Evasion

This was his fault. He'd been so distracted, with Eve, with the Detective, with who-he-was, that he hadn't even noticed…

"Miss Lopez?"

The lights were out in the lab and they were out in her eyes.

"S'up Lucifer?" she smiled in greeting but it lacked…everything. The wattage was dim. The corners of her lips were tight. She sat at the table in the centre of her haven, her sanctuary, crime scene photos spread over the surface, evidence bags stacked up, eyes staring unseeing into the dark.

"What's wrong?" He halted in the doorway, noting the lack of music, the lack of dancing, the lack of…Ella-ness.

"Why would anything be wrong?"

Even that lacked her usual energy, her usual spark. She looked so diminished. So…lost.

He stepped into the lab and she suddenly sat up straight as though his crossing the threshold changed something. He hadn't realised she'd been curled up until she wasn't, and now they regarded each other across the space almost warily. His eyes narrowed slightly; all trace of humour gone from his voice.

"You tell me."

Evasion. He knew all about evasion. It was up there with deflection for avoiding a lie. Her shoulders stiffened, mouth thinning to a line.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He tilted his head, eyes flashing dangerously. "I see." He practically purred it. Anger pulsed through his blood, but he had yet to work out why. Something had gone wrong at some point and he'd missed it. Something or someone had crept up when his guard was down and stolen a good and precious thing. The loss keened through his chest, aching and bewildering, and he wanted to punish the cause. Punish the one responsible. He took another measured step closer, stalking forward, and the scientist shot to her feet. The stool screeched along the floor, clattering back, rocking but not toppling. Her hands braced against the work surface.

"I said I don't want to talk about it, Lucifer." Her voice was raised, angry, frantic, almost afraid, un-Ella-like, and he dropped his lower in response.

"I didn't think we were," he rumbled and stopped directly opposite her, only the table between them. Her breaths were short and panicked and he realised she was afraid.

Fear of his own rushed through him so quickly he raised a hand to his face before he'd realised. Smooth skin, normal skin, greeted the touch. Not rough and scarred, not the face of Hell. Not afraid of him then. His hand lowered slowly. Or, at least, not afraid of the Devil.

"No, we weren't, but you…" she floundered, words a stumbling rush. She took a breath. "Somehow you make people talk and I don't know…" He noticed her stop her bottom lip from trembling. She squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't want…" she corrected, re-opening her eyes, "to talk about it."

A puzzled frown creased his forehead, eyes more bewildered than angry now. He waited. She spoke again.

"I don't want to change my mind." Her fingers curled into the surface of the table, eyes widening. She had obviously not meant to say that last part, and that, he realised, was exactly what she was afraid of. Whatever burden Ella Lopez was carrying, that made her eyes dark and her soul heavy, she didn't want him to interfere and he was usually quite happy to stay out of it. He was much better at supplying the distraction. The narcotic, the drink, the sex. If she had been anyone else…but she wasn't.

"This is about Charlotte isn't it?" This was low, gravelly, and he spoke in almost a whisper, but it sounded loud in the empty room. There was a flavour of the forbidden about uttering her name. Ella practically bristled. Humans and their grieving was not something he fully comprehended. Charlotte was in the Silver City, Charlotte was safe, thanks to Amenadiel, and eternally so. No more agonising over her final destination, being torn up inside. No Hell-loop. She was much better off, if not bored out of her brain. He'd discovered, however, that humans didn't appreciate his insight into the matter.

Ella didn't even give him the chance. Her jaw clenched; eyes filled with tears. "No," she shook her head just once, sharply. "No…I'm not…no." Palms braced she shoved herself back from the table. "We're not talking about this." Her voice broke.

She turned to storm from the room, to flee, to run away rather than face her demons, and he knew all about that. He was entirely on board with putting off today what could wait until tomorrow, particularly when he had an eternity of tomorrows. Any other human he would have let go, but this was Ella, and her light was out.

He was fast. She collided with his chest and he gripped her shoulders to steady her, leaving her staring up at him startled, with wide wounded eyes full of tears.

"How did you…?"

His eyes fell to the vee of her tee-shirt, exposing the skin of her neck. Releasing a shoulder, his hand drifted over the space. Delicately he placed two fingers there on the naked skin, because it was naked, and he'd finally worked out what was missing. His touch broke off her question, her breath a frozen gasp.

"Where is it?"

His words were a rumble of thunder and her gaze betrayed her, flickering to the drawer where the cross necklace must have been hidden away.

"I don't believe any of it anymore." The confession tumbled from her, words ragged and torn and full of pain. The tone was achingly familiar. It echoed like so many declarations he'd made in the past, of Chloe in particular. She doesn't love me. It isn't her choice. The irony of the statement would have made him laugh if it weren't Miss Lopez, but her faith was her fire and she had suffocated it, refused to feed it, starved it of oxygen and now she wandered lost in the dark. Which was why he contradicted her.

"No." He dropped his hand from her neck, eyes never leaving hers. "You just don't want to."

Ella shook her head furiously, anger flashing but her shoulder trembled under his hand. She didn't want to hear it, but she needed to.

"Denying it won't stop the pain." His voice was gravelly, his face was set, jaw tight as he forced out the words, and now she was looking at him with a question under the layers of hurt. A muscle twitched and he swallowed.

"Be angry about it," he growled, "but stop denying it." His head tilted at her, eyes shinier than usual, voice bitter. "Take it from someone who knows."

There was a beat where she just stared and then she was throwing her arms around his chest, knocking the wind from him. Her body shook with sobs, snot and tears ruining his shirt as she squeezed, clinging to him as though he was her anchor.

He stood frozen, unsure, and then slowly, so slowly, he let himself relax, his arms fold around behind her back, holding her to him as she cried out her pain and hurt. A Lopez hug. He didn't realise how much he'd missed them. How long ago since he'd had one!

After a while her breathing steadied and the crying stopped but she didn't let him go. He shifted uncomfortably but she only tightened her grip and raised her tear bloated face to glare at him.

"I knew this would happen," she declared, and he raised an eyebrow. "I knew if you started talking to me…" There was reproach in her voice, anger, but relief, a lightness, and she still hadn't let him go. "How do you do that?"

Lucifer flashed her his trademark smirk. "Well, its all part of my devilish charm."

She back hand slapped him across his arm before he could move to avoid it. "Ow!" he pouted in mock pain and she smiled. A true Ella Lopez smile and the tightness in his chest, that he hadn't realised was there, eased. She pressed her forehead back into his shirt, mumbling her next words into the already ruined fabric.

"I'm not putting it back on yet."

There was hope in that 'yet'. His arms remained encircled around her shoulders as he looked down onto her ponytail, strangely wishing that he could make her instantly okay again, instantly back to normal.

"No," he echoed, "Not yet."

She was still clinging to him. Lucifer gave it another moment, hoping she'd release him. He wasn't really comfortable with the whole platonic touching thing and she wasn't crying anymore so… He moved his hands to her shoulders, gave an experimental nudge and her arms only tightened.

"Just another minute," she whispered. "Its nice to just be…held. You know? Haven't really had anyone just…be with me. Told me it'll be okay even if it isn't." Her voice trailed off into a dismissive mumble that he didn't quite catch. Something about casual sex not being the same…

All those hugs she offered freely, all that comfort she made available to everyone else, and no one had thought to check in on her, make sure she was okay. Not even him.

He gave her the full minute, then, without prompting Ella lifted her head with a lop-sided smile and let him go, stepping back.

"I do feel a bit better now. Lighter."

Lighter was good. Samael. The Light Bringer. His chest burned with something that Ella so uniquely made him feel. Fulfilled. Joyful. He squashed it. He didn't deserve it. Not when he'd neglected her. He couldn't help but smile though, strained as it was.

"Excellent, well, I'll leave you," he waved his hand airily around the lab, "to it."

He was almost out the door when she spoke again.

"Hey, Lucifer?"

He turned back to her, standing at her table, one hand spread over the crime scene photos, eyes bright. Her lips quirked in the ghost of a smile, her breath a whisper.

"Thank you."

He found himself smiling genuinely in response.

"You are very welcome, Miss Lopez."