AN: Lucifer and the characters there-in do not belong to me yada yada yah. lbr if they did pierce would have been yeeted into the sun wayyy earlier. thnx for coming to my ted talk. title is shamelessly borrowed from Milton's Paradise Lost Book IX. please R&R! i love to hear from y'all and the validation gives me the courage to post MORE stuff.

Chloe was dying - she was certain of it. There was no way that Lucifer was going to be able to get help in time. Her vision was coming in and out of focus and she was having a hard time breathing. She knew that she was drowning in her own blood; she felt it pooling in her lungs through the rip the bullet had put in it. It was a strange sensation, drowning outside of water. She could see Lucifer's hands, covered in her blood, and his face, washed in tears. He was yelling, but the words didn't make sense.

Then. His face swam in her vision. He knew she was dying too, she could see it in his face. He cradled her head in his hand and he began to sing, voice soft and broken. The words were in a language Chloe couldn't understand, and had never heard before. He stroked her hair gently as he continued to sing. His song filled the warehouse, and she could feel it in her bones: Love, unending Love; Grief, Grief beyond grief; and anger, righteous Fury. She had a hazy vision of ghostly wings and Light, burning burning, Bright Light. Lucifer pulled her closer to him, and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, all the while singing. The sound of his song was the last thing she knew.

Then. Light. Somehow her father was standing before her, smiling, eyes crinkled.

"Monkey!" he said, like he had so many times before, when she'd stayed up waiting for him to return, "I've missed you my little Monkey."

Her father stood in a meadow, filled with flower upon flower, and off in the distance, behind him was a glittering gate. She felt like she was Dorothy, seeking to make her way home, traveling the yellow brick road, the emerald city sparkling in the distance, beckoning her through the field of dangerous flowers.

Something was wrong here. But what?

"Dad?" she said, breathless, filled with joy at the sight of him.

Then. She was child, shorter than she'd been in a long time. She sprinted towards him, and her father caught her in his arms, holding her close. He was dead and yet he was warm, solid and here.

The was something wrong. He was dead.

Then. she remembered the warehouse, being pulled under by the waves of her own blood pooling, oozing in her lungs.

Trixie! Her child was alone, motherless.

She was a woman again, for a moment, then a child. Her father let her down, smiling at her. She could no longer remember the blood; it hid itself, elusive but prodding at her from the edge of her mind.

"You have a choice to make monkey," he said, his face turning serious.

She stared at him. There was something that she was meant to remember, but what?

"You aren't dead yet," her father said, "But you can be, if you want to choose that."

This was easily the most surreal conversation that she'd ever had, and that included every conversation she'd ever had with - with, her partner's name escaped her, another thing elusive, but screaming, taunting her.

"I don't understand," she said, "What's happening to me?"

"You're dying," her father said, "You don't have much time."

Blood. Drowning. Lucifer. She remembered now.

"There's not much I can do about that now, is there?" she said.

"Normally," her father said, "This is true monkey."

She stared at him.

"The angel Samael has interfered on your behalf. He prayed to his Father for your deliverance - a second time," he said.

"The angel..." Chloe said, trailing off, confused.

She had never believed in God and angels and demons.

Now. The angel Samael. She knew that name from somewhere. Where? Where? Her mind was leaving her quickly, quickly.

"He has other names," her father said, "The angel. Some call him Lucifer, The Morningstar."

Lucifer. Shit. God. fuck.

His voice in her head, I have never lied to you and I will never lie to you.

It was true, all true.

Now. The sounds of birds and spring that had been present before were gone. Instead, the air was filled with mournful song. This was Lucifer, singing, singing, praying.

Her father smiled softly, "He loves you," he said.

She felt the truth of this wash through her, filling her with a kind of warmth.

"Why isn't God here Himself?" Chloe asked.

"He thought you would listen better to me," her father said, wryly.

Chloe laughed, and became a woman again, her eyes meeting her father's.

"What choice do I have?" she asked him.

Her father revealed his hands. In the left there was a tiny, delicate golden key. In the right, an apple. The key shone bright, warm, tempting. The golden skin of the apple glowed softly, and she could somehow smell its sweet, crisp flavor in the air. Temptation.

They said that Satan had offered Eve an apple, and that it had led to the fall of humanity. Was she too, being tested?

"You can take the key," he father said, "and let me guide you across the meadow to the Gates. You will die, but your soul will live in perfect joy in heaven."

"Or...?" she asked, looking at the apple.

Her father smiled again, "You can eat the apple. You will return to life," he said, and the words were not his own, she was certain of this, "but you will never be able to return here, to heaven. You will be as the angel Samael: immortal, unaging, and bound forever to Hell."

"Persephone," she said softly, "I eat the apple and I become Persephone."

"Yes," he agreed.

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't know monkey," he said, "I'm only the messenger."

The fruit smelled sweet. What do you desire? Her inner Lucifer asked. Was this how Eve had felt? She was drawn, closer, closer; her mouth watered. She desired.

Then. Her eyes drifted to the key. This was tempting too; she could smell the sweet scent of the flowers in the field beyond them grow stronger the longer she stared at the key. And she felt the warmth of her father's love, her grandmother's hugs. In the air she smelt her grandfather's chocolate cookies. She longed.

"What do I do?" she asked her father.

"What makes you happy monkey," he said.

She stared at him for a moment longer.

Then. She hugged him tightly, sending him all the love she felt.

"This is goodbye, isn't it?" he said, knowing.

She didn't respond.

"I love you Dad," she murmured into the fabric of his shirt.

When she let go, she came away hand filled. She stepped back and spent another moment taking him in.

She held out the apple, running her fingers over its flesh.

Then. She bit into the apple, it's juice running down her lips. It tasted indescribably wonderful, sweet, crisp and filling her with a strange warmth. Each bite strengthening her convictions.

Finally. She was left with an apple core and a handful of seeds. She knelt down to the ground and dug a small hole with her hands, reveling in the soft feeling of the dirt between her fingers, and the sweet earthy smell. She gently laid the apple core and the five seeds in the hole she'd dug and slowly covered them up with dirt, watching as the gleaming light of the apple core was covered by the earth. She made to stand up.

And. She was laying on the ground in an empty warehouse. Lucifer was cradling her head in his arms, gently stroking her face, singing. She was covered in her own blood but the wounds didn't seem to hurt any longer. She opened her eyes and took in a gasp of breath. Alive.

Something strange had happened to her, but the more she tried to piece together what it was, the more it escaped her. The only thing she remembered clearly was an apple, crisp, sweet and golden.