Archive of Our Own

The first time he received the phone call he ignored it, assuming it to have been some poor soul looking for a favor from the Devil, or worse, one of his many lovers hoping for a repeat performance of the best night of their lives. Neither of which he was in the mood to grant. Not when every time he closes his eyes and thinks of her, he sees her terrified face.

It’s always the same scene that his masochistic brain chooses to torture him with, the loft. Chloe’s rushed but tentative steps as she stumbled down the stairs, hoping her partner was okay and still alive. Her hopeful and, dare he say, grateful tone when she realized it wasn’t him who was dead on the floor. And her thankful expression turning into one of horror when he faces her and she finally realizes that the thing standing above her ex-fiancé was someone else, something far worse.

The second time he denies the call, he’s downstairs in an empty Lux playing his beloved piano. After resurfacing from his–far too brief–drug-filled stupor and finding out he had exhausted his personal supply of alcohol, he dragged his disheveled self from the safety of his Penthouse and towards the club hoping to take from the bar. He got half way there only to stop and sit at his Steinway, not being able to resist the pull of pouring out his inner turmoil into the soothing melodies it creates.

He hasn’t been to the club for weeks, not since he found out about the Detective’s betrayal. Not after all the lying and deceit about accepting him for who…what he is. For giving him false hope that maybe, even after everything, she could still want him, still want to become more with him. Only to later be proven wrong by a vial filled with poison, poison that she had meant for him.

The burning accusations thrown his way. That it was him, who wasn’t being truthful, that he had lured her under false pretenses. That the Devil isn’t some nightclub owner living it up in the heart of California, solving murders with her in his free time. No, the Devil is evil, he whispers into your ear and tempts those into sin. He is not some poor misunderstood creature that only wishes to live in peace. He is a beast that for her safety, as well as others, should be returned from whence he came, to Hell.

The third time he receives the call he’s sitting on his balcony floor gazing at the stars he once created, wondering how the rejection of a mere mortal can cause more pain than his fall. How her betrayal stings like a serrated knife stabbed through his heart and somehow it hurts more than falling through the atmosphere, burning to a crisp and landing into, what he assumed, to be his eternal torment.

Now though, he thinks this might’ve been his Father’s grand plan all along. To dangle her, something he never even knew he wanted, something he–for the first time in millennia–truly desired, in his face only for her to leave him in the worst possible way. To choose to walk away from him, not because of desire but because of terror. Fear that the Devil is here to drag her down to hell, when truthfully that’s the last place he would ever wish to see her.

The fourth time his phone rings he’s sitting on his settee, staring into nothingness. Just waiting, hoping something will happen to pull him out of this endless cycle of drowning in self hatred.

It buzzes again, this time indicating a message was received.

Curious, and having nothing better else to do, he sluggishly reaches into his trouser pocket and pulls out his phone. Thumbing it to life, he sees he has a notification from the same unknown number that has been trying to reach him all day.

He unlocks his phone and taps the video he received, once it's pulled up and it begins to play he takes notice of a rather bedraggled young woman tied to an uncomfortable looking metal chair. She’s in what seems to be a dark and dank prison cell, surrounded by shadows. Her head is bent forward and with her hair shielding her face from view, Lucifer can’t quite make out who she is.

That is, until a deep and ominous voice fills the speakers, demanding the woman look towards the camera. When she doesn't obey immediately, a large leather gloved hand comes into frame and yanks her head back, forcing her face into view.

His heart stops, drops to the floor and somehow simultaneously gallops behind his breast bone when he recognizes those piercing blue eyes and that sharp jawline. This isn’t just any woman, it’s the Detective. It’s Chloe.

Before he can leap off his sofa and pace a hole into his Italian marble, the ominous voice is speaking again, this time to him directly.. “Hello Mr. Morningstar.” The voice sounds off, it’s too staticky and almost unnatural, like they’re using a voice modulator. “You don’t know me, but I know you. I know you’re the debonair devil himself, one who prides himself on granting favors.”

The camera angle changes and Lucifer only has half a second to mourn the loss of Chloe when a ski mask–how original–covered face enters the frame. “I also happen to know how much you care for this Detective. Although, I can’t really see the appeal, she’s a feisty wee bitch but I guess that’s something the Devil would be into.”

“Go to hell!” Chloe says from somewhere off camera. The sound of her voice, and the ice in her tone fills him with pride. That even in the face of danger, she still refuses to be cowed.

But it’s quickly replaced with anger when the masked man disappears off camera and Lucifer hears a smack ring across the empty room, followed by Chloe’s short and labored breaths. “I said be quiet bitch.”

Lucifer can feel his eyes burning, and he knows if he were to look at his reflection right now, they would be alight with hell fire. Anxious energy courses through his body and he can’t stay still anymore. Holding the screen to his face and waiting with bated breath for the return of the vile degenerate, he paces the length of his living room wondering how this happened.

How long has Chloe been missing? How long has she been in the hands of this villainous cretin? Was she on a case? They haven’t talked in weeks and he doubts she’s stopped working just because he isn’t there to back her up, but surely the douche wouldn’t let her go alone, right?

Lucifer didn’t start receiving the calls until late last night. Has she been there this whole time, or has it been longer and the good-for-nothing sod was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to cash in.

Guilt wars with worry in his veins. While he’s been swirling down the drain, drowning his feelings in an abundance of drugs and alcohol, Chloe has been tied up, probably starved and most likely beaten, and left to the mercy of this man.

The mask reappears on the screen and Lucifer feels the sudden urge to crush it under his palms but he doesn’t, he knows that in order to find the Detective, he must listen to her kidnappers desires, no matter how grotesque. “Now, where were we? Oh yes!” He says, feigning cheerfulness. “My demands. Well it’s rather simple really, your head on a pike.”

“I know you're the one that killed my boss, no matter what the crime scene report says. And now that he's dead everyone in the business is clamoring to get to the top, trying to take what was rightfully mine.” His voice takes on a more menacing tone then. “He was going to name me his successor before he decided to give it up for this whore.” He spits in what Lucifer assumes is Chloe's direction and his blood boils at the disrespect.

“I mean what’s so special about her.” He says, flipping the camera around and showing Chloe glaring at him with hatred and disgust clear in her eyes. “She must have one magic cunt to have the Sinnerman and the Devil whipped, trailing after her like lost puppies. Maybe I should give her a test run, see if she’s as good as they seem to think. What do you say baby, want to give it a go?” He leers at Chloe suggestively.

Lucifer can see the slight hint of fear in her eyes, but it’s gone before the kidnapper can notice it. She squares her shoulders determinedly and fires back, “Not even in your dreams, you sicko.”

A deep laugh rumbles across the dank warehouse and shoots through Lucifer's speakers. “I wasn’t really asking sweetheart. If your little boy toy doesn’t get here in time and I start to get bored, I might have to find some pleasurable way to pass the time.”

The camera flicks back around, “You have until exactly…” He hums as he thinks. “3:33 to come and give me what I want or your little Detective might not be so pure after I’m done with her.”

The video ends abruptly and Lucifer just now notices the vice-like grip he has around the phone. He’s about to chuck it over the balcony in a fit of rage when it dings again, indicating a new message.

He hurriedly swipes to open it.

His brow furrows, he’s aware of the place. It’s an abandoned Jail House that once held his old friend, Al Calpone. When he would pop up for his visits top side, he would sometimes swing by and slip him some contraband. It wasn’t always illegal stuff. Jailhouses are such sticklers for safety, banned items can range from illicit drugs to chewing gum, of all things.

The irony isn’t lost on him either, what better place to tie and beat up a cop than a jail house, surrounded by the ghost of people she helped put there. Though the jail was decommissioned in 1965, Lucifer doubts that the dimwit knows Chloe wasn’t even born yet, let alone thought of.

But to have someone he cares about, alone and scared in a place he knows, all too well, the dark and mysterious history of. A place the man no doubts believes to have been the Devils doing.

He wants to go and save her, of course he does, but would she want that? Would she feel safer in the arms of the Devil or would she rather take her chances with the kidnapper?

And what if he doesn't go, then what’ll happen to her? What if the man decides he would rather have her, to take her and touch her against her will. To do whatever he sees fit.

Just the thought of him laying a finger on her causes his wings to unfurl from their hideaway and before he can spare another thought, he’s halfway across town landing outside the abandoned jailhouse.

He takes a half a second to look at the building, remembering the last time he was here. It’s not as new looking as he remembers it. In place of where a tall pure white building used to be, with lively jailors and angry criminals running about the courtyards, there now stands a structure aged and deteriorated over time.

The windows are smashed through. There are cracks in the walls hinting at the building's lack of structural integrity. Colorful arts of graffiti paint the outside of the property adding to its abandoned imagery.

No one would know that in this very building, the woman he loves is probably being tortured. The woman he is about to lay down his life for, even if she doesn’t love him in return.

While everyone is sleeping peacefully in their beds, blissfully dreaming of a fantasy world where all their desires come true, the Devil prepares to die tonight.

He doesn’t find her until the third door he tries to open finally budges. She’s there, in the center of a darkened room, arms bound behind her back and legs tied to the chair. For a brief moment he thinks she’s happy to see him, but then he remembers Kinley, the vial, and her screaming that she was terrified of him.

“Lucifer…” She breathes.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up.” A tall, dark and rather unkempt man walks from beyond the shadows, polishing what looks to be the Detective’s firearm in his hand. “It’s about time you showed up, I was starting to get bored.”

He lets out a put upon sigh and glances at Chloe. “Guess we won’t be having any fun tonight sweetheart.” He gives her a roguish smile. “Maybe later though, once I've dealt with feathers here.”

Lucifer takes a step closer and the man raises the gun to Chloe's head, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “Ah Ah Ah.” He says, shaking his head mockingly. “Another step and blondie's brains will be splattered across the wall.”

Lucifer swallows hard and glances towards Chloe. Now that he’s closer to her, he can see the fear in her eyes, clear as day. But he doesn’t know whether that's from the gun being held to her head, or the fact that the Devil is now amongst them.

“What do you want?” He grits through his teeth, not taking his eyes off of her. For fear that if he does, the man might decide to shoot anyway.

“I told you. I want you dead.”

He watches as Chloe’s eyes find him and widen imperceptibly. She knows now that the Devil can only be harmed when in her presence, and judging by the look of it, it just occurred to her why she’s really here.

He takes a risk and glances at the man, “And what will happen to her.” He says, nodding to Chloe. “Am I to simply trust that you will let her go.”

“Lucifer, no.” She begs but he ignores her. He can’t look at her or else he’ll wonder why now is any different than a few weeks ago when it was she who was trying to send him back to hell. Is it only different because she was doing it to save humanity from the Devil’s influence?

“It’s okay Detective.” This is what she and Kinley wanted right? For him to go back where he came from? He’s just granting them their desires and keeping her safe in the process. It’s a win-win situation.

“How do I know you’ll let her go?” He demands.

Chloe makes a sound of protest and tries to wiggle free from her restraints but they both ignore her.

“You don’t.” The man says, waving the gun back and forth but still keeping it pointed towards Chloe. “But from what I heard, blondie makes you mortal. What’s to stop me from killing you right here and having my way with the bitch.”

Lucifer's eyes flash red instinctively and the man's body tenses, his hand begins to tremble but to his credit his aim never wavers. “You will NOT touch her.” Lucifer growls.

His eyes dim as he finally looks towards Chloe. “But perhaps we can come to an agreement.” He says carefully. “I’m sure Cain told you how a deal with the Devil works.”

The man nods. “Yeah, apparently you always keep your word.”

“I do and if you let her go.” He swallows. “I’ll give you anything you desire.”

“NO!” Chloe interrupts and looks at him beseechingly, practically begging him not to give the man a blank check. “No, Lucifer. Don’t do this.”

“I have to”. He says and looks at her with eyes full of sorrow. “Chloe, I have to keep you safe.” His lips twitch into a melancholy smile as he remembers the words he once told her, the last time he put himself in harm's way to protect her. “Don’t you know that by now Detective?”

He watches as recognition flashes across her face, and tears begin to form in her eyes. “Lucifer”, she lets out on a sigh.

He breaks their heated gaze, too many unbearable emotions passing through them in so little time. He never got to tell her that he loves her, though he doubts it’s something she would ever want to hear. Who would rejoice in knowing that the Devil is in love with them? That a creature as powerful as he would willingly bend the knee to a mortal woman, a woman that his father put in his path no less.

“Well?” He barks at the man. “Do we have a deal?”

The man says nothing and searches Lucifer’s face for any hint of deceit. He stands unmoving, allowing the man to do so.

Lucifer knows he won’t find it, he does not lie and he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. If the man requires his life as payment for Chloe’s freedom then he will gladly pay it.

“No.” He says briskly.

Lucifer frowns. “What?” He glances at Chloe, clearly perturbed by the sudden change of events and looks back at the man. “I thought you said you wanted my life for hers?”

The man smiles wickedly and nods jauntily. “Oh I do, but I’m not just going to let her go. Devil or not, I doubt she’d let me walk free after I killed her partner.”

“She wouldn’t.” Chloe says heatedly. “I’d hunt you down like the dog you are, so if you're going to kill him then you might as well kill me too.”

“Detective!” Lucifer wails and glares at her pointedly, not at all liking where this is going. She looks at him head on, matching his ire with one of her own. “You will do no such thing.” He demands.

She narrows her eyes at him. “You can’t tell me what I can and can not do, Lucifer. How is it fair for you to die for me but I can’t do the same for you?”

“Because your life matters!”

“And yours doesn’t?”

“No!” He yells, his booming voice echoing throughout the jailhouse. The kidnapper flinches at his tone but not Chloe. He watches as her anger slowly drains away and is replaced with sadness.

“Lucifer.” She says pleadingly.

“No, Chloe.” He says, brooking no argument. “You have the Urchin to think about.” She looks away guiltily. “And I must get you back to her.”

He looks at the man. “What do you propose?”

He narrows his eyes and looks at Lucifer calculatedly, after a beat his eyes flick to Chloe. “I won’t let her go.” Lucifer makes to protest but the man cuts him off short. “But I won’t kill her either.”

His eyes travel the length of Chloe’s body, landing a bit too long on her chest and Lucifer’s jaw ticks in anger. He wants nothing more than to destroy this pathetic excuse of a human but with his gun still pointed at Chloe's head, he wouldn’t dare..

The man looks at Lucifer. “After I kill you, I’ll leave her here. She’s LAPD, someone is bound to find her eventually.”

Lucifer’s eyes land on Chloe, torn with what to do. If he refuses, then they’ll both die. And he can’t revisit his initial deal, Chloe–the stubborn woman–already proved that she’s not willing to let the man walk away. He didn’t doubt she would but she didn’t have to go and tell him that.

After a moment, he looks at her sadly. “I’m sorry.” He tells her.

“No, Lucifer.” She shakes her head, tears pouring down her face in earnest. “Say no.”, she begs. “Please! We can find another way.”

He takes a step back and shakes his head solemnly, already having made up his mind. “There is no other way, love.” He swipes his gaze over her, taking her in. If this is the last time he is going to see her then he’s going to savor it.

He watches, mesmerized as a wisps of her golden hair sways in the light breeze coming from the smashed window, his fingers itch to place it behind her ear but he doesn’t dare move closer. He traces the curve of her sharp jaw with his eyes, something he wished to one day do with his tongue but this will have to do. His eyes lock on hers, and even though it kills him to see her crying over him, the tears make her eyes glisten like the brightest of diamonds.

If this is the last time that he will see her then he’s glad it’s not with fear in her eyes.

He looks back towards the man and smiles. “Deal.”

“NO!” Chloe cries. She tries to jump out of the seat, only to be stopped by her restraints. She tosses her body from side to side, trying to free herself but the ties do not budge. “Don’t hurt him. Please.” She sobs.

Lucifer looks at her and gives her his best reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay Detective. You’ll get to live a long and happy life, free of the Devil and I’ll be back where I belong.”

“But I don’t want to be free of you, you belong here with me. Not in hell. I’m sorry I didn’t see that before. Okay? I’m sorry I ran away and I’m sorry about Kinley.” She chokes on a sob. “Lucifer, please. Don’t leave me. I-”

He waits for her to finish, but she doesn't. Instead she looks away from his gaze, almost shamefully.

He sighs. “I appreciate the sentiment Detective, but I already gave my word.” He turns toward the kidnapper with determination. “Right…so-”

A bang rings out into the empty room, bouncing off the walls and echoing down the corridors. Lucifer stands there shocked and confused. It’s not until he hears Chloe screaming his name and he feels the painful sting in his chest, that his brain registers he’s been shot.

His hand flies up to grab the wound, instinctively trying to staunch the flow. When he pulls his hand back to check that he was indeed shot, it’s covered in his blood. He peers down the length of his body and notices the white collar of his shirt rapidly changing to a bright crimson.

He looks up to see Chloe with horror and regret in her eyes. He didn’t want his last image of her to be of fear, but this is different. This isn’t the type of fear she showed that day in the loft, this isn’t the fear of the Devil. No, at this moment, she fears for him and it leaves him with a different feeling entirely.

His knees buckle underneath him, the blood loss making him weak. He manages to stay up right for a few seconds more, wanting to glimpse as much of Chloe as possible but eventually his legs give out and he crashes to the floor.

He hears her calling his name, begging him to get up to assure her that he’s alright, but all he can think about as he stares at the concrete ceiling above him is how ironic it is that he’s been here before. How many times has he put his life on the line for her? He died in that warehouse when Malcolm shot him. He killed himself to go back to Hell, somewhere he swore to never return, just to retrieve the antidote for her poison.

He wonders if she had known everything that he had done for her, would she still have run or would things have turned out differently? Would she still think him the Devil, capable of all the vile things humanity claims he’s responsible for? Would she still have tried to kill him, to send him back to the one place he hates more than anything?

He doesn’t know but he likes to think she wouldn't have.

Faintly he hears a rusting noise and the distant sounds of sirens. His body feels weak and he can feel his light slipping away, slowly draining from his body with every ounce of blood that he loses. He can sense Hell nipping at his heels, waiting to drag him back to his eternal torment.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the rapidly slowing thump of his heartbeat and he doesn’t resist when he’s pulled into a dark slumber.

But before the shadows swallow him whole, and he succumb to its promise of peace, he wonders if maybe Chloe could’ve loved him, if only he weren’t the Devil.