- well, most of the time anyway." He smiled, gesturing towards her notepad where apparently she'd been scribbling without even realising. "You spell it with two 'm's by the way, just in case you've forgotten again."

She smiled at that, she couldn't help herself. But in the end it only served to remind her of his recent attempt to recreate their greatest hits, which in turn had led to their kiss...

Stop. She couldn't allow him to distract her. Now wasn't the time. Sighing, she continued. "Your face. You called it your true face?"

"Why yes of course. I know the phrase is devilishly handsome, darling, but do you really think this face strikes fear into the hearts of the damned?"

"But..." she waved in the general direction of the attractive visage that had been staring down at her all this time.

"Ah." He hesitated. "This is what I looked like... before."

"Before what?" she asked softly, recognising that this was something he was reluctant to talk about.

"Before I fell, Detective."

She could see it then, the pain in his eyes. An image flashed into her mind, a hellish red creature screaming in agony, ran through the chest with a sword as an angel stood behind. A painting she'd once seen, in what felt like a lifetime ago.

One angel can hurt another.

Because Lucifer was an angel too after all, something she was still trying to get her head around. Which meant the angel in the painting was his brother.

His brother did that to him.

It would be so easy to move over to the other side of the table. Everything in her longed to go to him, to give him comfort he so obviously needed. But she didn't dare. For she knew once she held him in her arms again she'd never let him go. And she couldn't risk that, not yet.

Not until she knew for sure if what she suspected was true.

"What about the phone call?" He looked taken aback for a second, her abrupt change in topic obviously surprising him. Apparently he'd been expecting further questions more divine in nature. It wasn't that she didn't have them, in fact she had more than she could count, but none of that mattered right now. This did.

"Phone call...?" Confusion marred his features briefly before realisation struck. "Ah, you mean the voicemail I left you. My 'drunken dial' you called it I believe?"

She grimaced slightly. She had a feeling a lot of what she'd previously said was going to come back to haunt her as long as Lucifer was around.

"Every word I said was true, Detective. I was done with hiding, and I was on my way over to tell you the truth about me. Circumstances however..." He broke off, unable to find the words. And this time she did go to him, taking his hand in hers. He gazed at their entwined fingers for a while before he spoke, his voice tainted with sorrow.

"Waking up in the desert with wings you never asked for does tend to derail one's plans somewhat."

Her hand left his, flying to her mouth as she gasped. He flexed his fingers slightly, mournful at the loss.

His wings. His wings had been forced upon him. She couldn't... she couldn't fathom...

This was far beyond her realm of understanding. How it must have felt, to be violated in that way, an unwanted reminder of a life he'd rather forget. Her heart ached for him, all thoughts of pursuing an answer to her question temporarily forgotten.

But not for long.

"Wait. In the lab, you said your face had been taken right? If you had wings, why not show them to me instead?"

And then the Devil in front of her said in the most nonchalant way possible, "I chose that particular morning to cut them off. Bad timing on my part, I'm afraid."

He cut them off.

Her brain stuttered momentarily. Why? How even? It was hard enough just to wash your own back. Maze perhaps? She remembered him telling her she'd done it the first time. Oh god, the first time. Those scars. Those awful, agonising scars. And he'd done that to himself again? But...

"You still have wings."

He sighed. "Not much I can do about that apparently. I kept cutting, they kept growing. Feathery bloody menaces."

"How many times did you do that to yourself, Lucifer?" she asked quietly.

He tipped his head to the side curiously, as if puzzled by her concern. "Honestly? I lost count after a while. It wasn't exactly an experience to be remembered. Don't worry, Detective, the good doctor talked me out of doing it again."

Well that was new information. "Linda knows? Since when?" A wave of jealousy washed over her at the thought.

"Shortly before we captured your father's killer, if memory serves. I have you to thank for that actually, you were the one who told me to talk to her."

Because you wouldn't talk to me.

"You must have done more than just talk though. You'd already been seeing her for months at that point."

Shame passed over his face for a split second. "Yes, well. Your introduction to the 'real me' was somewhat... less stressful than hers, shall we say."

Less stressful. Flying was less stressful.

Then the true weight of his words hit her, and she closed her eyes as her heart grew heavy. "You showed her."

"Indeed. I actually thought I'd broken her for a while there. It took Maze of all demons to bring her round."

She'd stopped listening after the first word.

He showed her.

He showed her.

"Why didn't you show me?"

Puzzlement crossed his face. "Haven't we covered this already, Detective?"

She nodded. "In part, yes. But you haven't explained why you kept yourself hidden from me the rest of the time though. Because there has to be a reason."

Please let there be a reason.

This time it was him who reached across the table, wrapping his hands around her own. "You already know the reason, Chloe."

He paused, smiling at the sound of her name as it left his lips. "I was afraid. Afraid if you saw, if you knew , that I'd never see you again."

Her hands were trembling. He held them tighter, worry filling his eyes. She steeled herself for what she was about to ask as her heart began to sink.

"So to be clear, you could have proven to me who you were at any time, but you chose not to?"

He frowned in confusion, clearly expecting a different response to the one she'd given. The seconds ticked by as he considered his answer.

"...I suppose that's an accurate assessment, yes."

And with those words, she felt her heart break.